"Potter."

Pansy Parkinson is a devastatingly beautiful woman. She's grown from the pinched, pug-faced girl of Harry's past and morphed into a bold, confidant woman. Her hair is still severe, but the few years that have passed have made the black bob chic instead of over-styled. She's all dark eyes, red lips, and steely resolve, yet there's a warmth underneath that graces her edges. Her nails are polished, lacquered to a blood-red shine, and her hands curl around a tall flute of sparkling pumpkin juice. There's a tremor just at her fingertips that is reflected in the minute quiver of a perfectly-shaped upper lip.

"Pansy," Harry says, purposefully using her given name to deflect the cold formality that is expected. She's the only one Draco cared to invite, which says she's the only one of his former friends that means anything to him at all. That says something about her current character. That tells Harry all he needs to know.

She extends a graceful hand. "I should have done this long ago, but—" she shrugs, "I was still an idiot then." Her eyes are clear and focused and she meets his gaze head on without trepidation. "I'm sorry. For my part in the past. I know it's no excuse, but I was a child. A small, scared, idiot child. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me." She pauses for a breath. "If only for Draco's sake. I'm going to be Britain-based for a while, which means I hope to see more of Draco. And I get the feeling that means I'm going to be seeing more of you as well. I would hate for my presence to cause difficulty between the two of you." Her dark eyes flash, and for a second Harry sees the Slytherin resurface. "Because I'm not giving him up, and I don't think he'll do the same."

It's a bold statement. One he doesn't disagree with.

He takes her hand and clasps it warmly, watching the tight line around her mouth recede. "The past is the past, Pansy. Consider it forgotten. As for Draco, I have no intention of coming between him and his friends. In fact, I want him to spend time with you." He gives her a genuine smile. "He missed you, you know. I'm glad you're here for him. I was hoping we could become friends as well."

Harry thinks he could have poked her and knocked her over. Wide eyes and a small gasp reveal her surprise.

"You're a decent bloke, Potter."

Harry chuckles and shakes his head, "Not so decent as you might think. I've done my fair share of terrible things."

She tips her glass at him. "Even decent men have a dark side. It's what keeps them honest." Pansy eyes the half-empty glass in his hand. "No champagne for you?"

Harry blows out a breath and leans in with a smile. "Afraid not. I have a date tonight." He tilts his head to consider her. "And you?"

Pansy's grin is wide and self-effacing. "I'm an alcoholic." She drains the last of her pumpkin juice. "But I could do with a refill."

Harry waves a hand and wandlessly refills their glasses. "So you know your limits, then?"

"Absolutely," she replies. "I got tired of waking up in strange places with even stranger people. I've discovered if I'm going to have a good time, I'd like to remember it later. This way, I don't make the same mistake twice."

"Words to live by."

She taps the side of her nose with a manicured finger. "Got it in one."

"So what is it you do nowadays?" Harry asks. "Draco hasn't mentioned."

"Nothing nefarious, I assure you." Her smile is devilish. "I design and manufacture haute couture. Park is my signature line. I've got boutiques in Milan and Paris."

"Sounds lucrative."

"Oh," she laughs, "it is. I'm terribly rich. Nowhere near your standing, but I'm getting there."

"It's nice to see the war hasn't dampened your ambitions. Good for you." Harry finds he means it. He knows post-war has been especially rough on the Slytherin set, and he gathers her story is probably quite similar to Draco's. "So what brings you back here, then?"

"I'm going to be opening a shop here in Wizarding Britain. Ready to wear for the everyday witch and wizard. I'm quite excited. It'll be a lot more work, but I think it will be worth it." She gives him a thorough once over. "You'll have to let me dress you, Potter. I know for certain that isn't something you picked out on your own."

Harry runs a hand over the line of his suit. "Narcissa, actually. I'd be lucky to have on matching socks if it weren't for her."

Pansy's eyes glitter with mischievous amusement. "You let me get my hands and my fabric on you and you'll have Draco eating out of the palm of your hand for eternity." Her lips quirk. "If he doesn't already."

It doesn't surprise him that Pansy knows about Draco's predilections, or that she feels comfortable enough to remark as such. He doesn't ever remember her having a particularly stringent verbal filter. He opens his mouth to respond when Draco appears.

Draco sidles up next to his best friend with a sparkle in his eye. "You two look cozy."

"Potter and I are bonding, Draco. Don't spoil the moment," Pansy laughs. She turns her gaze out into the dining room. "Just when were you planning on telling me Longbottom got so fit? Where was I while that was happening?"

Harry follows her line of sight to see Neville and Narcissa standing close to the hors d'oeuvres, chatting.

"Who knows?" Draco shrugs. "You've been gallivanting across the globe for the better part of a year now. It's been hell trying to get an owl to you."

She scoffs, using her free hand to brush lint from his tie. "I've been running a business and making a name for myself. You know what that's like. Busy, busy."

Draco gives her a curt mock bow. "Apologies, dear lady."

She huffs and straightens the line of her dress. "I don't want an apology," she pouts. "I want an introduction—oh, never mind, then. I see how it is."

"What?" Draco head swivels and Harry watches as Narcissa's hand glides over Neville's shoulder in a particularly familiar gesture. Draco groans. "Does everybody see it on the first go round?"

Harry and Pansy nod in unison. "Yes."

"Well, what do you think about this?" Draco asks her.

"Darling, your mother has always been one of my favorite people, but I must say I've never been so proud." She ticks off her fingers. "Gorgeous. Intelligent. War hero. She's bagged herself a right catch." Pansy turns to Harry. "You know muggles, Potter. What's the phrase I'm looking for?"

Harry grins over his glass. "Get some."

Pansy snaps her fingers and gasps, "Yes, that's it! 'Get some'."

Draco's frown is absolutely adorable. "Traitors. The both of you. I hope you're very happy together."

She laughs, a full-throated chuckle that booms out into the room. Her arm snakes into Harry's and she tugs at him. "We'll owl you an invitation to the bonding. Come, Potter. It's time you properly introduced me to your Weasleys. Ronald looks like he's got the bristle end of a broom up his arse, and Granger's shoes are exquisite. I feel like mingling."

Draco sighs. "Ugh. Take her. Not even half an hour and already I'm reminded of why she's a loathsome bint."

Pansy blows Draco a kiss as Harry steers her across the floor. "But I'm your loathsome bint, darling. Never forget," she clucks. "Chop, chop, Potter. I have a finite amount of time before these heels give out. Let's make it count."

Harry covers her hand with his and smiles. "Yes, ma'am."

His heart feels light and frothy with the warm happiness of companionship he thought he'd only ever find with Ron and Hermione. Now it appears his circle is growing, and his fondness for them all expanding with it at a rapidly increasing rate. He glances back to Draco, standing there looking elegant and perfect in his tailored suit. Draco winks at him and raises his glass in acknowledgment.

I could get used to this.

OOOOO

Dinner is a lavish five-course affair, with each one more decadent than the last. When he finally sets his fork on the plate, only crumbs of the chocolate caramel tart remain. Now that everyone is finished, the lull in conversation recedes. Blinky pops in to clear, and Harry leans over to whisper, "I'd like a word with Cook, if you please."

Her twinkly eyes widen with apprehension, but she nods furiously and pops back out again. There's a second or two lapse when Cook appears in the dining room with a loud, grating pop. All eyes turn to her, but hers are firmly fixed on Harry, glaring daggers. Harry simply smiles at her, rises from his seat, and begins to applaud. The rest of the guests at the table soon join in, and a smattering of happy applause rings out through the room.

The stony expression anchored on Cook's face crumbles bit by bit, until her ears droop and her eyes are wide and liquid. Her bottom lip quivers and she bursts into tears. Her little hands ball into fists at her side and she shouts, "Blinky is being serving coffee now!" Her foot stamps once and she disappears with another loud pop.

Draco leans over. "Well done, Harry. You made the barmiest of the lot cry. I'd double check everything before I put it in my mouth from now on."

Harry chuckles. "I don't think that's going to be a problem. I think she likes me."

"Who wouldn't like you, Potter? Three-quarters of the Wizarding world has been in love with you for ages, certain Slytherins notwithstanding," Pansy says breezily, stepping over to them. "I'm beginning to see the fascination myself." She spares a kiss for Draco's cheek. "I'm off, love."

"What? You're not staying?" Draco's surprise makes Harry's heart clench.

"I really shouldn't. I've got a big week ahead of me. Give your mother my regards." Pansy's smile is soft and fond, but she does look tired, and Harry can see that she's torn.

Draco takes her arm. "Let me walk to you to the Floo, then."

"That's not necessary," Ron pipes up behind her. "'Mione and I are headed out as well. We'll escort Pansy."

"Yes," Hermione says, "I did want to talk more with you about this new line of yours. If that's alright with you, Pansy?"

Pansy smiles, warm and gracious, slipping from Draco's grasp to twine her arm with Hermione's. "Of course, Granger. I'm only too happy to discuss my work." She nods at them. "'Night, all. Owl me, Draco."

Ron, Hermione, and Pansy take their leave, and Harry notices that Narcissa and Neville are nowhere in sight, leaving him alone with Draco.

"Ten galleons says that we see Nev at breakfast tomorrow." Harry grins. "What do you think?"

Draco snorts. "I think discussing whether or not we find my mother and Longbottom in flagrante delicto is not worth discussing."

Harry scoffs, "When you say it like that, it sounds horrible."

"That's because it is," Draco deadpans. "And I'm not thinking about them right now because I'm thinking about us."

"Us?" Harry asks lightly.

Draco's face screws into a bunchy little frown. "Kissing. I was promised kissing."

Harry slips his hand to rest at the small of Draco's back and urges him to the door. "So you were. Shall we?"

OOOOO

"Merciful Merlin!" Draco exclaims. "What's happened here?"

Harry shuts the bedroom door behind them and turns. On the far wall, to the right of the window, stands another door. One that was not there yesterday. "Oh, that." Harry sucks in a small breath between his teeth. "I required a room, and your house gave me one. Wizarding space never ceases to amaze me."

Draco blinks furiously in an attempt to gather his words. "Wait, you're telling me that the Manor just gave you another room? What's wrong with this one?" He's trying hard not to look affronted, and the bit of fluster on him has Harry's eyes darkening with arousal. Draco is gorgeous when he's expressive.

"Nothing," Harry shrugs. "But I wanted something a bit more intimate for further use."

The intimation is not lost on Draco, and his voice drops to almost a whisper. "Intimate? Like a playroom?"

"Exactly."

"Fuck me." Draco breathes out long and slow.

"In time."

"And you required this for tonight?" Draco swallows hard and Harry watches the long line of his throat. He's ready to put his lips and teeth on Draco's skin. He's ready to leave all sorts of marks behind.

"Yes."

"For kissing?"

Harry edges him closer to the new door. "What did you think we were going to do? Hold hands and snog on the sofa?"

"I—I don't, I mean, I didn't think much—well, yes," Draco stutters. His eyes widen on an incredulous gasp. "What's in there?"

Harry breathes in scent of Draco's cologne and feels the softness of his hair against his lips as he leans in to rumble in Draco's ear, "Open the door, Draco, and let's find out."