Author's Note: So I have very very recently (as in just today) discovered this pairing but I immediately fell in love with them. They set my mind buzzing with inspiration so I sat down and this is what happened. This is a labor of love and I don't have any idea where it's going but I hope it's a fun ride. I am open to, and enjoy constructive criticism so please feel free to comment and let me know what you think.
Alrighty, on with the story.
I glanced up as the door swung open and was assaulted with a shaggy mop of ginger hair. No way, this could not be happening. I had purposefully picked the seediest, most magical bar I could find so that I never had a chance of running into Potter of one of his goody goody gang. And yet who walks in but Weasley with his untidy mop and dirty freckles. He was the worst kind of pureblood and wizard, the kind that shunned his fellows for the company of lesser beings, muggles.
It had been 12 years since the Battle of Hogwarts and the downfall of The Dark Lord. And though Potter and his gang had won, the tensions between the old Pureblood families and the muggles who claimed to be wizards was still alive and well. It had simply been pushed further underground than before.
I ducked my head as Weasley walked passed my table along the wall to a table at the back of the room where a broad shouldered, dark haired man had claimed a seat. The man's back was facing me so I couldn't see his face but from the set of his shoulders and the sheer size of the man I could tell that Weasley wasn't meeting Potter. What on Earth brought him here?
I had never cared much for Ron at school, he had always seemed the dumbest of Potter's followers, but the idea that goody goody Ron Weasley was here meeting a nefarious character and probably up to no good had my interest piqued. Was he buying illegal contraband? Or could it be that he was selling secrets to some foreign ministry? I wanted desperately to know but my table was situated too far for me to overhear anything so I made due casting covert glances in the direction of their table in the hopes that I might catch a parcel being passed between them or something of the kind.
They sat there talking and drinking for a couple of hours with no such business passing between them. I leaned back dejectedly as the broad shouldered man stood buttoning his jacket and popping his collar so that most of his face was hidden behind it. He shook Weasley's hand and made his way nimbly out of the crowded pub. Ron walked up to the bar and ordered himself another drink. I let my attention wander back to the correspondence spread across the table before me. I was halfway through a letter responding to my request for more of a certain product I sold in my shop that was popular but not entirely legal in Britain when a tall figure sat down opposite me.
"Parkinson. Do you make a habit of peeping on other people's interactions in pubs? Or am I special?" Ron lounged in the chair opposite me, completely at his ease though the look I gave him was unmistakably hostile.
"That seat is taken Weasley."
"Yes, by me. So why were you so interested in my friend and I?" Ron took a swig of his pint.
I sat there at a loss. He was so different from the awkward, gangly boy he had been at school. An air of confidence radiated off of him. He was so sure of himself and what he was doing. I glowered more darkly at him and turned my attention purposefully back toward my letter, ignoring him.
"The only thing I can think is that you were spying on us for some reason, though why I just can't figure. If you were spying you weren't doing a very good job at all. You were really quite obvious." He grinned widely and took another drink.
"I was not spying on you, you self obsessed twat!" I spat back at him, my irritation boiling over into rage. He only chuckled.
"So then what are you up to over here, might I ask?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but I happen to be working. So, if you wouldn't mind pissing off…"
"What could you possibly be working on at half ten in the grimiest wizard pub in London? Don't you have a home to get back to?" He leaned forward.
"Don't you?" I challenged. The lazy, confident smile faltered and he adjusted himself in his chair.
"Problems with your Mudblood Weasley? That's what you get for dirtying yourself." He lunged across the table before I could blink and wrapped his large, strong paw around my throat.
"Don't you ever say that about Hermione again. She's ten times the witch you'll ever be." His grip tightened around my throat for a fraction of a second before he released me and sat slowly back down.
Icy fire coursed through my veins, a mixture of rage and something else. He took another long swig of his pint and leaned back in his chair again, feigning a cool and confident posture. We eyed each other warily as I massaged my throat.
"If things are so wonderful with Granger then why are you here with me?" I watched him carefully for any sign that he was going to lunge again. He didn't. His shoulders slumped slightly, ruining his attempt to look casual. I guess some things never changed.
"She thinks we're better as friends. Which is probably true." He said very matter-of-factly, but the blush that crept across his face and lit up his ears told a different story.
A derisive sneer pulled at the corner of my mouth. Seemed Granger had better taste than I thought. Still, there was a small part of me that felt sorry for the tall, broad man sitting across from me. He loved her more than he would ever admit and it killed him a little to know that she didn't feel the same for him. It was plain as day in the set of his shoulders and the over brightness of his eyes. She had hurt him deeply.
"Well then she's an idiot. You're the best man she could hope to get." He looked at me surprised, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"What are you trying to say." He leaned forward slightly in his seat, unsure whether this was another instance where choking was necessary. The thought of his big hand wrapped around my throat again made my stomach somersault with excitement. I shook myself.
"I only meant that you deserve better than her if she doesn't see that you're a catch."
He grinned again. "I'm a catch, am I?"
I blushed and scowled darkly at him, annoyed that he had had any kind of effect on me.
"Yeah well, a catch for a Mudblood anyway." He grabbed me again, one hand at my throat, the other at my waist.
I stared him down hard, not letting him see that he was scaring me and making me just the tiniest bit excited. The noise in the bar had hushed slightly at Ron's swift move, everyone waiting to see what would happen next. Ron's grip loosened but his hand remained at my throat as his fury subsided and something else took hold of him. His lids closed slightly as he took a step closer to me. The hand at my waist peeked beneath my shirt, his fingers tracing slowly back and forth across my skin. My chest tightened and a fire ignited in the pit of my stomach.
"I told you not to talk about her like that anymore." Ron stroked the pulse of my neck with his thumb.
"Yeah, what are you gunna do about it Weasley?" My voice was little more than whisper. I puffed out my chest and raised my chin trying desperately to hold onto my sanity and hatred of him. With every twirl of his fingers my resolve crumbled away.
"Would you like me to show you?" He leaned in, his lips hovering just before mine. The warmth of his breath against my face made my thoughts hazy. When had he become sexy? I couldn't focus as he teased me with his nearness. The smell of his aftershave engulfed me and any semblance of resistance I once had was gone. All I wanted was for his mouth to be on mine.
His mouth hovered beside my ear and his body dusted across mine as he spoke again.
"Come with me Parkinson." Shiver ran through me as his breath played across the tiny hairs on my ear and neck.
He took a measured step away from me, dropping his hand from my throat. His other hand remained at my waist trailing heat around the waist of my pants. I could feel the flush in my cheeks and the fire burning off my skin. Finally he dropped his hand from my waist and slowly began stacking my letters on the table. I bent to help him, stuffing stacks into my bag and grabbing my coat from the back of my chair. He stepped to the side motioning for me to walk before him. He guided me out of the humming pub with a gentle hand on the small of my back. What on Earth had come over me? How could I be leaving the pub, fully intending to go home with and fuck Ron Weasley? Something had gone horribly wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on the exact moment where I had been lost.
The cold air on the street hit me like a wall as I stepped outside the grimy bar. I had thought for a moment with some hope that the cold air would snap me out of my daze but all it did was make me all the more anxious to get inside and warm up with Ron. I tried to shake myself but then he was there, right beside me slipping a firm arm around my waist and slipping his warm fingertips beneath my shirt hem.
"Where is your flat from here?"
"What's wrong with your place Weasley?" I tried to sound defiant but only ended up sounding petulant and whiny. This would not do. I needed to snap out of it and I needed to do it right now.
I tried to push him away but he turned me to face him and walked me back into the wall across from the pub. Shrouded in shadow all I could see were his hungry eyes boring into mine. A small gasp escaped me as my back made contact with the wall and he pressed his body against mine. I felt a warm sense of security there, pinned between him and the wall. My arms wrapped instinctively around his neck pulling him so that his face was millimeters from mine. I lifted myself ever so slightly onto my toes so that he didn't have to bend quite as far down to meet me.
He took my face in his large hands and kissed me deeply. Fireworks went off in my chest and a slow burn settled between my thighs. His lips were full and soft, and his tongue was slow and gentle as it explored my mouth. I caught my fingers deep in his tangle of hair directing him deeper into the kiss. We stood there locked in the shadows for a long time, exploring each other as much as we were able out in the cold. His hands roamed over me and I got a special thrill feeling him grow against me. Our movements became more frenzied as our hormones raged. I manoeuvred myself and reached for my wand.
With a 'pop' I apparated us into the bedroom of my small, one bedroom apartment.