Hermione laughs as she settles between Pansy's legs. "Well, now that you've spoiled the surprise, I won't," she says, easily positioning slim calves over her shoulders. She takes a moment to gaze at Pansy, breathing out in wonder. "God…you're so wet," she murmurs, sending a fresh wave of desire flooding through Pansy. "How are you always so ready for me?"
Pansy wants to reply, wants to say something to make hazel eyes grow even darker, but at the first touch of Hermione's tongue against her, any part of her brain that might have still been functioning firmly switches off and all she can do is let out a high, desperate whimper.
Hermione takes her time as she drags her tongue through Pansy's center, applying just enough pressure to make her hiss with approval, and Pansy's hand falls uselessly to her side, involuntarily grabbing at the fibers of the thick rug she's lying on as lightning zips through her veins. Once she's anchored to something, she props herself up to watch the sight before her.
There are very few things she likes better than the image of Hermione between her legs.
As if she knows she's being watched, Hermione looks up and meets her gaze. Lust-glazed eyes stay trained on her as Hermione continues to drag her tongue up and down with tantalizing slowness, making Pansy's breath catch in her throat. She watches for a long while, thinking how she'd probably be content to take in the view before her for the rest of her life, but when Hermione eventually starts to increase her speed, she lets her head fall back and her eyes slide close in absolute ecstasy.
Hermione takes her time to build up a steady rhythm, head bobbing with a singleminded focus, and Pansy's grip on the carpet shifts from fairly tight to verging on painful. When she feels a tongue dip inside of her and Hermione's low, sinful moan of pleasure that immediately follows, Pansy practically cuts off the circulation to her fingers.
"Fuck," she groans, digging her heels into Hermione's back and pressing closer. "Hermione," she manages to gasp, completely unable to say anything else at the moment.
At the sound of her name, Hermione doubles down, changing her strokes from firm and broad to short and quick. It's fucking perfection and Pansy can feel her legs starting to tremble, but as close as she already is, she's not quite ready for things to end. Instead, she manages to wrap the hand that's not currently fused with the rug in Hermione's hair, directing her higher to where she desperately needs her to be.
The note is taken immediately, and a string of unintelligible curses leave her mouth as Hermione sucks Pansy's clit between her lips and flicks her tongue against it. "Fuck, baby," Pansy manages, closing her eyes tightly against the torturous, perfect pressure building in her body. "Right there."
If Hermione's bothered by the tight grip on her hair, she doesn't show it. She simply hums against Pansy, and the vibration makes her hips buck up and another moan escape her parted lips. A burning heat coils tighter and tighter in Pansy's body, spreading all the way down to her toes and sending small shockwaves throughout her system, each one pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
The moment Hermione dips two fingers inside of her, she knows she won't be able to hold out much longer.
She glances down and a ragged moan catches in her throat when she finds blazing eyes already trained on her with breathtaking intent, all as long fingers steadily thrust and curl into her and Pansy know she's almost there, knows she's only a few seconds away from breaking, from falling apart into a million pieces under Hermione's ministrations.
Her climax builds and builds and builds, making her entire body tense and complete babble fall from her lips, making her chest heave and her thighs clench and her mouth fall open in a silent scream until finally, finally her orgasm rips through her, bright lights bursting behind her eyes as her body shatters to pieces.
Pansy grinds desperately against Hermione's still-working mouth and clenches around her fingers, intent on drawing out the white-hot waves of pleasure for as long as she possibly can, but when it finally becomes too much, she angles her hips away and tugs gently at Hermione's hair. The mouth against her immediately vanishes, leaving her boneless and panting on the floor of their rented apartment.
It takes a while for Pansy to recover the ability to speak, but when she does, she's only capable of one word.
"Fuck," she whispers between deep, ragged breaths. She sits up, leaning against the wall and draping her forearm over her eyes for a moment as her heart rate starts to return to normal and the cool breeze from the open window chills the sweat on her body. "I should propose more often," she finally manages, looking toward Hermione with a weak smile.
Hermione, who's been waiting for Pansy to recover, gives a low, rough laugh as she climbs on top of Pansy, wiping her mouth and immediately straddling her thigh. "I won't object to that," she murmurs in a low voice, rolling her hips and closing her eyes against the sensation.
"We're going to have to clean this rug, you know," Pansy says, letting her hands rest on warm hips, feeling the way they shift against her as Hermione chases after her own pleasure.
"Not really worried about the rug right now," Hermione says, tilting her head down to capture Pansy's lips in a bruising, searing kiss, driven by pure desperation. Pansy can taste herself on Hermione's tongue as they kiss, can feel how wet Hermione is through her thin sleep shorts as she grinds down against Pansy's bare thigh, and she can't help the small smirk that comes to her face.
Nothing turns Hermione on more than going down on Pansy.
"Oh? Then what are you worried about?" Pansy murmurs, pulling back from Hermione's lips and slowly raking short nails against her sides.
"That you're going to be more focused on talking than fucking me," Hermione says, her gaze fierce.
Even though she's still recovering, Pansy can feel the bolt that goes through her at both Hermione's look and her words, and she grins. "And here I thought you liked me for my personality," she says, before pressing her lips against Hermione's neck, sucking and biting roughly against sensitive skin. Hermione whimpers and arches closer while rocking desperately against the thigh between her legs, and at the sound, Pansy nips even harder at her skin.
"Oh, no. None of that. I want to hear you," Pansy murmurs, dragging her tongue against Hermione's neck to soothe the bite.
"What about the window?" Hermione manages to ask, but Pansy doesn't bother to answer. Instead she drops her hand down Hermione's shorts and lets her fingers press and slide through slick heat. A long, low moan escapes Hermione as she lifts her hands to steady herself against Pansy's shoulders, gripping down tightly when Pansy suddenly dips two fingers into her. "God," she groans, bucking against Pansy's hand as her breathing quickly turns shallow and ragged.
"Much better," Pansy says, drawing another moan from Hermione's lips. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," she murmurs, her voice tinged with reverence and awe.
Hermione moans as she rides Pansy's fingers with her head thrown back toward the ceiling and her lips slightly parted. And as Pansy gazes at her face, taking in tightly closed eyes and cheeks still flushed with exertion, she thinks that it's true—she's never seen anyone more beautiful in her entire life.
But after a moment, something occurs to her. "Guess what?" Pansy asks, pulling her fingers away just far enough to make a deep furrow of frustration appear on Hermione's brow.
"Pansy…" Hermione groans, her voice tight with need. "Don't tease."
Pansy takes pity on her and rubs her thumb against Hermione's clit in small, lazy circles. She smirks at the breathy noise that escapes from Hermione's lips, and murmurs, "I was just going to say…now you're the overdressed one."
Hermione opens her eyes and her gaze burns with desire as she grinds down against the hand still between her legs. "So undress me," she breathes without breaking eye contact, sending a new wave of arousal through Pansy's body.
"Gladly."
////
They never manage to make it to the bedroom.
They don't even manage to leave the apartment.
Later, when they're lying together on the couch, thoroughly exhausted with legs tangled and hands idly skimming against bare skin, Hermione says, "Pansy?"
"Hm?"
"Since we're getting married, does that mean I technically own half of your dragon?"
Pansy snorts at the long-running joke. "Is that the only reason you said yes?"
"I mean, it is the foundation of our relationship," Hermione says, dusting off another old joke as she nuzzles closer to Pansy. "A dragon and a decent shag."
Pansy idly plays with Hermione's hair. "I think it started out as a decent snog."
Hermione lifts her shoulders in a tiny shrug. "I like the upgrade," she says, pressing a lingering kiss to Pansy's chest, just above her heart.
Pansy lifts Hermione's hand and brushes her lips just above the engagement ring sitting on her finger.
"As do I."
***
Richmond, England, July, 2007
"Do you need any help in there?"
Hermione's voice calls from the living room into the kitchen, where Pansy is channeling her very best Mrs. Weasley and working on four different dishes at once.
"Still banned, love," Pansy calls back, flicking her wand and sending a tray of olive-oil and balsamic coated vegetables whizzing into the oven. She waves her wand to set the timer, then checks her watch. It's five till seven, which means their guests will be arriving any—
The doorbell rings and Hermione says, "I'll get it."
Pansy nods to herself and turns her attention to adding whipped double cream to her cooled Victoria sponge. As she works, she hears the muffled sounds of an excited greeting from the doorway and a small smile creeps onto her face. She's surprisingly excited for tonight, and not just because she's getting to try out quite a few new recipes for the first time.
She's excited because tonight, she and Hermione are announcing their engagement to their friends.
The oven beeps and with another flick of her wand, Pansy summons a tray of piping hot spinach puffs to the counter. She waves her wand a few more times and when she's more or less confident that everything in the kitchen is in good shape, she unties her apron, smooths down her blouse, and walks into the living room to find Neville and Hermione, already chattering away on the couch. Pansy's pleased that Neville's the first to arrive. It'll give them a chance to catch up properly.
Neville's spent the past eight years in Bolivia, working on…
…working on…
…well, it's some sort of Herbology thing, but Pansy hadn't exactly listened when Hermione had explained it ages ago.
Beetles, perhaps?
Yes, Pansy thinks, pleased with herself for remembering. That sounds right.
…Or did Pansy guess beetles every time and make Hermione roll her eyes in fond exasperation and mutter you never listen, do you?
Well, whatever he's been working on, his time in South America has done him well—he's sporting an impressive tan, a scruffy beard, and what appears to be a new haircut. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to reveal strong forearms, and somewhere along the way, he seems to have finally found a sense of style. But perhaps the most striking change Pansy notices is that he finally looks comfortable in his own skin. He's nowhere near the clumsy, nervous boy he used to be. Now, he sits with ease on the couch, one leg crossed casually over the other as he flashes a crooked, endearing grin at something Hermione's said. And even though Pansy's seen him a few times since he left years ago, she's still struck by the transformation he's made from awkward boy into strong, confident, and altogether surprisingly attractive man.
"Why, Neville Longbottom, as I live and breathe."
At the comment, Hermione and Neville both glance Pansy's way as she makes her way to the couch, and an easy, broad smile fills Neville's face. "Pansy," he says, standing up and opening his arms. "How are you?"
Pansy accepts the embrace, wrapping her arms around Neville and squeezing him tight. "How am I?" she asks with a tsk. "How are you? Are you finally back for good?"
Neville chuckles and steps back. "I think I am."
Pansy sinks onto the couch beside Hermione, who's beaming at Neville. "It's about time," Hermione says as Neville sits back down. "I mean, I know you've done amazing work in Bolivia, but it'll be lovely having you closer."
"Though you'll have to say goodbye to that lovely tan," Pansy adds, nodding toward Neville's forearms and reaching for Hermione's wine glass to sneak a sip.
Neville glances down at his arms and shrugs. "Maybe, maybe not. I expect I'll still go back from time to time, but as I was just telling Hermione, I've started looking at flats nearby, so…seems like I'll be back for the long run."
"Well, then, I suppose those beetles will just have to go on without you," Pansy says, deciding to trust her gut and hazard a guess.
Neville's brow furrows a bit and he gives her a confused smile. "Beetles?"
Pansy hears Hermione's noisy, frustrated exhale from beside her.
Ah. So not beetles, then, Pansy thinks.
One of these days, she'll remember.
"My mistake, I think it's another Herbologist friend of ours who's studying beetles. Isn't that right, love?" Pansy asks, lifting the wine glass and eyeing Hermione over the rim.
A fond amusement flashes in Hermione's eyes and her lips twitch just a bit as she turns back to Neville. "Something like that," she says, but before she can continue on, Neville leans forward with interest.
"What's their name?"
"Whose name?" Hermione asks.
"The Herbologist you know working with beetles? I've always been quite fascinated by the interplay between insects and plant life. I'd love to pick their brain."
"Oh," Hermione says, glancing toward Pansy with a small flush, clearly hoping she'll jump in and save her. Instead, Pansy lifts the glass once more and takes a sip, her lips curling up as Hermione eyes widen just a bit in exasperation. Hermione turns back to Neville and says, "the beetle herbologist. Right. His name is…it's…it's Paul…McCartney," she finishes a bit weakly, and Pansy snorts quietly into her drink, deeply amused.
An oblivious Neville frowns a bit. "McCartney…I'm not sure I know him. Is he American?"
"No," Pansy puts in helpfully, biting her lip to contain a smile as Hermione snatches the wine glass from her hands to take a long drink. "I believe he's from Liverpool."
"Liverpool? Really?" Neville asks.
"Mm. Loads of bright Herbologists coming out of Liverpool these days, you know."
Hermione exhales sharply at Pansy's comment, then turns a bright, forced smile to Neville. "Well, beetles aside—"
"And Beatles…" Pansy murmurs.
"—it really is lovely to have you back," Hermione says, raising her voice just a bit. She leans forward and her face grows fond. "We've missed you so much."
Neville's eyes soften. "I've missed you, too. Both of you. And Merlin knows I've missed out on quite a lot, so…catch me up. What's new with you two?"
Hermione glances at Pansy with a small smile, but before she can reply, there's an urgent pounding at the door.
"I'll go," Pansy says, standing up and quickly crossing to the entry hall where the knocking is growing stronger and stronger with each subsequent rap. "Merlin's pants, I'm coming," she grumbles under her breath.
Pansy pulls the door open and before she can even comprehend what's happening, a blur of red hair whips past her.
"Hi! Sorry, I'm dying for a wee," Ginny calls over her shoulder, her eyes never straying from her course to the toilet. "Bloody baby is pressing right on my bladder. I feel like I'm about to explode. But don't say anything about Paris until I'm back! I want to hear all about it!"
Pansy snorts as she hears the bathroom door slam shut, then she turns back to face Harry, who's smiling sheepishly. "I told her to go before we left," he says with a shrug, offering up a bottle of wine which Pansy takes gratefully.
She takes a quick moment to survey Harry, pleased when she finds him looking happy, if a bit tired. There are faint circles under his eyes, somewhat camouflaged by his glasses, his hair is messy, even by his standards, and he's missed one of the buttons at the bottom of his shirt. Pansy supposes that fatigue comes with the territory when you have two young children and another on the way, but it could also come from the fact that Harry is the most sought after Auror in the entire bloody department. He had made a name for himself after graduation, and between work and his family, Pansy honestly has no idea how he manages to even breathe. But he and Ginny have carved out a wonderful life, and Pansy's just glad that after the start he had with the Dursleys, Harry's managed to surround himself with family, friends, and more love than he could possibly know what to do with.
He steps forward to give her a hug and she slings one arm around his back, cradling the bottle in her other.
"How was Paris?" Harry asks, stepping back and into the house as Pansy shuts the door behind them.
"Oh, no. Didn't you hear your wife? I'm not going against Ginny's direct orders."
"Yes, but—"
"She told us not to talk about it, and I know better than to cross her."
"I know, but—"
"You'll just have to wait," Pansy says.
Harry heaves a long-suffering sigh. "Why is it that every single person in my life is more intimidated by Ginny than me? I mean, I'm an Auror."
Pansy scoffs. "Have you met her?" she asks dryly, leading the way back to the living room.
She hears Harry draw a breath to reply, then he lets it out slowly. "Fair point."
They enter the living room and immediately, Neville stands to greet them.
Harry stops short and a wide, surprised smile fills his face. "Neville?" he asks with a happy, boyish grin. "I didn't know you were back!"
Neville makes his way over to Harry, pulling him into an embrace and clapping him on the back. "I wanted to tell you, but these two thought it'd make a nice surprise," he says, nodding toward Pansy and Hermione.
"When did you get back?" Harry asks.
Pansy leaves the two men to catch up, heading back to the couch and Hermione. She drops the wine bottle off on the table, and Hermione tears her gaze away from Neville and Harry to eye it with interest.
"Where'd that come from?"
"Harry," Pansy replies dropping down beside Hermione and draping an arm around her shoulders. "Probably an apology for his wife commandeering our loo all night."
"Harry!" Hermione calls out a bit crossly, pulling his attention from Neville. "We've told you a million times, you don't need to bring anything!"
"And I've told you a million times I don't care," Harry says, shrugging off his coat and tossing it over a chair. "Besides, Ginny said all the wine bottles in the house are taunting her. You're doing us a favor by taking this one off our hands."
"He's right," comes Ginny's voice. She rounds the corner and says, "the longer this one stays in here, the more I'm tempted to down an entire bottle." She stops in front of Neville and says, "sorry for blasting past you earlier, but it was either stop and say hi, or wee all over the living room."
Neville laughs and pulls Ginny into an embrace. "Probably the right choice, then." He releases her and sweeps his eyes over her very pregnant stomach. "Look at you," he marvels.
Ginny snorts and drops into a nearby chair, a look of relief passing over her face as her hands settle on her large belly. "Hard to see anything else when I'm in a room. I swear, I didn't get this big with James or Albus."
"Maybe there's two in there," Hermione says.
A dark shadow passes over Ginny's face. "Don't even joke about that," she grumbles. She shifts a bit in an attempt to get comfortable, then turns back to Neville. "So, how long are you back this time?"
"I'm back for good."
"Are you?" Harry asks, his voice rising with delight.
"I am. After all, I already missed James and Albus's births. I'm not missing this one."
Hermione makes a fond cooing sound beside her, but Pansy snorts. "You know you can't actually be in the delivery room with them, right?" she asks dryly, before jumping when Hermione swats at her. "What?" she asks, turning to Hermione. "He can't."
Hermione rolls her eyes then turns to Ginny. "Speaking of the delivery…how much longer now?" she asks, nodding at Ginny's stomach.
"Oh, too fucking long," Ginny groans. "At this rate, I don't think I'm going to play any of the season. And our offense is absolute shit this year, so I've half a mind to Diffindo myself and pull her out," she adds, glaring down at her stomach. "At least then I wouldn't have to wee every two minutes. Trust me, anyone who tells you they love being pregnant is a lying cow. I hate being pregnant."
Pansy opens her mouth to make one of her all-time favorite quips about Weasleys and their ineptitude with birth control, but as if she can read her mind, Hermione drops a hand to her thigh and gives her a warning squeeze, effectively cutting her off at the pass. "Well, we can't wait to meet her."
"Can't we?" Pansy murmurs out of the corner of her mouth, wincing a bit when Hermione's grip tightens.
Pansy huffs and settles back against the couch. It's not her fault she doesn't particularly like babies, and frankly, she's been an absolute saint for acting interested in Albus and James for the past few years. At least James is finally getting to an interesting age, though. He's old enough now that he's started mimicking words and in the past month alone, Pansy's taught him how to say wanker, prick, tosser, and balls.
She's absolutely thrilled by the turn of events.
(Hermione pretends to be mortified, but Pansy's seen the corners of her mouth twitch when tiny little James gleefully points at the telly and calls the Muggle newscasters wankers.)
But for right now, she's saved the trouble of having to listen to anymore talk about babies by a knock at the door. "I'll go," she says again, grateful for the escape.
As she nears the door, she can hear the muffled voices of a man and a woman, and she frowns a bit. Aside from Ginny and Harry, everyone else was coming uncoupled. Perhaps Ron had decided to bring the girl he's been seeing?
She pulls open the door to reveal Daphne and Ron in the middle of some kind of heated debate. The moment they realize the door is open, they both turn to Pansy, Ron with a pained grimace and Daphne with determination.
"Settle something for me," Daphne says immediately.
"Hello, Pansy," Pansy says, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. "How was your trip, Pansy? Oh, it was lovely, thanks for asking."
Daphne waves a hand and bustles past her, leaving Ron to trudge in after, hands buried deep in his trouser pockets. "I'll hear all about your trip later, but this is important—I need you to smell Weasley."
Pansy closes the door a bit harder than she means to. "What?"
"Smell him," Daphne says, gazing expectantly at Pansy, as if this is a perfectly normal request.
Pansy's eyes flick to Ron, then back to Daphne. "I'd really rather not."
"Oh, don't be a spoilsport. Just a quick sniff."
"Daphne…"
"Just do it," Ron grumbles from beside Pansy. "You know she won't stop until you do." He speaks with the weary cadence of a man who's too used to dealing with Daphne's antics, and he bends down just slightly toward Pansy who clenches her jaw, leans forward, and takes a brief sniff.
A spicy, woodsy cologne wafts toward her. It's a fine scent. Nice enough, not overwhelming. Honestly, it's…a bit familiar…
Pansy leans back with a small frown. She knows she's smelled this before, but she can't quite place it. She glances back toward Daphne to find bright blue eyes trained on her. "Well?" Daphne asks.
"It's vaguely familiar, but I don't—"
Daphne cuts her off. "Gilderoy. Lockhart."
Pansy's mouth parts in surprise, and without being asked, she leans back in and takes another sniff, this one a bit deeper. "Oh, Merlin," she says with a laugh, catching Daphne's delighted eyes. "It is. Why on earth do you smell like Lockhart?" Pansy asks, turning to face Ron again.
The tips of Ron's ears turn pink. "I don't."
"He does! It's like he's right here in the room with us, isn't it?" Daphne asks.
"I feel like I'm a second year again. He used to bathe in this stuff," Pansy adds, waving a hand toward Ron, who rubs his neck uncomfortably.
"It's not—"
"Apparently, the girl he's been seeing gave it to him as a gift, which…" Daphne pulls a face and says, "bad luck to get stuck with a Gilderoy Lockhart fan. Next thing you know, she'll have Weasley dressed in all those ridiculously showy robes he used to wear, traipsing across the Amazon to spend a decade with dung beetles, or whatever ludicrous thing his books were about."
"She's not a Gilderoy Lockhart fan. She's just…she's…"
Pansy shakes her head and regards Ron, who's now pink all over and shifting slightly on his feet. There's a slight furrow to his brow and his eyes are far away, as if he's pondering whether or not he's completely misread the situation, and Pansy has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
It's not that she likes seeing Ron in a state of distress. It's just that…
It's just…
…Okay, fine, she likes it. But there's nothing mean spirited behind it. Over the years, she's more or less grown to tolerate Ron, as one might tolerate the smell of a sour milk, or the sound of a shrieking baby.
(And fine, maybe there's the smallest chance that Pansy actually doesn't mind Ron. Maybe there's even a chance that she sometimes sort of enjoys his presence and finds herself laughing at his surprisingly clever jokes. But she'll never admit to it.)
Ron runs a hand through his wavy hair, which he's recently let grow out, and bites at his lip anxiously. "I mean, she's probably not a Lockhart fan, right?"
"No, definitely not," Daphne says cheerfully. "And on a completely unrelated note, did she tell you she likes your hair like that?"
Ron nods and lifts a hand to tug on the bottom of his hair, but before he can, he abruptly freezes. "Hang on…you don't think it's because…"
"Oh, no, no," Daphne says with gleaming eyes. "She just bought you Lockhart's cologne and happens to like that you've styled your hair like his. That's perfectly normal."
Ron wilts a bit, and he looks so pathetically dejected that Pansy takes pity on him and lamely says, "if it makes you feel any better, I made spinach puffs?"
Surprisingly enough, it seems to do the trick.
Ron turns to Pansy with hope in his eyes. "You did?"
"Just out of the oven," Pansy confirms.
He visibly perks up. "Oh, you're brilliant," he says with a grin, clapping Pansy on the shoulder. "I'll just pop in and take a look, shall I?" he adds, all thoughts of his girlfriend pushed from his mind.
"You could do that. Or you could say hello to our special guest…" Pansy adds mysteriously, figuring Ron will probably want to say hello to Neville more than he wants spinach puffs.
…Though honestly, she wouldn't put money on it. It's probably neck-and-neck.
But Ron seems to momentarily forget about the spinach puffs. "Special guest?" he repeats with interest.
"Mm. In the living room," Pansy says.
He hesitates just for a moment, then sighs. "I suppose the spinach puffs will keep." He flashes a smile at Pansy and adds, "glad to have you back from Paris, though. I've missed your cooking."
Pansy rolls her eyes. "Just my cooking? Not my charm, my wit, my intellect?"
Ron's brows pull together in mock-confusion. "Did you have any of those things before you left?"
He dodges quickly as Pansy reaches out to swat at him. "Oh, piss off, Lockhart," she says, but she can't help the fondness that sneaks into her tone. "I don't know why we even invited you."
"Probably something to do with my charm, wit, and intellect," Ron says with a wink, dodging yet another swipe from Pansy as he hurries toward the living room.
Pansy watches him go and once he's out of sight, she turns to Daphne and shakes her head. "He really does smell like him."
"Uncanny, isn't it?" Daphne says, surveying Pansy with shining eyes. "But enough about Weasley. How are you? How was Paris?" she asks, raising an eyebrow and cocking her head. "Did you…?"
The corners of Pansy's lips twitch up. "Take in the sights and sounds? Drink too much wine? Eat enough butter for the entire year?" she asks, nonchalantly studying her nails.
"Oh, don't be obtuse, you absolute cow," Daphne huffs. "You know what I'm asking."
"Oh," Pansy says, glancing up with overly wide, innocent eyes. "Were you asking if I got engaged?" She cracks a grin and says, "I did that, too."
Daphne immediately emits a high-pitched squeal and throws her arms around Pansy, squeezing her within an inch of her life. "I can't believe you did it!" she says, her voice delighted.
Pansy releases her after a moment and steps back. "Of course I did it. I told you I would."
"Yes, well…no offense, but your word means next to nothing."
Pansy's lips part in surprise. "Excuse me! How on earth is that "no offense?'" she asks, putting the words in air quotes.
Daphne simply waves a hand and says, "remember, darling, I was there for the start of your relationship. I know firsthand just how capable you are of making a mess out of any situation."
Pansy opens her mouth to rebut, but then thinks back to the long, drawn-out start to her relationship and momentarily hesitates.
…Perhaps Daphne has a point.
Daphne smirks victoriously at the lack of rebuttal. "You know, some people might find being right constantlytiring," she says, adopting a lofty tone as she tosses her blonde hair with a practiced casualness over her shoulder. "Luckily for both of us, I've got a strong constitution."
Pansy rolls her eyes and leans against the wall, crossing her arms and surveying her ridiculous best friend.
Daphne was always put together during their time at Hogwarts, but over the years, she's somehow managed to exude even more poise and power than she used to. It probably helps that she's one of the most popular columnists at Witch Weekly and has her finger on the pulse of all things fashion and culture, but it also helps that Daphne's never once lost her sense of self, her innate confidence, and her annoyingly perfect style. But even as she's ascended the ranks in her professional life, through it all, she's remained the fiercely loyal, devastatingly clever girl she was all those years ago, and is still the only family Pansy's ever needed.
"We made a mess of it," Pansy acknowledges, "but that was ten years ago. Surely, your faith in me has improved in ten years?"
Daphne shrugs. "Ten years, two-hundred…it doesn't matter. I've still never seen two people be as extraordinarily stupid as you two were."
"That's—"
"Do you know, I use you as an example of what not to do at the beginning of a relationship in my columns?"
"I've noticed," Pansy grumbles, thinking back to the hundreds of times she's seen Daphne reference her relationship as a cautionary tale in Witch Weekly. She always refers to Pansy as Pea-brained Poppy and Pansy hates it.
"If it's any consolation," Daphne continues, "I also use you as a success story. Sort of a, if these two thick idiots can manage to make it work, anyone can type of thing," she says brightly. "It really works wonders. People are genuinely inspired by your incompetence. Actually, I just had one girl write in for advice and I said—"
"Daphne," Pansy says, shaking her head in exasperation.
Daphne stops mid-sentence. "What?"
"I've just told you I'm engaged!"
"Oh." Daphne's shoulders relax and her eyes soften just a bit. "So you are."
Pansy can't help the grin that comes to her face. "I mean…I'm engaged," she repeats with a small, disbelieving laugh.
"You and Hermione Granger. I…" Daphne trails off for a moment, then her face turns unexpectedly earnest. In a quieter voice, she says, "you know, I might give you a hard time, but you two really are the best couple I know."
Pansy scoffs. "You don't have to say that, you know."
"Trust me, I'm not. Honestly, it's revolting how happy you two are after all these years. And you know I think marriage is a ridiculous and archaic institution that should be done away with, but you two…you two almost make me see the value in it."
"Thank you," Pansy murmurs.
Daphne reaches for her hand and gives it a quick squeeze. "I'm so happy for you, Pans." She holds her gaze for a long moment and then without any warning, she drops Pansy's hand, looks around with expectant eyes, and says, "now, then! Since we've got that out of the way…where's Daphne?"
Pansy rolls her eyes as she starts for the living room. "Daffy is taking a nap on our bed."
"Can I—"
"No, you can't wake her up."
Daphne tsks. "You're no fun." She follows Pansy around the corner and says, "so who's this special guest you were—"
Before she can finish her thought, she comes to an abrupt stop, staring into the living room with wide eyes. Pansy follows her gaze directly to Neville, who's regaling the rest of the group with a story, his eyes shining and his smile warm and bright.
"Merlin," Daphne murmurs. Her voice low and appreciative, and she cocks an interested eyebrow. "Who is that?"
Pansy stares at the side of her face in stunned silence for a moment before realizing a crucial fact: Daphne hasn't seen Neville since Hogwarts. For all she knows, Neville Longbottom is still a gangly, awkward boy with a bad haircut and overly large robes. The Neville that Daphne remembers is someone she'd probably never speak to. But if the way Daphne is staring at Neville right now is any indication, she certainly likes the change.
Pansy musters up as much casualness as she can and asks, "why? You think he's nice looking?"
"Nice looking?" Daphne scoffs. "He's gorgeous. Where have you been hiding him? Is he a work friend? Is he here with someone?" She eyes Pansy with concern. "Please tell me he's not here with someone."
"No, he's not here with anyone."
Daphne breathes a small sigh of relief as she turns her gaze back to Neville. "Thank goodness," she says. "Because I'm going to climb that man like a fucking treetonight."
Pansy chokes on her own saliva at the completely unexpected phrasing, but Daphne simply gives her a firm pat on the back, then starts into the room with her shoulders back and her head held high, the absolute picture of poise and grace.
Pansy helpless pounds her fist against her chest in an attempt to stop coughing, watching as Hermione stands to greet Daphne and pulls her into a hug. Daphne says something to Harry and Ginny, and they both laugh, but then, she turns her intent blue eyes toward Neville. By this point though, Pansy's more or less collected herself, so she quickly makes her way to the couch where Daphne's perched herself on the side closest to Neville. She turns to him with an arched brow and in a purposefully lowered voice, she murmurs, "I don't believe we've—"
But before she can complete the thought, Pansy practically dives onto the couch, ignores Hermione's muffled sound of surprise, and says, "Sorry, Neville, but I meant to ask this earlier." She stresses his name just a bit as her eyes flick to Daphne, then back to Neville. "I was just wondering…I…I…" she looks at him desperately, trying to find a reason for her interruption. Finally, her eyes land on his wrist, and she weakly gestures to it. "Where did you get that lovely watch?"
Neville glances down at it and smiles, then opens his mouth to reply, but Pansy doesn't really hear him. Instead, she's too focused on the way Daphne has completely stiffened beside her. She chances a glance to her left to see that Daphne's eyes have grown ridiculously wide, as if she's just seen the ghost of Salazar Slytherin himself dancing a merry jig in a nightgown. Her lips are parted in shock, and there's a slow flush spreading on her cheeks.
Pansy bites her lower lip to keep her smile in check. She's seen Daphne struck dumb on very, very few occasions, and even though she's pleased she managed to stop Daphne before she completely put her foot in her mouth and introduced herself to someone she literally grew up with, she's not going to lie—she's really fucking enjoying this.
After all, Pansy's had to put up with enough teasing over the years about her massive crush on a certain Gryffindor. It's only fair that she get to turn the tables for once in her life.
"If you're interested, I can introduce you?"
Pansy blinks and turns back from Daphne's still stunned face to Neville, who's looking at her, clearly waiting for a reply.
Fuck. What had she said to Neville again?
To buy herself time, she lifts her drink for a sip, then glances at Hermione to her right with a look that she hopes conveys that she had completely checked out of the conversation and desperately needs assistance.
Perhaps it's a testament to their ten years together, but Hermione seems to understand perfectly. She sighs, places her hand on Pansy's thigh, and says, "well, if you don't want the introduction, love, then I'll take it. There are so few magical watchmakers left in London. It'd be wonderful to meet one. And especially one who does such fine work."
Oh. Right. The watch.
Pansy places her drink back down and says, "well, we can work out specifics later. But I'm afraid I interrupted you earlier, Daph. Were you going to say something?"
Daphne's still sporting a slight flush, but she's no stranger to taking control of a situation, so she simply gives a small smile to Neville and says, "only that I can't remember the last time I've seen you. It's been absolute ages."
Neville nods. "It has. Since Hogwarts, I think?"
Ginny scoffs from across the room. "No. It can't have been that long. Surely, you'd have run into each other here?"
"No, I don't think so," Daphne says. "And believe me, I'd have remembered," she adds, just loud enough for only Pansy and Neville to hear. Pansy immediately wrinkles her nose in distaste, but Neville lifts an eyebrow at the remark and surprisingly doesn't break her gaze, simply regarding her with a small smile and interested eyes.
"What about the Christmas party here? What was that, two, three years ago?" Harry asks. "Neville, you were at that, weren't you?"
"I was," Neville says, finally glancing away from Daphne with a small, almost imperceptible flush to reply to Harry.
"But I wasn't," Daphne puts in. "I was…otherwise occupied," she finishes, tossing a small, apologetic wince towards Pansy, who feels something in her stomach sink just a bit at the reminder.
Pansy gives a tight smile and reaches for her drink once again. Hermione's warm fingers soothingly caress her thigh, and in an effort to show her that she's fine, Pansy takes her hand and laces their fingers together, giving a gentle squeeze.
She takes a sip, tuning out of the conversation once more as she remembers where Daphne had been the year of their Christmas party.
She had been attending Draco and Astoria's wedding.
The wedding Pansy hadn't been invited to.
The loss of her friendship with Draco still stings, even after all these years.
And the worst part is, it's not like they had some sort of big, angry blow-up at each other. At least then, Pansy would have been able to stew in her anger and feel justified over never seeing him again. But instead, things between them had just slowly fallen off. They had gone into the summer after seventh year in a strange place, with Draco still feeling hurt, confused, and angry, and Pansy feeling completely unsure as to whether or not she should tell him about Hermione. And without Hogwarts to force them together, it was clear neither of them knew how to reach out. But instead of fixing it, they instead completely stopped interacting. It had been painful and awful, but Pansy had assumed it was what Draco wanted, and he had made no move to reach out to her. It had taken years with no communication whatsoever for Pansy to finally come to terms with the knowledge that her friendship with Draco was probably a thing of the past.
And even though Pansy knew it and was under no illusions to the contrary, there had still been a small, foolish part of her that had wondered, hoped even, that she would get an invitation to the wedding. When she hadn't, she had told herself that it was expected and she shouldn't be disappointed.
But of course, hope is a silly, stupid thing, and there's still a part of her that's considering sending Draco an invitation to her wedding.
Just in case.
"Are you alright?" Hermione murmurs beside her, pulling her back to the present moment. Everyone else is laughing at some long-ago Hogwarts memory Ginny is recounting, but Hermione's eyes are on her and her brow is creased in concern.
Pansy nods. "Fine," she whispers back, not wanting to pull the attention in the room toward her. She can always discuss it with Hermione later, but for right now, she doesn't want to think about how things had ended with Draco. So she shelves her emotions and leans into Hermione's side, putting her lips against her ear and whispering something far safer and far more interesting. "Daphne wants to shag Neville," she says as quietly as she can manage. She feels Hermione stiffen and she pulls back to see hazel eyes wide with surprise. Pansy grins and nods, and Hermione glances over her shoulder, her gaze flicking between Daphne and Neville for a moment. After a moment, she looks back to Pansy with a serious set to her mouth but a suspicious twinkle in her eye says, "well, then. I suppose she'll finally get her answer to the tallywhacker question."
Pansy snorts in surprise, but before she can chastise Hermione for forcing her to think about Neville's tallywhacker, Ginny turns to her with an eager look on her face.
"Right, then. Enough reminiscing about Hogwarts. I want to hear all about Paris," Ginny says, shifting in the chair in a futile attempt to get comfortable. "It's been agessince we've been somewhere nice," she says, glancing at Harry who nods. "I need to live vicariously through the two of you, so tell me everything."
Pansy and Hermione exchange a small smile, and Hermione surreptitiously dips her hand into her pocket where she's been keeping the engagement ring hidden for the time being."I'm not sure that there's much to tell," she starts, catching Pansy's eye again and giving her a goofy, excited grin. "I mean, we've been so many times, it's just the same old things…"
Pansy nods. "Walking by the Seine…"
"Dinner at La Table de Joséphine…"
"Going to the Louvre…"
"Getting engaged…"
Hermione slyly removes her hand from her pocket, revealing the diamond ring now sitting on her finger.
There's a moment of shocked silence before an immediate hubbub fills the room.
"No! Really?"
"About bloody time!"
"Let's see the ring!"
Ginny is loudest of all.
"What?" she yelps. She tries to get out of the chair, but immediately falls back into it. "Oh, bloody fucking…" Before she can turn around and hex the chair to smithereens in a blind, pregnancy-induced fury, Harry grabs her arm and pulls her upright. Once she's standing, Ginny wastes no time in pouncing on Hermione's hand, grabbing at it eagerly.
"You're engaged?" Ginny asks, studying the ring with wide eyes.
"Congratulations," Harry puts in, his face shining with delight.
Ron turns to regard Pansy with serious eyes. "You're sure you want to get stuck with this one?" he asks, nodding at Hermione and grinning when she rolls her eyes.
It's a silly question, of course, but Pansy still replies. "Never been more sure of anything in my life," she murmurs, gazing at Hermione as if she's the only person in the room.
"Good to see that getting engaged hasn't changed how absolutely revolting you two are," Daphne teases. "Oh, and so you know, I've found a new maid of honor dress, so we'll have to change the color scheme again."
Pansy scoffs, but before she can reply, Neville clears his throat. "Congratulations, you two," he says with a warm smile, lifting his drink in a toast.
"Thank you," Hermione says.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but how are you engaged?" Ginny asks, drawing Hermione's attention back to her wide, brown eyes. "I mean, congratulations, obviously, but last I heard, you didn't want to get married," she adds, swinging her gaze to Pansy, who lifts her shoulders in a small shrug.
"I lied."
"What? Why?" Ginny asks.
Pansy fidgets a bit, and when she doesn't reply, Hermione rubs her thigh and jumps in. "Because she's a massive romantic and had it all planned out for weeks and didn't want me ruining her proposal by assuming we'd get married."
As Ginny awws in delight, Pansy's mouth falls open and she looks to Hermione with wounded eyes. "I am not a massive—"
"How'd she propose?" Harry asks with interest, cutting Pansy off and leaving her to fold her arms and slump back against the couch, grumbling at the absolute injustice of being called a romantic in front of everyone.
"She owled McGonagall for our charmed parchments and wrote the question on them," Hermione says.
"Hang on. The same parchments you used at Hogwarts?" Ginny asks, sounding stunned. "The parchment palexperiment parchments?"
Hermione nods and Ron whistles, low and impressed. "Blimey…that is romantic," he puts in.
Pansy rolls her eyes and reaches for her drink. "Anyway," she says, determined to stop this line of questioning in its tracks. "It doesn't matter how I proposed. What matters is we're engaged. And for some reason, we're inviting all you tossers to the wedding."
"Quite right," Daphne says, breezily bypassing Pansy's insult. "And that the color scheme of the wedding will be mauve and green." She takes a sip of her own drink, then notices Hermione's incredulous eyes on her. "What?" she asks. "It's a good color scheme."
"Naming our cat after you wasn't enough?" Hermione asks with amusement coloring her tone. "Now we have to plan our wedding around you?"
"Darling, if it weren't for me, there wouldn't be a wedding," Daphne says, primly crossing her legs.
"Oi! I helped," Ginny puts in as she makes her way back to her chair and falls heavily into it with a small wince. "Shouldn't that give me a say in the color scheme?"
"You did help," Daphne says. "But not to color scheme levels. Perhaps…flower arrangements?"
Ginny hesitates for a moment, then nods. "I can live with that."
"Out of curiosity, will Hermione and I be getting any say in our wedding?" Pansy asks, arching an eyebrow.
"None whatsoever," Daphne says without missing a beat. Then she frowns and says, "well, I suppose you'll have to actually be there for it, so you can decide on the date."
"How generous of you," Pansy says dryly.
"Have you discussed a date?" Ron asks.
"Yes, actually, we—" Pansy glances over at Ron to find him holding a plateful of spinach puffs that's she's certain he wasn't holding a few minutes ago. She lifts her eyes to him in amazement. "Did you just sneak into the kitchen for those?"
Ron pauses, a spinach puff halfway to his mouth. "Er—maybe?"
"After we announced our engagement?"
"No," Ron says quickly. "Only after Daphne started talking about color schemes," he adds sheepishly. "I heard all the important bits before that. And I went fast!"
"Well, I suppose I should be flattered," Pansy says with a small smile and a shake of her head. "But as to your question, yes, we've started discussing dates."
"And?" Harry asks. "Will it be this year?"
"No," Hermione says. "We were thinking February, actually."
Before anyone else can react, Daphne makes a spluttering, strangled noise into her drink and whips her head toward Hermione in horror. "February?" she asks, completely aghast. "Why on earth would you pick February? Merlin, I leave one decision to you and you immediately ruin it." She slams her drink down, straightens her back, and says, "I take it back. You don't get to pick the date anymore."
Pansy rolls her eyes at Daphne's antics. "We're picking February because that's when the parchment pal experiment started. We thought it'd be a sort of…I dunno, a full-circle thing if we got married in the same month we started talking to each other," she says, absently taking Hermione's hand in hers and running her thumb against soft skin.
"That's sweet," Harry says.
"That's absurd," Daphne groans. "February," she adds with a dark glare, like she's furious at the month for even having the audacity to exist. "Why couldn't the bloody experiment have started in June?" She heaves an impossibly heavy sigh and says, "well, now I'll need a new dress. And a new color scheme," she adds crossly.
"I'm sure you'll come up with something," Pansy says.
"I'm sure I won't," Daphne grumbles. "Unless I wear a bloody parka to your ridiculous, arctic wedding."
"If anyone could pull off a parka at a wedding, it'd be you," Pansy says charitably.
Daphne's eyes narrow and she opens her mouth to reply, but when Neville gives a quiet hum of agreement at Pansy's statement, she turns toward him instead. "And what about you?" Daphne asks, seeming content to put the February debate on hold for the time being. "Will you be in town for the wedding? Going to risk frostbite with the rest of us?"
He nods. "I'm back for good."
"Mm, lucky us," Daphne hums, a flirtatious edge to her voice.
"Yes, actually, it is lucky you're back! You know, Daphne's had something she's been wanting to ask you about for ages," Pansy says, grinning broadly when Daphne's head whips around to her. She narrows her eyes in a silent, tallywhacker-induced warning, and Pansy gives her the sweetest smile she can manage. "Our Daphne is surprisingly interested in Herbology. And if memory serves," she adds thoughtfully, "she spent quite a bit of time in the greenhouses back at Hogwarts."
"Did you?" Neville asks. "I don't recall seeing you there."
Daphne gives Pansy a murderous glare, then turns back to Neville with a smile. "We must've just missed each other."
Ginny scoffs from her chair. "Isn't that where you used to go to shag—"
"Anyway," Hermione says loudly, cutting Ginny off. "It willbe lovely to have you at the wedding, Neville. And there will be plenty of time to discuss color schemes and flower arrangements and—"
"And to talk you out of a fucking February wedding…" Daphne mutters beside Pansy before expertly dodging her elbow.
"Well, for what it's worth," Ginny says, "I don't care when or where you have the wedding. You could have it on top of Mount Everest, for all I care. So long as it's after this bloody baby is out and I can drink as much as I please, I'll be happy."
"We'll have an open bar waiting at the summit, just for you," Hermione promises.
Ginny grins, but before she can say anything else, there's a ding from the kitchen. Pansy sighs, releases Hermione's hand, and stretches up off the couch. "Duty calls."
"I'll give you a hand," Hermione says, standing as well.
Pansy hesitates for a moment, raising an eyebrow at Hermione, who huffs in exasperation. "I won't cookanything," she amends. "I'll just…carry things."
Harry chuckles at Pansy's continued reluctance. "Still banned, then?" he asks.
"Yes," Hermione says, a tiny, petulant pout coming to her face that Pansy desperately wants to kiss away. "Which is ridiculous. Honestly, it was a mistake anyone could've made."
"I don't know," Harry says. "It takes a special talent to blow up two different Pyrex dishes in the exact same way. I mean, you put it on the stove once, that's a mistake. But to do it twice?"
Hermione's eyes grow wide as Harry speaks and she very subtly shakes her head in an effort to get him to stop talking, but it's too late. Pansy's already staring at her in shock. "You blew up my Pyrex bakeware?"
"…Maybe?" Hermione says, wincing apologetically. "But I used Reparo both times," she rushes to add, "so it's not like it mattered!"
Pansy's brow creases and she very quietly whispers, "but my Pyrex…" under her breath, like a sulky child.
"Hang on," Ron says, turning to Pansy. "If you didn't know about that, then why is she banned?"
"Because she set the oven on fire," Daphne says, stating it as if it's common knowledge.
It's not.
"You set the oven on fire, too?" Pansy asks, her voice high with disbelief and all thoughts of her bakeware forgotten as she stares at Hermione, who at least has the decency to flush.
"Only once," Hermione says, before defensively adding, "and anyway, it was only a small fire! And I put it out before it could spread." She pauses, then guiltily tacks on, "…past the curtains, that is."
Pansy shakes her head in shock. "I…I…"
As she continues to stutter, Ron chuckles. "Okay, but why did Pansy ban you?" he asks, looking to Hermione as he pops the last spinach puff on his plate into his mouth.
Pansy somehow regains her ability to speak and weakly says, "because she set the toaster on fire," at the same time Ginny says, "is it because she almost cut her thumb off?"
Pansy turns to gape at Ginny, completely gobsmacked by yet another new piece of information. "She what?"
Ginny grins and leans forward a bit. "She—"
"She didn't cut her thumb off, and that's what matters," Hermione interrupts crossly, glaring at Ginny for revealing another item on the apparently long list of kitchen mishaps that Pansy hadn't been privy to. "Besides, it was nothing the healers at St. Mungo's couldn't manage."
"You…I…" Pansy blinks stupidly. "St. Mungo's?" she finally manages to say. "When did…I mean, how…I…" She draws in a deep breath then says, "why didn't you tell me any of these things?"
"Because I want you to trust me to cook again," Hermione says earnestly, looking at Pansy as if this is the most obvious thing in the world.
"Love, I don't know if I even trust you to stand in the kitchen anymore!"
"Oh, honestly. They're all mistakes anyone could have made," Hermione says. She glances toward the kitchen where the oven is still beeping and says, "and I've already promised, I won't touch a thing. Now come on, we don't want your lovely dinner to burn," she says, taking Pansy's hand and dragging her off toward the kitchen.
Once the door swings shut behind them, muffling the conversation in the living room, Pansy drops Hermione's hand and stares at her with arms folded across her chest. "Well?" she asks, cocking an eyebrow.
"Well, what?"
"What catastrophic event are you going to cause in here this time? Want to try your hand at blowing up the refrigerator?" Pansy asks, nodding toward it.
Hermione scoffs, then heads toward the oven to turn it off, but Pansy immediately jumps forward to catch her. She slings an arm around Hermione's waist, pulling her toward her until her back is flush against Pansy's front. "Oh, no you don't," she murmurs, scratching lightly at Hermione's stomach. "We're not going to risk blowing up before we've officially tied the knot." She keeps one arm around Hermione's waist and with her other, she reaches for her wand, waving it toward the oven. The door opens and Pansy's main course, a garlic and rosemary roast pork loin, soars out and fills the air with a rich, herby scent. Pansy guides the dish down, puts her wand away, then nuzzles back against Hermione, brushing her nose against her neck. "There," she says, tilting her head to let her lips skim Hermione's jaw. "We all live to see another day."
She can practically feel Hermione's eye roll. "I could've done that."
"Mm. You'll have to forgive me if I don't believe you, darling."
Hermione turns in Pansy's embrace so she's facing her. "You know, one of these days, I will prove myself in here."
"Oh, I seem to remember you proving yourself in here many, many times," Pansy says, tugging Hermione closer. "On the counter, on the table," she runs her thumb against Hermione's full lower lip, "on the floor, against the refrigerator…"
Hermione's eyes flash and she opens her mouth to graze her teeth against Pansy's thumb. "I'm surprised the refrigerator made it out of that encounter unscathed," she murmurs, trailing her hands down Pansy's sides before coming to rest on her waist.
"Unlike the coffee table," Pansy says, tangling her hands in Hermione's hair, lightly scratching against the nape of her neck and pulling a small shiver from the other girl.
"Which would've held had you actually bothered to read the assembly manual," Hermione says, brushing her nose against Pansy's and letting her hands skim up her back as she angles her head.
Pansy has a reply on the tip of her tongue, something about the complexities of putting together Muggle furniture, but before she can voice it, Hermione leans in and kisses it away. She gently parts Pansy's lips, taking all the time in the world to kiss her languidly while her deft hands roam from Pansy's waist down to her backside. Once they've settled over the fabric of her dress, Hermione squeezes firmly, drawing a quiet murmur of pleasure from Pansy. She follows the sound in quick succession with a needy whimper as Hermione takes Pansy's lower lip between her teeth and bites at it. Her grip tightens around wavy, brown hair, pulling a groan from Hermione as she deepens the kiss, all while hands continue to map Pansy's body, leaving blazing hot trails in their wake. Their lips press and part for a few more moments before Hermione pulls back a fraction of an inch, panting and flushed, and murmurs, "you know we have a dinner party waiting for us."
Pansy cups Hermione's cheek softly and steals another kiss. "We already told them the good news. Can't we send them all home?" she asks, her breath ghosting against Hermione's lips as her thumb absently sweeps against a cheekbone.
"You made dinner for seven people."
"Plenty of leftovers for us, then," Pansy says, peppering kisses along Hermione's jaw.
Hermione hums in pleasure, but somehow manages to remain practical. "Pansy, we can't send everyone home just because we want to have sex."
"Why not?"
"Because—" Pansy nips sharply at Hermione's neck, and she hisses a barely concealed curse in reply. "Becausethat wouldn't make us good hostesses," she finally manages, while simultaneously angling her neck to give Pansy better access.
Pansy smiles against Hermione's neck. Her hands trail down her sides and work their way under her top, and she skims her thumbs over the bare skin just below Hermione's bra, noticing with pleasure that Hermione has made no move to push her away and get back to the task at hand. "Yes, but—"
"Are you two shagging in there?"
Hands immediately slide out from underneath Hermione's shirt and Pansy groans at the sound of Daphne's voice through the door. She buries her face in the crook of Hermione's neck and calls back, "yes. Piss off."
The door swings open and Daphne strides in. She glances at Hermione and Pansy, who are still more or less intertwined, and smirks. "Well, isn't this cozy? But please, don't stop on my account," she adds, crossing to the wine rack. "I'm just here for a bottle of white."
Hermione sighs, gives Pansy a quick kiss, and murmurs, "we'll pick this up later." She unwinds her arms from Pansy and crosses to Daphne, who's crouched in front of their various bottles.. "Looking for anything in particular?" she asks.
Daphne shakes her head. "No," she says absently, trailing a finger over the bottles as she goes. After a moment, she plucks a Chardonnay from the rack, reads the label, then nods. "This'll do."
"This'll do?" Pansy echoes, staring at the bottle in Daphne's hands. "Daphne, that's a forty Galleon bottle!"
Daphne flashes a wicked grin. "It's a celebration, isn't it?" But before Pansy can reply, she adds, "and considering it's a celebration, I'm going to very generously give you ten minutes to finish whatever you were doing in here before I came in. Normally, I'd give you more, but I'd guess that's about how long you have before Weasley bursts in here to eat everything in the kitchen, so…I'd suggest you use those minutes wisely," she finishes, wiggling her eyebrows with a knowing smirk.
Pansy rolls her eyes and leans against a counter. "And what exactly will you be doing with those ten minutes?" she asks, raising an eyebrow and glancing purposefully in the direction of the living room.
"I'm going to inquire whether or not Neville has ever worked with fruit in his career."
Pansy and Hermione exchange a small, confused glance. "Fruit?" Pansy asks, against her better judgment.
"Mm," Daphne hums with suspiciously sparkling eyes. "Because I have some melons I'd love for him to get his hands on."
Hermione scoffs and Pansy grumbles, "Circe's sake," as she crosses to the table to begin plating her perfectly cooked pork loin. "Sometimes I genuinely can't believe you're qualified to give relationship advice."
"Oh, please. That was a good one," Daphne says, walking back to the kitchen door, cradling the bottle of wine in the crook of her arm. "But remember, Ron's starving and Ginny won't stop talking about children, so…try to shag quickly, for my sake?"
"We won't be shagging in the kitchen," Hermione says, sounding absurdly prim and proper for someone who had just shown every indication of wanting to shag in the kitchen.
"Why, is the kitchen off-limits?" Daphne asks. Before Hermione can reply, Daphne adds in an airy tone, "because I would think after the Hogwarts library, nowhere would be off-limits."
Pansy freezes in place as Hermione immediately whirls around to face her. "You told her?"
Pansy stares helplessly at Hermione for a moment, then glances over her shoulder at Daphne, who tosses her a smile and an infuriating wink as she heads out the door. Pansy exhales sharply, then turns back to Hermione. "I may have mentioned it once or twice…"
"Unbelievable," Hermione says. She shakes her head, but there's amusement lingering in her gaze. "Unbelievable. You just had to tell her."
"I mean, it is my greatest achievement," Pansy argues. "People tend to brag about their greatest achievements." She tilts her head toward the door in consideration. "Honestly, I'm surprised Daph hasn't brought it up before now…"
"You know, I sincerely hope shagging me in the Hogwarts library isn't your greatest achievement," Hermione says, plating the spinach puffs that Ron hadn't decimated.
"Maybe not my greatest achievement. I suppose that would be getting you to agree to marry me."
Hermione glances up with warm eyes. "That's not an achievement at all."
"Oh?"
"You have to put in work for something to be considered an achievement. But I would've married you ten years ago, no effort required."
Pansy can feel the way she relaxes at the gentle words, and she pushes off from the counter to pull Hermione into her arms. "I wish you would've told me that ages ago…would've saved me the trouble of recreating the Yule Ball."
"You mean would've saved McGonagall the trouble of recreating the Yule Ball."
"Semantics. And anyway, all I'm hearing is that shagging you in the library really was my greatest achievement."
Hermione tosses her head back and laughs. When she looks back at Pansy, her eyes are shining. She reaches up and cups Pansy's jaw, then leans in and kisses her, slow and deep. When she pulls back, she murmurs, "I think our greatest achievement was falling in love in the first place. That took work."
Pansy gently runs her hand down Hermione's arm to lace their fingers together. "It certainly did. But you don't think being the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement might be a slightly bigger achievement?"
"No. I already told you, an achievement takes effort. Becoming the Deputy Head was nothing compared to everything we went through. I could've done that in my sleep."
"Cocky, aren't we?" Pansy says, but she certainly doesn't disagree. After all, Hermione's still the most brilliant person she's ever met. But she's always been turned on by Hermione's confidence, so she finds herself glancing toward the door, then back to Hermione. "How many minutes do you think we have left?"
Hermione arches an eyebrow at the not-so-subtle implication as she slowly trails a finger down Pansy's chest, leaving goosebumps in her wake. "Not enough to do everything I'd want to do, unfortunately," she says in a low, entirely-too-seductive murmur before stealing another kiss and sinking her teeth playfully into Pansy's lower lip. Pansy gasps in surprise against her mouth and pulls Hermione in by her hips, pressing herself close against her front.
"You're sure about that?" Pansy asks, rolling her hips against Hermione's and smirking at the way hazel eyes immediately darken with desire.
"I—"
"Oi! Is this a dinner party or isn't it?"
Hermione and Pansy pull back from each other and glance at the closed door leading to the living room and one very hungry, very loud Ron Weasley.
"Remind me why we invited him?" Pansy asks, turning back to Hermione and skimming her hands up and down her sides.
"Search me," Hermione says with an easy shrug. "He's your best friend."
Pansy immediately groans and closes her eyes, tilting her head toward the ceiling. "Remind me why I asked you to marry me?"
"Because you love me."
Pansy opens her eyes. "I do," she says, feeling a familiar smile creep onto her face. It's a smile that years ago, she would have been horrified to find she was even capable of delivering. It's too soft and far too fond and honestly, it's a bit disgustingly sweet, but at the same time, it makes Hermione's eyes light up every single time. For that alone, it's worth it.
"I love you, too," Hermione says, gently squeezing Pansy's hips. "And we'll just have to pick this up tonight."
"Tonight," Pansy confirms, brushing her lips against Hermione's once more before stepping back to finish plating.
Pansy doesn't mind waiting for tonight. Because when it comes down to it, they'll have all the time in the world to spend together. They'll have the life that Pansy had only dared to dream about way back when, back in her Hogwarts days when Hermione loving her in any capacity had seemed like a wild, unattainable fantasy. They'll have everything they've ever wanted and the world at their fingertips, because when they're together, there's nothing they can't do.
And even though she'll have to wait until tonight to show Hermione just how much she loves her, for right now, they have a room full of their favorite people, waiting to shower them with questions and stories and laughter and love, so much love, it makes Pansy's chest feel like it might burst.
They have a house that they've made a home, filled with both countless memories and boundless opportunities alike.
They have a silly, beautiful cat and a wedding to plan and a vast, wonderful future to look forward to.
And no matter what life may throw their way, they have each other. To have and to hold, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, and all the rest of that silly, saccharine rot that Pansy can't wait to say to Hermione in a few months time.
Pansy has more than she could've have ever imagined, and she takes a moment to drink it all in. To bask in the beautiful normalcy of this incredibly improbable situation. To watch Hermione, the woman she loves, the woman she's going to marry, puttering about the kitchen on a quiet, summer evening in the little corner of the world they've carved out together.
After a moment, Hermione looks up and gives her a small, quizzical smile. "Everything alright?"
"Everything's perfect," Pansy says. "I just…" she shakes her head and says, "not to be completely trite, but sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am."
Hermione gives Pansy the soft, fond smile that's been reserved just for her for the past ten years. "I feel the same way," she says, crossing back to her side and dropping a kiss on Pansy's cheek. "I love you."
"Even though I don't actually have a dragon?"
Hermione laughs. "You know, it's taken a while, but I think I'm finally over the disappointment."
"Good," Pansy says. "And I love you, too. Even if I'm risking my life by just being with you in this room."
Hermione swats at her shoulder, and Pansy grins, then holds out her hand to Hermione. "Right, then. Ready to go back?"
Hermione takes her hand and gives it a squeeze.
"Ready."
Notes:Thank you for reading and for supporting me. You're all amazing and if I could, I'd give you all ten dragons <3 Saying goodbye to this world is bittersweet, but it's been a great journey. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
<3