10 A wilted Pansy

…

There are moments in one's life that force us to give pause. For Harry Potter this was one of them.

…

She was dirty, that was his first thought, and not just dirty but absolutely filthy, like she'd rolled around in a mud puddle and then let it dry. For her part she looked just as shocked as he felt, eyes wide staring up at him as though she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Of all the expressions he'd seen on Pansy Parkinson, this was a new one.

It was surprising really that in the three years since his defeat of Voldemort and leaving Hogwarts he had seen very little of the people he had attended school with. In fact, the dirty beggar staring at him was the first one since he'd passed Theodore Nott coming out of Gringott's some five months earlier. Apparently it wasn't just his own fortunes that had dramatically shifted.

The moment seemed to drag out as neither one could think of anything to say now that identities had been confirmed and Harry found he couldn't simply walk away. Eventually Pansy's arm grew tired and she made to retract the begging appendage but was surprised when the savior of the wizarding world grasped it.

"Join me for dinner?" he said.

What could she possibly say to that?

…

It was interesting, Harry mused, that even as she devoured her third plate of food like the half-starved woman that she was she somehow managed to do it with better manners than Ron. With few exceptions Ron had always eaten like never had and might never again despite having done the exact same thing several hours earlier and knowing he'd do it several hours later every day. In fact, until the 'camping trip from hell' as he'd come to call it, he was fairly sure Ron had never gone hungry a day in his life.

Now compare that to someone like Pansy or himself, people who obviously understood what it meant to have your stomach try and eat itself. It really did just boggle the mind, or at the very least it did for Harry.

"You might want to slow down a little" he commented gently.

His dining partner looked up startled, it seemed she'd forgotten he was there.

"If you eat too much too fast it'll just end up coming right back out, and that would just be a terrible waste for everyone, don't you agree?"

Her mouth mad a shamed 'oh' and she nodded as though she'd just been severely chastised.

"Take your time" he said soothingly, "there's no rush, is there Ben?" he called to the man at the bar.

"No rush Mr. Potter, no rush at all" the man assured then returned to what he'd been doing.

She looked at him and, seeing no move to stop her, raised her fork to her food again but then stopped. Harry watched as she set the fork down and turned her attention to him. If he hadn't been so used to people staring at him the intensity of her gaze would have been unnerving.

"Why?" she said quietly.

"Why what?" he replied.

"Why this" she gestured at the table, "Why are you being so nice?"

"According to some people I'm just a nice person" he said with a shrug.

"But why are you being nice 'to me'" she demanded, a bit of the old Pansy Parkinson shining through.

"Is there something unique about you that should prevent me from being nice?"

"You hated me" she accused.

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did" she yelled, striking the table.

Harry pretended not to notice, "I never hated you. Draco, him I hated, I just thought you were annoying."

"Still then, why? Why be nice to me?" It was plain to see she was expecting some sort of trick, Harry understood, he would have felt the same way.

"I was curious I guess" he said, "I haven't seen you in three years and suddenly there you are, filthy, dirty, and begging. For me this has been a very long three years, I guess I just never thought about how it might have been for someone else."

She didn't know how to respond to that one so she looked away, the defiance in her posture melting away.

"What did happen Pansy?"

For a while it seemed like she wouldn't answer and when she did speak it was quiet and tense.

"My uncle was a death eater" she said, "No one was buying the imperius curse line this time and he was sent to Azkaban. My father wasn't a death eater, he was just related to one, so he was investigated, and so was my mother, and so was I. They went through our house like a bunch of vandals, old nick nacks and antiques that had been collecting dust on lintels and in cabinets since before I was born were taken as 'dark arts paraphernalia'. Then, to add insult to injury came the fines. I'll never forget how gleeful they looked when they started reading off the list. We had to sell everything, all our possessions, our home, all gone.

After that we rented a small flat down in Knockturn Alley and tried to find work. It was hard, no one wanted to hire us, then one morning my mother and I woke up and found my father with a rope around his neck, hanging from the ceiling. There was nothing that could be done but I went to fetch the auror's anyway and when I got back my father's body was lying on the floor and my mother was hanging from the rope. I've been out on the street ever since."

He really had been off in his own world, Harry realized. There really was no love lost between him most of those who came out of Slytherin, but just like Fudge and Umbridge, that didn't mean he wished them ill, certainly not this. There was also a part of him that seethed with cold fury at the part about the aurors, pitiful little pencil neck cowards, couldn't fight their way out of a wet paper bag but that didn't stop them from destroying people's lives.

Pansy was trying not to cry, not to shake and sob at the memories but it was so hard, so very hard. Then a hand touched her should and she looked up into the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen.

"Why don't we go back to my place?" he said.

In a better state of mind she might have accepted the comment for what it was but with reason in turmoil she took it completely the wrong way.

Is he seriously asking what I think he's asking? Can I really afford to say no? It's not like I've got anything better lined up and he is kinda cute.

Honestly, what could she possibly say to that?

…

Running water. Running 'HOT' water. It was the little things, the things always taken for granted that were missed the most when they were no longer there. Like the ability to wash off the collected filth of months of living on the street with hot running water or soft fluffy towels and bathrobes that swaddled you in obscene comfort or even something so simple as a hairbrush.

Pansy had never appreciated these things growing up but she certainly did now as she sat in front of a massive mirror brushing out the last of the kinks in her hair and wondering just when it had gotten so long.

Setting the brush down she examined herself more thoroughly. She wasn't bad looking really, she'd grown out of that whole pug nosed thing shortly after Hogwarts and given her 'diet' she'd managed to stave of the weight so many women complained about, really she didn't look half bad.

Oh who was she kidding she was twenty years old and could have passed for forty, she looked old and tired and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Oh well, no point in keeping him waiting.

Stepping out of the bathroom she found him patiently waiting. He offered her his hand which she hesitantly accepted and led her to a room not more than a few steps away. He opened the door to reveal the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. A four poster bed with big fluffy pillows and patchwork comforter, she could have cried.

There were no other thoughts in her head as she was led into the room except how magnificent it was. She gave no thought as the comforter was pulled back except how soft and smooth the sheet looked. She didn't even seem to realize she had lain down until she felt the magical softness against her skin. She might well have purred as the comforter was placed over her and she was enveloped in the magnificent warmth of a real bed for the first time in too long. She didn't even realize the lights had been turned out and she'd fallen asleep till the next morning when she awoke.

She was warm, and comfortable… and alone. This came as something of a shock given what she believed to be the reason she was there. She was hesitant to leave her happy little cocoon but as every butterfly knows, can't stay in there forever.

She found a pair of fuzzy slippers thoughtfully waiting for her and she silently slipped out of the room. Her first stop was the bathroom, for obvious reasons, then, on her way out, she caught the aroma of something, she couldn't quite pin it down but she knew it was food, and she knew she was hungry. Simple logic really.

She was surprised, upon arriving in the kitchen, to find the very same man who'd brought her into his home the night before standing before a stove top with four pans busily preparing breakfast, by hand.

"Good morning" he said without even turning to look at her, "breakfast should be done in just a minute."

She didn't know how to respond, the whole thing was just ludicrous. Numbly she sat down at the table. Fortunately her shock had worn off enough but the time the food arrived that she didn't miss it.

With breakfast out of the way and the plates washing themselves in the sink, like they should be, she was forced to confront the fact that she was face to face with Harry Potter, in his house, alone, in nothing but a fluffy white bathrobe. There was only one place this could possible go.

As though to confirm this, he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table to steeple his fingers in front of his face and said, "I've got a proposition for you."

Here it comes, "Yes."

"Well I'll just come right out and say it, I'd like to hire you as my lawyer."

"What?" this was about as far out of left field as you could get.

"You heard me."

"But… why, I mean, I don't know any more about law than any other …"

"Pureblood raised child" he finished for her, "I didn't really expect you to yet, but that can be changed."

"Wha… I don't understand" this was not going how she expected.

"A friend of mine pointed out to me that there was more to being a successful lawyer than knowing the law, you had to know the people you were dealing with, the culture as it were. All the little things that affected the way they saw the big things, you see?"

"But, still, why not just hire a lawyer, why me?"

"Why not you" he countered, "and as for hiring a lawyer, well, I prefer a devil I know than one I don't, and given just how much I want you to do it seems to make more sense to just keep my own lawyer, like a pet you might say."

"But why me?" she insisted, choosing to ignore the pet comment.

"You're here. You need work. You have something better?"

It was absurd, ridiculous, patent lunacy, but still, it was a chance, certainly better than anything she'd been expecting the previous day.

Really, what could she possibly say to that?

"So, just to be clear, we 'aren't' going to have sex?