Pansy opened her eyes and stretched in her luxurious bed. She smiled, remembering the owl she got the night before.
You know I do not praise people easily, but I'll admit that you are the best matchmaker in wizarding Britain. Granger is the one. Now I just have to convince her that Muggle customs like waiting a year before getting married are voided in the wizarding world. Maybe I can tell her it's illegal to wait so long? No, she won't buy it and may hex me for trying to coerce her. Merlin, I love how spirited and righteous she can be. Is that weird? I guess you knew it would turn me on, and that's how you put us together. Well, I expect that once I can talk her into marrying me, you will help with the wedding planning.
You are the best.
Draco
It had only been a week since the speed dating event, and Draco was already talking wedding plans. Heck, Narcissa Malfoy had already put out the Black Family Names scroll, probably hoping there will be grandchildren soon to name after the constellations.
All that love in the air made Pansy proud of her work, but then a ping of loneliness hit her. If there were a wedding soon, she would go sans plus-one. Maybe she would get paired with one of the Gryffindors from Granger's side. She chuckled with relief knowing that it would not be Ronald Weasley: after the speed dating event, Lavender Brown had drunk-owl him, and apparently, they were still locked in his flat. At least that's what the gossip columns were saying, the information probably leaked by Brown herself.
There were others, like Dean Thomas (not a bad option), Oliver Wood (cute but rumored to be a manwhore), or Seamus Finnegan (hell no!). And of course, the Chosen One would be there, in all his glorious singlehood. But that was never going to happen. They had made peace after running into each other a couple of times at ministry functions that she organized. But from him to say that he had no hard feelings toward her to see her as a romantic prospect… well, that was not even a possibility.
A knock on the window snapped Pansy out of her musings. An owl was standing there. She got off the bed and went to get the message.
"You are a cutie," she said to the white owl, petting it. The bird looked pleased. She opened the message.
Hi Parkinson
Rumor has it that you are the best matchmaker around. I was wondering if you would be interested in helping me. Of course, I would appreciate your discretion; I think you know gossip about me is a non-stop pain in my arse. If you think I am not entirely hopeless, please give me an appointment, and you can explain to me how it works.
Cheers
Harry Potter.
Pansy stood there, frozen. Her mind went blank, a sour taste filling her mouth. Then reality hit: she was attracted to the Boy Who Lived. And her punishment in life was going to be to set him up and watch him marry someone else. The owl peck her hand, and she shook her head; then wrote a quick note:
Meet me tonight at seven at Duck and Waffle in Muggle London. That way, we can start this mission with the utmost discretion. I'll reserve a table under my name.
Regards
Pansy P.
That evening Pansy apparated to the side alley by the restaurant and made her way in. When she got to the restaurant's entrance, she saw Harry standing there, wearing a tailored muggle suit and chatting with the hostess, who was all eyelashes and pouty lips. Had this scene happened back when Pansy was the Slytherin Princess, she would have hex the girl's hair off. Nowadays, she knew better, though. She straightened her already perfect posture, then walked with all the poise her pureblood upbringing could give her.
"Good evening, Mr. Potter."
Harry turned around, and his eyes shined when he saw her. Pansy saw the hostess's face fall and felt a malicious satisfaction.
"Good evening, Mrs. Parkinson," he answered, taking her hand and kissing it, then leaning to kiss her cheeks. Pansy's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her composure while lacing her arm with his. The hostess plastered a fake smile on her face and took them to a booth that faced the floor to ceiling windows with a spectacular view of London's skyline.
After ordering drinks, Pansy tried to keep control of her emotions by jumping right to business.
"So, Chief Potter, what can I do for you?"
"Well, Miss Parkinson, as you know, your best friend and my best friend are practically engaged after one week of the date you set for them. So I'm hoping maybe you can do the same for me."
She smiled, though inside she wanted to yell: "LOOK AT ME, I'M RIGHT HERE. I WOULD BE A MUCH BETTER GIRLFRIEND THAN ANYONE OTHER WITCH. I'M LOYAL, I LEFT ALL MY BAD HABITS BEHIND AND I'M GREAT IN BED. DATE ME. FALL IN LOVE WITH ME!"
But instead, she said:
"Of course. I think in your case, we need to do a shorter version of the speed dating event. No open calls or letting the word out. I will recruit the ladies myself and will not tell them who they are meeting."
Harry nodded, but his eyes kept dropping to her lips. She had grown into her features and was now a very sexy witch.
"Harry?"
"Pardon?"
"Just leave it to me. I will set up the right event for you," Pansy assured him.
"Great. Shall we enjoy our dinner then?"
She smiled and lifted her glass to clink in a toast, even though she was feeling hopeless. Dinner turned out to be the best date either of them had ever have. At the end of it, they walked to the alley to disapparate. Harry faced the pretty witch and said:
"So, what now?"
She looked at those green eyes, the sexy facial hair, those lips, and decided she needed to get out of there before her emotions overrun her restraint.
"I'll owl you," she said, turning on her toes to disapparate. When she was gone, Harry felt her absence like a weight around his neck.
Harry spent the next two days trying to think of an excuse to owl Pansy. But since they had agreed on her organizing the speed dating event for him, he didn't want her to think he was rushing her. Harry was not even sure why he wanted to owl her. He was lost in thought when a howler landed in front of him and screamed:
"POTTER!"
Harry cursed and shouted:
"Would you ever grow the fuck up?"
Draco Malfoy walked into his office with a smirk on his face.
"Come on; it never gets old. Why are you a sour patch anyway? Do you know what works for that? Getting laid."
"Oh, so you get to bang my best friend for a week, and suddenly you are a sex god? Let me remind you that last week your balls were a lovely shade of blue."
"I don't dwell in the past, Potter. Now, what are we going to do for your blue balls?"
Harry sigh, resigned. This conversation was happening. Damn the day he decided to accept Malfoy's offer of friendship. The git was way too good at it.
"Pansy is fixing an event for me."
"Oh. Then why the long face?"
"I'm not sure is what I want."
"Why not? She's good. Look at how things turned out for Granger and me."
"You still call your girlfriend by her surname?"
"I like it. Keeps her feisty. It's a good look for her."
Harry smiled.
"So you think Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalries transition nicely into spicy sex?"
"Oh, shit, you want to nail Pansy! You rascal!"
Harry shot him a sting hex but didn't deny it. Malfoy knew Pansy better than anyone. He could use some advice.
"So do you think I should tell her to call off the event? Just ask her out?"
Draco thought for a moment, then smiled maliciously.
"No. Let her sweat a little. It'll be good for your cause."
Harry thought that was a bit mean, but he would be seeing her in two days anyway, so why not wait.
"Fine. But just a little."
"You are such a Gryffindork. Come on, let's grab lunch.
Two days later, Harry went to the rooftop restaurant that Pansy had prepared for the event. When he greeted her, he kissed her on the corner of her mouth. Pansy trembled but managed to stay focused. She had set only three dates. Two Hufflepuff girls and an American, a graduate from Ilvermorny. Pansy thought that a foreign girl could be a good option for Harry, even though her heart ached at the prospect.
Harry spent five minutes with each of the Hufflepuff girls, and as expected, they were lovely. Neither of them would hold a candle to Pansy, though, at least in Harry's eyes. He mused that maybe Pansy had purposely chosen women that were pretty but would look dull next to her. The Slytherin witch exuded sensuality.
The third candidate was the American witch. From the beginning, Harry felt something was off. The woman was curious in an invasive way, and he found himself dodging very personal questions, entirely inappropriate for a first date. Suddenly, the witch's face started to contort horribly. Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at her. When the twisting stopped, he saw the supposed American witch was someone who had used polyjuice potion: Rita Skeeter.
"You!" he yelled, furious. But before he could do something, the witch was convulsing in pain. Pansy had shot a series of stinging hexes at the odious reporter and was now standing on top, with her wand pointed at Skeeter's face.
"Give me your memory of this event," Pansy said in a scary voice.
"You can't demand that from me, young lady, I am with the press. I have the right to report what I see."
"Not if you endangered the head of Magical Law Enforcement, you disgusting rat. I may not have the authority to arrest you, but he does. Right, Chief Potter? Pansy said, looking at Harry.
He smirked.
"Indeed. Give us the memory, Skeeter. All of it. Or I swear I would obliviate the last year out of you. I bet no one would mind if I do that."
The nosy reporter huffed and did as told. Pansy used and Incendio so strong to destroy the memory that it burned a hole on the floor. Then she simply repaired it. With another wave of her wand, she levitated the annoying witch and asked Harry:
"Should she go to Auror headquarters?"
Harry chuckled.
"Yes, please. Detention room. You are under arrest, Skeeter, for endangering a law officer."
Pansy called the location and threw the witch out through the floo. When she turned around, Harry was looking at her, impressed. Now he was sure that he liked her—a lot.
"You could have been an auror, you know?" He commented, amused.
"I thought about it," she confessed, "but I think I enjoy playing cupid more." then she walked to sit next to him. I'm very sorry about that, Harry. I should have done a better background check. She came to my agency carrying photographs and mementos of her life. Or should I say from an American witch's life? I wonder how did she get them.
"Skeeter has no scruples. She probably stole those or found them in a lost bag and then saw a chance to use them. I'll find out tomorrow when she undergoes interrogation."
Pansy nodded. She found Harry's career very sexy.
"So, Rat Skeeter aside, is there anyone you would like to see again?"
Harry shook his head.
"No, not really. At least none of the two that were real," he chuckled. "Lovely ladies, but they did not strike my fancy. I think I want something different."
"I'm sorry, Potter. Please don't be discouraged. We can start looking abroad, where your fame would not be such a hindrance. I promise I will find you someone you will like very much."
Harry shook his head again, a smirk on his face.
"You know, Parkinson, I think you suck at this."
"I beg your pardon?" she stiffened, feeling like he punched her in the gut.
"You are failing to see what is right in front of your face," he said, poking her cute turned-up nose.
She felt cold and hot at the same time, her Slytherin-ness trying to put down the eagerness that surged in her chest. Her voice came out in a squeak:
"What do you mean?"
He moved closer to her, reaching to caress her face with his fingertips.
"How about you and me?"
"Huh?" was all she could manage in another squeak. Dammit Pansy, pull yourself together before…
Her thoughts were interrupted by his mouth on hers. It started slowly, just a soft brushing of lips and the tempting warmth of each other's breath. Then he pulled away, holding her gaze. Pansy's brain shut off, and her cravings took over. She straddled him and went down for a deep kiss. He happily obliged, one hand on her nape, the other on her lower back, pulling her very close. After a few minutes she came out for air and he asked with a smile:
"So I take you do like me?"
"Shut up, Potter," she answered before kissing him again.