Prompt : Could you make a pt 2 of a friendly first meeting where they meet again because he invited her for a drink?

Friendly First Meeting was chapter 256 and more generally a HP AU. There were a few numbers of asks and reviews for a sequel so here it is. There will be a third part. Eventually.

Friendly Second Meeting

"You do that with all the guys you're sent to terrorize into submission?" Haymitch smirked, looking at the ceiling with a certain amount of satisfaction. That wasn't how he had planned for his day to go when he had woken up that morning but it was certainly better than staring at the wall in his small decrepit house and drinking himself into oblivion.

"You are an exception." she answered, stretching lazily before settling back down on the bed next to him. "Merlin knows why."

He turned his head to look at her, his smirk deepening. She was lying on her stomach, her cheek cushioned on her folded arms and she was looking at him, naked as the day she was born and absolutely not bothered by it. Most women were self-conscious about their body even after sex but not her. He had expected her to wrap herself in her expensive sheets and diplomatically hint it was time for him to go as soon as they were done – after all, he had met her only that morning and she had only agreed on a drink at the Leaking Cauldron, how they had ended up apparating to her place and falling in bed was a total mystery.

"Already regretting sleeping with the drunkard Auror, Euphemia?" he taunted, rolling on his side to take a better look at her. She was beautiful. There was no other word for it. Tantalizing amount of creamy white skin unapologetically offered to his eyes, golden curls tangled from their previous activity, perfect curves that made his mouth water and parts of him twitch as if he was seventeen and not forty… "Won't brag about this one to your friends, right?"

It wasn't completely a question and the self-depreciation wasn't totally an act either. He wasn't a catch, he was aware of that. He didn't particularly want to be a catch either. One-night-stands were more than enough for him, he didn't need anything more than that. He usually avoided sleeping with women who worked at the Ministry – or, at the very least, women who worked for Fudge – but this one… She was different.

And given that everything in her flat looked more expensive than anything he ever owned, that she reeked of money and was so clearly a Pureblood – the kind with an army of ancestors to boost, no less – he wouldn't have expected her to go for anything less than a catch. When he had invited her for a drink, he had meant sex. He hadn't expected her to accept. Why she had was a mystery. She could have had anyone in the Wizarding World and beyond.

"Effie." she corrected softly, studying him in the semi-darkness. The curtains were open, the city lights spilled in the room. They were somewhere in central London, he thought.

"What?" he frowned.

"My friends call me Effie, not Euphemia." she explained.

"And we're friends now?" he snorted. "A few hours ago you were going to fire me."

"It was just a warning." she sighed. "How many time must I explain how warnings work? Do your job like you ought to do it and everything will be fine."

Annoyance laced her voice and it amused him. She was easy to irritate and he loved pushing people's buttons.

"You like bossing people around." he deduced.

"Oh, and now you have me all figured out, now, don't you?" she huffed. "You think a short meeting and an hour of recreational activity is enough to…"

"Recreational activity." he chuckled, finally giving in to the temptation and placing a hand at the small of her back. She closed her mouth, watching him with rapt attention. "Never heard it called that before."

He slowly traced her spine with the tip of his finger, up and down, delighted by the goosebump it left in its wake.

"What would you prefer?" she challenged. "Intercourses? Sex? Screwing? Fucking?"

She spat the last word with obvious distaste for the objectionable vocabulary.

His laughter was low and slightly mocking yet it took him by surprise. He wasn't quite used to laugh anymore. "Yeah, I think fucking covers it."

His body certainly seemed to think so. It was hurting in some places.

"You have no manners at all, do you?" she asked, lips pursed in amusement.

"It's what you like." he accused. "It gives you a thrill."

"And we are back to you thinking you have me all figured out." she pointed out.

He brushed the blond strands away from her face, his fingers trailed down her neck and then he took his hand away and shrugged. "Not hard to figure out, you're an open book : pureblood, spoiled brat with a rich Daddy, over-achiever, ambitious – you're probably dreaming of becoming the next Minister of Magic – you're sexy and you know how to use it, confident. And, apparently, you've got a weakness for bad boys but not those you perceive as too dangerous, tamed ones – which is where you went wrong by the way, I'm not tamed and I'm very much dangerous."

It was meant as a threat but she didn't flinch, she didn't even bat an eyelash. "Not bad."

"Yeah, that's my job, remember?" he mocked. Or it used to be at least, he hadn't bothered being a proper Auror in some time. "While we're on the subject, sweetheart… Bringing people you've just met to your place right now isn't really safe. And your wards suck."

"My wards are on point." she huffed, clearly vexed.

"Against a regular burglar, maybe." he shrugged. "Not against a Death Eater."

"Oh, not this nonsense again!" she sighed. "Haymitch…"

"Yeah, you don't think You-Know-Who's back." He flopped on his back. "I forgot you were stupid."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "The Ministry…"

"Spare me the propaganda." he begged. "You won't convince me."

"Well, you won't convince me either." she snapped.

It was the point he should get up, grab his clothes and apparate away. It had been a long time since his last one-night-stand but not long enough that he didn't remember the rules.

"You were a bloody Hufflepuff, weren't you?" he asked.

It took a few seconds before she cleared her throat. "I fail to see how this is relevant."

"Loyalty makes the best people blind." he commented, sitting up with a sigh.

She sat up too, a frown on her face. "Are you already going?" She briefly bit her bottom lip as if to punish herself for that outburst.

He added another thing to his list : she was lonely.

And what did he have waiting at home but a bottle of whiskey with his name on it?

"You don't want me to?" he asked, just to be sure.

It was stupid naturally. That wasn't how it worked. You didn't stay after casual sex, you left, otherwise it became something else and…

"I would not mind if you wanted to stay here for a little while." she said, too casually for it to be truly detached.

They both lied back down but she settled closer this time, hooking a leg over his and placing a tentative hand on his stomach. Her breasts were pressed against his arm and it should have been awkward but he felt his body relax. He didn't know what it was about her but there was something. Maybe she had slipped him a love potion while he wasn't looking. The thought amused him for a while.

Her fingers found the scarred tissues on his side, her thumb retraced the long gash curiously.

"You're going to ask?" he prompted after a few minutes.

"I've read your file." she whispered.

She knew the sorry tale then : bad wizards, personal vendetta, his family and his long time girlfriend in coffins, his failure and the heavy drinking that resulted from it.

"Nice bedtime story, right?" he snarled.

She didn't take the bait. "You were in Slytherin."

"Your point?" he spat. He wasn't in the mood for the "all Slytherins were bad" argument.

"It couldn't have been easy being a Muggleborn in Slytherin." she ventured.

"It was what it was." he growled. "Life isn't easy."

"I'm just making conversation, no need to get defensive." she replied.

"You're making conversation or you're trying to figure out how I ended up in the Order of the Phoenix and if I'm still in?" he retorted, staring at her. "What's your angle, sweetheart?"

She looked up, a small frown on her face. "I have no angle. You are paranoiac."

"Constant vigilance." he scorned, wondering briefly how Moody was doing. "I need to go now."

She grabbed his arm before he could leave the bed. Her eyes were pleading. "Haymitch, I have no angle."

A girl like her always had an angle but he didn't think it would be particularly wise to point it out at that second.

She didn't ask if he wanted to see her again sometimes but he could tell she wanted to. He pretended not to notice as he got dressed in a hurry, more than ready, now, to flee the flat. Sleeping with a Ministry drone wasn't clever, starting something with a Ministry drone – or anyone, really – was dumb. And Haymitch wasn't dumb.

That particular story ended right then, right there.

He was absolutely sure of himself, absolutely sure of his decision.

That was why it confused even himself when he found himself lurking near her office the following day.

She looked happy to see him, if a little hesitant.

There was nothing hesitant in the way she pinned him to the wall in the supply closet.

Merlin, he was in deep shit.

That girl…

That girl, she was something else.