Title: Stories
Author: Fiery Disposition
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Summary: Pansy learns the difference between fact and fiction.
Pansy's lips quirked in amusement. There were many stories about Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, ranging from how he really defeated the Dark Lord to what his favorite color was to how he faired in bed. Yet, somehow none of them had prepared her for the sight of Potter stumbling blurry eyed into Draco's kitchen, his pajama bottoms twisted and dipping just below his left hip bone. No, if the stories were to be believed, one would think that Harry Potter awoke bright and shiny, freshly shaven and showered, and ready to tackle whatever dark lord of the moment was trying to take over the world.
Pansy had news for them. In the morning, Harry Potter was neither bright nor shiny.
She sat on one of the bar stools beside the island in the center of the room as Harry made his way directly to the coffee pot, his back to her. She watched him fumble about Draco's kitchen in his sleepy haze, her chin resting in her hand. He had yet to notice her presence, and she was amused to see that he obviously knew his way around. Pansy made a mental note to interrogate Draco later.
Now, some would say that Pansy was surprised to see Harry Potter stumble into Draco's kitchen. Pansy would say that she was a Slytherin, and therefore was never surprised. More like... intrigued. Yes, Pansy thought, intrigued was a good word for it. Draco had failed to mention that he had any sort of contact with Potter, not to mention what appeared to be a relationship.
Pansy was certain that the term relationship was appropriate because she highly doubted that the faded, scruffy, red and gold pajama pants belong to Draco. Just like she suspected that the "I may be the Boy Who Lived, but not without my coffee" cup belonged to Potter as well. She was also sure that if she took the initiative to check, she could find Potter's toothbrush right next to Draco's in the holder beside the bathroom sink. All in all, it spelled out relationship.
Pansy timed it so that he was just about to take his first sip of coffee before she spoke. With a smirk on her face and a drawl that Draco would have been proud of, she said, "Good morning, Mr. Potter."
Potter jumped, spilling the hot liquid down his bare chest, which only caused him to jump again and yelp with pain. Setting the coffee down on the countertop, he turned around to face her. "Pansy..." he said with the scratchy voice of someone who had just woken up. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose, before pushing up his glasses and turning towards the sink to grab a towel.
Pansy's smirk only grew as she watched Potter eye her warily. After cleaning up the coffee, Potter turned to her, cleared his throat, and asked, "Coffee?" Completely amused now, Pansy inclined her head. It didn't seem to matter to Potter that he was standing half-naked in his lover's, her best friend's, kitchen with coffee stains on his pajama bottoms, barely awake, and a very unexpected guest sitting at the counter. He was bound and determined to be polite and show some manners. What a Gryffindor...
A few minutes later, Pansy had a steaming cup of coffee in her hand and a disgruntled Harry Potter leaning against the counter on the other side of the island. Deciding that she did not want to play nice and let dear Mr. Potter finish his coffee first, she set her cup down and said, "I must say I am intrigued, Potter. Mind you, I am very accustomed to meeting Draco's lovers while waiting on him to appear for our little jaunts, but to have Harry Potter waltz into the kitchen..." She let the rest of her sentence hang in the air between them.
It was true; Pansy could not count the number of times she had sat in this very spot waiting on Draco, only to have his lover of the month walk, stumble, or, on one memorable occasion, skip into the kitchen.
Potter took a sip of coffee and cleared his throat. "He didn't tell you?" he asked, slightly confused.
Pansy rolled her eyes in annoyance. "No, Potter he did not tell me. If he had, I would hardly be sitting across from you inquiring as to why you are sleeping with my best friend." Pansy sighed. Honestly, Gryffindors had all the insight of a flobberworm. She fixed Potter with a piercing look as she took another sip of her coffee. "Well, I must say that I am rather curious as to how this arrangement came about. If the stories are to be believed, Harry Potter is the ideal bachelor, dating whomever he pleases, but never becoming entangled in something long term." Pansy tapped a finger to her lips. "So now the question must be asked... what are you doing with my Draco?"
To Pansy's amusement, Potter smirked. Apparently, Draco was teaching him bad habits. "Aside from that one interview I gave The Quibbler, the media has yet to print a true story about me." He shook his head. "As for Draco..." Potter looked slightly uncomfortable. "We have an arrangement that suits us."
Raising an eyebrow, Pansy sipped on her coffee. "An arrangement that suits you..." she said softly, setting down her cup. "Don't be coy with me, Potter. While I will admit that Draco is a big boy and has had is fair share of lovers, I will not stand by and watch him be used and tossed aside by the Boy Who Lived."
He looked slightly startled. "Is that what you think I'm doing?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. "Pansy, I..." He let out a deep breath.
"So you deny it?" she pressed. "Come now, Potter, your record speaks against you. There are so many lovers... so many stories... Although, I suppose you should be proud," she sneered. "Your reputation in bed precedes you."
Potter glared at her, "You don't know what you are talking about."
"Don't I?"
Rising to get another cup of coffee, Potter bit out, "I never slept with any of those people."
"None of them?"
"Not a single one," he declared, turning around to face her. He took a sip, watching her through the steam rising from his cup. It seemed to Pansy as though he were deciding on how much information he was willing to give her. Lowering his cup, Potter said, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to go on a decent date?"
Pansy snorted in disbelief. "Oh please. You expect me to believe that? You're Harry fucking Potter, the Boy Who fucking Lived. You could have anyone you wanted."
"But that's just it," he said, narrowing his eyes. "I am Harry Potter. Everyone wants to date the Boy Who Lived, to be seen with the Boy Who Lived, to say they've slept with the Boy Who Lived." He shook his head, and then returned his gaze to her, and Pansy was a little startled to see such emotion in them. "Every single time I would meet someone new, things would start off brilliantly. Nice conversation, nice dinner, maybe even a nice kiss at the end of it all." He sighed. "But it never failed that in the following days, I would see the headline," he motioned in the air in front of him, "'Insiders View to Dating the Boy Who Lived'."
After a moment of silence, he continued, "But you know who didn't?" Potter tilted his head, looking at her thoughtfully. "Draco."
He walked back over and once again leaned against the counter across from her. Picking up her coffee, Pansy murmured, "He never did like the media much, after the war."
Potter smiled, humorlessly. "Probably because they gave him about as much hell as they gave me."
She studied Potter for a moment before asking, "So tell me then, Harry Potter, why are you interested in Draco? I would have thought you two would stay far away from each other, considering how you two acted at Hogwarts."
"I would have, too." Potter shrugged. "But things change. People change. When it came down to it, I found that I could actually trust him." His lips twisted in a wry smile. "We went out a few times, and even though I had feared the worst, there were no stories in the paper, no headlines claiming that I was the worst lover ever, nothing whatsoever about our dates." He gave her a searching look. "Can you understand how refreshing that was for me?"
She nodded, slightly. Yes, she could, Pansy thought. Harry Potter wasn't the only one the media hounded. Leaning forward, Pansy looked him straight in the eye. "That's all fine and dandy, Mr. Potter, but what I want to know is, what are your intentions as far as Draco is concerned?"
He held her gaze for a moment before murmuring, "I'd like to see where what we have can take us."
Satisfied, Pansy sat back up. She'd let it go for now. While, she didn't exactly trust him, she highly doubted Pot- it was Harry now, she supposed- would do anything to intentionally hurt her Draco. And if she wanted to be completely honest with herself, she'd never trust anyone where Draco was concerned.
Neither she nor Harry seemed to feel any further discussion of this topic of conversation was necessary. Without being asked, he took her cup and refilled it. When he set it back in front of her, she quirked her lips. Answering with a wry smile of his own, Harry started to say something, but he was interrupted by a voice from the doorway.
"Why hello, Pansy Darling." Both Pansy and Harry looked over to watch Draco saunter into the room, freshly showered and shaven. After greeting her with a kiss to both cheeks, he said, "I see Harry has been keeping you company." He stepped back, outwardly composed, but his eyes searched hers, as though looking for a sign of reassurance.
Pansy's only reply was to smile mysteriously, and take another sip of her coffee. Harry, with a quick glance at Pansy, also smiled and said, "Yes, we've just been talking."
Harry's vague answer caused Draco to lift an eyebrow at the pair of them. Pansy knew what he must have been thinking. Pansy Parkinson and Harry Potter were getting along, and even keeping secrets it seemed, in his kitchen. Apparently, both of them had missed the report about hell freezing over... "Talking..." he said slowly. "And what, may I ask, were you two talking about?"
This time it was Pansy's turn to answer. "Honestly, Draco, you are so paranoid." She gave him a devious smile. "Harry was just telling me a story..."
Finis
Completed 15 May 2004.
Pansy's lips quirked in amusement. There were many stories about Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, ranging from how he really defeated the Dark Lord to what his favorite color was to how he faired in bed. Yet, somehow none of them had prepared her for the sight of Potter stumbling blurry eyed into Draco's kitchen, his pajama bottoms twisted and dipping just below his left hip bone. No, if the stories were to be believed, one would think that Harry Potter awoke bright and shiny, freshly shaven and showered, and ready to tackle whatever dark lord of the moment was trying to take over the world.
Pansy had news for them. In the morning, Harry Potter was neither bright nor shiny.
She sat on one of the bar stools beside the island in the center of the room as Harry made his way directly to the coffee pot, his back to her. She watched him fumble about Draco's kitchen in his sleepy haze, her chin resting in her hand. He had yet to notice her presence, and she was amused to see that he obviously knew his way around. Pansy made a mental note to interrogate Draco later.
Now, some would say that Pansy was surprised to see Harry Potter stumble into Draco's kitchen. Pansy would say that she was a Slytherin, and therefore was never surprised. More like... intrigued. Yes, Pansy thought, intrigued was a good word for it. Draco had failed to mention that he had any sort of contact with Potter, not to mention what appeared to be a relationship.
Pansy was certain that the term relationship was appropriate because she highly doubted that the faded, scruffy, red and gold pajama pants belong to Draco. Just like she suspected that the "I may be the Boy Who Lived, but not without my coffee" cup belonged to Potter as well. She was also sure that if she took the initiative to check, she could find Potter's toothbrush right next to Draco's in the holder beside the bathroom sink. All in all, it spelled out relationship.
Pansy timed it so that he was just about to take his first sip of coffee before she spoke. With a smirk on her face and a drawl that Draco would have been proud of, she said, "Good morning, Mr. Potter."
Potter jumped, spilling the hot liquid down his bare chest, which only caused him to jump again and yelp with pain. Setting the coffee down on the countertop, he turned around to face her. "Pansy..." he said with the scratchy voice of someone who had just woken up. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose, before pushing up his glasses and turning towards the sink to grab a towel.
Pansy's smirk only grew as she watched Potter eye her warily. After cleaning up the coffee, Potter turned to her, cleared his throat, and asked, "Coffee?" Completely amused now, Pansy inclined her head. It didn't seem to matter to Potter that he was standing half-naked in his lover's, her best friend's, kitchen with coffee stains on his pajama bottoms, barely awake, and a very unexpected guest sitting at the counter. He was bound and determined to be polite and show some manners. What a Gryffindor...
A few minutes later, Pansy had a steaming cup of coffee in her hand and a disgruntled Harry Potter leaning against the counter on the other side of the island. Deciding that she did not want to play nice and let dear Mr. Potter finish his coffee first, she set her cup down and said, "I must say I am intrigued, Potter. Mind you, I am very accustomed to meeting Draco's lovers while waiting on him to appear for our little jaunts, but to have Harry Potter waltz into the kitchen..." She let the rest of her sentence hang in the air between them.
It was true; Pansy could not count the number of times she had sat in this very spot waiting on Draco, only to have his lover of the month walk, stumble, or, on one memorable occasion, skip into the kitchen.
Potter took a sip of coffee and cleared his throat. "He didn't tell you?" he asked, slightly confused.
Pansy rolled her eyes in annoyance. "No, Potter he did not tell me. If he had, I would hardly be sitting across from you inquiring as to why you are sleeping with my best friend." Pansy sighed. Honestly, Gryffindors had all the insight of a flobberworm. She fixed Potter with a piercing look as she took another sip of her coffee. "Well, I must say that I am rather curious as to how this arrangement came about. If the stories are to be believed, Harry Potter is the ideal bachelor, dating whomever he pleases, but never becoming entangled in something long term." Pansy tapped a finger to her lips. "So now the question must be asked... what are you doing with my Draco?"
To Pansy's amusement, Potter smirked. Apparently, Draco was teaching him bad habits. "Aside from that one interview I gave The Quibbler, the media has yet to print a true story about me." He shook his head. "As for Draco..." Potter looked slightly uncomfortable. "We have an arrangement that suits us."
Raising an eyebrow, Pansy sipped on her coffee. "An arrangement that suits you..." she said softly, setting down her cup. "Don't be coy with me, Potter. While I will admit that Draco is a big boy and has had is fair share of lovers, I will not stand by and watch him be used and tossed aside by the Boy Who Lived."
He looked slightly startled. "Is that what you think I'm doing?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. "Pansy, I..." He let out a deep breath.
"So you deny it?" she pressed. "Come now, Potter, your record speaks against you. There are so many lovers... so many stories... Although, I suppose you should be proud," she sneered. "Your reputation in bed precedes you."
Potter glared at her, "You don't know what you are talking about."
"Don't I?"
Rising to get another cup of coffee, Potter bit out, "I never slept with any of those people."
"None of them?"
"Not a single one," he declared, turning around to face her. He took a sip, watching her through the steam rising from his cup. It seemed to Pansy as though he were deciding on how much information he was willing to give her. Lowering his cup, Potter said, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to go on a decent date?"
Pansy snorted in disbelief. "Oh please. You expect me to believe that? You're Harry fucking Potter, the Boy Who fucking Lived. You could have anyone you wanted."
"But that's just it," he said, narrowing his eyes. "I am Harry Potter. Everyone wants to date the Boy Who Lived, to be seen with the Boy Who Lived, to say they've slept with the Boy Who Lived." He shook his head, and then returned his gaze to her, and Pansy was a little startled to see such emotion in them. "Every single time I would meet someone new, things would start off brilliantly. Nice conversation, nice dinner, maybe even a nice kiss at the end of it all." He sighed. "But it never failed that in the following days, I would see the headline," he motioned in the air in front of him, "'Insiders View to Dating the Boy Who Lived'."
After a moment of silence, he continued, "But you know who didn't?" Potter tilted his head, looking at her thoughtfully. "Draco."
He walked back over and once again leaned against the counter across from her. Picking up her coffee, Pansy murmured, "He never did like the media much, after the war."
Potter smiled, humorlessly. "Probably because they gave him about as much hell as they gave me."
She studied Potter for a moment before asking, "So tell me then, Harry Potter, why are you interested in Draco? I would have thought you two would stay far away from each other, considering how you two acted at Hogwarts."
"I would have, too." Potter shrugged. "But things change. People change. When it came down to it, I found that I could actually trust him." His lips twisted in a wry smile. "We went out a few times, and even though I had feared the worst, there were no stories in the paper, no headlines claiming that I was the worst lover ever, nothing whatsoever about our dates." He gave her a searching look. "Can you understand how refreshing that was for me?"
She nodded, slightly. Yes, she could, Pansy thought. Harry Potter wasn't the only one the media hounded. Leaning forward, Pansy looked him straight in the eye. "That's all fine and dandy, Mr. Potter, but what I want to know is, what are your intentions as far as Draco is concerned?"
He held her gaze for a moment before murmuring, "I'd like to see where what we have can take us."
Satisfied, Pansy sat back up. She'd let it go for now. While, she didn't exactly trust him, she highly doubted Pot- it was Harry now, she supposed- would do anything to intentionally hurt her Draco. And if she wanted to be completely honest with herself, she'd never trust anyone where Draco was concerned.
Neither she nor Harry seemed to feel any further discussion of this topic of conversation was necessary. Without being asked, he took her cup and refilled it. When he set it back in front of her, she quirked her lips. Answering with a wry smile of his own, Harry started to say something, but he was interrupted by a voice from the doorway.
"Why hello, Pansy Darling." Both Pansy and Harry looked over to watch Draco saunter into the room, freshly showered and shaven. After greeting her with a kiss to both cheeks, he said, "I see Harry has been keeping you company." He stepped back, outwardly composed, but his eyes searched hers, as though looking for a sign of reassurance.
Pansy's only reply was to smile mysteriously, and take another sip of her coffee. Harry, with a quick glance at Pansy, also smiled and said, "Yes, we've just been talking."
Harry's vague answer caused Draco to lift an eyebrow at the pair of them. Pansy knew what he must have been thinking. Pansy Parkinson and Harry Potter were getting along, and even keeping secrets it seemed, in his kitchen. Apparently, both of them had missed the report about hell freezing over... "Talking..." he said slowly. "And what, may I ask, were you two talking about?"
This time it was Pansy's turn to answer. "Honestly, Draco, you are so paranoid." She gave him a devious smile. "Harry was just telling me a story..."
Finis
Completed 15 May 2004.