Chapter Fifteen: Pareto Efficiency
Tulse Hill, South London
16th December 2009, 11.27am
"Guv," Sahra said as she threw open the door. "She just won't stop flirting."
"Ah," Dudley said, taking in his usually unflappable DS's slightly wild-eyed appearance. "Not just me then?"
"At this point I think she'd probably try it on with a brick wall," Sahra said darkly, casting a narrow-eyed glare over her shoulder.
"She hasn't done anything else?" Dudley asked as he unwound his scarf and hung it on the hook in hallway, followed by his coat.
"Well," Sahra said, crossing her arms and looking distinctly shifty. "Erm. She's been keeping herself busy." Dudley opened his mouth to ask her to elaborate, then sniffed at the air, and frowned.
"Is that -"
"See you for yourself." Sahra jerked her chin in the direction of the kitchen, and Dudley followed the smell of baking along the hallway, opening the door with a sense of deep trepidation to find -
"Fuck me," he muttered.
Every surface was hidden beneath a profusion of bowls, a great mound of jewel-coloured dried fruits, and bags of flour and sugar that didn't look like anything Dudley had ever seen in a supermarket. Amidst the chaos, Pansy stood with her back to him, apparently measuring out icing sugar, if the clouds of white powder in the air were anything to go by. Next to her stood Theo, holding a bowl that he was running a finger around the inside of.
"Oh," he said, spotting Dudley, frozen in the doorway. "You're back."
Pansy started, and turned around. She had icing sugar on her nose. "Detective Inspector!" she said, her tone suggesting that nothing could have delighted her more at that moment than for him to appear in the kitchen.
"You shouldn't eat that," Dudley said automatically to Theo, who paused with his cake-mix-laden finger halfway to his mouth. "Salmonella."
Theo looked at Pansy, who shrugged. "Sounds fake," she said, and Theo grinned before popping his finger into his mouth.
"Mm," he hummed, hazel eyes dancing. "We've been watching your Nigella on the tellyvision."
"Right," Dudley frowned, still trying and failing to take in the destruction of his kitchen. "But where did all this -"
"Come from?" Theo asked. "Well, I came over to tell Pansy about what happened at the Ministry last night." His expression sobered for a moment, and Dudley had a brief, chilling impression of what it might be like to face Theodore Nott in a proper fight.
"Harry told me," he said, before looking at Pansy. "Have you felt anything more -"
"Nothing," Pansy shook her head, before setting the sieve aside. "The Aurors have requested an interview with me tomorrow morning," she went on, frowning down at what appeared to be a piece of parchment. "But since I've never been very good at sitting and doing nothing, I wanted some stress relief."
"Right," Dudley said. "That much I can follow, but why -"
"My fault, Guv," Sahra said, coming into the kitchen behind him. "I suggested watching some TV."
"It's utterly bizarre," Pansy said, straightening up and turning towards the oven. "And Nigella wouldn't answer any of our questions, but she did tell us how to make Christmas things."
"So I put in an owl order," Theo shrugged, "and here we are."
Dudley checked his watch, confirming that he had only been gone for three hours. "And you managed to get -"
"Try one," Pansy said, grabbing a biscuit from the tray she had just removed from the oven and bounding across the room to hold it up to Dudley's mouth.
Cornered, he shot a panicked glance towards Theo, who just smiled wickedly. Seeing no alternative, Dudley opened his mouth, and took a bite.
"S'hot," he said thickly, trying to suck in a little air. Once he was able to taste it, he found that the biscuit was surprisingly good - thin and crisp, with a subtle blend of spices. "Mmf," he nodded, taking the rest of it from Pansy's hand.
"Good, aren't they?" she purred. "Oh dear, you've got -" she brought her hand up and swiped a crumb from Dudley's upper lip, before sucking it from her own finger, meeting his eyes as she did so.
Sahra made a choking noise behind him, but Dudley barely heard her above the buzzing sound in his ears as all of his blood tried to evacuate his brain.
"Right," he said. "Yes. Very good. I - erm - are you allowed to be doing this?"
"No magic," Pansy smiled, holding up her hands. "I promise, I'm behaving myself." She glanced towards Theo, who cleared his throat and attempted to look serious.
"The Aurors are pursuing a number of lines of enquiry," he said, "so really it's just a case of sitting tight for the moment, and trying to - er -" his eyes flicked around the kitchen, and his mouth twitched. "Keep Pansy out of trouble."
"Great," Dudley sighed. "And what would you suggest I do with three hundred biscuits?"
oOo
Bloomsbury, Central London
17th December 2009, 8.27pm
"How -"
"Don't."
"But -"
"Seriously."
"I just -"
"Harry," Dudley sighed, setting his glass down and looking his cousin squarely in the eye. "I honestly don't know how this happened."
"Fair enough," Harry nodded. He reached for another biscuit, watching as Dudley's dour-looking boss said something that made Kingsley laugh heartily. "You know, I've no idea how Nightingale does that."
"Does what?" Dudley asked.
Harry glanced at him in time to see Dudley look guiltily away from where Pansy was stood between Hermione and Theo on the other side of the room, both of whom were trying to look like they weren't chaperoning her.
"Oh, Dudley," he said, trying his best not to start laughing. "You can't be serious."
"What?" Dudley asked, turning red. "I'm not - it isn't - shut up."
"Is that how she persuaded you to organise an impromptu Christmas 'do?" Harry said, his eyes moving around the large atrium of Dudley's departmental headquarters, with its various busts and ornamental ironwork. "Feminine wiles?"
"She di- it wasn't impromptu," Dudley said. "But it was supposed to be a much smaller thing."
"You mean you didn't invite me to your Christmas party?" Harry gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "I am hurt, Dudley, I thought we were -"
"And my invite to your Christmas drinks got lost in the post, did it?" Dudley asked pointedly.
"Fair enough," Harry shrugged, before wincing. "Although I daresay that worked out for the best."
"Yes," Dudley inclined his chin. "Do you really think they'll try something this evening?"
"Honestly?" Harry said. "I've no idea. But I think having us here as reinforcements can't be a bad thing, since you insisted on bringing Pansy."
"I did not -" Dudley spluttered, before catching sight of Harry's smirk. "Oh, honestly, fuck you. What was I supposed to do, leave her at home?"
"I'm sure we'd have found a babysitter," Harry pointed out.
"Yeah well," Dudley muttered. "That's what I asked Nott to do, but of course once the pair of them got wind that there was a party -"
"Ah," Harry said. "Yes, that does make sense. Was this before or after she started baking?"
"After," Dudley said, narrowing his eyes at the trestle table that had been set up in front of a statue of Sir Isaac Newton, which was heaving under the weight of baked goods that Pansy had produced over the past two days. "God knows what I'd have done with all of that."
"I wasn't really looking forward to having to interview her again," Ron said, as Harry read through the names Pansy had given the Aurors earlier that morning, marking off those that he knew. "But it turns out she's like, absolutely incredible at baking."
Harry lifted his gaze from the parchment, where he had just placed a tick next to 'Lee, Barnaby' and raised his eyebrows at Ron. "Can I suggest you don't tell Callie that?"
"Do I look like I have a deathwish?" Ron's face scrunched into an expression of disdain. "Even I'm not that stupid."
Harry smiled slightly, then took another bite of his mince pie. He had to admit, they were nearly as good as Kreacher's, which was quite a feat, especially considering Pansy had made them without magic.
He looked back at Dudley, and watched as his cousin's eyes drifted back to the little huddle opposite, where Pansy was just taking a sip of champagne. She tipped her head to one side before she frowned, and squinted into the glass.
"What is she doing? " Dudley murmured, and Harry snorted.
"Elf champagne makes music play in your head," he said. "I expect she's never had the Muggle stuff before."
"It plays - you know what, I'm not even surprised," Dudley sighed.
"You can try it at Christmas," Harry said. "In fact, it's probably a good thing I've told you now, otherwise it comes as a bit of a shock the first time you have it."
"Thanks," Dudley said sarcastically. "Let me know if you think of any more helpful information, won't you?"
"I'll do that," Harry grinned. "It's going to be fun."
"I'm sure," Dudley muttered. "As long as some maniac doesn't murder us all before then."
"Well, that's cheerful." Harry rolled his eyes and looked back to the other side of the room, to find Hermione looking at him. She smiled, tilting her glass towards him, and he felt his heart jump in his chest.
"Don't worry, Big D," he said. "I've no intention of getting murdered just yet."
A/N: Famous last words...? A little more here for those among us who are Rivers of London fans too...