Disclaimer: All Harry Potter and co. are owned by J.K. Rowling, and all those other big dogs that she is affiliated with.

After making their way through numerous tunnels, turning around various narrow corners (Harry found these to be the most straining, especially on his pants), and fighting through what seemed like hundreds of cobwebs, they finally made it to Lace.

'How appropriately named,' Pansy thought with a snort. She was certain that all of the employees wore nothing but the aforementioned material.

Now the two stood just inside the establishment, surrounded by ample-bosomed waitresses, rowdy customers, and the weary manager.

Pansy glanced to her right, where the Boy-Who-Lived-and-Was-About-To-Come-In-His-Pants stood practically drooling over the nearest waitress. She scowled in disgust and reached over to pinch Harry in the arm.

"Ouch!" he yelped, rubbing his injured forearm and glaring at Pansy. "What the Merlin was that for!"

Pansy sniffed. "Hmph. That was for showing disrespectable behavior in the presence of a lady."

Harry shot her a look of disbelief. "What la--" Seeing the menacing glare already in place on Pansy's face, and her hand poised to inflict more pain, he quickly changed tactics. "What disrespectable behavior?" he questioned, throwing his hands up. "I was just looking!"

Pansy crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her nose up in the air. "Oh please, Potty. You were about to soil yourself."

Harry almost choked with indignation. "Parkinson, you're intolerable."

"Oh, pah," Pansy replied, looking down her nose at him. "You are the intolerable one. You silly males, with your constant testosterone issues."

Harry only rolled his eyes. "Look, can I just have a quick look around? You should to. I see plenty of hot and sweaty cowboys around. Work your snakey charms, loosen up!"

With that, he sauntered off, most likely to go catch him some fatal genital diseases.

Pansy made sure to stamp her feet huffily as she made her way across the crowded bar, until she made it to the bartender.

"Hit me," she said, slamming her hand down to get his attention.

The bartender only chuckled.

"Sure little lady. Time and place!" he jested, still chuckling. As he laughed, the phlegm in his no doubt smoker's lungs churned, causing excess spray to fly all over the place, and it made Pansy want to shoot him in the larynx.

She awarded his lewdness with the meanest glare she could muster. "Are you going to get me my drink, or not?"

The bartender, who's name, according to the ratty tag stuck messily to his puke-green suspenders, was Josh, only laughed some more. "Ooh, we got ourselves a feisty one!"

Pansy could tell she had won though, for her drink was in front of her within two minutes.

"There ya' go," Josh said. "Hope ya' didn't come travelin' alone, these here parts are dangerous for a dame like you."

Pansy scowled at him. (All this face-making was going to take loads of face masks to repair.)

"I don't need your concern, thanks. I'm quite capable on my own. Besides, I've got myself a big strong man."

Josh laughed. "Oh sure, if that's what you like to call your teddy bear."

'Oh, a regular comedian, isn't he,' Pansy thought with a grimace.If she had her wand, she would have hexed this sucker to oblivion by now.

'Fucking Potter,' Pansy thought. 'Where the hell are you?'

Well, she supposed since she was here, she might as well enjoy herself.

Still nursing her lovely, lovely alcoholic beverage, Pansy pointed a finger in Josh's direction. "Listen, buddy, I'm going to get pissed as a sailor. If you take advantage of me at all, if you so much as lay a grimy dirty quarter of a finger on me, I'll have your ass shipped off of this world, no refunds, one-way trip. Savvy?"

Josh held up his hands in surrender. He wasn't laughing anymore.

Satisfied, Pansy downed the remaining contents of her glass. "Refill!"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: whew. That was a long wait, and for a relatively short chapter.

-hides- There's just been too much going on, with school and all, but now that summer's here… -biggrin-