The gossiping, whispering and attention only increased over the following two days. They danced, sometimes twice each day and Harry's progress was amazing to both of them.
"No spells today, just us." She had said that morning.
Now they lay on the floor, slaked with sweat. Her head rested on his right arm. She smelled like moonlight and raw, unfiltered power.
"That was amazing," she said, tapping herself on the brow to cast Ventannium, "you know something?"
"Mmm?"
"I'm a great teacher." She said, laughing and rolling up and back to her feet.
He smiled, accepting her offered hand as he rose as well. "You are."
He took her in his arms and they kissed quickly, the silver glow and golden sparks dancing around them instantly again. They'd gotten used to it quickly and rarely remarked on the strange effect now.
"I need a shower," he said as he pulled away, seeing his shirt stuck to her blouse.
"You do stink." She replied, smiling in that slightly sinister, challenging way of hers.
"If I do then it's your fault."
"Guilty." She said, kissing him and dancing away, back to her boots and pulling them on with his help. "What're we doing the rest of the day then? You asked me to make no other plans."
Harry swallowed, "Yeah, after we're all cleaned up I need you to come with me. To McGonagall's office."
She drew back, her face becoming a stern mask. "Why?"
Holding up his hands, he smiled. "Nothing bad, I promise. It's something to do with the ball, that's all."
"What time?"
"Before dinner – three pm. We have hours together."
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was a hard, insistent kind of kiss that almost instantly had the room shimmering. When she broke away her eyes were like twin sapphire lamps.
"We need to clean up" He said, tugging gently at his shirt all around to peel it free from his body, "want me to escort you to your dormitory?"
She shrugged – she had taken him as far as the dungeon common room the previous day, but hadn't dared even show him inside, despite him telling her about his and Ron's Polyjuice adventure in their second year. Looking hard into his eyes, he saw her make a decision.
"I wish you could come with me." She said.
"Into the Slytherin space?"
She made a tentative, affirmative sound. "I mean…"
It slipped into place. "Oh." His mind flipped over and he caught her in another hard kiss. "I don't even know if it's possible – there are some kind of wards over the staircases in Gryffindor preventing boys going to the girls' rooms."
The kiss resumed until they needed to stop to breathe. "I don't know. I've only ever seen a couple of non-Slytherins in there, so it's possible without you stealing someone's identity."
The present was a long way away. Harry was lost in an absurdist vision of steam and bubbles and a distinct lack of white blouses.
Then she seemed to finally master herself. "But that's all theoretical, isn't it?" She asked, smiling that evil grin.
He took a deep, steadying breath and - suddenly acutely aware of the contours of her body pressed against his - twirled her around. "It is."
She laughed and led him with what seemed a painful reluctance out into the corridor.
They had been the talk of the castle for days, but people seemed less and less outraged or surprised when they happened upon them now, and the chattering didn't seem to last as long. They met again in the entrance hall an hour later, freshly showered and bundled up in coats before heading out into the cold.
It was a bright, clear but icy cold day, and they ducked into Greenhouse Five, which hadn't been used for teaching in several years due to the low numbers currently enrolled. It had become a kind of conservatory, filled with deckchairs, sofas and even a couple of hammocks, all used by students to get away from the chilly castle.
The greenhouse lived up to its name, being full of a wide array of plants that had been allowed to grow freely for the last six years since its abandonment and only occasionally pruned back. It was warm and humid inside, brightly lit and blessedly quiet as they entered and found a large, squashy high-backed sofa unoccupied.
They sat for a long time talking about anything and everything, shifting positions and always seeking greater comfort.
At one point the greenhouse was almost empty and Harry and Pansy were reclining at opposite ends of the sofa, her legs laid over his.
He laughed. "I'm not telling you, it's a surprise.
She scowled, stabbing his midriff with a big toe, "Rude."
"I guess. Carry on."
"Why are you so interested?" She asked.
"I just like finding out more about you," he said, shrugging, "I'm don't know that much about normal wizarding families, you know?"
She shrugged. "It's nothing special, really. So my mum is English – big old boring pureblood family – and she married my dad who's half-Italian. He lived there – Italy, I mean – most of his life with my Nonna until his first wife died and he moved here to live with his father's side of the family. That's when he met my mum."
Harry sat there, surprised and waited for her to continue.
"I spent lots of summers in Italy, down near Salerno. I remember the arguments when I told Nonna I wanted to go to Hogwarts – I thought she was going to drop dead. She had assumed I'd go to L'ila Stelle like Cenz."
"Cenz?"
"Yeah that's my brother Vincenzo – half-brother, I guess. He's great – ridiculously good with Divination. He's almost finished at L'ila Stelle, about to turn eighteen in February."
Harry had heard of the school, called Star Isle in English, but knew almost nothing about it. "Where is Star Isle?"
She smiled, "Don't let my Nonna ever hear you call it that – she used to teach Charms there until she retired. It's down near Naples, a whole island in the Gulf. It's one of the oldest schools of magic in the world."
He nodded, "If I ever meet your Nonna – is that right? – I'll be sure to learn some Italian beforehand."
"Faresti meglio, bel ragazzo." She said with that wicked smile which sent tingles running through him.
"What's that mean?" He asked.
She shrugged, "I guess you'd better learn some Italian, hadn't you? It was my Nonna who taught me the Patronus over the summer. I think she was gutted when it wasn't a Babau or a Phoenix or something."
"I imagine so. So why did you come here?"
She wriggled deeper down into the couch, putting her bare feet on his chest. "It was due to my mother, really. She and her whole family have been coming to Hogwarts for literally, like five-six hundred years."
"Wow, that's quite a history." He said, starting to rub her right foot.
She grinned and arched her back like a cat. "Oh, go on then. Do the other foot though, I broke it when I was little and it aches sometimes."
He dutifully changed to her left foot, noticing a small scar – shaped like a crescent moon – on the arch. "Go on."
"What? My family is nothing compared to yours, Mr. Lord Potter. You've got all the families wrapped up inside you – Potter, Black, Peverell, Stangroom, Nott. I even think we might share a distant grandmother, if you go far enough back."
"What?" He asked, surprised.
"Yeah, I… looked it up in our family tree a long time ago. My mother's maiden name is Crouch – "
"That's-"
"Yes, yes. Bartemius Crouch is my great-uncle. He's my Granny Crouch's little cousin, I think. We don't have a lot to do with them, my mother and him never really got on after what happened with his son during the war. Gods know what will happen when he dies now – he's the last in the main line since Barty Junior died – and I don't think there's any chance of him having more kids at his age." She said this quickly, like it was a great inconvenience. She took out her wand as she spoke and started twirling around her fingers, which she seemed to do whenever she was agitated.
"Bloody hell, Pansy. You really are full of surprises."
"One tries. Down a bit – yeah, right there." She said, directing his thumb to a sensitive spot on the ball of her foot and writhing happily.
"So what happened with Crouch's son?"
"You don't know?!" She asked, scandalised.
"Obviously." He said, mimicking Snape's slow drawl.
She laughed, "He'll strip the skin off you if he ever hears you do that – it's weirdly good though. But Barty Junior was a Death Eater."
He stopped rubbing. "A Death Eater?"
She nodded, taking a while to meet his eyes. "It was quite a scandal when it all came out. Barty Junior was lovely: friendly and really powerful – some people used to say he was actually more powerful than his dad. But after You-Know-Who vanished, he was accused and bought in and sent to Azkaban. Apparently, he did some really awful things."
Harry didn't know what to say, but sat still, just turning her words over in his mind.
"Are you okay?" She asked after long pause.
He nodded. "Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about the riot at the World Cup."
"I heard about that," she said, her eyes blazing, "the bloody nerve of them. Like all their pureblood madness after all these years."
He made to speak, to say something about how close she had been – was? - with Malfoy, but thought better of it.
"What?" She asked, raising a thin eyebrow.
"Just remembering. It was pretty awful, actually. The cruelty."
The cool silence stretched between them, broken as a small group of students came into the greenhouse.
"So, tell me something else about yourself." He said, clearing his throat.
"What do you want to know?" She said, visibly relaxing.
"I don't know – anything."
She shrugged, still playing with her wand. It was long and very pale.
"Actually, tell me about your wand." He said, nodding to it.
She raised her eyebrows and after a long pause, handed it over to him. It was very light and cool, almost cold to the touch.
"What is it?" He asked.
"Aleppo pine, from an estate near my Nonna's house. The core is phoenix feather."
He smiled. "Mine too – the feather, I mean." He said, drawing out his own wand and passing it to her.
She took it with a faint look of surprise. "It looks like it was barely carved after being cut." She said, inspecting the back end which was still rough, complete with a couple of small knots.
"Rough, like me." He said with a smile.
She laughed aloud. "So what is your rough stick made of?"
"Holly." He eventually managed.
"Ah, that makes sense." She said, still smirking. "A questing wand."
Harry had read up on his wand in his second year, after Ron had destroyed his own. Holly wands had a reputation for the belief that they were attracted to those with great quests, or journeys before them. "That or it chose me to keep me calm."
She wrinkled her nose. "That's much less fun."
He shrugged. "What do they say about pine?"
"That we who use them are destined for long lives, apparently."
"That's reassuring." He said, grinning.
"That, and they usually go to independent-minded people to help them be more creative and flexible."
He tested the wand again. "This is not flexible."
She stuck out her tongue. "Nonna says it's because I've infected it with my stubbornness."
He couldn't help but laugh. "I think I like your Nonna."
"She's the best." She said, stabbing him again with a toe. "Should we get going, we need to be at McGonagall's office soon, right?"
Eyes-wide, he checked his watch. "Oh bollocks, we'd better run."
