WISHLISTS: Some Enchanted Evening (Seamus/Pansy)
Author: lauryne78
Recipient: leigh_adams
Title: Some Enchanted Evening
Pairing: Seamus/Pansy
Request: A masquerade ball
Rating: PG-13 (for implications, really)
Word Count: 887
Summary: Pansy goes to the Ministry’s annual Hallowe’en masquerade. There is dancing. There is (almost) champagne. There is a masked man. Any more would be spoilers.
Author's Notes: Whenever I’ve written Seamus/Pansy, it’s always been the same type of experience - there’s always something about them that just “clicks” for me and the writing really flows. Maybe it’s the combination of her snark and his charm. Dunno. But this piece was no different - it came to me in the course of about an hour and practically wrote itself!! I hope you enjoy, leigh_adams !!
Pansy cautiously stepped out of the deep shadows lining the long row of the Ministry’s main Floo grates. Lively chatter greeted her ears instantaneously, underscored by the strains of an animated waltz. She hesitated, lingering near the Floos. Part of her - a slightly fearful part which she loathed - was contemplating whether it was simply better to cut and run rather than venture further into the chattering mob.
She sniffed, banishing the uncharacteristic, cowardly thoughts. A mere moment later, she had squared her shoulders, taken a deep breath - or as deep as was possible in her form-fitting gown, at any rate - checked her cloak with an attendant, and moved forward into the main part of the Atrium where the Ministry’s annual Hallowe’en masquerade was in full swing. There were few things that could cow her, and a party was most certainly not one of them.
Candles floated in mid-air above the heads of the crowd, reminding Pansy forcibly of Hogwarts, and every visible surface in the expansive Atrium had been decked out with a jack-o-lantern, colorful leaves, or some other symbol of the holiday. Dancers swirled around the Atrium’s main statue, which had been draped with strings of orange and golden hued fairy lights, and trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres moved on their own through the mass of people.
Pansy marveled inwardly at the spectacle - it wasn’t often that she set foot inside the Ministry. Even though it was now more than five years since the end of the war, it was not a place that she truly felt comfortable or welcome. Instead, she preferred to spend most of her time at Gringotts, where she’d learned that as long as your spellwork was excellent and your allegiance to the bank unquestionable, the Goblins didn’t much care whether your record had been spotless during the war. Not that she’d personally had all that many spots on hers - save for an ill-timed attempt to sell Potter out during the Final Battle. Still, these days she did her best not to make trouble - unintentional or not.
She thought, not for the first time, that that was only one of the major changes the war had wrought in her. A wry smile on her face, she also contemplated the fact that she felt most at ease entering the Ministry when she could wear a mask. She was just about to lift a flute of champagne from one of the passing trays when someone snaked an arm around her waist and drew her into the throng on the dance floor.
“Excuse me, but what do you think you’re doing?!” she asked her ill-mannered dancing partner, her voice tart. Though she really couldn’t be too upset, all things considered. The man who was currently steering her around the floor was tall, had lovely sandy-colored hair, was wearing an impeccably tailored Muggle suit that showed a very fit physique, and his eyes twinkled with mischief behind the mask he wore.
“Dancin’ with the most beautiful witch in the room,” he replied smoothly, twirling them slightly faster as they rounded the far side of the Atrium where the dance floor was less crowded. As if there had been a signal, the waltz suddenly ended and the unseen musicians took up a slower, sultrier tune. Her unnamed partner didn’t miss a beat, pulling her closer and adapting to the new song seamlessly.
“Oh really?” she arched a carefully-shaped brow, though the effect was somewhat lost considering her mask, “how many unsuspecting witches have you used that terrible line on?” She struggled to keep her composure, though it was becoming more difficult the longer they danced. Though he’d been undeniably cheeky, and cheated her out of her drink, there was something compelling about him that she was powerless to resist.
He smiled crookedly at her, and leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “Just the one.” He paused, but didn’t pull back, and Pansy could feel his breath skim over her neck as his hands began sweeping slow, hypnotizing circles over her back. “How’s it workin’ so far?”
She pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes. Part of her wanted to resist him for a bit longer, to prolong the delicious push-and-pull between them. But a far larger part of her had no desire to keep playing silly games. And so, when she noticed that they’d almost completed a circuit of the Atrium, and were nearing the shadowed area close to the Floos, she finally responded. “I’d say it’s working very well, Mr. Finnigan. So well, in fact, I think I’d like you to take me home.”
His grin grew wider at her words, and he seemed pleased that she’d recognized him. He inclined his head towards the bank of Floos. “I think that I like the sound of that.”
As soon as the words had passed his lips, Pansy stopped dancing and took his hand, and they made a beeline for the nearest fireplace. She was keyed up with excitement and nearly stumbled when calling out the address, but soon enough the green flames had swept them away.
They were moving so quickly, and were so wrapped up in one another that neither of them heard the attendant that had been chasing them and calling after them. “Mrs. Finnigan! Your cloak! You’ve forgotten your cloak!!”
~*~FIN~*~
Recipient: leigh_adams
Title: Some Enchanted Evening
Pairing: Seamus/Pansy
Request: A masquerade ball
Rating: PG-13 (for implications, really)
Word Count: 887
Summary: Pansy goes to the Ministry’s annual Hallowe’en masquerade. There is dancing. There is (almost) champagne. There is a masked man. Any more would be spoilers.
Author's Notes: Whenever I’ve written Seamus/Pansy, it’s always been the same type of experience - there’s always something about them that just “clicks” for me and the writing really flows. Maybe it’s the combination of her snark and his charm. Dunno. But this piece was no different - it came to me in the course of about an hour and practically wrote itself!! I hope you enjoy, leigh_adams !!
Pansy cautiously stepped out of the deep shadows lining the long row of the Ministry’s main Floo grates. Lively chatter greeted her ears instantaneously, underscored by the strains of an animated waltz. She hesitated, lingering near the Floos. Part of her - a slightly fearful part which she loathed - was contemplating whether it was simply better to cut and run rather than venture further into the chattering mob.
She sniffed, banishing the uncharacteristic, cowardly thoughts. A mere moment later, she had squared her shoulders, taken a deep breath - or as deep as was possible in her form-fitting gown, at any rate - checked her cloak with an attendant, and moved forward into the main part of the Atrium where the Ministry’s annual Hallowe’en masquerade was in full swing. There were few things that could cow her, and a party was most certainly not one of them.
Candles floated in mid-air above the heads of the crowd, reminding Pansy forcibly of Hogwarts, and every visible surface in the expansive Atrium had been decked out with a jack-o-lantern, colorful leaves, or some other symbol of the holiday. Dancers swirled around the Atrium’s main statue, which had been draped with strings of orange and golden hued fairy lights, and trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres moved on their own through the mass of people.
Pansy marveled inwardly at the spectacle - it wasn’t often that she set foot inside the Ministry. Even though it was now more than five years since the end of the war, it was not a place that she truly felt comfortable or welcome. Instead, she preferred to spend most of her time at Gringotts, where she’d learned that as long as your spellwork was excellent and your allegiance to the bank unquestionable, the Goblins didn’t much care whether your record had been spotless during the war. Not that she’d personally had all that many spots on hers - save for an ill-timed attempt to sell Potter out during the Final Battle. Still, these days she did her best not to make trouble - unintentional or not.
She thought, not for the first time, that that was only one of the major changes the war had wrought in her. A wry smile on her face, she also contemplated the fact that she felt most at ease entering the Ministry when she could wear a mask. She was just about to lift a flute of champagne from one of the passing trays when someone snaked an arm around her waist and drew her into the throng on the dance floor.
“Excuse me, but what do you think you’re doing?!” she asked her ill-mannered dancing partner, her voice tart. Though she really couldn’t be too upset, all things considered. The man who was currently steering her around the floor was tall, had lovely sandy-colored hair, was wearing an impeccably tailored Muggle suit that showed a very fit physique, and his eyes twinkled with mischief behind the mask he wore.
“Dancin’ with the most beautiful witch in the room,” he replied smoothly, twirling them slightly faster as they rounded the far side of the Atrium where the dance floor was less crowded. As if there had been a signal, the waltz suddenly ended and the unseen musicians took up a slower, sultrier tune. Her unnamed partner didn’t miss a beat, pulling her closer and adapting to the new song seamlessly.
“Oh really?” she arched a carefully-shaped brow, though the effect was somewhat lost considering her mask, “how many unsuspecting witches have you used that terrible line on?” She struggled to keep her composure, though it was becoming more difficult the longer they danced. Though he’d been undeniably cheeky, and cheated her out of her drink, there was something compelling about him that she was powerless to resist.
He smiled crookedly at her, and leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “Just the one.” He paused, but didn’t pull back, and Pansy could feel his breath skim over her neck as his hands began sweeping slow, hypnotizing circles over her back. “How’s it workin’ so far?”
She pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes. Part of her wanted to resist him for a bit longer, to prolong the delicious push-and-pull between them. But a far larger part of her had no desire to keep playing silly games. And so, when she noticed that they’d almost completed a circuit of the Atrium, and were nearing the shadowed area close to the Floos, she finally responded. “I’d say it’s working very well, Mr. Finnigan. So well, in fact, I think I’d like you to take me home.”
His grin grew wider at her words, and he seemed pleased that she’d recognized him. He inclined his head towards the bank of Floos. “I think that I like the sound of that.”
As soon as the words had passed his lips, Pansy stopped dancing and took his hand, and they made a beeline for the nearest fireplace. She was keyed up with excitement and nearly stumbled when calling out the address, but soon enough the green flames had swept them away.
They were moving so quickly, and were so wrapped up in one another that neither of them heard the attendant that had been chasing them and calling after them. “Mrs. Finnigan! Your cloak! You’ve forgotten your cloak!!”
~*~FIN~*~