As they left the office, Harry's posture remained relaxed, but his eyes had become more focused. Ginny walked close beside him, their arms brushing, while Arthur led the way, his back stiff with tension.
"That went... well," Arthur said uncertainly once they were out of earshot, heading back toward the elevators.
"Did it?" Ginny asked skeptically.
"Crouch is thorough," Arthur explained, lowering his voice as a group of aurors passed them in the hallway. "He was just doing his job."
"Seemed like he was fishing for something specific," Harry observed, his tone casual but his eyes alert as he watched the passing aurors.
"Crouch has always been... intense," Arthur sighed. "Especially about Dark wizards. He led the charge against You-Know-Who's followers after the war. Put dozens in Azkaban, including his own son."
"His own son?" Ginny repeated, raising her eyebrows.
Arthur nodded grimly. "Barty Crouch Jr. Was with the Lestranges when they tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity. Crouch Sr. sentenced him personally. No mercy, not even for family."
Ginny gasped, having not known about Neville's parents.
"Sounds like a great guy," Harry remarked dryly.
"He was expected to become Minister before that scandal," Arthur continued as they reached the elevators. "Now he's stuck in International Magical Cooperation. Quite a step down, but he still has influence."
The elevator arrived with a clatter, empty this time. As they stepped inside, Arthur pressed the button. "I need to stop by my office first, if you two don't mind? Just need to check on something quickly."
"No problem," Harry said, leaning against the elevator wall. "We're not in a hurry."
The elevator began its descent, rattling between floors. Ginny moved closer to Harry, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He's suspicious. Crouch."
Harry's lips curved in the ghost of a smile. "Let him be."
Arthur frowned at the elevator buttons, lost in his own thoughts and seemingly unaware of their quiet conversation.
As they passed Level Five, the elevator jerked to a stop, and the doors opened to reveal a familiar face. Harry's eyes immediately sharpened as he recognized the girl standing there. Her usually perfect appearance was slightly disheveled, her eyes red-rimmed despite her attempt to hide it with makeup. She froze when she saw who was in the elevator.
For just a moment, something darkly possessive flashed in Harry's eyes—a hunger that had nothing to do with food. Ginny noticed, her own expression subtly shifting as she observed the interaction.
"Parkinson," Harry said, his voice casual yet somehow intimate. It seemed Pansy noticed it as well as her expression twitched slightly. "Going down?"
Pansy hesitated for a moment before she stepped into the elevator, positioning herself as far from them as the small space would allow. "Potter," she acknowledged stiffly, her voice slightly hoarse. She nodded curtly at the others. "Weasleys."
Arthur, always polite, nodded back. "Miss Parkinson. I'm... sorry for your loss."
A flash of raw pain crossed her face before she could hide it behind her usual haughty mask. "Thank you," she said, the words clipped. It was more cordial than one would expect from the resident bitch of Slytherin, and Harry found himself getting slightly surprised by her relatively affable demeanor.
Harry watched her, his gaze never leaving her face. "How are you holding up?" he asked, keeping his tone softer than before.
Pansy's eyes darted to his, suspicious and vulnerable at once. "What do you care, Potter?"
"Just asking," he replied with a casual shrug. "Death is... complicated."
Something in his voice made her stare at him more intently, her expression a mix of confusion and something indecipherable. "Yes," she finally said. "It is."
The elevator continued its descent in tense silence. Harry kept his eyes on Pansy, studying her with an intensity that would have been uncomfortable if she hadn't been so caught up in her own grief and confusion. Just once, she glanced back at him, catching his gaze—and for a split second, she felt she saw something, something that made her breath catch.
When the elevator reached the Atrium, Pansy practically bolted out, but not before Harry called after her, "Parkinson."
She paused abruptly, turning slightly but not fully facing him.
"Things change," he said simply. "Remember that."
Her brows furrowed, but she gave a small nod before disappearing into the crowd. All the while, Harry kept his calculating gaze on her retreating figure, his lips curved into the barest of smirks.
"You know her from school?" Arthur asked, oblivious to the undercurrents.
"You could say that," Harry replied, his eyes still following Pansy's retreating form. "We have... history."
Ginny made a small noise that might have been amusement or scorn.
The three of them made their way through the Atrium toward the smaller corridor leading to Arthur's office. They had just reached the entrance when a Ministry assistant came rushing up, looking flustered.
"Mr. Weasley! Thank goodness I found you," she said, slightly out of breath. "Mr. Perkins needs you in your office immediately. There's been an incident with those regurgitating toilets in Manchester—they've started multiplying and the Muggles are calling it a sewage crisis. The Obliviators are overwhelmed and requesting backup from your department."
Arthur's eyes widened. "Oh dear, that's not good at all. I need to handle this right away." He turned to Harry and Ginny, looking conflicted. "I'm terribly sorry, but this is urgent. Will you two be alright to head back to the Burrow on your own?"
"We'll be fine," Harry assured him. "We can floo from the atrium."
"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, clearly torn between duty and responsibility for them.
"Yes, Dad," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes. "We're both of age. We can take care of ourselves now. Don't worry. We'll go straight back home. Promise."
Arthur hesitated for a moment before he nodded. "Alright. But directly home, understand? No detours. Especially not in this environment."
"Of course," Harry agreed, his expression perfectly sincere.
Arthur studied them both for a moment longer before turning to follow the assistant. "I'll see you both at home later!"
As Arthur hurried away, the office fell silent. Ginny glanced at Harry, a knowing look in her eyes. "Well, that's convenient."
"Isn't it just," Harry murmured, his eyes meeting hers with a spark of something dangerous. "Seems like we have some free time."
"What are you thinking?" Ginny asked, though her tone suggested she already knew.
Harry's gaze drifted toward the direction Pansy had gone. "I think I need to have a chat with an old... friend."
A flash of disappointment crossed Ginny's face which she covered up quickly, although Harry did not miss it. He merely smirked.
"She belonged to you, didn't she?" Ginny asked quietly. "Before."
Harry's smile was brief but genuine. "She will again," he said simply. He gestured forward with mock formality. "Shall we?"
She nodded, falling into step beside him. "Lead the way."
XXXXX
Harry and Ginny moved casually through the bustling crowd in the atrium, his eyes sweeping through the space, taking in the exit routes that one might take.
"There," Ginny murmured, nodding toward the main entrance. Through the glass doors, they could see Pansy's distinctive dark hair as she descended the visitor's entrance steps. "She's not using the floo."
"Smart girl," Harry said approvingly. "Probably doesn't trust Ministry monitoring right now. Can't blame her."
They followed at a distance, slipping past the security desk. Harry gave a casual nod to the security guard who barely glanced up from his Prophet crossword. Outside, London's gray afternoon light cast long shadows across the street as they emerged onto the pavement.
Pansy walked quickly, her heels clicking against the concrete with sharp, agitated taps. Her shoulders were rigid, her head held high despite the obvious strain. She paused at the corner, glancing back toward the Ministry entrance with an expression of barely contained anxiety.
"She's waiting for someone," Ginny observed, following Harry's gaze.
"Or checking if she's being followed," Harry replied. His fingers twitched slightly, and he murmured something under his breath. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth.
"What did you just do?" Ginny asked, her voice low and intrigued.
"Nothing harmful," Harry said innocently. "Just a little... insurance policy. In case we need to track her later."
Before Ginny could respond, a certain individual emerged from the alcove near Pansy. Draco Malfoy briskly walked toward her, his usually pristine appearance somewhat disheveled. His face was pale and drawn, grief and anger etched into every line.
"Interesting," Ginny murmured. "He looks like he hasn't slept all night."
"Oh, I think he slept rather peacefully," Harry remarked with amusement. "Must've gotten the news in the morning. Poor bloke lost his dear father. Couldn't have happened to a nicer person."
Barely a second later, Narcissa Malfoy emerged with fluid grace. Even in mourning attire, she commanded attention. Her black robes were perfectly tailored, her blonde hair immaculately styled. Only the slight tightness around her eyes hinted at any distress, though Harry suspected it wasn't grief that put it there.
Pansy's reaction was immediate and volatile. Her hands clenched into fists as she saw them approach.
"What are you doing here?" Pansy's voice carried clearly across the entrance, sharp with accusation.
"Pansy," Draco began, his tone cautious. "We came to offer—"
"Offer what?" Pansy cut him off. "Your condolences? Your family's friendship? How touching."
Narcissa stepped forward, her expression carefully composed. "We understand you're grieving, dear. We all are. The losses we've suffered—"
"Losses?" Pansy's voice rose dangerously. "Is that what you're calling it?"
Harry's eyes gleamed with interest. This was better than he'd hoped. He raised his wand subtly, keeping it concealed within his sleeve.
"What's she talking about?" Ginny whispered.
"Watch and learn," Harry murmured back.
Draco's face hardened. "My father died fighting for what he believed in. He died with honor."
"Honor?" Pansy laughed bitterly. "Is that what you think happened? Your precious father dragged mine into that disaster at the Cup. Got him killed for nothing."
"That's enough," Narcissa said sharply, though her eyes flickered with something that might have been satisfaction.
Harry's keen eyes did not miss the slight twitch of the woman's lips and his smirk widened. His wand moved almost imperceptibly. A silent incantation slipped out, his subtle wand movement hidden even from Ginny standing beside him.
Narcissa's composure faltered for just a moment as an unexpected sensation began at the base of her spine. A gentle, tickling warmth that made her skin prickle with awareness. Her brows furrowed and she shifted slightly, trying to ignore it.
"My father believed in the cause," Draco insisted with a furious whisper, stepping closer to Pansy. "He believed in blood purity, in tradition—"
"He believed in power," Pansy snapped. "And look where it got him. Look where it got all of them."
The sensation along Narcissa's spine intensified, spreading outward like fingers of warm static electricity. She pressed her lips together, fighting to maintain her expression of dignified grief.
"You think this is amusing?" Ginny whispered to Harry, noting his satisfied smirk.
"Educational and fun," he remarked softly. "Watch her struggle."
The tingling sensation had reached Narcissa's shoulders now, making her want to shiver despite the warm afternoon. She clasped her hands together tightly, her knuckles white with effort.
"Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere," Narcissa suggested, her voice slightly strained. "This is hardly appropriate for—"
"No," Pansy interrupted. "I think this is perfect. Right here where everyone can see. Where everyone can know that the great Malfoy family's loyalty means nothing."
Draco's face flushed with anger. "How dare you—"
"How dare I what? Tell the truth?" Pansy stepped closer, her own fury building. "Your father convinced mine to join that attack. Promised him glory, promised him favor with the Dark Lord's supporters. Instead, he got my father killed."
The magical sensation Harry was directing at Narcissa had now spread to her arms, making her skin feel hypersensitive beneath her robes. Every slight breeze, every small movement of fabric, became acutely noticeable. She fought to keep her breathing steady, her eyes widening as she felt a slight dampness between her legs.
"This is cruel," Ginny observed, though her tone held more admiration than disapproval.
"She looked so haughty at the Cup," Harry replied quietly. "Deserves to be knocked down a peg."
A small crowd had begun to gather around the three arguing figures. Ministry workers emerged from the building, drawn by the raised voices and the recognizable names being thrown about.
Harry's smile widened as he recognized several faces in the growing crowd. Fudge appeared, his bowler hat slightly askew from his hurried exit. Behind him came Dolores Umbridge, her pink cardigan bright against the gray afternoon, and several other senior Ministry officials.
"Mrs. Malfoy," Fudge called out, approaching with his practiced politician's concern and the call for keeping up public appearances. He might have conveyed it in private, but certain roles had to be kept up in front of the masses as well. "I'm so sorry to hear about Lucius. Such a tragic loss."
Narcissa turned toward the Minister, and Harry's magical assault intensified. The tingling sensation became more insistent, more distracting. It felt like dozens of feathers being drawn across her skin simultaneously.
"Minister," she managed, inclining her head gracefully despite the growing discomfort. "Your condolences are most appreciated."
"Indeed," Umbridge added, her voice syrupy with false sympathy. "The entire Ministry mourns his passing. Such a dedicated public servant."
The magical sensation reached Narcissa's neck, making her want to scratch at her collar. Instead, she lifted her chin higher, determined not to show weakness.
"Lucius would be honored by your words," she said, though her voice had developed a slight tremor.
Harry's next spell was more targeted, more specific. The tingling became a gentle but persistent sensation along her collarbone, just beneath where her robes met her skin, and it slowly trickled down to her cleavage, brushing over the swell of her breasts. Narcissa's breath caught visibly, her fists clenching.
"Are you quite well, Mrs. Malfoy?" Fudge asked, noticing her slight discomfort.
"Grief affects us all differently," she replied carefully, one hand moving to her throat as if checking her jewelry. "The loss has been... overwhelming."
"Of course, of course," Fudge nodded sympathetically. "Take all the time you need."
Meanwhile, Pansy and Draco's argument had escalated. Their voices carried clearly across the gathering crowd.
"Your father was a coward," Pansy declared, her composure finally cracking completely. "He hid behind his money and his connections, and when it mattered, he got good people killed."
"You take that back," Draco snarled, his hand moving toward his wand.
"Or what?" Pansy challenged. "You'll curse me? Here? In front of half the Ministry?"
While a part of him wanted to relish the growing argument, Harry's magical attention on Narcissa intensified again. The sensation spread further downward, the touch roaming all over her tits in a way that made her nipples harden. Her eyes widened further and a soft hiss escaped her when the touch descended, roaming all over her belly and slowly making its way down her navel, pushing under the waistband of her knickers. It was making her shift her weight from foot to foot in a way that might have looked like restless grief to observers but was something entirely different.
"She's struggling beautifully," Ginny murmured appreciatively.
"The best part," Harry replied softly, "is that she knows exactly what's happening but can't do anything about it without looking like she's having a breakdown."
Narcissa's jaw tightened as she fought against the urge to move, to scratch, to do anything that might relieve the maddening sensations Harry was inflicting upon her. Every muscle in her body was tense with the effort of maintaining her dignity. The touch was now right above her womanhood, soaked and inflamed and itching for relief.
She had no idea who was behind this. The crowd was too big to pinpoint a source, and she was not in a state to seek the individual out either. It was taking all she had to maintain her composure.
"Perhaps," she said to Fudge, her voice carefully controlled, "we might continue this conversation somewhere more private? The Ministry entrance seems inappropriate for—"
Her words were cut off as Harry's next spell hit her with the force of a dozen gentle touches all at once. The touch pushed further, and she felt her lower lips being parted wide. The sensation was too much like multiple fingers spreading her wide and pushing inside her pussy. As if that was not enough, her entire torso, her tits, her nipples, her neck, her belly, and even her back and her arse felt like they were being caressed by invisible hands, and she couldn't prevent the sharp intake of breath that followed.
"Mrs. Malfoy?" Umbridge stepped closer, her toad-like eyes wide with concern. "You look quite pale."
"I'm fine," Narcissa said quickly, perhaps too quickly. "Just... the grief is very fresh."
Harry's grin showed how fun it was to see this haughty vision of sexy cockiness reduced to this, but he wasn't finished. His next spell was more daring, and even more invasive. The tingling sensation had already become more intimate, more personal, in places that made Narcissa's face flush with mortification and unwilling arousal. But now, the fingers were incessantly thrusting in and out of her pussy in a way that she had never experienced in her life. The feeling was mortifying, the hands were demanding, and against her control, she found herself loving every second of it.
Her vision had gone blurry under the relentless assault of those fingers as they kept thrusting in and out of her needy quim, and she closed her eyes for a moment, desperately fighting for control. She could not lose it, not here in front of half the ministry. Word traveled fast, and before she knew, she would have become nothing short of a laughingstock, a scarlet woman in the eyes of every witch and wizard in Wizarding Britain and beyond.
When she opened her eyes, her bleary gaze swept the crowd until it found Harry's face in the distance. For just an instant, their eyes met, and her vision cleared immediately as she saw his knowing smirk.
Understanding flashed in her eyes. Fury. Humiliation. Arousal. And underneath it all, something that might have been grudging respect for the audacity of it.
"You'll excuse me," she said to the Minister, her voice tight but still composed, or at least as composed as she could keep it. "I believe I need to sit down."
"Of course, of course," Fudge replied, though he looked puzzled by her sudden distress.
Harry eased off his magical assault slightly, allowing Narcissa to regain some composure. But he kept just enough pressure to remind her that he could resume at any moment.
"Narcissa," a new voice called out. A statuesque blonde woman approached alongside another who looked like a younger version of her, both their gazes prideful and carrying just a touch of amusement. "We wanted to express House Greengrass's sympathies for your loss."
"Thank you, Anastasia," Narcissa replied with a small sneer, though her attention was partially focused on maintaining her control against Harry's continued magical interference.
The crowd around them had grown larger, with more Ministry officials and curious onlookers gathering to witness the public display of grief from one of wizarding society's most prominent families.
"This is getting dangerous," Ginny observed quietly. "Too many people watching."
"That's what makes it fun," Harry replied, though he did dial back his spells slightly. "She can't react properly without drawing attention she doesn't want."
Draco had moved closer to Pansy now, his face red with anger. "You're upset," he said, his voice lower but still audible. "You're not thinking clearly. My father was a great man."
"Your father was a Death Eater," Pansy shot back without hesitation.
The crowd went deadly silent. Even the background noise of people bustling about seemed to fade as everyone processed what she'd just said in public.
"Oh my," the younger of the two blonde newcomers whispered loud enough for all to hear, making Harry glance at her. The amusement at the predicament was entirely unhidden, and Harry felt his lips quirk a bit.
Meanwhile, Fudge's face had gone white. "Miss Parkinson, I think perhaps you're distraught—"
"Am I?" Pansy turned to face the Minister directly. "Am I distraught, or am I finally telling the truth?"
Narcissa seized the moment to step forward, using the distraction to cover her own discomfort. "She's grieving," she said firmly. "People say things they don't mean when they're in pain."
Harry wasn't about to let her escape so easily. He intensified his spells again, making her stumble slightly as she tried to move with fingers playing with her pussy once again.
"Oh dear," Anastasia Greengrass said softly, reaching out to steady Narcissa. "Perhaps you should sit down. Help me out here, Daphne?"
"I'm quite alright," Narcissa insisted, though her voice was becoming increasingly breathless.
"You don't look alright, Mrs. Malfoy," Daphne observed with concern that was entirely fake as she stepped beside her mother to steady Narcissa from the other side. "Perhaps St. Mungo's—"
"No," Narcissa said sharply, then caught herself as Daphne's eyes narrowed slightly. "No, thank you. I simply need a moment."
Harry's magical assault had become a steady, relentless pressure now. The tingling sensation covered her entire body, making every nerve ending hypersensitive. She felt like she was being touched everywhere at once, and the public nature of her predicament made it infinitely worse.
"This is brilliant," Ginny whispered, watching Narcissa's struggle with obvious enjoyment. "She's trying so hard to maintain dignity while you're driving her absolutely mad."
"The best part," Harry murmured back, "is knowing that she knows I'm doing it. She can see me watching her, getting her all worked up, pushing her to the orgasm she so desperately wants, but she can't do anything about it."
Indeed, Narcissa's eyes had found Harry again in the crowd. Her expression was a mixture of fury, humiliation, and something else entirely. Despite her situation, despite the magical torment he was putting her through, there was a glint in her eyes that suggested she was very... impressed by his audacity.
"You're enjoying this," Ginny observed, noting the subtle change in Narcissa's expression.
"She's strong," Harry acknowledged. "Stronger than I expected. That makes it more interesting."
The crowd was still focused on Pansy and Draco's argument, but several officials had begun to pay more attention to Narcissa's distress.
"Perhaps we should move this inside," Fudge suggested nervously. "Away from public view."
"No," Pansy said loudly. "Let them see. Let everyone see what your 'respectable families' really are."
Draco's hand was definitely on his wand now. "Pansy, stop this."
"Or what? You'll hex me like your father would have?"
The accusation hit home. Draco's face went white, then red, then white again.
Harry chose that moment to hit Narcissa with his strongest spell yet. The magical sensation became overwhelming, making her legs weak and her breath come in short gasps.
She swayed on her feet, one hand reaching out blindly for support. Anastasia and Daphne caught her, their faces now creased with slight concern.
"Narcissa, you're clearly unwell," Anastasia said loudly enough for the crowd to hear. "Perhaps grief counseling—"
"I don't need counseling," Narcissa managed through gritted teeth. But her composure was cracking. The magical assault was relentless, and she could feel herself losing the battle for control.
"Mother," Draco said, suddenly noticing her distress. He abandoned his argument with Pansy and moved to her side. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she whispered, though she was barely able to stand now. "Just... tired."
Harry's eyes met hers across the crowd again. This time, his smile was pure predatory. He had her exactly where he wanted her: helpless, humiliated, and completely at his mercy.
"Please," she whispered, so quietly that only Draco could hear. But her eyes remained locked on Harry's face, and he could read her lips perfectly.
"Please what?" he mouthed back silently, his expression challenging.
For a moment, something like defeat flickered across her features. Then, with visible effort, she straightened her spine and lifted her chin.
"I need to go home," she announced to the crowd, her voice steady despite everything. "This has been... overwhelming."
"Of course," Fudge agreed quickly. "Take all the time you need."
As she turned to leave, Harry finally relented, ending his magical torment. The relief was immediate and visible, though she managed to hide most of her reaction.
"That was cruel," Ginny said, though she was smiling.
"That was necessary," Harry corrected. "She needed to understand the new dynamic."
They watched as Narcissa made her way to the floo, with Draco supporting her arm. Her movements were still slightly unsteady, but she maintained her dignity.
Just before she reached the floo, she turned back one last time. Her eyes found Harry's across the distance, and for a moment, the mask of grief slipped entirely.
What he saw there was something that made him smirk: anger as expected, humiliation as intended, fear as planned, and something else. Something that looked almost like anticipation.
Then she was in the floo, and in no time, she and her son vanished with emerald swirls.
"She's not finished with you," Ginny observed.
"Good," Harry replied with satisfaction. "I'm not finished with her either. Won't be until she's bent over for me, calling me her lord and master with all her heart."
"You're a bad man," she whispered with a grin as she leaned closer, making Harry glance at her with a smirk.
"You know me so well," he replied, discreetly pinching her arse. "Now come on, time to sink my claws into a vulnerable prey."
"Parkinson?"
Harry nodded, and they began to move through the thinning crowd toward where Pansy stood alone, looking lost and angry. Her argument with Draco had resolved nothing, and she was clearly unsure what to do next.
The two Greengrass women had already left once the drama had ended, but not before the younger one, Daphne, had given Pansy a measured look.
As they approached, Pansy looked up, her eyes red-rimmed but alert. "Potter," she said warily. "I should have known you'd be here."
"Should have," Harry agreed easily. "Walk with me, Parkinson."
It wasn't really a request, and they all knew it. After a moment's hesitation, she fell into step beside him as they moved away from the Ministry entrance.
"That was quite a show," Harry commented casually. "Very public. Very dramatic."
"I'm done pretending. I meant every word I said back there," Pansy said defiantly.
"I know you did," Harry replied. "That's what made it interesting."
They walked in silence for several minutes, moving through the London streets with no apparent destination. Finally, Pansy spoke again.
"What do you want, Potter?"
Harry's smile was enigmatic. "To talk. To listen. To offer... perspective."
"Perspective on what?"
"On loss. On change. On opportunity."
Pansy stopped walking abruptly. "What are you talking about?"
Harry turned to face her, his green eyes intense and knowing. "Your father is dead, Parkinson. Your family's position is uncertain. Your old alliances are worthless now. And let's face it, after the stunt you pulled back there, I can't see little Draco being there for you anymore."
"As if he was ever there," Pansy seethed. "And with his worthless father dead, there's not much he can do about anything."
"So that's what it was. You cutting a weed off? Ruthless," Harry smirked.
Her face flushed with anger. "So?"
"So," Harry continued calmly, "that means you have choices to make. About who you are. About what you want. About who you belong to."
The last words carried a significant meaning that made Pansy's breath catch. "I don't belong to anyone."
"Let's not pretend to be ignorant," Harry said simply. "You've always belonged to someone. Your father was Lucius' bootlicker, and he made sure you belonged to Draco. He died for his foolishness. You, on the other hand, seem to be a bit smarter if you decided to cut your ties with Draco in such public fashion. But your situation is no better than it was before. I guess what I'm trying to say is that there's a big question hanging in front of you right now."
Pansy remained silent for a moment, staring at a Harry Potter she didn't recognize anymore.
"And what question is that?" She asked nervously.
Harry's lips quirked a bit. "The question is whether you get to choose who you belong to now."
Ginny watched the exchange with growing interest, noting the subtle shift in Pansy's expression as Harry's words sank in.
"And what if I don't want to choose?" Pansy asked, though her voice had lost some of its defiance.
Harry's smile was almost gentle. "Then the choice gets made for you. And you might not like the result."
The meaning of his words hung between them as they stood on the London pavement. Pansy's lips were pursed, her fists clenched as she stared at a relaxed Harry who gazed back at her with nothing but absolute confidence radiating off him.
"You're not an idiot, Pansy," Harry said gently, deliberately using her first name. "And you know the choices you have in front of you. The question is, will you make them? Or will you give that right to someone else once again? I believe you know the consequences to both."
She did. She most certainly did.
"I'll leave you to decide. Take your time and once you've made your decision, let me know," Harry said finally as he turned around, with Ginny following suit beside him. "Oh, and Pansy," he didn't turn around, merely glanced out of the corner of his eye, "do know that you have limited time. You might want to be quick on that decision. Later."
And with a casual wave, Harry walked away with Ginny in tow, leaving a shocked and nervous Pansy Parkinson behind, one whose entire world had been upended within a day. And now she found herself facing a challenge she'd never thought of before, one that would change her life once again, for better or worse.
To be continued…
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