A Gift For flipflop_diva: Privacy Over Comfort, (Harry/Pansy)
Author: ideare
Recipient: flipflop_diva
Title: privacy over comfort
Pairing: harry/pansy
Rating: g
Word Count: 520
Summary: Harry tries to play it cool when he receives an owl with those dreaded words: we need to talk.
Author's Notes: shout-out to the mods for running this exchange and being so understanding!
fun fact: this grew exponentially longer than intended, so i cut it all the way down. i still hope you enjoy it though, and have an amazing christmas and new year's!
Pansy sits with her nose buried into her scarf, the fur-lined hood of her cloak up, and her back slightly hunched against the cutting wind blowing through Diagon Alley. She's switched to having her hand wrapped around the metal teapot, because the hot liquid cooled too quickly to be of any use once it was poured out into the glass teacup. The empty outdoor area she's in is sectioned off from the rest of the alley with soft plastic sheets advertising the café, which snap loud booms with every sharp gust of wind, and the propane heater constantly threatens to blow out. Pansy leans forward even more. She uses the steam whisking out of the teapot spout to warm the exposed parts of her face. She's beginning to regret choosing privacy over comfort.
"You do realise there's hardly anyone inside, right?"
Startled, Pansy jogs the teapot, sloshing the hot liquid inside. A few scalding drops of tea escape from the spout, heating up her hands where they land on her leather gloves.
"Potter! Don't do that!" Pansy shakes off her hands, glaring at Harry as he sits opposite her. His bright green eyes glitter with barely contained laughter.
"Sorry, Pans! Didn't mean to scare you." He scrapes his chair closer to the table, the whine of the chair legs dragging across the concrete competing with the piercing whistle of the wind. "You wanted to talk?"
Pansy purses her lips in hesitation. Now that Harry is actually in front of her, she has to tamp down the urge to re-evaluate her decision. After a brief moment where she seemed to be frowning at Harry in disapproval, causing him to shift about uncomfortably, Pansy reaches into her inner cloak pocket and pulls out a lavender envelope. She hands this to Harry so swiftly that he almost drops it. The envelope, about the size of a folded tube map, is body-warm in his bare hands.
"What is-"
"It's an invitation," Pansy gives a small, self-conscious shrug. "More specifically it's an invitation to Christmas dinner at Parkinson Manor. Well, the dinner itself is actually on Christmas Eve, but," Pansy waves a hand dismissingly.
"You'll need to RSVP. And there's a dress code." At Harry's appalled look of horror, Pansy rushes to add: "It's really only a small family gathering. You know, for the holidays."
"Uhm..."
Panicking at Harry's newfound speechlessness, Pansy runs along with her one-sided conversation. "Naturally, both my parents will be there, so you'll be able to introduce yourself to them; they've been wanting to meet you for awhile now. Also, the whole thing is invite only, so you'll need the card to get in. Don't lose it, Potter!"
Nodding stiffly, Pansy gets up and leaves the table with a flurry of cloak that has her empty teacup wobbling dangerously close to the edge. Still slightly dazed from Pansy's verbal avalanche, Harry reaches out to steady the glass cup - years of quidditch training kicking in automatically.
"I'm not actually sure what just happened," Harry confesses to a lone pigeon as it settles closer to the warmth of the propane heater, cooing contentedly.
Recipient: flipflop_diva
Title: privacy over comfort
Pairing: harry/pansy
Rating: g
Word Count: 520
Summary: Harry tries to play it cool when he receives an owl with those dreaded words: we need to talk.
Author's Notes: shout-out to the mods for running this exchange and being so understanding!
fun fact: this grew exponentially longer than intended, so i cut it all the way down. i still hope you enjoy it though, and have an amazing christmas and new year's!
Pansy sits with her nose buried into her scarf, the fur-lined hood of her cloak up, and her back slightly hunched against the cutting wind blowing through Diagon Alley. She's switched to having her hand wrapped around the metal teapot, because the hot liquid cooled too quickly to be of any use once it was poured out into the glass teacup. The empty outdoor area she's in is sectioned off from the rest of the alley with soft plastic sheets advertising the café, which snap loud booms with every sharp gust of wind, and the propane heater constantly threatens to blow out. Pansy leans forward even more. She uses the steam whisking out of the teapot spout to warm the exposed parts of her face. She's beginning to regret choosing privacy over comfort.
"You do realise there's hardly anyone inside, right?"
Startled, Pansy jogs the teapot, sloshing the hot liquid inside. A few scalding drops of tea escape from the spout, heating up her hands where they land on her leather gloves.
"Potter! Don't do that!" Pansy shakes off her hands, glaring at Harry as he sits opposite her. His bright green eyes glitter with barely contained laughter.
"Sorry, Pans! Didn't mean to scare you." He scrapes his chair closer to the table, the whine of the chair legs dragging across the concrete competing with the piercing whistle of the wind. "You wanted to talk?"
Pansy purses her lips in hesitation. Now that Harry is actually in front of her, she has to tamp down the urge to re-evaluate her decision. After a brief moment where she seemed to be frowning at Harry in disapproval, causing him to shift about uncomfortably, Pansy reaches into her inner cloak pocket and pulls out a lavender envelope. She hands this to Harry so swiftly that he almost drops it. The envelope, about the size of a folded tube map, is body-warm in his bare hands.
"What is-"
"It's an invitation," Pansy gives a small, self-conscious shrug. "More specifically it's an invitation to Christmas dinner at Parkinson Manor. Well, the dinner itself is actually on Christmas Eve, but," Pansy waves a hand dismissingly.
"You'll need to RSVP. And there's a dress code." At Harry's appalled look of horror, Pansy rushes to add: "It's really only a small family gathering. You know, for the holidays."
"Uhm..."
Panicking at Harry's newfound speechlessness, Pansy runs along with her one-sided conversation. "Naturally, both my parents will be there, so you'll be able to introduce yourself to them; they've been wanting to meet you for awhile now. Also, the whole thing is invite only, so you'll need the card to get in. Don't lose it, Potter!"
Nodding stiffly, Pansy gets up and leaves the table with a flurry of cloak that has her empty teacup wobbling dangerously close to the edge. Still slightly dazed from Pansy's verbal avalanche, Harry reaches out to steady the glass cup - years of quidditch training kicking in automatically.
"I'm not actually sure what just happened," Harry confesses to a lone pigeon as it settles closer to the warmth of the propane heater, cooing contentedly.