A/N: Hello there! For the sake of this fic, let us assume that love potions are illegal in the Potter universe. Which they really should have been. I mean don't you think that it was simply preposterous that something as dangerous as love potions were available to be sold at a joke shop???

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Staring into the bespectacled eyes of the once boy, now man-who-lived, Pansy's heart skipped a beat. Down on his knees, he looked utterly hopeful, like a stray Kneazle, freezing out on her doorstep, by the virtue of the ever-unpredictable British rains. She had a weakness for strays, she never could, in good conscience walk away from one. On account of the five Kneazles that she owned Pansy had been monikered the crazy cat lady more than once in her limited social circles, an appellation that she believed was utterly ridiculous since she did not own a single cat.

"I love you." The man bemoaned.

"Though, I don't know why. For years I thought that you were despicable. After all, you did try to hand me over to Voldemort."

Ugh. Gryffindors. So bloody melodramatic.

"I woke up today, and I just knew. I knew that I loved you. I don't care that you're something of an utter bitch and that you once swapped my pumpkin pasties for puking pasties. You've always been loud and rude and also, you're not a very nice person, but I love you. So. What do you say? Will you marry me?"

As far as proposals went, Pansy had heard worse. Seeing that he hadn't lamented over the state of her diminutive breasts and demanded a compensation of nearly 300 galleons along with her dowry, Pansy guessed that it was as good as a proposal could get.

Remembering to inwardly thank the Fiendfyre that had killed her once upon a time fiancé Gregory Goyle, as well as the stroke that had struck her father, Cassius Parkinson dead, thus keeping him from any further matchmaking, Pansy pulled the man before her into her tiny living room.

"This is all quite sweet Potter and I'm flattered, but you don't love me."

The look on his face was earth-shattering. He staggered a few steps as if shocked by statement, before plunging into her ratty old sofa. He was quite adorable when he was upset.

Adorable? Pansy scoffed.

Where had that thought come from? When had she, Pansy Parkinson, pureblood princess, and bitch-queen extraordinaré started to associate the word adorable with anything Harry Potter?

"I know that we're not ideal Parkinson-"

Pansy laughed and cut him off. "Not ideal? That's the understatement of the century."

"I think that we're meant to be." He went on, "I just know it. I love you, and I know I can make you love me. Just give me a chance."

His proposal was tempting. Pansy would be lying if she said that some part of her didn't want to just act dumb and say yes to his proposal, no matter that he was obviously under the effect of some sort of enchantment. It was the Slytherin in her that couldn't overlook a good opportunity when it presented itself. Pansy's social standing had taken quite the tumble after the war. The ministry had ceased most of her family assets and hardly anyone wanted to employ the woman that had tried to hand over their savior to his death and so Pansy spent a majority of her days waitressing in downtrodden and shady bars. Her ancestors where probably rolling over in their graves.

"Potter. You don't love me."

"I do."

God, but the situation was aggravating! He was everything that she needed to get out of the hell hole that was her life currently. Marrying, heck even dating the chosen one would elevate Pansy to star status, because if Harry Potter could forgive Pansy enough to marry her, so could the rest of the world. She could say yes, she should say yes! But would it work? Wouldn't the fact that the man was under the effect of a love potion be just as obvious to the rest of the world as it was to her?

Pansy groaned, "You're not in love with me Potter, you're under the effect of a love potion."

"No, I'm not. I love you!"

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Calling the aurors was a mistake, one that became painfully obvious to Pansy the second Harry Potter's red headed wanker of a sidekick handcuffed her hands behind her back.

"What?" Pansy sputtered, "What the hell do you think you're doing Weasel-bee?"

"Pansy Parkinson you are under arrest for the crime of illegally bewitching a Mr Harry Potter. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say, can and will be used against you in the winzengamot. You have the right to a legal council. It is also legally required for me to tell you that you have been handcuffed with magic dampers for the protection of those around you."

"Fuck you Weasley!"

The sound of a scuffle breaking out in Pansy's living room had her trying to turn as the redheaded twat shoved her into the floo.

"Ronald stop!" Potter's voice echoed through her ears for a second before they arrived at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, somewhere within the bowels of the Ministry.

"You can't arrest me." Pansy screamed, "I didn't do anything. Please Weasley listen to me."

"You've been arrested at the scene of the crime."

"But I didn't do it." Pansy cried, "He just showed up at my house on his own, I haven't even seen Potter since the war. For Merlin's sake Weasley, I was the one that contacted the authors!"

"Shut up." He spat, "Your previous association with the dark arts is more than enough for me to make this arrest. So just keep your mouth shut, and hope that someone out their is ready to defend you Parkinson, otherwise its Azakaban for you."

A/N: If you've read my other fic - Platform 9 and 3/4 - thank you! Know that I do plan to continue it. I had the whole thing planned out, and then I got the dreaded virus that's plaguing the world and I got really sick. It took me a month to just stop coughing my lungs out. I will finish it eventually, but I'm just not in the headspace to write it now. And Ive also kind of forgotten what I had planned. But eventually!