A/N: Warning, there is a possible trigger scene at the end of this chapter. Edited 01/07/16 to fix a stupid typo.

Disclaimer: I by no means own any of the characters, names, or places used herein, all of these are copyright the dear J.K. Rowling. Rated M for language, suggestive content, and possible future naughtiness.

Chapter 3

Harry looked at her in the firelight, really just LOOKED at her for the first time. In school she had been cute, but she had really grown up to become a beautiful woman. What was once called a "pug nose", had grown out, or she'd had work done, either way it had become just slightly turned up at the end and he found it adorable. Her long raven black hair glinted in the warm light, and contrasted perfectly with her smooth alabaster skin. She was still short, but she had a slender and graceful neck, and he could see just a hint of her collarbones inside the collar of her dress. And that dress...it left little to the imagination. What was hidden though, was intriguing. He missed Ginny horribly, but he was still alive. The girl...no, the woman...on his sofa was a stunning beauty. And he was pretty sure she was flirting with him. His gaze landed on the line of her thigh, and the curve of her calf where it was tucked against it. Her dress had ridden high when she sat down, and he had to admit to himself she was right. She had a spectacular everything.

"Come on, Potter," she thought, watching him appraise her from head to toe, while outwardly smirking at him. "Make your move. You know you want to."

Harry let his gaze travel back up to her face, and saw her smirk. But her eyes told a different story, and he decided that two could play at this game. He pushed up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen, refilling his glass. "So, what business are you in, Parkinson? I gather it's something to do with clothing. Are you a designer?"

Her jaw dropped as he walked away from her, and stared. She heard his question and gathered her wits about her to answer. "Yes, I have a boutique in London. I always did enjoy designing clothing. This dress is one of my line, do you like it?"

"Did I completely misread him? No. I never misread a man. He's...wait! He's playing the game. Harry Potter is playing the game! My my, he really has grown up. And with a quickness. Hmm."

Harry turned and walked back over to the sitting area, and leaned against the fireplace mantle. "It's a beautiful dress, Parkinson." He had to try very hard not to smile. "Fits you quite well. But your business. It's getting rather late now, you should probably head home. I imagine, if you're looking for some Muggle stallion, you can find one downstairs, if you must."

She blinked at him and almost stammered her response, but controlled herself in time and said "I suppose you're right, Potter." She slid to her feet in a smooth motion and walked over towards him, her hand reaching up towards his cheek...to place the empty martini glass on the mantel behind him. She let her pinky finger brush his shoulder as she pulled her hand back. "It was...good to see you again, Potter. I might have to come back sometime, now that I know this place is here and it's not exactly what it appears to be."

"Oh, he's gotten good at this. And he hasn't mentioned Hermione or Ron once, except in passing." That bothered her, those three were inseperable. There was much more going on here than any of them thought, and the others were NOT going to be happy when she showed up without Harry with her.

She stretched languidly, then tugged her dress down again, making the motion slow and deliberate, and turned to stride over to her shoes. She slipped them on and then knelt to pick up her purse. "Here's my card," she said, pulling out one that actually said she was a clothing designer. "Look me up if you're ever in West London." She dropped the card on the end table and went back downstairs.

Harry's eyes followed her every move. He didn't move from where he was standing because walking would have been, well, a bit difficult at the moment. "Good night, Parkinson," he said, his voice a bit husky.

She walked from the stairs to the coat room and retrieved hers. She checked to make sure he wasn't behind her before she walked out the door, and then struck off into the night. She made several turns, stopped, listened, and watched the snow for footprints. He may have an invisibility cloak, but that doesn't hide where he's been, only where he is. After she was certain he was not following her, she sat down on a snow covered bench in the park and thought. She analyzed every moment, movement, word and phrase spoken. After a long time, she thought she knew what happened. Rising from the bench and ignoring her wet dress, Pansy made her way to the hotel Hermione and Ron were in. She walked up two flights of stairs and knocked on the door. Hermione opened the door and grabbed her wrist, pulling her inside quickly and slammed the door behind her.

"Where IS he, Pansy? You were supposed to bring him back with you!" Hermione said urgently.

Pansy held up a hand. "If you'll give me a damn minute, I'll explain to you. I think this is a delicate situation and you can't just waltz in there, give him a hug and a smile, and bring him back into the world he left, Granger. Or you, Weasley."

She kicked her shoes off and walked into the adjoining room, coming back wearing fleece sleeping pants and an old sweatshirt.

"Stop standing and staring at me. We know where he is, he's not going to disappear between now and tomorrow, geeze. SIT DOWN. I will tell you what happened."

Pansy recounted the events, and what Harry had said (well, most of it) almost word for word. By the time she had gotten to Harry taking her up to his flat for dinner, Hermione had gotten very quiet, and by the time she recounted leaving Harry's flat, even Ron had caught on to the seriousness. When she finished recounting the story, she said "That's not the Harry who disappeared almost 3 years ago." She held up her hand. "NO, Ron, he is not under anyone's control, and he's not possessed. I can promise you that. He has simply changed. He's grown up without you, and that's not necessarily a bad thing."

Taking a deep breath, knowing she was about to tread on a bad subject, "Harry has known someone who died, or almost died, almost every year since he entered our world. In several cases, he was the one who killed them. Some of the people he was closest to...Sirius...Ginny...your mother, Ron, you know he saw her as his adopted mum….those deaths hit him deep, deep inside." She closed her eyes. "He thinks Ginny was what pushed him over the edge, I think it was that little girl he found on his last Auror case."

Hermione's hand flew up to her mouth as she realized what Pansy meant. Ron stared at them both, completely oblivious. "What girl?"

Hermione looked at Pansy and nodded, turning to Ron to tell him the story. She sat next to him on the end of the bed and took his hands in hers. Trying hard to avoid her 'lecture voice', she spoke softly. "Ron, Harry's last case as an Auror, before he left without a trace, was about a missing eight year old girl. A half-blood, already showing signs of magic. She was taken from her home late one night, and the parents were beside themselves. Harry found her after only a few days of searching."

Hermione closed her eyes as the memory took her and the tears started. "She'd been taken by a werewolf...and there was not much left. The other Aurors he called in for backup arrived, and found a vaguely man-shaped impact hole, covered in blood, in a nearby wall, and Harry holding the torn remains of that little girl in his lap, crying."

Opening her eyes, she looked at him. "Love, the little girl was the spitting image of Ginny at that age."