Chapter 5. Showstopper
Friday, December 20th, 1929
"And why exactly do you want me to meet this chap?" asked Pansy, taking a long drag from her cigarette. The smoke bubbled out of her mouth, sweet and poisonous, joining the cloud above them.
"He's a tragedy. And I know how much you love tragedies," Blaise smiled, his pearly white teeth drawing a sharp contrast with his dark skin.
"How do you even know him? You hate tragedies." Pansy's eyebrows knitted together—she leaned forward, wrapping her friend in her inquisitive gaze.
"I have some business dealings with the man." He waved her off, his cigarette smoke lingering in her hair. "He was an awfully nice chap, until his wife died, last week-end. Been gloomy ever since." He took a drag from his cigarette, indifferent to his friend's eyes growing wider, to her breath hitching and stumbling. "Speaking of the devil," he rose from his chair and extended his hand.
Pansy slowly turned and was met with the one and only Harry Potter. The man whose wife she killed mere days ago, in a daze of rage and jealousy.
The swing music swirling across the crowd in the speakeasy became a light buzz in the depth of her ears; her eyes took in the whole of him, his slick black hair, his light green eyes, and the smirk at the corner of his lips.
"Pansy Parkinson, I believe?" She was pulled from her daze. "Pleased to meet you." And, on those words, he gently kissed her cheek. The world had come to a sudden halt.