When You Least Expect It
by hasapi

Author's Notes: In case anyone is confused or just curious (confused me), this story started three and a half months before Last Will and Testament begins. This chapter is shorter than the last one, but if I included the date...well, it would've been REALLY long, and I'm of the impatient type.

Pairing: Harry Potter / Pansy Parkinson

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: If I ever tell you I own this, please hit me over the head with a frying pan and ask me to gather my sanity.


Chapter 3: A Planned Encounter

Harry watched his team playing in the partial fog of early morning, his brain working furiously to determine what he was going to do about Pansy Parkinson. He wasn't on the playing field because he was currently working with the Chasers and Beaters, trying a few different plays and working on creating a new one. But if clarity was what he hoped to achieve by staying on the ground, he definitely had not accomplished that. Instead of being able to watch his teammates with no distractions, his brain was providing a very good one in the form of Pansy Parkinson.

He clearly remembered her from Hogwarts. Whereas girls like Cho Chang had caught his eye, girls like Parkinson tended to make him turn away in near disgust. It wasn't just her looks, he decided, although "a face like a pug" had often come to mind when looking at her. He was beginning to wonder whether that thought had at all been influenced by his perceptions of her. Or maybe her attitude had influenced her looks. People who were angry all the time and showed it did not necessarily look beautiful.

People who were prejudiced and tended to turn up their noses at others tended to look like... Well, like pugs.

Not to mention she'd lost weight. She really had, he was sure of it. She had been pudgy in school, probably contributing to her pug-like look. The loose robes she'd had on wrecked havoc with a man's libido, particularly his own. They alternately hugged and hid her curves as she moved, and he couldn't help but wonder what else those robes were hiding.

The fact that she'd changed was only accentuated by the knowledge that when he'd first looked at her, he hadn't known who it was. He'd started walking towards her before she turned just enough for him to recognize an expression he had come to recognize so well on her face—disdain. He'd had to stifle a laugh when he realized she was talking to Thom Willens, the director of something-or-other whom he had once been trapped into conversation with as well.

He had been surprised when she'd gone to the back of the group of "war heroes," thinking she would have wanted the fame and glory associated with the honor. But therein had been yet another amazing revelation: she didn't like it anymore than he did. That thought had been further cemented when she'd left the room just seconds after he had, despite having been delayed by Millicent Bulstrode.

The thought made him smile. So she'd told Bulstrode to fuck off. He couldn't blame her. Bulstrode had certainly lived up to what her name had seemed to imply back in school. He couldn't remember how many chins she'd had in school, but she seemed to have more now. Ron had once referred to her as a one-Knut slut. He hoped Ron was referring to the way she dressed, but he wouldn't have been surprised if he'd meant it in the truest sense.

Abruptly, Harry realized his team was nearing the end of the play. Watching intently as they performed the maneuver, he realized something: he needed a break. Not a long one. Just a week. In three months the team was leaving England and going to the Continent—specifically to Greece, Spain, Portugal, and France. He needed some time before that happened to straighten a few things out.

One of those things happened to be a woman by the name of Pansy Parkinson.

When Pansy heard the commotion at the front of the office, she thought nothing of it. People—usually reporters—often attempted to come into the offices, hoping to catch a glimpse or a hint of what the Unspeakables were working on now. Because a lot of what the Unspeakables did was preventative, it was extremely important that nothing ever be leaked to the press—which made the press that much more determined to find the department's weak link.

The commotion was over in seconds, but instead of business going on as usual, Pansy heard the secretary calling her over. "Parkinson!" she barked. Mary was not one's normal vision of a secretary. Rather than being small, petite, and pretty, Mary was small, sturdy, and more than fifty years old. She'd probably been pretty enough in her youth, but Mary wasn't the sort that cared much anymore and never bothered to dress herself up for work. Her hair was always worn in a tight bun at the back of her head and thick glasses obscured her eyes.

Pansy stood up, putting the documents she was working on in the top drawer of her desk and locking it. The first thing they told you when you started working with the Unspeakables was to trust no one with your paperwork and never leave things lying about. You never knew who might want to have a peek.

Walking over to the secretary's desk through a maze of space dividers, Pansy was able to get a glimpse of someone standing there. It was obviously a man, and he had dark hair, but beyond that she couldn't tell. She wondered if this person had caused the commotion, and if so, why he'd been able to get in.

As soon as she cleared the dividers, she recognized him and realized why he'd been able to get into a place all others were denied.

He was Harry Potter. "Ask and thy shall receive," was the Ministry's motto with the Man Who Lived and Defeated Voldemort.

Rather than being angry, she was rather intrigued. If he were able to do this, why hadn't he before? And why was he coming here now?

"Pansy," he said, smiling.

She raised a brow, but responded similarly with, "Harry."

"Parkinson," Mary said, her face sour, "Mr. Potter insists upon a minute of your time. You may use the first conference room to speak with him."

Pansy nodded, walking towards the first room past the entry and assuming Potter would follow. She opened the door, the light coming on automatically as it detected her. Turning around, she crossed her arms and watched as Potter closed the door behind him. "What do you want, Potter?" she asked, leaning against the table in the middle of the room.

Although she was a Slytherin—meaning she prepared for the unexpected—Potter's reply caught her completely off guard. His being a Gryffindor meant he would skirt around the issue at first, not address it head-on.

"Dinner, tonight."

Obviously, his response was not what she expected. Definitely not. "Potter, I already told you no."

He walked up until he was mere inches away from her and asked. "Why? Why did you say no?"

"Because you bore me," she said. "Because you're Harry-fucking-Potter and can do whatever the hell you want, and I'm not going to drool after you like some fan girl." Pansy rolled her eyes. "Because I don't want to date a pansy."

Potter's lips twitched, before he gave in and grinned. "Which is why it's obviously perfect."

"Pardon me?" Pansy asked. When was he going to understand that she wasn't interested in a relationship with him?

"Answer me this, Pansy," Potter asked, leaning forward until there was almost no room between their lips. "Are you attracted to me?"

Pansy opened her mouth to tell him no, she was not attracted to him, the sodding git, but just as she was sucking in air for her retort, he covered her mouth with his.

It was not sweet. She did not feel a sudden melting of the knees or a softening of the heart.

But what she did feel was a rush of desire straight to her womb, and she moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck and returning his kiss with hot fervor. She silently thanked the gods that there were no windows into the conference rooms for security reasons and that Potter had closed the door on his way in. She hadn't felt a desire like this since... Well, it had certainly been a long time. She couldn't remember any of her boyfriends or one-night-stands eliciting such a strong response from her libido. Oh, they'd tried, but the spark just wasn't there.

Potter pulled away, breathing heavily. He smirked. Smirked! Potter was smirking. Lord, but the boy had changed. "You are attracted to me."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Potter. Your grasp of the obvious never ceases to amaze me."

Potter threw back his head and laughed, really laughed. He grinned at her, and she felt her lips twitching into a smile, laughter bubbling in the pit of her stomach. At first, it came out as a few awkward giggles, but within seconds she was laughing with him, laughing as she hadn't in years, for absolutely no reason at all. She didn't see the humor in it, but laughter was infectious.

After a minute, when they'd finally controlled their mirth, Potter leaned forward, tucking a strand of her honey-blonde hair behind her ear. "Come with me to dinner tonight? Please?" Those green eyes, the ones she'd always thought were overrated, caught her blue ones and held her gaze.

It was the please that changed her mind. Each time he'd asked before, it had been more of a demand, or an assumption. It had made her the slightest bit angry, and the stubborn part of her wouldn't allow her to say yes—even though, from the beginning, she had been very attracted to him. This time, it was a question. And she didn't think it was just her own perceptions that made her think he heard the slightest bit of insecurity in his voice, the slightest hint that he wasn't sure of his answer. So, instead of saying no, she smiled and leaned forward, kissing him lightly on the lips. "Sure."

She shouldn't have said yes, she thought as she stared at her wardrobe, trying to think of altering spells she knew. She came up with a grand total of zero.

"This is not good," she muttered. It wasn't that she didn't have anything to wear. She did, but none of it seemed right. One felt too dark, the other too light, one too dressy, the other too casual. After much discussion, it had been decided that they would go to a little restaurant in Diagon Alley where she'd once gone with one of her previous boyfriends. It was an adorable Italian bistro where each table seemed to be in its own room, thanks to the inventive lighting.

It had also been decided that they would meet outside the restaurant—in a little less than fifteen minutes. Pansy groaned, falling backwards onto her bed and staring at the ceiling. Being who she was, she didn't make friends easily. In particular, she didn't make female friends easily. The only friend she'd had, throughout the entirety of Hogwarts, was Millicent Bulstrode, if she could even be counted.

So she was very much on her own.

With renewed purpose, Pansy pushed herself up off the bed and went through her wardrobe. When she ruled out one, she threw it on her bed. It was working quite well until she realized she was already halfway through her clothes collection—which was a large feat, as Pansy shopped for both pleasure and therapy—and had ruled all of them out. She took a deep breath and forged on. Too bright, too dull, too tight, too loose, too dressy, too casual, too—perfect.

Pansy smiled. It was perfect for the occasion. It was midnight blue, with silver threading. The fabric was casual, but the color set it off, made it just the right amount of dressy to let her feel comfortable wearing it on a date. She couldn't even remember where she'd bought it, or when.

Within five minutes, she was dressed and waiting outside the bistro for Potter to arrive, anxious for the evening to begin.

And also wondering, trying not to think of their immense attraction to each other, just how the evening would end...