Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters herein except for my own creations Anthony, Sydney (unnamed girl), and Audra. Sydney is a co-owned character. All other characters, places, things, and names are owned by J.K. Rowling.
A/N: We're going to get into the heart of the story here for the next few chapters. Thanks for reading! Edited 01/07/16 to fix minor typos and formatting.
Ron Weasley wasn't always the quickest to grasp the meaning of something, but this time, he figured it out pretty quickly. "And having finally gotten over Ginny dying years before...I see. He relapsed, or … I guess, broke? Is Harry broken?" He looked at Hermione with concern.
"That's what I have to find out," Pansy said, softly. "I don't think he is. He's still got that fire in him he did back at school. But I don't know how much of our world he can handle right now. He uses magic minimally and he only briefly mentioned school when we were talking. It's like he's left that part of his life behind and filled it with the business. He uses magic for little things, and he has a few mementos in his flat. But nothing major. Nothing big."
"I need to sleep and think on how to proceed. Remember why you hired me, Granger, Weasley. You need someone who can get to him that won't send him running again. Do NOT try to approach him until I give you the ok." She stood up and headed for her room.
Ron bristled. "We may have left MOST of our hate behind us, Parkinson, but I won't forget you're a Slytherin to the core. How do we know you won't corrupt him?"
"RON!" Hermione gasped. "Shut up!"
"Listen to your wife, Weasley. I'm going to sleep. Good night." Pansy walked into the adjoining room and shut the door behind her.
Hermione glared at Ron, her arms crossed on her chest. "You KNOW she's the best choice for this, Ronald. We wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for her. If she had ulterior motives, she didn't have to bring us along. Neither of us expected her to find him this fast. She's really good at what she does and if she went behind our backs, her reputation would be ruined."
Ronald sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "I guess you're right, 'Mione, but something about her rubs me the wrong way. And I'm worried about Harry. I'm really happy to find out he's not dead, he's even in the same building as us right now! I just want to run over there and drag him back to our world."
He frowned. "But then...that's everything Dumbledore would have done, innit? Have a secret plan, drag Harry along without giving him any explanation or chance to choose, and that's why Harry turned away from him in the end and went his own way. No, we can't do that. That would make things even worse."
Hermione smiled brightly and pulled Ron's face down to hers for a kiss. "And that, Ronald Weasley, is one of the reasons I love you. Eventually, you see through to the truth of things. Now, here's what I think. We need to let Pansy handle this. She found him, he's obviously set down roots here, so he's not going to disappear on a whim. But, if we poke at him, he may go to ground somewhere else. We should back off and let her bring him to us, like we originally agreed."
"But," Ron began before she laid a finger on his lips to hush him. "No buts, Ron. Tomorrow, we go home to the kids. I'm sure Tonks and Remus would like a break from all of them for a while. Pansy will stay, or go, as Pansy does, and it may take time but she'll figure out a solution. If she can't do it in, say, a month? Then we swoop in like knights on shining broomsticks. Ok?"
Nodding, Ron agreed. "..Tomorrow, you say?" He looked around at the well appointed hotel room. "Well, as long as we're here and have the bed to ourselves…" he turned a wicked grin on his beautiful wife, and leaned down to kiss her.
"Oi, muffle that, will you? I'm trying to sleep here!" sounded from the next room, and Ron and Hermione laughed against each other's lips. Hermione cast Muffliato at the shared door and took her husband to bed.
Harry stood by the fire a few minutes longer, until his glass was empty. He walked over to the tray he'd brought up and drained the martini mixings as well. He took everything downstairs to the bar and put the bottle of scotch in its appropriate spot. He realized the pub was more than half empty and looked at the clock. It was barely midnight. "What happened?" he asked the bartender. Anthony grinned. "You took that hot little number upstairs with you earlier, and half the women in this place started swearing. Some of them grabbed other guys and left, some just left. When she came back down half an hour ago and left, that look on her face, half the guys hanging around almost cried, and left shortly after. Who was that?"
Harry shrugged. "An old friend from school."
Anthony laughed. "Well, you and your old friend, I think, are going to be directly responsible for a rash of births come October.
Harry rolled his eyes. "If you say so. Well, go ahead and shut it down for the night, Anthony. And let the kitchen know we won't be opening for lunch tomorrow, but I want something very special for dinner tomorrow night." His eyes fell on a small blonde haired woman sitting at the end of the bar, and how she leaned away from the person sitting next to her. Anthony turned and walked over, said something to the guy, who paid his tab and left. The girl looked up from her book at Anthony and her eyes shone brightly at him. Harry murmured to his manager "Let the girl stay after if she wants. Help her." He paused. "Give her room … 8. I think it's unoccupied. And it's a corner room in the back by an exit."
Anthony nodded. "Already planned on it, boss." Harry nodded and clapped the man on the shoulder, heading back upstairs. Hiring the empathic wizard as his bar manager was one of the primary reasons the pub was so profitable. Not only an empath, but a skilled bartender with skills of flair (and he didn't even use magic most of the time) and mixology, Anthony handled bar patrons in a way no other bartender in the country could. "Last call, everybody!" Harry heard from behind him, and then a soft "No, you stay as long as you need to, love."
Pansy walked into her room, shut the door, and sighed heavily. This job was going to be a lot more difficult than she had thought. Sure, just find Potter, grab him up and drop him off at the Burrow and be done with it. Easy enough. But no, Potter had to go and get interesting and mysterious. She walked over to the bed and slid under the covers. Through the thin wall she heard Ron and Hermione working their way through the logic, and then Ron's not too veiled suggestion. She yelled for them to muffle it, and heard the blessed silence of the charm hit the wall. She snuggled down into the warm, comfortable bed and decided she would work out a new plan in the morning. For now, she wanted sleep.
She slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning. Her dreams were filled with firelight dancing in green eyes, mussed up brown hair, the hint of chest hair at a collar. She dreamed of muscles and flying and the tip of a tattoo, and being kissed in front of a roaring fire. She woke, finally, in the morning, her heart racing and her skin flushed. She pushed up out of the tangle of covers and turned, sitting on the edge of the bed. The morning sun shone in through the crack of a curtain and she lifted her face to its warmth. She didn't know how she was going to handle Harry Potter, but she knew she was going to try.
Harry slept uneasily that night as well, his dreams punctuated by pale skin, curves of black and silver, languid chocolate eyes and ruby lips. He woke, finding himself twisted in the blankets and sheets of his bed and worked on extricating himself. Getting up, he stretched and padded into the bathroom to take a long, cold shower.
Later, as he sat in a robe and shorts at the kitchen bar, eating breakfast and reading the morning Times, he read the same paragraph four times over as he thought about Pansy. Sure, she might show back up in his bar, but he knew how the game was played. The next move was his. He looked over and saw her card, and pulled it over to him. "Parkinson Boutique & Design" was printed in elegant type across the top of the card. Her name, "Proprietor" below it, with an address and phone number. The beginnings of an idea blossomed in his mind.
He would make the next move, alright. And she wouldn't see it coming.
Pansy showered, dressed in designer jeans, knee high black boots, and another oversized sweater. She had ordered breakfast from room service, and it arrived right as she was putting the finishing touches on her makeup. She opened the door for the waiter to bring in her tray, and he efficiently divvied the plates out onto the small tabletop and poured coffee and juice for her. "Is there anything else I can get you, miss?" he said politely, and she shook her head. "This is perfect, thank you." She handed him a tip and closed the door behind him. As she sat down to eat, she started going through various scenarios in her head and talking out loud.
"Potter won't make the next move. He's trying to play the game but I bet he'll be one of the wait-and-see players. He'll wait for me to come back to his bar, because coming to me would be too forward.
She munched on toast and bacon, and said aloud, "He was right about one thing, for sure. This food is phenomenal." When she was done, she looked at her notebook where she'd made 4 columns of notes. Each column was a cause and effect list that she predicted would happen based on what the next move was and who made it, ranked from most likely to least likely. She nodded, satisfied she'd determined the possible outcomes. "I'll start with the most likely, of course, and go back tonight for dinner. Tell him that I had a consult in the area and since he was such a gentleman, I decided to impose upon him for dinner again. Perfect." She smiled then, a sly smile that quickly turned into a thoughtful frown. "I should probably wait until tomorrow night. I can't let this attraction get in the way of the plan.
The phone rang, and she absentmindedly picked up and answered without looking at the caller ID. "Parkinson," she said. "Miss Parkinson, I-I-I know you said not to call you b-but there's a gentleman here at the shop." Pansy recognized the voice of the girl who ran the boutique front she used from time to time. "He's asking for you, says he has a custom job! W-What should I tell him?"
"Calm down, Audra. It's ok. Did he give a name?" Pansy said soothingly.
"P-P-P-Potter, he said, " Audra stammered harder. "THE P-P-Potter is in my store?"
Pansy REALLY hoped he couldn't hear her where she was calling, and swore under her breath. "I'll be right there, make sure the back door is unlocked!" She ended the call and stood quickly. She grabbed at her suitcase and pulled out some jewelry. A heavy pendant on a long cord went around her neck, and silver spirals now hung from her ears. She slipped on a bangle and a couple of bracelets and checked her look in the mirror. "Spectacular," she thought. Exactly what he'd be expected. Although...she may have to re-define expectations. This was NOT on her list of possibilities.
She made sure nothing magical was visible in the room, dumped her notebook and Prophet in her suitcase and locked it. She walked out the door, turning the tag to "please clean", and then strode down the stairs. She walked outside into the wintry mid-morning and turned a corner. A snapBANG later and she was gone.
The crack of her Apparition echoed through the alley behind the store as she appeared, displacing snow and cold air. She composed herself, said "You can do this," and opened the back door. She strode through the back rooms of the store, consciously letting her walk become sultry and slower as she walked through the door to the main part of the shop.
"Why, Mr. Potter, I did not expect to hear from you so soon. My assistant said you had a job for us?" she said, her voice inviting and soft.
Harry turned as she spoke and took a moment to let his eyes take her in. She had her hair pulled up in a most interesting high ponytail, with tendrils dropping to frame her face. The dark grey sweater fell just past her waist and her skin tight jeans disappeared into leather knee high boots. The girl definitely knew fashion, that was for sure. "Yes, Miss Parkinson, I need new uniforms for my staff at the pub and hotel. I thought that, since I have the need you have the ability to fulfill it, that we might could come to an arrangement."
Her heart skipped a beat at the subtle innuendo, or not so subtle if Audra's intake of breath was anything to go by, and smiled brightly at him. "Why of course, Mr. Potter. We can handle that for you. Did you have some guidelines or requirements for the uniforms?"
Harry pursed his lips and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I'd like the base color to be a dark grey. I want them to be notifiable as staff, but not stand out. No stark white uniforms. Trim colors can be bright or dark, but no green, gold, yellow, orange, white." He looks over at her. "Nothing too form fitting or flashy. I won't have my girls ogled and manhandled by the patrons. For the hotel staff, something less subdued but the same color restrictions, please. Something a little more formal, between open collar shirt and black tie. They should be comfortable, but not upscale."
Pansy had been taking notes as he talked, and now she moved to a large flipboard and picked up a charcoal pencil. She started making rough strokes as he finished talking, nodding at him to continue. When he was done, she kept drawing. Occasionally she'd buff out a line she drew or a curve here or there, but became more focused in her drawing. Audra stood back with her hands over her mouth to muffle her breathing, and Harry stopped talking as he saw Pansy lost in her creation.
"She's … she's just amazing. She's not only absolutely gorgeous and quick witted, but she clearly has a talent for this job. Just those few instructions and she's already working on a design. And not just a rough draft," Harry thought. He was definitely impressed.
Pansy made one last change, and stepped back from the board, nodding. "Something like this?" She turned the pedestal it rested on so Harry could see the design. She had sketched out a base shirt and pant design that could be multifunctional depending on the accessories. All business, she started explaining. "The shirt will be a stone grey color, much like this," she pointed at a swatch to the side. "The design is inspired by Mandarin shirts and dresses, the the no-fold Mandarin collar and open neck. The squared off shoulders on men's shirts and closer, shorter sleeves for the ladies. The shirt buttons down a few inches off center in the same design concept, but without the heavy braiding and embroidery." She reaches blindly for a magazine and flips to a page, pointing. "This is the traditional Mandarin design. We'll leave out all this detail work but preserve the cut and the lines of the style."
She handed the magazine back to Audra and then pointed at the pants. "Basic black slack, straight cut and tailored for the individual. Costs a little more to tailor each uniform but you will notice the difference in how your staff looks. No baggy pants on guys with wide hips and narrow legs, no overly tight blouses on slender women with curves. The ladies can opt for pants or a more feminine skirt," and here she quickly sketched out what she was thinking. "If we make the skirt the same color as the shirt, when the girls wear it it will appear to be a dress, but they'll have the comfort and movement of separate pieces. The fabric is soft, and feels like satin, but it's moisture-wicking and waterproof." She stopped, and looked up at Harry. She blushed a little at the wonder in his eyes. "These are just the drafts, so you can kind of see the direction I'm thinking. They'll need a lot of refinement. Trim, adjustments for different jobs and the hierarchy."
Harry nodded. "Very impressive, Miss Parkinson. Perhaps you can bring the finished designs by the pub later, this evening, perhaps, if you're done with them?"
Pansy looked at Audra, who nodded enthusiastically and squeaked. She shook her head, laughing, and then turned to Harry. "I think that can be arranged. Thank you, Mr. Potter for the opportunity. I can assume we'll talk cost and quantity over dinner?"
Harry nodded. "Excellent. I'll see you around 7, then. Thank you, Miss Parkinson, Miss Slate." He bowed slightly and turned, striding out of the shop and down the sidewalk.
Pansy sagged back against the wall in relief, and smirked. Dinner, indeed.