A/N: Well, I wanted to finish writing the whole story before posting any more chapters, but I haven't had time to get past Chapter 12, so I'm going ahead and posting the next four chapters now. I'll post one daily for the next four days. Hopefully it will help me make some time to finish the remaining chapters. Thank you for reading! As per prior chapters, no alpha or beta on this story.

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Pansy settled into her desk chair with a mug of hot tea, relishing the brief period of quiet before the hurry scurry of her Monday morning began in earnest. Her eyes snapped to the door each time a new person entered the department, and she silently scolded herself for mooning over Percy like this. Their time together Friday night and Saturday morning had her floating on clouds all weekend, which felt distinctly uncomfortable. Pansy Parkinson didn't float on clouds. Pansy Parkinson was poised and indifferent. Floating on clouds only meant you had farther to fall when the clouds disappeared.

But he had been so nice, so solicitous, so good in bed, and she couldn't help it. They had woken up in the middle of the night Friday and had come together again, gifting each other sleepy orgasms in the moonlight filtering through his window. The next morning, they had continued exploring each other's bodies in infatuated fascination, and Pansy could have happily stayed in his bed all day if he hadn't had plans to go rowing. For a man who hadn't wanted to rush things, he had been all too eager to oblige her desires, and she had flown high from it for the remainder of the weekend.

Neither of them had broached Ginny's accusations again, and though Pansy wanted to discuss it with Percy at some point, he had made it clear that he wasn't interested in his sister's opinions and that the past was behind them, and so she hadn't been willing to mar their time together by bringing it up again.

Her heart caught in her throat and her fingers clutched her tea cup a little tighter when he finally walked through the door, his eyes immediately landing on her, a smile gracing his face. She grinned back, scolding herself for it but unable to temper the goofy expression she knew she wore. He approached with a small stack of file folders in his arms and stopped at her desk, his thighs — covered in crisp navy trousers today — standing only inches from her files while his damned pocket watch teased her sensibilities from his waistcoat.

"Hi," he said simply, his eyes twinkling down at her from behind his tortoiseshell frames.

"Hi." She set her tea cup down, fiddling with its handle, and licked her lips. "How was your row and dinner with your family?"

"Rowing was fantastic, it was a brilliant morning on the river, a bit crisp to start. Dinner with my family was loud, as usual, but enjoyable." Then his jaw tightened. "I pulled Ginny aside and talked to her, told her that what she did Friday was unacceptable. I don't want to discuss it here—" he looked around the room "—but I wanted you to know. Would you be up for drinks after work later this week?"

Her attention was heavily focused on his fingers wrapped around his file folders. Fingers that had been all over her, and inside her, two days ago. She licked her lips again, drawing a quick glance from him to her mouth. "I'd love to; Wednesday is good."

He gave her a happy grin. "How was Saturday night with your friends?"

She bit out a loud laugh, drawing the attention of Geoffrey at the next desk over. His eyes roamed over the two of them before he bent back over his work. Neither she nor Percy had shown open affection in front of anyone at the office, and she cast a quick Muffliato in case Geoffrey was listening, before responding.

"Well, Draco grilled me about what I was doing out with you Friday night — they all did really. But," she shrugged, "I told them if they didn't have anything nice to say, they could keep it to themselves or be down one friend the next time they go out." Really, other than Draco being upset that Daphne had known about her dates with Percy before he did, they'd all been surprisingly… well, supportive might be too strong a word, but they'd been… receptive to the idea of her dating a Weasley. She supposed her threats to hex the boys' bollocks off if they spoke poorly of him might have had something to do with it.

He chuckled. "How does the Alchemy Room sound for Wednesday evening?"

"Lovely." She dropped the Muffliato, and he gave her a quick wink before making his way to Olivia's desk to drop off some files.

She didn't see him again for the rest of the day, which wasn't unusual, and at 4:45, she made her way down the corridor to his office, hoping to see him briefly before she left for the evening. His office was empty and, disappointed, she turned to go back to her desk when she saw him coming down the hallway.

His face lit up. "I need to discuss something with Hepzibah, but if you don't mind waiting, I should be back in my office in a few minutes."

She entered his office, sitting at the small conference table in the corner and staring absently out the window, which was enchanted to show a sunny meadow covered in dry, brown grass waving gently in the wind. It was a peaceful view, despite the lack of green.

When Percy returned, he closed the door, locking it behind him. Pansy's stomach gave a pleasant lurch at the click of the lock, and he approached her, wrapping his hands around her waist and bending to drop a gentle kiss against her lips. She grasped the lapels of his navy blazer and sighed into him; she needed to get to work on her plan to convince him to shag her in the file room.

She tried to slip her fingers into his pants but he pushed her away with a laugh and made it clear that hanky panky in his office was just as off limits as the file room.

"Percy, your door is locked, no one's coming in!" she pouted, which only made him chuckle.

"I'm not letting you distract me like that in the middle of the work day."

"It's almost five o'clock!"

"You know what I mean," he responded, pinching her waist and drawing her to him once again. He bent down and dropped a last kiss on her lips, then unlocked his door, a clear signal that their very brief play time was over.

She arched a brow at him. "Your loss. I'll see you tomorrow, then." She flounced out of his office, pondering whether holding out on him the next time they were together might make him more receptive to making out in the Ministry.


Wednesday evening came, and Pansy sat across from Percy at a small table in the Alchemy Room's outdoor seating area, waiting for drinks and sausage rolls while they talked. "I spoke with Ginny Sunday night; she told me what happened before the Battle," Percy said. "I understand why she's still angry about it, I suppose. But I know you were all scared — and rightly so." The late evening sunlight turned his hair the color of burnished copper and reflected off the metal of his glasses frames. Behind the lenses, Pansy noticed his eyes remained kind, his expression open, while he spoke. "I think the main reason Ginny was upset seeing us out together was because of how much you all hated each other during school."

Pansy grimaced. "I was a right bitch to Ginny and Harry and their friends in school, Percy. I went out of my way to make fun of them." Especially your brother, she thought; it was almost a Slytherin sport to see who could come up with the best ways to put down Ron Weasley. Percy didn't need to know that, though. "I think it was mostly because of how much Draco and Harry hated each other; we all took sides. And you're right," she reflected, "I was scared when the Battle started. I'd have done anything to make sure my friends and I escaped alive." Unfortunately, that had included trying to give Harry up to Voldemort. She sighed. "Look, I'm sorry to drag you into—"

Percy interrupted her. "Pansy," he said gently, "I don't need an apology from you. Maybe Harry does, or Ginny, but I don't. I just want you to know that I know what happened, and, like I told you, it's in the past, and it doesn't matter to me."

She never had apologized to Harry. Or Ginny. Or any of the Gryffindors. Their groups didn't cross paths for the most part, and when they did, they avoided each other. If she continued dating Percy, that would need to change. But she was getting way ahead of herself with those thoughts. She swallowed. "Thank you."

Part of her wanted to continue talking about it, and part of her wanted desperately to move on. She fiddled with her napkin, debating what to say next, and was thankfully saved from having to decide, by their server's arrival with their drinks and food. Pansy took as large a gulp of her martini as she could manage without choking or looking boorish.

Percy was more observant than she gave him credit for, because he looked at her with sympathy and reached under the table, squeezing her knee. "Hey, it's okay."

She wasn't sure why his simple words triggered such a strong reaction, but her sinuses suddenly started burning and she willed herself to keep her eyes clear of tears. She gave him her best attempt at a smile and a nod of agreement, because she didn't trust herself not to cry if she spoke. Having someone as honest and sincere as Percy Weasley tell her that her past spitefulness didn't matter to him… it felt a bit like forgiveness. Something she didn't know she wanted or needed, and something she wasn't interested in exploring too deeply. At least, not right now.

He seemed to understand, and he effortlessly shifted to another topic of conversation. "So what do you think of Garrison's proposal to move Galleons from the general fund to the research division of St. Mungo's?"

She smiled at him gratefully. "Well, he's gotten all kinds of letters from the other department heads lobbying against it, since it will divert a portion of their annual budget. But I think it's a good thing; we need to catch up to the developments other countries made while we were stuck doing nothing during the war." They continued chatting until the sun set and a chilly breeze picked up, and they asked their server for the tab.

"Can I walk you home?" Percy asked.

"Of course."

The feel of his warm body against her side as they walked down the street, arm in arm, contrasted deliciously with the chilly air hitting her skin on her other side. When they reached her door, he stopped on her step and drew her into a kiss.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked when he pulled away.

He shook his head. "Not tonight," he declined, without giving a reason.

Her heart sank a little.

"But I'd like to take you out again this weekend. Are you free Friday?"

"I'm going out with the girls from the office again Friday. I'd rather be with you — they're not really my favorite people to hang out with socially — but it's good for me to spend time getting to know them."

"I think it's great that you're going out with them, even if they're not your preferred company. How about next week then? Or even Saturday afternoon?"

Her face lit up. "Saturday afternoon sounds great."

"It's a date," he grinned, before dropping a last gentle kiss on her lips and apparating away.

Pansy entered her flat, kicked off her heels, and flopped onto the sofa, feeling a confusing morass of conflicting emotions: disappointment that he hadn't come in with her, excitement over the thought of being with him again Saturday, guilt over how she'd treated his brother and the other Gryffindors during school, and a feeling she couldn't identify that caused a painful lump in her throat every time she thought of him squeezing her knee and telling her it was okay. This was why she didn't seriously date and relied instead on casual flings; she was perfectly happy without all these clashing emotions rattling around and creating an uncomfortable din in her head.

Damn you, Percy Weasley. Damn you, and your fancy suits, and your smile, and your forgiveness. What exactly did he see in her, she wondered? Someone as honest and sincere as him was not supposed to like women like her. There was a reason Gryffindors and Slytherins rarely mingled in school. But she wasn't just a pretty face and a set of tits to him, or he'd have come inside with her tonight. She couldn't figure it out, and, letting out a groan of frustration, she decided that a bath and a book and a cup of chamomile tea sounded like the right recipe to get him out of her head.