Author's note: Welcome to the second chapter in the beginning of the adventure! We still haven't been introduced to all of the characters that will define this story, nor have we had a good look at the real mystery that this is meant to be, but enjoy the modern, nonmagical fluff while you got it! It won't be fluffy for much longer.

Disclaimer: While I doubt anyone of importance would ever stumble across this trash, all rights to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I'm not making any profit off of this and if I were, it would probably be a lot better written.

Enjoy!

a s d f

Chapter Two: Pussy Pansy

"I what?"

"Fuckin' hell, Potter, pay attention the first time 'round, yeah?"

Commander Alastor Moody grunted for another moment, shuffling the papers on his desk the way he always did when he had to interact with other people on a human level. "The phone call we got about Pansy Parkinson this afternoon seemed like a serious threat. We want to put our best man on it. Congratulations, here's the case of your career."

"I don't see how taking care of a rich girl's overzealous fan can be the case of my career," Harry gritted his teeth as he spoke. He shouldn't have been surprised as the department regularly tossed him high profile cases like these due to his specific circumstances.

"Because I just said it was. Is that enough?" Moody snarled, slamming his hand against the desk though Harry didn't give him the amusing jump back he expected from such an action.

"So some teenager calls in saying her best friend, heiress Pansy Parkinson, has been stalked all day long by one lone bloke and you're putting your 'best man' on the case?"

"Exactly. Now, take some fucking notes because I'm not sayin' this again," Moody tossed an open folder in front of him and jabbed a harsh finger into the first line. "She says she thinks she's seen him before. He knew where they were even after several trips about the city. More importantly - Finnigan accidentally set another drifter on fire-"

"Accidentally?"

"- and I need some good press. Now put your fuckin' big boy pants on and get on the fuckin' case, Potter."

Harry James Potter, the New Scotland Yard poster child who pointed out his parents' killer in a line up when he was six and thwarted an train bomber just three weeks into his police training and dated one of the up-and-coming female footballer of the last decade, had sunk down to the point of playing bodyguard for a socialite.

Great.

"This'll be an open and shut case, Potter. Question the girl, tail her for a bit, and nab the guy. It'll be annoying for about two days then you'll be done with it."

"It's the girl I'm not looking forward to."

"You'll be fine, you know how these posh kids are-"

"I didn't choose to go to that school-"

"Regardless," Moody lifted a hand and waved Harry away, his telltale signal when he was done with a conversation, "move that boarding school arse out of my off and get it to Chelsea. Today, Potter."

Harry's chair screeched against the floor as he pushed back, "Open and shut case, yeah?" and said nothing else to his commanding officer as he left his office.

# # #

Pansy's five-inch stilettos, entirely too inappropriate for a Sunday afternoon but she liked being tall, clicked loudly against the tile flooring as she made her way to the private room at Farrow and Bell that her friends always requested. Originality and spontaneity were lost on them.

As she entered the room, Daphne no more than two steps behind her, her eyes immediately fell on Marcus Flint and she had to physically, forcibly, restrain her groan though she shouldn't have been surprised to see him, in all honesty. Marcus was the one night stand that wouldn't die. She had slept with him two years prior but he didn't leave the morning after, nor the morning after that, and eventually he had hung around long enough to meet her so-called friends who promptly adopted him like the professional rugby player they had always wanted. Now she was stuck with him. There was no getting rid of the 6'1, 96 kilos behemoth of a man who, once you got him alone and drunk, would not stop talking about his cats,Gus and Chester, and how much better Dance Moms became after series three.

Pansy dutifully ignored him and purposefully made her way towards the empty seat beside Blaise. Her close friend was a stunning and immaculately dressed - in a "I don't give a fuck" white tee shirt and torn black jeans, but with the precision that fucking screamed 'my mother is an internationally renowned ex-model and fashion designer' - dark-skinned man and he smirked at her with a freshly made gin and tonic in his hand that seemed to call for her.

"Blaise," she exhaled as she sunk next to him. "I needed you about fifteen hours ago," she whined, taking the drink from his hand and leaning back into the softness of her chair. "Today's been total shit-"

"Hey-"

"No offense, Daph, but seriously," Pansy sighed and laid her head on Blaise's shoulder, he merely chuckled as she retold the story of her stalker and Draco's unnecessary interruption. Theo Nott, the obvious product of an aged banker and his second Asian trophy as opposed to Pansy, whose mother had been her father's third Asian trophy wife, seemed to be the only person actually paying attention. While the thin, quiet boy rarely spoke, when he did it was fucking worth it because that scrawny introvert saw and knew everything. There was no pulling the wool over his eyes. While outwardly it seemed like the antisocial wallflower was out of place in their merry band of egotistical rich brats, he was more than comfortable nestled tightly between the meat head and the queer.

God, they were all pricks.

"Well, I got the cops on the case," Daphne grinned and closed her shockingly pink lips around her straw, sucking up some of her melted ice. "They're going to call me back and get all Pansy's information and catch the perv and throw him in like, Guantanamo Bay."

"Is he a perv?" Draco turned to look a Pansy with a look of amusement. "Pining after our dear Pansy, as if a drink and a slap on the bum wouldn't be enough to-"

"Oh, fuck off!"

Blaise pressed his lips into together in an attempt to stifle his chuckles but Pansy noticed the telltale sign of his shoulders shaking and his fingers tapping against his leg.

"Like," his bottom lip quivered slightly as he contained his laughter. "Pliant Pansy."

Pansy's elbow stuck out and dug into his side but the damage was already done and had spread to the rest of her friends as well.

"Pliable Pansy," Draco continued with a smirk, gesturing at Marcus with a sharp nod of the head.

"Oh, Putty Pansy."

"That's a weak one, Marcus-"

"Procuress Pansy?" Theo offered in a quiet voice, though the smirk on his face was loud enough to telegraph his amusement at the situation.

"Pissed Pansy!" Daphne quipped, earning a glare from the brunette. Of all the friends to betray her.

"You all can fuck right off-"

"Paltry Pansy!"

"Pussy Pansy!"

"-shove it up your-"

"Porno Pansy-"

"-shit-eating fucks can just-"

"Profane Pansy."

"Prostitute-"

"Jesus Christ," Pansy shot up to her feet and stalked towards the door, trying to glare at her friends at the same time but failing, but trying anyway because fuck them.

"Wait, wait, alight" Draco wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her down next to him, throwing his arm around her shoulder once she was done. "Paramour Pans-"

"Fucker," she hissed, stealing his drink with a scowl.

"Come on, Pans. We're only teasing," Blaise sent her a small smile but Pansy responded by sticking out her tongue, possibly the most ineffective and childish retort, but it was all she had.

"Don't tell me you're getting sensitive, Pansy."

"Of course not," she spat back at Theo, who in all honestly probably didn't deserve her wrath but she couldn't spend all her time glaring at Blaise and Draco. They would only smirk in response because of course she'll get over it but that doesn't mean she can get annoyed, "but how fair is it was Draco can shag his way through Oxford-"

"Well-" Draco attempted to protest

"-and Blaise can expose almost every single Greek island to chlamydia-"

"That's not-"

"And yet I'm Pussy Pansy? That's slut-shaming, you know. Proper anti-feminism shit."

"Want to go to Starbucks and start a blog about it?" Draco drawled and Pansy nearly snorted.

Nearly.

She wasn't about to give Draco the satisfaction of amusing her.

a s d f

If you're starting to get the feeling that maybe these aren't the nicest people, that's kind of the point. Harry Potter and Pansy Parkinson are both fairly closed minded in their worldview, but not just that, they're rather selfish and egotistical as well. The fact is, while Pansy has had everything handed to her since she was a born and she bathes in the lavish outcomes of her celebrity, Harry has been primed to join the New Scotland Yard in a similar way. He's used to a certain kind of treatment and he had some prejudices about Pansy and her ilk that you will see come to light upon their first interaction.

Sneak peak:

Parkinson dropped her hands by her sides and gave him a curious look, one that made Harry thing she was literally sizing him up - taking in every single detail of his wrinkled, coffee stained button up, his scuffed work boots, ruffled hair and scratched up glasses - and formulating her assessment on the stop. In the two or three seconds of silence, Harry felt completely and totally under scrutiny and he instinctively straightened his spine and hardened his own glare because Pansy Parkinson was accustomed to people feeling less than her and feeling uncomfortable under her analyzing stare, but Harry refused to give her the fucking satisfaction.