When You Least Expect It
by hasapi
Author's Notes: Hah! Finally! This story was all the way down at number 29 out of my 35 stories, it hadn't been updated in so long. More than a year after I started this story, you have the second chapter. I doubt it'll be another YEAR'S wait, so I don't feel bad promising the third chapter will be along faster than this one was!
Pairing: Harry Potter / Pansy Parkinson (I'm not going to bother hiding it; it's rather apparent from the summary!)
Rating: R (language)
Summary: Harry Potter, seeker extraordinaire, was tired of being sought out for only his fame, fortune, and good looks. Pansy Parkinson had given up hope that there were any good men out there. Funny they should find each other...
Disclaimer: Hehe, did you think I owned this? Think again!!
Chapter 2: An Unexpected Meeting
She'd kill him for this, she would. Draco Malfoy was going to meet an early death, and no one was going to mourn it. She certainly wouldn't, that was for sure. She'd gone to him, hoping he would be able to talk some sense into her, make her forget about everything people said about her and her mother. Unfortunately, he had convinced her that the best way to do that was to go to the ministry gala. And wear this robe that she hadn't worn in years, since the last gala she'd been at. It was tight—not quite as tight as it had been, as she'd lost weight—and a dark green color that she'd always thought complimented her blond hair.
Except, she had forgotten until she entered the room and saw the program, at some point during the evening they were going to call all of the "war heroes" up and they would all be hailed as heroes, and then promptly ignored—most of them, anyway, except those select few who always seemed to always be in the spotlight. It didn't help that she was on that list, because of her status as an auror at the time.
"Ahem," the director of the event said, clearing his throat. He was not someone Pansy knew personally, but she was certain she recognized him from around the ministry. "May I have your attention, please?" He was beaming, she noticed, his small stature—though nowhere near as short as Professor Flitwick was, if she remembered correctly—not seeming quite as small. He was older, probably old enough to be her grandfather. "This is the time we put aside in all of our ministry events to honor the heroes of the Second War."
Pansy cursed inwardly, thinking happily of all the ways she could torture Draco once the night was through. Perhaps, if the director wasn't going to call names, she could just pretend she wasn't one of those…
But they always called names because they took note of who was there and who was not, to make sure everyone who deserved to be up there on the stage—or at the front of the room, as the case was now—and revered for the parts they had played, whatever those were. She had always stood at the back, being thanked as part of many, hidden, as her part had been in the war. She had not been on an active duty roster during that time, being more of an Unspeakable than an Auror.
"Malcolm Baddock, Randall Carthass, Thomas Everett, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter, William Renquist…"
And there was her name. She hadn't been to one of these parties in such a long time that she was surprised there were so few war heroes attending them—but she supposed she shouldn't be surprised. She certainly couldn't be the only one annoyed at the fuss made over them.
Of course, two of them had to be Potter and Granger. It was just her luck, she supposed.
Pansy walked towards the front of the room, not looking anyone in the eye. She knew, even now, that there were people who doubted she had actually played any active part in the war. There were some who thought she had never actually switched sides—though really, she hadn't. She'd never belonged to Voldemort. Her mother had, but she had decided early on that being a Death Eater was not in her future. Some people thought she loved the publicity…early on, she had been insulted numerous times. It was one of the reasons she had stopped attending these events.
She wondered, as she reached the front of the room and tried to stand towards the back of the small group—difficult because there were so few of them—if Potter had ever felt that way, or did he love the media attention as she and Draco had always believed? He'd always had a lot of it, but you had to wonder about those early years. Obviously, Weasley loved it. She recalled his embellishing stories every time he was asked about them. She had been with him at one of the battles, and she remembered reading his account of it later on and thinking, "Was I in a coma when that happened?"
And there were the photographers. She gave her customary half-smile, not caring how people saw her. She could tell that Granger was grinning, and wondered if she enjoyed the media attention or was merely putting up a front. Granger, after all, hadn't been treated well by the media, from the time she was in fourth year and had been accused of playing Potter and Krum, to her entire relationship with Weasley. It had always amused Pansy to read about it in the paper, and given her a secret pleasure as well. Fame wasn't always good after all, and she was glad Weasley and Granger were being introduced to that fact.
As soon as the photographers were done—or rather, as soon as the presenter shooed them away—she walked determinedly towards the back of the room. She was leaving.
"Pansy Parkinson!" Millicent Bulstrode called, grabbing Pansy's arm. Pansy spun around, raising a brow at her old friend. She was fat as always—there was no other way to describe her, really, and Pansy was never charitable anyways—and had progressed to three chins since Pansy had last seen her. Her hair was heavily curled, and she had a lot of make-up on. Her dress was incredibly ornate and gorgeous, but looked wrong on her. On one of her missions, Pansy had run into a few hookers; Millicent looked exactly like them. "Long time, no see, Pansy."
No, Pansy amended, Millicent looked worse.
"Hi, Bulstrode," Pansy said shortly, smiling sweetly. She knew, from what Draco said, that it made her look sickly and hoped Millicent thought so.
"Why so formal, Pansy? We're friends, aren't we?" Millicent grinned at her, her eyes almost disappearing under the layers of fat.
The sight disturbed her stomach so badly, Pansy had to swallow to stop the bile from rising in her throat. "No, Bulstrode, not really. So, how about you just go ahead and fuck off." Pansy scowled, turning and escaping out the door. She made it all the way to the elevator before she smiled. She'd always wanted to do that.
"Now that, Parkinson, is a scary sight."
Pansy scowled. Potter. "No scarier than you and your entourage. Sick is more like it, though."
Potter grinned, bowing to her. "Thank you, Parksinson. That is the first insult I have received in more than a year. I needed that." God, when had Potter gotten so…fit? He was less of a boy next door and more… Well, more like Draco, to be entirely honest. But he was different enough from Draco to spark her interest. He seemed jaded, less innocent. She liked that. "After you," he said. She realized that the elevator door had opened and he was waiting for her to go.
"Thanks, Potter," she said.
The elevator seemed to shrink as soon as he stepped in. He wasn't that tall, really, but he had a…presence, she supposed. It killed her to admit it, but it was true.
"Why are you leaving so early?" Pansy asked, raising a brow.
"Isn't it obvious?" Potter replied, raising his brow in return. "The reporters were circling like vultures. I didn't want them to start wondering about Hermione and I."
"Mm." Pansy nodded. As if she cared.
Potter grinned. "I saw you get trapped by Bulstrode. How did you get away so fast? I figured she'd have you pinned for at least a few minutes."
Pansy smirked. "I, unlike you, Potter, know when to tell someone to fuck off."
He laughed. "Yes, you do. Congratulations."
Pansy rolled her eyes. The door slid open, the voice announcing the main floor. "Well, it was—" Pansy stopped. Potter's arm was blocking the doorway.
"Is there a problem with your arm, Potter, or are you going to move it?"
Potter grinned at her. He'd been doing that a lot, and it was unnerving. "Come to dinner with me."
"Have you lost your mind, Potter?" Pansy asked, frowning at him.
"Look," Potter said. "We aren't friends. We aren't exactly enemies. Come to dinner with me. If nothing else, we can trade insults. I'm not letting you go until you say yes."
"You do realize that I could disarm you before you could even blink, don't you?"
"Then say yes out of pity." Potter's eyes were laughing. God, when had he ever acted like this before? Ever?
Pansy rolled her eyes and pushed Potter out of the way. "Good bye, Potter; have a nice life."
Harry leaned against Hermione's bedroom door frame, rolling his eyes as she grinned at him in the mirror across the room, where she was taking down her hair. They'd met back up at the Apparition point. Hermione had taken a different elevator down, having decided to leave less than a minute after Harry had.
He was never going to live this down.
"You actually asked Pansy Parkinson on a date?" Hermione asked, trying not to chuckle. She failed. Miserably.
"Yes," Harry muttered. "She was insulting me, and it was fun. Not to mention she's grown into her face since school."
Hermione snorted with laughter. "Wait," she said, twisting her body so that she could look him in the eyes. "You mean you found her attractive?"
"Well, why else would I have asked Parkinson on a date?"
Hermione chuckled. "It would be the obvious answer, but I hadn't expected you to admit it. Getting you to admit something like that is similar to my parents convincing a kid dentists aren't the equivalent of Satan."
Harry cracked a smile at that, glad Hermione was able to talk about her parents so easily. He sometimes wondered if it would ever be the same for him. Maybe if was different for her because she'd actually known them before they died. Or maybe she was just better at moving on. After all, he hadn't dated in over a year, and he blamed the fame-loving witches who'd used him so badly. Not that he'd used them any better, towards the end.
Or maybe it was like Hermione had said, during one of their late-night talks years ago—they were all different people, with different feelings, different ideas, and different ways to deal with things. She said she viewed herself as someone who would jump into something new as a way to deal with the old, to challenge herself to move on. And eventually she would. She'd identified Harry as someone who closed himself off when he couldn't deal, and stayed closed off until he'd figured it out.
"I couldn't believe it when it first came out of my mouth, but then I kind of liked the idea. I was surprised when she pushed past me and said good bye," Harry said, beginning to pace.
"You shouldn't have been surprised, Harry," Hermione said, as she resumed taking pins out of her hair. "Did you really think Parkinson, Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy's girlfriend all through Hogwarts, would want to date Harry Potter, savior to the Wizarding World?"
Hermione seemed to find this immensely funny. Harry glared at her, even knowing she would ignore it. "I would have thought she'd have grown past our petty school rivalry."
"Oh, that's rich, coming from you, Harry," Hermione said, her voice hardening ever-so-slightly. "Whatever happened to 'Slytherins are evil,' and 'all Slytherins are on the Death Eater waiting list'? I know very well that if you'd run into Draco Malfoy tonight, rather than Pansy Parkinson, you would be fending off reporters or be on your way to St. Mungo's, if not both. The only reason you're so upset is because Pansy's grown up in the three years since you've seen her."
Harry exhaled sharply, but didn't say anything. What Hermione was saying made sense—just as she always made sense, of course. "Why do you always have to be right?"
Hermione finally stood up, her hair down to her waist, not quite as tame as she would have liked, but something she could live with at least. She turned around, grinning at Harry. "Because I'm the brain."
"And I'm the brawn," Harry responded, one corner of his mouth turning up.
Hermione crossed the room, throwing her arms around him. "And you're my best friend."
Harry grinned, hugging her tightly. He blew a piece of her hair out of his face.
"I suppose it was too much to hope that I might get a chance at you, Harry," a new voice called from the doorway, its accent carrying a hint of France.
Harry laughed. "Hello, Elizabeth." She waved at him before leaving his view again. Hermione's roommate, Elizabeth, was a fashion designer-slash-salesperson and worked nine-to-five, but she had a social life that would have tired Lavender Brown. She hadn't been home when he and Hermione had arrived, so she must have just gotten back. He wasn't surprised they hadn't heard her; he'd been much too involved in the conversation to pay attention to much else.
They released each other, stepping back. Hermione smiled up at Harry, her eyes twinkling. "Why don't you try again?"
"What?" Harry asked. "Try what again?"
Hermione tilted her head, as if considering the issue. "Yes," she said slowly, smiling. "I think you should. I think you should find Parkinson and ask her on a date again."
"Why?" Harry asked. Did she enjoy hearing of his humiliations?
Who was he kidding? Of course she did.
"Because, Harry, you need to move on," Hermione said firmly. "And if Parkinson says yes, which she might if you go about it the right way, she isn't the kind of person who wants the fame that would go along with being your girlfriend. It's perfect!"
"How would I find her?" Harry asked.
Hermione laughed. "You're Harry Potter, remember? Ask and you shall receive. In any case, I've heard it rumored that she's an Unspeakable."
"Parkinson?"
"She was never implicated in the charges against her mother, Harry. There had been some rumor, but never enough that she even had a trial." Hermione raised a brow. "You didn't pay much attention to the trials, did you?"
"I was in Greece with Remus, remember?"
"You still got the Daily Prophet. Back then it had to be fifty pages thick. I remember them being desperate for people to cover the trials. So what did you do in Greece, if you weren't following the trials?"
"Hermione, I was with Remus. He brought me to all the sites, Muggle and Magical, and we spent hours at each one, sometimes days, reading the literature before he told me what he knew about it. Those three months went by quickly."
Hermione nodded, yawning abruptly. "Oh, my." She yawned again. "It's almost midnight. You should get home, Harry. I need to go to sleep. I haven't been sleeping enough lately and I want to try to get caught up." She gave him another hug. "Think about it, at least."
Harry smiled as she shooed him out of the room. She acted almost like a mother towards him. She always had, even back in their first year. He'd once wondered if that was why Ron had been so attracted to her, because she mothered them. But it wasn't really his business, and he wanted to respect his best friends' privacy.
He hadn't seen Ron in quite a long time. At least five months, maybe more. His, Ron's, and Hermione's meetings had become very infrequent after Ron and Hermione had broken up for the last time, a bit less than two years earlier.
Harry walked out of Hermione's and Elizabeth's flat, closing the door quietly behind him. He was ready for a change, he realized. Tonight had been fun. He could ask Pansy on a date. And if Pansy said no, he would live with it. He could go to other parties, try meeting other people. He needed to move on, to move past the hurt Jessica had caused him—and he felt like he was finally in the right state of mind to do so.
Remember to REVIEW! :) That way you can tell what you liked about this chapter. Or didn't like. Or downright hated. Anyway...