Disclaimer: I know it by now, and you should too: I own absolutely nothing.
Author's Note: This is another M&MWP, written for Mew&Mor's Weird Pairing competition.
Parvati Zabini rested her head against the lift wall as the doors slid closed behind the last passenger out. She was finally alone. It had been the longest day . . . and unfortunately, it was barely half over.
Working in one of the busiest departments of the Ministry, the Wizengamot administrations office, always made her feel like she had made the wrong career choice—at least until she received her paycheck at the end of each week.
But today had been unusually hectic. There had been a couple of dozen minor cases of underage magic, for which she had merely written letters to the parents and their child; the odd case of an underage Muggleborn witch or wizard using magic was more complicated, on the other hand, and she had to send out quite a few Obliviators before break time. There had also been an unheard of number of "serious business" cases, which Parvati was always happy to send straight to the courtrooms for those in charge to deal with.
By noon, Parvati didn't know whether she should be holding her head for the massive headache that was building and about due to explode, or if she should be holding the bruises on her arms that her husband had inflicted this morning, just beginning to appear and long aching.
The tired woman wasn't too surprised when the lift slowed to a stop and Theo Nott was the only new passenger. The childhood friend of her husband was typically seen on this lift around lunchtime. Parvati had grown to enjoy his company. "Theo," she greeted with a nod of the head. As he turned round to face the front of the lift and brushed her bicep, she gasped and grabbed at her sweater-covered arm.
"Parvati," he replied casually. The lift stopped and she made her way through the gate. "Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron in twenty minutes," he called after her; not a request, but more of a command.
She simply dipped her head, not turning back in his direction.
"Hullo, Tom," Parvati called brightly over the lunch hour rush. The Leaky Cauldron's long-time barman had become used to the pretty-faced witch's regular appearances. She normally came to the pub three or four times a week and, every time she did, she made the same order (two sandwiches; one turkey, ham and cheese, the other chicken salad, and a large bowl of clam chowder), and asked for a room to enjoy some peace with her lunch. Tom had wondered on several occasions how such a busy woman could eat so much and stay so thin, but as one who valued the privacy of others, he never voiced such a question.
One thing that Tom questioned almost every time he saw Parvati (as he did today, when he gave her the lunch tray and room key) was why the same man always ran into the pub and up the stairs almost immediately behind her, without so much as a word to the barman.
Sitting with her belongs thrown haphazardly around the room, Parvati enjoyed her moment of relaxation, because she knew it would not last long. She sat in blissful silence, taking small sips of her soup and little bites of her chicken salad sandwich.
About four minutes after Parvati had settled herself, right on time, Theo barged into the room and knocked the first knickknack he could find onto the floor.
"Again, Parv?" he shouted, shattering the peace, much to her displeasure. She frowned.
"Just sit down, Theo. We'll talk about it," she gestured toward the cozy chair next to her and the tray of food on the coffee table in between them. The grown man huffed and sat.
After eating little bits of his food, just as Parvati had before his arrival, he dusted his hands off on his jeans and looked up at his female companion, a line of worry etched between his brows.
"I've told you before. You have to tell me when he does things like that," Theo said softly, but the anger in his voice grew.
"I was going to tell you," she said simply. "You just noticed before I got the chance to. I'm not at fault." She was so level-headed that she frustrated him, especially when the topic of her husband's abuse came up.
"Look," he said sharply, standing and taking her up with him by the wrists. He slipped the sweater off of her arms and lightly touched the growing bruises there, as well as some faded marks and several scars. "You know as well as I do that you hate him. You hate him more and more every single time he hits you. So why in the hell do you put up with it?" he shouted, backing away from her and throwing his hands up in aggravation.
She advanced toward him, feeling more miserable about the distress her failing marriage was causing him than the pain it caused her. "Theo, I've already thought about it. I already knew what you were going to tell me."
He furrowed his brow. "Great. So you met me knowing every word I was going to say perfectly well, and knowing that you were going to shoot it down yet again?" he fumed.
"No! That's not what I meant." She took a breath and lowered to voice. "I'm leaving Blaise. I'm going to leave him, alright?" she stood in front of him, hands up in defeat.
"Serious?" he asked, dumbstruck.
"Yes!" she looked up at him, waiting for his reaction.
"Oh thank God, Parv," he said, lifting her into a crushing hug. She made a small squeak and he placed her down gently. "Er, sorry," he said, placing a light finger on one of her bruises.
"That's alright," she laughed easily and, not to Theo's disappointment, reached up and kissed him on the lips.
He chuckled. "You know, that's not the worst we've done since you've been married . . . but I think I like it more now that you won't be much longer."
She smiled her bright grin, and their rendezvous continued in a fashion very similar to all of their meetings of the past three years: naked, Theo being overly careful of the bruises covering Parvati's body, each of which was caused by her soon-to-be ex-husband.