Disclaimer: Nothing's changed, Harry and Pansy are still the property of J. K. Rowling. Anthony, Sydney, Audra, Stephanie, Brittany, Holly, James, any other bar or hotel staff are my own creations. All other people, places, or things, are Ms. Rowling's moneymakers.
A few days have passed, and while Hermione and Pansy were once again going through books and making notes. Harry's dining room table had quickly resembled one of the tables in the Hogwarts library, with books and papers stacked everywhere and the girls' heads bent over it.
Harry took Ron down to the pub to show him around and introduce him to all the staff. "Everything's bewitched so that we can make the room do different things, you see. We can make all the tables 2-tops for romantic dinners, 6-tops for pub quiz, arrange them so everyone can see the big screen over there if there's a game on, all kinds of stuff," he said, proudly.
Ron looked around, taking in everything Harry was telling him. "Bloody hell, Harry, you've dong a bang up job here. And everyone that works here is a wizard or witch?"
Harry nodded. "Well, most everybody. The chef and most of the kitchen staff aren't. Yes, they produce that food the old fashioned way. I could have sworn he was a wizard when I hired him, but he's totally a Muggle. He's aware of the world, though. Had to be, he has a non-disclosure clause in his contract that protects us both in the Muggle courts, and another clause that if he decides to take another job, he will be Obliviated of the information about the magic world. Everybody else, though, all magic. Everyone has a reason to be here. Some are, like me, overwhelmed by what goes on there. Some just want a simpler life, away from the crowds. It's a big difference living as a Muggle than a wizard, Ron."
"I can see that, Harry. I just guess that growing up with everyone throwing spells left and right makes you used to it," Ron replied, "just like growing up with Muggles makes it easier to be away from it? I remember when you and dad would talk about the things he found fascinating that were common to you."
"Exactly," Harry said. "Remember, I spent eleven years not even knowing magic was real, and then got dumped headfirst into it for the next seven. It could get a bit overwhelming. And one day, I may fully embrace that world. But right now, I'm happy here." He clasped Ron on the shoulder and grinned. He was very glad his friends were back in his life and not trying to drag him kicking and screaming to Diagon Alley.
Anthony was back behind the bar when they turned that way, and Harry gestured for Ron to sit at the bar with him. "Anthony, how's Sydney doing?"
Anthony's face flushed but he smiled wide. "She's doing great, Harry. She's able to stay shielded almost all the time now."
"Wonderful," Harry exclaimed. "I know you're a good teacher and you had the best training. Have you kissed her yet?"
"I did hav...wh...wait...what?" Anthony stammered, as Harry laughed.
"Turnabout is fair play, my friend. You two obviously like each other. You just have to admit it. It's not like you can hide it from one another very long, now, is it?" Harry said, grinning.
Anthony muttered something under his breath. "I guess you're right."
"Of course I'm right," Harry said, grinning at Ron. "Now, if you would kind sir, please show my friend here that bar-tending is not just pouring shots and beers. Make him a Morphus, please"
Anthony grinned. He pulled out a short glass, and then reached under the bar. His arm jerked and a bottle came flipping up over his shoulder, from behind him, landing in his other hand perfectly and emitting a glug of a dark black liquor. That bottle disappeared back behind the bar and another one jumped straight up in the air in front of him, landing in his hand. He twirled it around and then carefully layered a clear liquor atop the black. He snapped his fingers, and the second bottle disappeared and a green bottle took its place. A layer of bright green liquor went into the glass, and Anthony threw the bottle over his shoulder. It, too, disappeared. He pulled two bottles out this time, and somehow poured two layers at the same time...one brown, one red. Those bottles went away and a strange looking round bottle came out, and he swirled a white line in a spiral pattern on top. He carefully slid the glass to Ron and smiled. "Enjoy!"
Ron's eyes got bigger and bigger as Anthony made the drink, and when the glass was in front of him he leaned over and looked at the layers. "Bloody hell, mate, that's amazing!"
Anthony said "That's called flair, my friend. And most of it is not magic. The only time I use magic in that trick is disappearing the bottles. All the layers, that's science. Now, you have to drink the whole thing in one go, don't sip at it. You have to get the melding of all the flavors.
Following Anthony's advice, Ron picked up the glass and drained it. After he swallowed, he licked his lips. "That's damn tasty."
"Yep!" Harry grinned. "That's just one of the reasons I keep him around. Somehow, he can make a show out of pouring a beer, but give him something like that layered drink, or ask him to make 20 shots at once, and he's just in his element. Ok, get back to prep, Anthony. We'll be having dinner down here, all four of us, if we can pry the girls away from your books, so reserve my usual table please."
Ron blinked. "His books? Those are your books?"
Anthony nodded. "Harry wanted to add something you wouldn't find in a usual pub, so I brought a bunch of books from my grandparent's attic, and some of mine from my apartment, and we set them up in bookcases around the side room over there," he pointed. "My grandfather collected old books. He had aspirations to own a book story to rival Flourish and Botts, but he spent all his money on books and forgot he needed somewhere to sell them." Anthony shrugged. "I haven't even begun to make a dent on the stacks and stacks of books in my grandmother's attic.
"Do not let Hermione hear you say that, mate," Ron Said, grinning. "Or, apparently, Pansy."
Anthony nodded. "Oh, I've already talked to Pansy about them. I'm sure she's told Hermione."
Ron groaned.
Harry laughed, and tugged on Ron's arm. "Come on, let's see if we can get the girls to take a break and get ready for dinner." They got off the bar stools and headed towards the office. As they passed the kitchen, Harry stuck his head inside. "Smells amazing, Chris. Pains me to say it, but you were right. I need to sit down with you on Monday to figure out how to do this tour of the world's cooking we've been kicking around."
They headed upstairs and into Harry's flat.
Harry and Ron managed to pry Pansy and Hermione away from the books for dinner, and it had been a wonderful dinner. Afterwards, Ron dragged Hermione home, and Harry and Pansy went upstairs.
"Um, Pans?" Harry said, confusion on his face as he looked down at his feet. "When did I get a cat?"
Pansy laughed as she walked over, leaned down and picked up the black and gray tabby cat and snuggled it in her arms. "This is Spencer, my cat." She looked at Harry and smiled. "I think he likes you."
Harry still looked confused, and after a minute she laughed and took pity on him. "I'm spending all my time here, and he was lonely back at my flat. You did tell me to make myself at home, didn't you? Well, this is part of that."
He reached out to tentatively scratch the cat's head, and the cat's loud purring and closing eyes told him he was accepted. "Well, I think you're right. He approves."
He leaned over the cat and kissed her softly on her lips. "But can the cat keep himself company for a little while?"
She smiled warmly and nodded, letting the cat jump to the floor and wrapping her arms around his waist, kissing him back.
As the weeks went by, becoming months, Harry and Pansy grew closer together, and fell deeply in love. Hermione and Pansy continued to research the soul bond, trying to find more details. And Harry started doing his own research into a few things.
One Sunday morning in late Spring, he awoke, the warmth of Pansy on his chest and her hair spilled across his shoulder and arm. Spencer the cat was curled up on Pansy's pillow, purring gently as he slept. Harry gently rolled her over, kissing her shoulder as she murmured, and then rubbed the small of her back until she went back to sleep. He got up, took a shower, and got dressed. He wrote a quick note and left it on the counter for her to find, and quietly exited the apartment.
He walked through the empty, closed pub, and locked the front door back behind him. He took his wand out and signaled the Knight Bus something he hadn't done in a long time. It banged and shuddered to a stop in front of him, and he got on. "Diagon Alley, please."
A stomach-twisting ride later, Harry stepped off the bus, and walked to Gringott's. He arrived at the door just as they unlocked. He'd chosen the sleepy weekend morning to arrange his special appointment to minimize the number of people that saw him. He was shown into the bank by a goblin, and into a special interview room.
Pansy awoke, stretched out alone in the bed except for the cat. She smiled sleepily at Spencer and rubbed her fingers on his neck and head, then got out of bed. She could tell by the silence in the flat that Harry was out. "He's probably downstairs cooking a surprise breakfast or something," she said, grinning. She went and took a long, luxurious bath, listening for him to return. When the water had grown cold, she got out and dried off, wrapping a towel around her. She padded into the kitchen for coffee and saw the note.
"Pansy, my love, I have to go take care of a few things this morning. I should be back sometime this afternoon. I love you."
She smiled, but wondered what on earth he could be doing on a Sunday.
Several hours later, Harry left the room, rubbing his right hand. Another goblin approached him and handed him a briefcase. Harry checked the contents and nodded, thanking the goblin. He left the bank and signaled the Knight Bus again. He gave Stan his destination, and held on tightly.
He arrived in front of a large house, not quite a mansion, but not small enough to be rightly called a cottage. He fixed his tie, and strode up to the door. He lifted and dropped the heavy brass knocker, and a moment later the door was opened by a house elf. Harry greeted him, and was escorted inside.
The door opened again, two hours later, and Harry left without the briefcase. He walked to the end of the pathway by the road, and Apparated back to his office. He sat down on his office chair for a few minutes and went over everything that had happened that day, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Confident he had not, he got up and went into the kitchen where the Chef was preparing for the dinner service. "Chris, would you do me a favor and pack a dinner for Pansy and I? I've left her alone most of the day and I want to take her for a picnic on the beach."
The Chef nodded, and said "15 or 20 minutes okay?"
Harry nodded. "That'll be fine." He went back upstairs and walked in to find Pansy curled up on the couch with a book. "Hello, love," he said, smiling at the now familiar site of her with a book.
She looked up as he came in and beamed at him, then faked a frown. "You left me alone alllll day, Harry." She tried to pout, but couldn't hold it and laughed.
Harry walked over and leaned down to kiss her, and touched her cheek. "I know, but I thought I'd make it up to you with a picnic on the beach?"
She grinned and nodded, "That sounds wonderful. Let me get something warmer to wear, it's still chilly out there.
Arm in arm, Harry and Pansy walked down the street to the beach, and found a spot on the sand well back from the high tide marker. Harry spread a thick blanket out on the sand and opened the basket. He set out the plates and glasses, and served them both dinner from the various dishes the Chef had prepared. He poured the wine, offered a toast, "to the most beautiful woman I know," and she blushed.
They ate, chatting a bit about the story she was now working on, which she hoped would help even out matters between the pure-bloods and the Muggle-born. Her research with Hermione had dug up contracts and agreements that should have prevented the current animosity between the groups, but had gone missing decades earlier.
After they had finished, Pansy moved so she was sitting in front of him, and leaned back into his chest. She pulled the blanket up around them and they watched the sun start to set. "We should probably head back, it will get really cold after the sun goes down," Pansy said.
Harry nodded. "You have to get up first, love," he said, and kissed the top of her head. She laughed, swatted at his knee and then stood up. She picked up the basket as he stood up, took a step off the blanket and shook the sand off it. "Here, hold the blanket a moment, my shoe is untied.
He handed her the blanket, and when she got it arranged over her arm and turned back to him, she found him down on one knee, but he wasn't tying his shoe.
He had a small black box open in his hand, and the sunset glinted on a large diamond ring. Her breath caught in her throat.
"Pansy Marie Parkinson, with the permission and encouragement of your father and mother, and with all the love I have in my heart, I ask for your hand. Will you marry me?"