Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One

The Ministry had wanted to sentence them to Azkaban, but their innocence was too loud – as was Hermione Granger. She argued, vehemently, that it was one thing to imprison Death Eaters, even a few named Death Eater supporters, but it was something else entirely to imprison children – no matter what stance they took during the war.

Unable to stand against the Golden Girl so soon following the war, the Ministry acquiesced and decided that while they couldn’t prove malicious intent, they could determine that there was reason to call for reform and redemption. This belief was what spearheaded the newest Ministry campaign, headed under the Department of International Magical Cooperation, the Committee of Public Image and Magical Reform. The whole point of PIMR was to recreate the image of several individuals and families who wanted to turn over a new leaf after the war – whether they wanted to or not.

Some families wanted to reform their image on their own accord while others, like the Malfoy family, were more so forced into the program regardless of their wishes. When the call went out for someone to head the Committee, Percy Weasley was one of the first to step up and ask to be considered for the job. If anyone had an idea what it was like to want redemption, or to change their public image, it was Percival Ignatius Weasley.

When Percy was offered the position he was more than grateful and when he was told he was getting his own personal secretary he was ecstatic. Only the best and most important members of the Ministry had their very own secretaries. However, his excitement damped slightly when he was told that he would not be allowed to interview and choose his own secretary.

“We’re assigning you a secretary through the reform program!” is what Percy was told as he was leaving his office on Friday evening.

A file was handed to him and then Percy promptly placed it in his briefcase before leaving the office without delay. He wasn’t too concerned with who they’d chosen, although he was disappointed that he didn’t have any say in who was given the position. He looked on the bright side, as he often tried to do as of late, that obviously with the program being so important they wouldn’t give him someone who had a terribly atrocious image. No, no, they’d most likely assigned someone who had volunteered for PIMR – someone hard working and who wanted to make a difference in the post-war world. Therefore, when Percy opened the file later that night as he sat down with his nightly cup of tea, he nearly spit all over the paperwork.

There, in bold lettering, was the name Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy Persephone Parkinson.

Percy didn’t really remember Pansy from his time at Hogwarts, he was a fifth year when she was a first year – she was also a Slytherin – but he remembered her from the final battle. Everyone remembered her from the final battle. It was a tad difficult to forget the girl who tried giving up Harry Potter to You-Know-Who in the middle of the Great Hall. If there was a list of witches or wizards who really needed to reform their public image, Pansy Parkinson would be near the top.

The unfunny part about it all was that there was a list and Pansy Parkinson was near the top of it for her age group, only a few spots down from Draco Malfoy himself.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Percy sighed, rubbing his temples.

Opening her file, Percy pulled out a piece of parchment.

Name: Pansy Persephone Parkinson

DOB: 6 October, 1979

Place of Residence: Parkinson Estate, North Yorkshire, England

Assignment: Secretary to the Head of the Committee of Public Image and Magical Reform; Percy Weasley

Notes:

P. Parkinson was tried and found guilty for conspiring with You-Know-Who supporters during the Second Wizarding War. Due to her age, Parkinson was not given time in Azkaban, but instead an alternative sentencing in the form of a one year probationary period. Parkinson decided against returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for an optional eighth year of studies as her probationary sentence, instead choosing community service.

The notes went on a bit further, but Percy shoved them back in the file. He also briefly considered owling Ronald to get his insight on the witch, but quickly decided against it. While Percy had returned to the Battle of Hogwarts to fight with the Order and the DA, his time spent away from his family was still not fully forgiven – not that it should be. He had been a prat, he knew that, and it was going to take more than three months for his family to forgive him.

There was always tension between Percy and his family, ever since he could remember, and that tension was what made it so easy for Percy to walk away from them. Being born into such a large family it was easy to become lost in the shuffle, especially when there was so much going on around everyone. Bill was the oldest, a Prefect and then Head Boy, with nobody ahead of him to dictate who he should be. Charlie, a Prefect and Quidditch Captain, was rather the same, still old enough to be able to live his own life and escape the Weasley household of chaos. Percy came next, but being that his older brothers had already been Prefects and one Head Boy, it made it all the less exciting when Percy was bestowed those honors.

Fred and George, utter disasters that they were, were still brilliant, but it was also their constant chaos that had Percy craving silence and solitude. By the time the twins were walking, Percy – good child that he was – was unintentionally forgotten about at times.

Then there was Ron, and finally Ginny, and with four children under the age of four, Percy was often left to his own devices – a true middle child. He didn’t rebel, he didn’t stir up trouble, he just tried to shine and stand out in his own way. But… how was one supposed to stand out when there was so much competition? Percy had always been an ambitious wizard. He worked hard all through school, became first a Prefect and then Head Boy at Hogwarts before going straight into the Ministry after graduating. From there, Percy took his competitiveness and set his sights on his future. He would work hard at the Ministry and, one day, maybe even become the Minister for Magic.

It was easy to get lost in the climb at the Ministry, easy to get caught up in the praise of a job well done. Sure, in his first year out of the Ministry his boss had been under the Imperius Curse, but how was Percy to really know that? He was under the impression that Bartemius Crouch had simply trusted him with many tasks that would have normally been above Percy’s position. What was Percy going to do? Complain? Merlin, no. He was going to shut up, sit down, and do the work that was owled to him.

After his, slightly disastrous, first year at the Ministry there was the terrible timing of Harry Potter saying that Voldemort was back from the dead. To say the Ministry was in a tizzy would have been putting it very lightly. There just wasn’t any proof and the more Percy kept doing his job, the more insane the Potter boy had seemed to them all. Percy saw what believing in Harry was doing to his father’s credibility, which was already minimal given his love for Muggles, and he refused to let his family’s ties to the Boy-Who-Lived stop him from climbing the political ladder.

When it was determined that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named really was back, the political field shifted far too quickly and Death Eaters began infiltrating the Ministry. It was keep your head down or find yourself fired and Percy would not allow himself to be fired. He had a plan for his future and being fired, or killed, was not in his ten year plan. So Percy did what he did best – he kept his head down and did what was asked of him. The worst part of all of that, and he didn’t even realize he was doing it at first, was losing his family. His relationships with his family had always been semi-strained given how different they all were, but once he began working at the Ministry the thin threads that kept them tied together began to snap.

“Percy, you’re working too much.”

“Percy, you’re such a prat.”

“Percy, do you even care that you’re making your father look bad?”

“Percy, don’t you know that Harry Potter is your brother’s best friend? You should be on his side!”

“Percy, you swot, how thick do you like your cauldron bottoms?”

“Percy, you’re disappointing the family.”

It was never ending. Not once was he complimented for a job well done. Never did he hear any praise for all of his hard work. No. It made it easy to pull away, to distance himself from his blood. By the time he realized what he’d done it was too late – the Ministry had been fully infiltrated. Those with doubts about the current leadership were cast out or murdered and by the time Percy realized he wanted out, he had no way to contact his family.

It took months before Percy was able to make contact with Aberforth Dumbledore, all from a chance night in Hogsmeade. Aberforth kept Percy in the loop on the going-ons at Hogwarts and promised to let him know if the Order, or anyone at the school, was going to rise up. Percy knew that if Harry Potter was going to make a stand that his whole family would be right beside him and Percy wanted to be on that side with them.

At the initial reunion in the Room of Requirement during the Battle, Percy’s family seemed much more willing to accept him back with no questions asked. Once the adrenaline and dust settled, however, it was clear that was not the case. While his mother had come around rather quickly after the war, the rest of his family was still rather wary of Percy and his relationship with them was rather strained.

It was why Percy took a deep breath, finished his tea, and went to bed all while trying to not stress over his new secretary. He was the new and reformed Percy Weasley and New Percy was going to do whatever he needed to do to make this program work. He was going to show not just his family, but the entirety of Wizarding Britain, just how reformed he was and nobody, least of all Pansy Parkinson, was going to get in his way of doing just that.

* * *

The next morning Percy dressed in his favorite grey suit and Floo’d to the Ministry ready to meet the day head on. He waved and said good morning to those he knew as he made his way to his new office, stopping short when he noticed that his new secretary had beat him to work.

Percy raised an eyebrow at the sight before him. Pansy Parkinson had her chin in her hand, a lit Muggle cigarette between her fingers, and large sunglasses covering her face.

“Ms. Parkinson,” Percy greeted his secretary politely.

Unable to see her eyes, Percy wasn’t sure that Pansy had even heard him. And that was assuming that it was actually Pansy Parkinson that Percy was speaking to – all he had to go on was an old school photo that had been pinned to her file.

“Ms. Parkinson!” He said again, louder, beginning to feel that twinge of annoyance that often plagued him when people did not seem to care about their jobs.

“Fucking Merlin,” the girl muttered. “What?”

“Ms. Parkinson,” Percy began, clearing his throat. “There is a strict no smoking policy in the Ministry.” Percy plucked the cigarette from her fingers and vanished it nonverbally. “We also have a dress code. Sunglasses are not a part of it.”

Reaching forward he went to pluck the sunglasses off of her face, but Pansy’s hand grabbed the other side and held firm.

“Let. Go.” she growled. “These are from Milan. Do not touch, Weasel.”

Percy scowled, but removed his hand from the black frames. It was taking everything in him to not revert to his old ways of snapping. “Take them off then Ms. Parkinson, or I will do it for you.”

Pansy let out a long sigh before pushing the glasses to the top of her head, revealing a set of piercing green eyes. Completely Slytherin green eyes.

“Happy?” she said in a bored voice.

“Ecstatic,” Percy replied flatly. “Now, I know you were given a detailed summary of what is to be expected as the Secretary for the Head of the Committee of Public Image and Magical Reform. I looked at your scores from school and you seem to be competent enough to have understood what role you were being placed in?”

“Competent enough? Fuck you,” Pansy spat. “I know my duties and not one of those duties cannot be done hungover with a cigarette. This is fucking community service, not a career path, Weasley. I’m not getting paid.”

“I’ll have you know that my position is very important and that means that your job is also very important, paid or not,” Percy said while adjusting the sleeves of his outer robes.

“Blah, blah, blah,” Pansy drawled. “If I wanted to have someone talk my ear off I’d be back at Hogwarts listening to lectures.”

“Why didn’t you choose to go back to Hogwarts? It seemed like the easiest option for your age group.” Percy was honestly curious as he’d checked and seen that most of her friends had chosen to go back to school to retake their seventh year.

Pansy raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him. “Please, tell me how that’s any of your business? Hmm?”

“I am your boss, Ms. Parkinson.”

“Correct, not my jailor.”

“If you don’t comply with the rules and regulations of your community service you will go to Azkaban,” Percy snapped, disliking how the witch in front of him had already found a way to get under his skin.

“Honestly, if I was guaranteed a daily shower, I might have asked for a prison sentence.”

Percy felt his annoyance growing into anger beneath the surface. “You’re being ridiculous!”

Pansy smirked, her dark red lips curling up in amusement. “It’s going to be a fun year. Boss.”

Unwilling to keep bickering, Percy stomped past her desk and into his office, finding several letters from owls stacked neatly on the side of his desk. Well, at least the witch could sort mail. He spent the next hour trying to stop fuming while he answered his owls and sent off missives to other departments. There was a discussion of how to help those with less than personas and backgrounds be slowly welcomed back into society. So far, there were very few ideas on how to make such unlikeable people likeable.

Suddenly, with no knock, his door flew open and in strode Pansy Parkinson, holding a new stack of letters. Now that she was on her feet in front of him, Percy was fully able to take in her whole person. Aside from the newly lit cigarette that was between her fingers, she almost looked dressed for the part of playing his secretary. She had on a slightly too-tight black pencil skirt, a flowy cream colored top, and shoes that looked to be too tall for the office, but ones that she seemed to handle just fine. Her hair was longer than the short bob Percy remembered from her school photo, brushing past the tops of her shoulders, a shiny black that contrasted beautifully with her creamy, pale skin. Percy’s gaze lingered for such a short amount of time that anyone who didn’t know Percy – which was most everyone – would never know that he’d been checking out his secretary.

“Ms. Parkinson?” He asked, his voice stern as he zeroed in on her cigarette.

“Delivering your owls, as was outlined in my job description,” Pansy replied in a bored voice.

“I’m not sure it was explicitly stated in your job description,” Percy began, standing up and buttoning his jacket, “however, you should knock before entering my office. I also believe I already informed you of the Ministry’s no smoking policy. Yet somehow I still see a lit cigarette in your hand.”

Pansy’s green eyes rolled as she scoffed and flicked the cigarette to the ground, grinding out the burning end with the toe of her shoe. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a prat? No? Well, allow me to inform you – you, sir, are a prat.”

Percy inhaled sharply and held his breath for a minute before letting it out slowly, trying to keep from snapping the way he wanted to. He wouldn’t though because this was New Percy and New Percy didn’t snap at people. Even if they deserved it.

“Oddly enough, I have been told that a time or two before,” Percy replied dryly. “I hope your posh aristocratic upbringing still taught you cleaning spells. If that cigarette leaves a stain on my carpet…”

“You’ll what?” Pansy smirked, placing a hand on her hip.

New Percy was clearly not going to work when it came to Pansy Parkinson. Percy narrowed his eyes and let Old Percy come to the surface.

Percy stepped around the desk and in front of Pansy, where he stood at least a head taller. “I’ll make you lick the stain clean with your tongue.”

His blue eyes flashed as he scowled down at the young witch before him. To his absolute annoyance, Pansy looked less than threatened. No, she looked almost… excited.

Pansy licked her lips and lifted her chin to better meet Percy’s gaze. “And what do you think the Prophet will say when they hear the Head of the Committee of Public Image and Magical Reform is making his employees lick the carpet he walks on?” Her green eyes were shining bright as she looked at him.

“No worse than what they say about you.” Percy watched as Pansy’s eyes narrowed at his words.

“It’s nothing I probably haven’t already been hearing for years, Weasley.”

“No, but what people say and think about me won’t get me a three year prison sentence.”

Pressing his lips together, Percy held her gaze, practically unblinking until she looked away.

Aha, he thought. I win.

“I’ll write you a list of duties and preferences that I expect my personal secretary to not only know, but to uphold. You are dismissed.”

Pansy scowled, flicked her wand at the carpet, and left Percy’s office, slamming the door behind her.

Glancing down, Percy saw that the stain was gone.

* * *

The rest of the week went rather smoothly after their initial interaction and Old Percy was able to remain mostly dormant. Pansy knocked, albeit with much exaggeration, when she delivered his mail and took his reports to send off, kept her cigarettes unlit (or at least hidden), and mostly kept her mouth shut. Percy, in turn, read over several proposals of ways that the Ministry could help restore the public image of some of its most reverent families. Each idea was worse than the last and after he wrote a rejection letter back to the latest ridiculous proposal, he set his glasses on his desk and rubbed his eyes.

“My, my. How difficult your job must be, Weasley. Cauldron bottoms giving you problems?”

“Why does everyone know about that bloody report I wrote four years ago?” Percy snapped, grabbing his glasses and slamming them onto his face.

Pansy smirked as she set down a new stack of letters. “You did your research on me, I’ve merely been doing my research on you. I’m a week in and already bored out of my mind. So I did some digging in the archives.”

Percy scowled as he snatched up his mail. “If you’re that bored then clearly I should be finding more difficult tasks for you to complete.”

“I bet I could make your job easier as well.”

“I highly doubt that,” Percy sniffed, reading over yet another preposterous proposal. “Finding a way to promote Public Image and Magical Reform isn’t easy, you know.”

“Well, Angela was saying –”

“What the bloody hell is Angela?”

Pansy let out a sigh as she examined her nails. “She’s the secretary for what’s-his-name over in the IMC –”

“Alexander Balfour?” He was the head of the International Magical Cooperation and his secretary Angela was known for not making friends in the workplace. All Percy knew was that she was blonde, with big hair, and kept so many secrets he was surprised she didn’t have her own Auror security detail.

“Sure,” Pansy waved her hand dismissively. “Anyways, Angela was saying how there haven’t been any galas since the war, and how it might be a nice way to bring people together again. If there’s one thing PIMRs love, it’s a gala or ball.”

“What?”

“PIMRs love a reason to get all dressed up.”

“No,” Percy shook his head. “I heard you, Ms. Parkinson, I’m not deaf. I just believe you’re using PIMR wrong. It stands for –”

“Posh Idiots Managing their Reputations,” Pansy finished for him.

“It does not! It stands for Public Image and Magical Reform!”

“Isn’t that what I said? Posh Idiots Managing their Reputations – it’s all the same thing if you squint.”

Percy narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “It is not the same thing. The Committee of Public Image and Magical Reform is meant to alleviate people of their past affiliations and help them transition into the newly reformed world as better citizens of society.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow and stared at him. “Exactly. You need the posh idiots I went to school with, and their parents, to repair their reputations so the entire high-society of Wizarding Britain doesn’t fall apart.”

“And the way to do that is to have a gala?” Percy asked dubiously.

“Yes,” Pansy confirmed.

“I don’t plan galas. I have helped write legislation, Ms. Parkinson – I don’t plan silly dances.”

“Galas,” the Slytherin drew out the word, “help to bring in money. Money that is sorely needed at the moment according to what Felicity was saying in the lift on the way up here this morning.”

Percy wrinkled his brow. “Who in Merlin’s name is Felicity?”

Pansy let out an exasperated sigh. “She’s the secretary for the new Muggleborn liaison position. Honestly, do you know anyone who works here?”

Ah, yes, the Muggleborn Assistance Program had been passed after the war to not only assist current Muggleborns re-integrating into Wizarding society post-war, but to also help new Muggleborn witches and wizards acclimate to a magical world before and during their Hogwarts years. Davia Halloway had been chosen to run the program and Percy knew for a fact she’d been owling Hermione Granger for suggestions on new legislation and the such every day since the position was created. Hermione had been offered the position but ultimately decided to go back to Hogwarts to complete her seventh year of study – which was completely reasonable, in Percy’s opinion. Hermione was, instead, helping with PIMR on the student end of it and creating an Inter-House Unity program with McGonnagal to help her Slytherin classmates with reform.

“How do you know so many people?” Percy muttered under his breath.

“I talk to them, Weasley.”

“Well, why does Felicity think we need money?”

Pansy gave Percy a look that insinuated he was less than intelligent. “The MAP is a new program and therefore they have limited funding. We could host a gala that would not only bring in money for the program, but it would be money coming from the very deep pockets of those looking to redeem their name.”

Percy leaned back in his chair and pressed the tips of his fingers together, making a tent with his hands. “I write laws, I don’t plan parties, Ms. Parkinson.”

“Well,” Pansy said haughtily, “lucky for you, I do.”

Chapter Text

Two

Looking down at the twelve napkins, all apparently different shades of white, Percy began to think, not for the first time, that this was not going to help him redeem his name.

“Ms. Parkinson!”

Pansy came strolling into his office a moment later, her pinstripe trousers making her legs look a mile long, and placed a hand on her hip. “You bellowed?”

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” Percy gestured to the linens that were strewn about his desk.

“You’re choosing the napkin for the dinner portion of the gala, Weasley. I’m uncertain of your confusion. Or does your family not use napkins?”

Not ones that cost more than his suit, Percy thought quietly to himself.

“These are all identical, Ms. Parkinson. I asked for white napkins, that’s it. Simple, white napkins.”

“These are anything but identical!” Pansy exclaimed, striding over to the desk and picking up two of the linens. “This one is clearly cream, and this one is a bright white, and that one –” she pointed to a third napkin, “is obviously has a slight sheen to it.”

Percy squinted, trying to see the napkins in a different light, but only saw the same color. “This is ridiculous. I have better things to do than choose napkin colors. Just – pick one and get these off of my desk.”

“Oh forgive me, sir,” Pansy drawled, grabbing her wand and folding all of the napkins with a swish and a flick before grabbing the pile. “I didn’t realize that there were certain aspects of party planning that were beneath you.”

“I have to work on the guest list,” Percy began listing off, holding up a finger, “I need to double check which items will be auctioned off and from which families they are being donated. I also need to get all of this done so I can meet my family for dinner by – fuck! Ten minutes ago. So, no, I don’t fucking care about napkin colors!”

Pansy blinked in surprise. In the three weeks she’d been working for him, Percy had very rarely used any foul language, and she could tell that he used great restraint in coming off as cool and collected every day. Sure, he was a complete prat, but that was really only because she baited him. This little meltdown was completely out of the ordinary.

“You want this one,” Pansy said, picking up one of the identical napkins. “It’s a crisp white that will stick out nicely if you go with the midnight blue tablecloths.”

“Thank you,” Percy ground out through his teeth. “Now I have to finish finalizing the guest list and check over the auction items. Could you please owl my mother and tell her that I’m going to miss dinner tonight? Not like they won’t be expecting it anyways,” he muttered under his breath.

He picked up his quill and began scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment before he realized that Pansy hadn’t moved, instead she stood next to his desk eyeing him with a look of confusion.

“Ms. Parkinson? Owl my mother, please.”

“Why don’t you just… go?”

“Go?” Percy repeated, his voice full of astonishment. “I can’t just go.”

“Why the fuck not? You don’t see me staying here past my working hours.”

“That’s because,” Percy sneered, “you don’t value hard work and don’t have everything riding on this stupid gala!”

“What could you possibly have riding on this? You’re a fucking Weasley, your whole family basically has the sun shining out of their ridiculous ginger-haired arses.”

“Well not me!” Percy snatched his glasses off his face and threw them onto his desk, running his hand over his eyes. “Just go and I’ll owl her myself.”

When Pansy still didn’t move he stood up and stomped around his desk, stopping in front of her and pointing to the door. “Get. Out.”

“Salazar,” Pansy muttered. “Alright, alright. Don’t get your knickers in a fucking twist.”

Once Pansy had closed the door behind her, Percy let out a groan through his teeth. He leaned back against his desk and closed his eyes for a few moments before straightening up and shaking out his body.

“Alright. Owl, guest list, auction items.”

Percy grabbed a piece of parchment and penned a note to his mother letting her know that he, unfortunately, would have to miss dinner that evening due to work. He knew he’d get flack from his brothers about it, but they thought so little of him anyways Percy wasn’t sure missing one more dinner was going to make a difference in their relationships. His reputation with them was marred enough.

Exiting his office, he went to leave the note for his mother on Pansy’s desk for her to mail, only to discover that his secretary was missing. Muttering to himself about not having the time, Percy went to the Ministry Owlery and sent an owl to his mother. On his way back he was waylaid by two different colleagues, both of whom did not seem to get from Percy’s demeanor that he was not in the mood for small talk about their evening plans – which involved working for Percy. When he finally arrived back to his floor he was surprised to find Pansy standing in his office, waiting for him, with a bag in each hand.

“What are you doing, Ms. Parkinson?” he sighed, really not ready to look at table linens or whatever else could be in the bags she held.

“I went out and grabbed dinner.” Pansy shifted on her feet, the only tell that she was slightly uncomfortable. “Since you’re clearly not going to be leaving any time soon.”

Percy blinked at Pansy like she had spoken a different language. “Pardon – what?”

“Dinner,” Pansy repeated slowly. “I brought you dinner. You know, what people eat at this time of night?”

“Right, but… why?” Percy still didn’t move from where his feet had glued him to the floor.

“For fuck’s sake, Weasley,” Pansy rolled her eyes. “Has nobody ever done anything nice for you before?”

“Have you ever done anything nice for someone ever?” Percy quipped.

“Oh, fuck off,” Pansy scoffed, setting the bags down on Percy’s desk. “It’s Thai. I never see you eat, so I just had to guess what sort of takeaway to get.”

“Thank you?” Percy asked, a question at the end of his words, still unsure what to think of the situation.

Percy walked around his desk and sat down before taking a look in one of the bags. He never usually ordered Thai food, he tended to stick with the basics that he knew he liked, but the aroma coming from the bag beckoned to him.

“Right, well, I’ll just head out then and see you in the morning, Weasley.”

Pansy walked across the room to the door and had just placed her hand on the handle when Percy’s voice stopped her.

“Wait.” The word came out rushed and Percy was as surprised by it as Pansy seemed to be.

Pansy turned around and lifted an eyebrow. “For the record, just because you stay late does not mean that I have to stay late.”

“No, erm,” Percy flushed slightly. “Would you like to stay? And eat, I mean.”

“Oh!” Pansy seemed genuinely shocked by the offer. “Well, I guess –”

“I’m sure you already have plans, so no worries,” Percy said quickly, interrupting her.

Pansy shook her head slowly. “My plans involve a bottle of wine, but that’s all.”

Turning around, Percy shifted a few items on the bookshelf until a bottle of Ogden’s Firewhiskey appeared.

“I don’t have wine, but I do have this. If – if you want to join me, I mean.”

A smirk slowly spread across Pansy’s lips. “Well, well, well. Percy Weasley isn’t a total stick in the mud after all. Twist my arm then, Weasley, and pour me a glass.”

Dragging over a chair, Pansy sat at the front of Percy’s desk and began taking to-go boxes out of the bags.

“Were you expecting to feed an army?” Percy asked as she placed the boxes carefully on the desk.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I just got everything.”

Percy conjured two plates and began putting a little bit of everything on each plate before handing one over to Pansy. He couldn’t admit it, but he was out of his element at that moment. Percy Weasley didn’t eat at the office. He didn’t eat with his secretary at the office. He didn’t sit down and have a meal with Pansy Parkinson at the office. Yet, there he was, plating food for the both of them like it wasn’t the strangest thing to happen that week.

Pouring a decent amount of firewhiskey into two glasses, Percy handed one of those over to Pansy as well, who downed the entire glass in one gulp before holding it out for a refill.

“I should point out that drinking at work isn’t technically allowed,” Percy said, refilling her glass. “However, given that we’re off the clock and given the amount of work I have left to do tonight before I can go home, I’m going to make a one time exception.”

“You don’t need to convince me, Weasley. I can drink this and keep my mouth shut. Nobody will ever have to know that you’re breaking the rules. Actually, here –”

With a flick of her wand, Pansy closed the door to Percy’s office.

“Perhaps we should leave it open, so as to not give anyone any ideas,” Percy suggested, a knot of unease in his stomach. He wasn’t one to just have dinner in his office with his secretary – it wasn’t proper!

Pansy rolled her eyes before pointing a chopstick at him. “Anyone who would need you will have assumed you’ve left for the evening. You’re fine. Don’t be so uptight.”

“I’m not uptight,” Percy muttered, stabbing at a piece of chicken.

Pansy let out a laugh at his words and threw her head back. “You’re joking, Weasley! You’re more uptight than even Granger was in school during OWLs! And I know she’s still uptight – Draco owls me multiple times a week about her and how she’s shoving inter-house unity down everyone’s throats at school.”

“Now, see here,” Percy began, “Inter-house unity could be the first step in helping students make friendships with those outside of their typical social groups. In fact, I believe that –”

Pansy let out a groan, cutting Percy off. “Can we please not discuss work while we eat? It’s a rule I have.”

“You’ve never had a job before, but you have a rule about it?”

“Glad you understand.”

Grabbing his glass, Percy took a sip of his whiskey, closing his eyes and holding back a moan as the alcohol burned its way down his throat. He didn’t drink often, but some days, like today, it was necessary.

“Catch up, Weasley,” Pansy taunted, holding out her empty-again glass. Her green eyes shone with mischief.

Percy narrowed his eyes, but threw back the rest of his drink before refilling both glasses. “I still have work to do tonight, Ms. Parkinson.”

“Ah, but technically we’re not working right now. Also, you don’t have to call me Ms. Parkinson all the time. Pansy will do just fine.”

“Actually, I do,” Percy pointed out. “I like to keep a sense of professionalism in the workplace.”

“Yes, but what if calling me Ms. Parkinson in that bossy voice of yours was a turn on for me?”

Percy spluttered into his drink. “I beg your pardon?”

Pansy smirked behind her glass and ran her tongue over the rim. “I’m just saying.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that!” Percy scolded her, his face burning. “I’m your boss and that’s inappropriate.”

“You’re not my boss right now,” Pansy said slyly, taking another sip of her drink. “Right now we’re just two people eating dinner and having a drink. Remember, you can’t drink at work, therefore, right now, we aren’t working.”

“Ms. Parkinson, I really must insist that –”

His words were cut off as Pansy stood up and walked around to his side of the desk. She hopped up, sitting on the desk and crossing her legs. With her hands on the edge of the desk, she leaned forward and smirked.

“I just told you, I like that.”

Percy let out a huff of air through his nose and tried to fight the buzz of the alcohol that was now coursing through his veins. He held his arms tightly to his sides and remained rigid in his chair as Pansy swung her foot and the tip of her shoe poked his leg.

“Come on, Mr. Weasley,” Pansy crooned. “Would it be so bad if you loosened up for five minutes?”

“I’m fine,” he ground out, pushing his chair back away from her legs, but finding it could go no further.

“What would be the worst thing that would happen if you just… let go?”

Closing his eyes, Percy took several deep breaths before opening them again. He could feel how tightly wound his body was and he refused to let it be known that he was affected by Pansy Parkinson. He wasn’t uptight, he was professional. He wasn’t a stick in the mud, he was a hard-worker who looked towards the future. He didn’t need to loosen up.

“Percy…”

Percy’s resolve snapped at the sound of his name hissing between her teeth. He stood up abruptly and placed his hands on his desk, one on either side of Pansy’s hips. He leaned over her until his lips brushed against the shell of her ear.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Ms. Parkinson.”

He was so close to Pansy that he felt the shiver run down through her body. She uncrossed her legs and opened them so Percy could stand between them. He inhaled sharply against her hair as she squeezed her thighs to hold him in place.

Pansy lifted her head and met Percy’s gaze, their noses almost touching. “I like dangerous games.”

Percy exhaled slowly through his teeth, bumping his nose against hers, a soft groan escaping from him. His cock was beginning to strain against his trousers and there was no way she couldn’t tell how turned on he was given that his hardness was now pressed against her thigh. In fact if he shifted just a bit closer to her he’d be able to press himself against her center.

“Mm.” Percy ran his nose down Pansy’s jawline, inhaling the scent of her, before brushing his lips against the corner of her mouth.

Pansy’s breath was quick, coming short and fast as she held perfectly still, as if waiting for him to take control.

Control.

The one thing Percy always needed and the one thing he always kept himself in. Yet Percy felt that if he kissed her, if he actually kissed her, he would lose all of it. He could already feel his control slipping away, particularly as her thighs tightened around him, pulling him closer centimeter by centimeter.

“Do it,” Pansy breathed, the sound barely a whisper.

Just as Percy’s resolve snapped, the moment his lips crashed to hers, the door flew open and Audrey Morrison strode in.

Percy jumped back so fast that he nearly tripped over his chair, righting himself at the last second. He watched as Audrey’s face shifted from a look of annoyance, to shock, then hurt, before becoming stone.

“Your mother owled,” Audrey said in a cold voice. “Apparently she is unaware of our non-existent relationship status and she was hoping I’d be able to shed some insight on why you skipped your family’s dinner again. Then she invited me to attend the next one, figuring that if I came as well, maybe there would be a better hope of you showing up.”

Percy cleared his throat as he adjusted his glasses, meeting Audrey’s gaze with what he hoped looked like a calm and collected facial expression. “I’m so sorry about that, Audrey. I’ll make sure that my mother is aware we are no longer together. It must have slipped my mind to tell her.”

It hadn’t slipped Percy’s mind at all to inform his family about the dissolution of his relationship to Audrey Morrison, his girlfriend of nearly a year. He had pointedly not told them as he didn’t want to hear how he was once again putting his work first. While it was true that he had ended things with Audrey around the time he was applying for his position for PIMR, the job wasn’t the reason he broke things off. Well, it wasn’t the only reason.

Audrey was the perfect girlfriend. She was from a good family, she had a good job as the secretary to the Assistant Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, and his family loved her. In truth it was largely because his family loved her so much that Percy wanted to end things with her. It was difficult to go to family functions knowing that someone his family had known less than a year was held in much higher esteem than Percy himself.

Simply – he was jealous.

He was jealous that Audrey fit in seamlessly with his large, loud family. She would help his mother cook, she could talk Quidditch with Ginny and Charlie, she helped George and Ron with designs for the new Wonder Witch line, she could discuss work with his father about the going ons in the Ministry, and she’d taken Ancient Runs as a NEWT so she could always have conversations with Bill about what he was working on as a curse-breaker. Percy felt as if he was replaced with a better option for a sibling and child. He knew it was illogical and he knew that none of it was Audrey’s fault, however he couldn’t get past the feeling that his family was only as accepting of him as they were because of Audrey. So, he broke things off with her.

Audrey, being the wonderfully understanding witch that she was, believed that the break was due to Percy needing to direct his focus and energy on his new job. She understood his devotion to his work and told him that she was proud of his desires to help others redeem themselves.

The Audrey standing in front of him currently, however, did not seem to be understanding of the situation she just walked in on. No, she looked very much not understanding of her ex-boyfriend standing between the legs of another witch.

“Thank you, Audrey,” Percy said in a rather fantastically collected tone given the fact that his cock was still hard. “If that’s all…” he trailed off, his dismissal clear.

Audrey’s eyes narrowed and she looked about to leave, but then the other witch in the room apparently had to remind everyone that she was still there – as if it was hard to look past Pansy still sitting on his desk.

“Oh, dear me,” Pansy drawled, sliding off the desk and turning to face the door, her body brushing up against Percy. “What an unfortunate interruption. Do they not teach you to knock in Magical Transportation?”

“Do they not provide Ministry Employee Handbooks to felons doing community service?” Audrey snapped. “There is an entire section on the proper relationship between a secretary and her boss. I never thought you’d be one for sexual harassment in the workplace, Percy.”

Percy felt the color drain from his face, but didn’t rise to the bait. Pansy, however, did not seem to mind and Percy watched as a wicked smirk slid across her face.

“I do feel thoroughly harassed,” Pansy said with a lick of her lips. “Don’t worry though,” she said with a pointed look in Percy’s direction. “I liked it.”

With a wink Pansy crossed the room and slid past Audrey. “If you’ll excuse me. Ta, Mr. Weasley. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Percy watched as Pansy strutted out of his office, picked up her purse from her desk, and sauntered away, leaving just him and Audrey.

“Audrey,” he said in a softer tone. “It’s not what you think.”

“What I think?” Audrey scoffed. “I think it’s pretty obvious what was going on, Percy. You were about to fuck your secretary on your desk.”

“Oh, I was not,” Percy snapped. “She was being difficult and –”

“Difficult?” Audrey’s voice screeched, several octaves above her regular register. “Percy you’re her boss and that’s sexual harassment! Even when we were dating you wouldn’t so much as hold my hand because you said affection didn’t belong in the workplace.”

“It wasn’t sexual harassment,” he argued, his brain working a mile a minute to try and find a way to change the narrative of what Audrey had walked in on.

“You’ll need to file a report,” Audrey said shortly. “I’m sure since she’s… her, that it won’t go anywhere, but it has to happen regardless.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Since she’s her?”

“She might not have gone to Azkaban, but Pansy Parkinson is still not someone the Ministry is going to care about. I doubt they’ll take this farther than a slap on the wrist for you. Actually,” Audrey paused for a moment, “this may be more of a problem for her and her reputation than yours, Percy. You might be slumming, but she’s the one whose probation is on the line.”

Percy froze for only a moment before he fixed Audrey with a glare. “This is none of your business, Audrey. You’re right, I’m her superior and I’m the one this falls on, not her. I’ll make sure the paperwork gets filed correctly so that if there are any consequences they are mine and mine alone.”

Audrey glared back at him, her brown eyes shooting daggers. “I’ll be checking to make sure the paperwork is filed correctly.”

“Since when have you known me to not follow through on something, Audrey?”

“Since you’re clearly no longer the wizard I thought you were,” she answered coldly.

Before Percy could respond, Audrey spun on her heel and marched out of his office, slamming the door behind her.

Percy took several deep breaths, trying to calm the inner rage that was coursing through his body.

It was fine. Everything was fine. He would write up the sexual harassment paperwork, have Pansy sign it in the morning, and then he would submit it and hope that it would simply disappear in the Ministry archives as many things of that nature tended to do.

He was in control of the situation.

He was in control of –

He was fucked.

Chapter Text

Three

“We need to schedule a meeting,” Percy informed Pansy when she walked into his office with forms that needed to be signed.

“Congratulations.”

Percy scowled. “I need you to schedule a meeting with those involved with PIMR so we can discuss the reasons behind the gala. It won’t go well if they aren’t aware of the purpose.”

Pansy waved her hand and scoffed. “Oh, they’re aware. Make nice, spend money, have society go ‘yay’ and leave them alone to sulk in their manors.”

“Ms. Parkinson,” Percy said sternly. “Please take this seriously.”

Pansy smirked and leaned down to place her hands on Percy’s desk, most likely knowing perfectly well that her blouse gaped open at the top and gave Percy a wonderful view of the tops of her breasts.

“Let us not forget what happened the last time you called me Ms. Parkinson in your office.”

Percy flushed slightly, but cleared his throat and pulled a piece of parchment from his desk to slide in front of her. “Ah, yes. Speaking of – I need your signature on this so I can file it.”

Pansy glanced down at the parchment, gave a dark laugh, then cast an “incendio” at it.

A shout escaped Percy and he quickly doused the flaming parchment with water before it could catch anything else on his desk on fire.

“Pansy! For Merlin’s fucking sake!”

Pansy’s eyes went wide and she blinked innocently up at Percy. “Oh, whatever did I just do?”

“Now I have to write up a new harassment report for you to sign – because I have the time.” Percy aggressively vanished the half-burnt mess on his desk and glared at the witch standing across from him.

“I told you last night, I liked it. Therefore it does not count as harassment.”

“I’m your boss, therefore it counts as harassment regardless of whether or not you liked it.”

“If you write it again then I’ll just burn it again,” Pansy said flippantly as she looked at her nails.

Percy closed his eyes and counted to ten before speaking again. “Ms. Parkinson, please schedule a PIMR meeting with the Posh Idiots, as you so kindly call them, for tomorrow afternoon. We’ll deal with the harassment paperwork later.”

Pansy stood up and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll schedule the meeting, but I won’t be signing anything.”

Percy scowled as she sauntered out of the room.

* * *

Looking around the room, Percy took in the posh idiots, as Pansy called them, and began checking them off on a list he had.

Malfoys – check. Flints – check. Selwyns – check. Puceys – check. Bullstrodes – check. Davis’ – check. Greengrasses – check.

By the time he was done there were one or two members from about seventeen different families. He had to be honest with himself, it was a larger show of people than he had been expecting and he was slightly nervous to be speaking in a room full of people that would have killed him for being from a family of blood traitors had he not separated himself from his family during the war.

“Alright, the purpose of today is to have an open discussion,” Percy began before immediately being interrupted.

“An open discussion about what?” Marcus Flint called out from his seat.

Percy ground his teeth together, but presented a professional smile. “An open discussion about how we’re going to, collectively, show that we want reform and we want to reintegrate into society.”

Daphne Greengrass rolled her eyes and flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “Yes, yes. Blood purity is bad. Muggles are not dirty. Are we reformed?”

Pansy snickered to his left and Percy shot her a look. “Ms. Greengrass, let’s really brainstorm what that looks like. You say blood purity is bad. How so?” When she didn’t answer he opened the question up to the room. “Anyone?”

“Well, clearly being a pureblood doesn’t make you special,” Narcissa Malfoy spoke up. “Not anymore, anyways,” she added under her breath.

“Still special enough to keep your husband from the Dementor’s Kiss,” Theo Nott added.

“My husband,” Narcissa said with a sneer, “Is paying for his crimes in Azkaban.”

Theo rolled his eyes and gave a low chuckle. “Yeah, five years for housing the Dark Lord? Please. Your money and name are still keeping your family high in society’s graces.”

“You have no –”

“Enough!” Percy cut them off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think this is necessarily helping.”

“May I?” Pansy asked Percy, who nodded, glad to have someone else take the reins.

“Please, go ahead, Ms. Parkinson.”

“Blood purity isn’t bad,” Pansy began. “Being a pureblood is nothing to be ashamed of and just as muggleborns shouldn’t be ridiculed for coming from a different heritage, neither should we. The difference is that we can’t think we’re better for being pureblood. We’re not better because of how far we can trace back our magical lineage. We’re better because of where we stand in society.”

Percy blanched. “Well, that’s not exactly –”

“That being said,” Pansy continued as if Percy hadn’t spoken, “Our names still mean something. If we want to convince the wizarding world that we’ve changed our stance on blood purity, that means we have to put our money where our mouth is. At the gala we will be given the opportunity to support muggleborns as they enter our world. They currently do not enter our world until they are Hogwarts age, but we all know that the names for Hogwarts are written down at an early age. How can we support these Muggle families in introducing their children to the magical world earlier?”

Percy felt the tension in his chest ease as Pansy continued.

“For that matter, how can we learn from muggleborns and their families? Muggles have gotten this far in life without magic, which is still astounding, but have they discovered things we haven’t? There is still a Statute of Secrecy, but as more muggleborns are identified, is there not a way for us to better integrate our worlds?”

A scoffing sound came from across the room. “So what, do we start inviting Muggle parents to tea in Diagon? Aren’t the lines blurred enough as it is?”

Pansy just rolled her eyes. “Then perhaps it’s time we just erase the lines when it comes to those with magical children. If we keep pretending the wizarding world is more civilized then we might as well start acting like it,” she said, her voice cool. “That means we should be building bridges, not building moats. However, if the idea of a Muggle in Flourish and Blotts makes you that insecure, then perhaps your issue isn’t with them, but instead with how fragile your family legacy must be.”

Percy’s eyes widened at Pansy’s dig and it took a few moments before he realized it was his time to speak again. By the time the meeting was over Percy wasted no time in grabbing Pansy’s arm and excusing them. Percy dragged Pansy through the Ministry and after looking both ways, pulled her into his office and slammed the door closed, pushing her up against it as soon as it shut.

Pansy opened her mouth to presumably argue at being man-handled, when Percy cupped her face in his hands and slammed his lips to hers. It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t soft or sweet, no this kiss was hungry and Percy was taking everything he could from it. Pansy met him with her own desperation and her hands slid up his chest to grip at his shirt.

“That was so,” Percy said between kisses, “fucking hot.”

Groaning, Percy pressed his hips against Pansy, effectively pinning her against the door, his arousal evident as it pressed against her. Pansy nipped at Percy’s bottom lip before pulling it into her mouth and sucking on it.

“Is that all it takes to turn you on, Weasley?” Pansy panted, her lips moving against his. “Me telling someone off?”

Percy let go of Pansy’s face and slid his hands down her body, gripping her hips tightly as he rolled his hips against hers. He slid his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss as Pansy moaned and lifted a leg to wrap around Percy. Percy caught her thigh and thrust against her, causing them both to moan.

“Bloody hell.” Percy tore his mouth away from hers and began pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and down her neck. “Tell me to stop.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Pansy let out with a gasp as Percy nipped at her neck, soothing the bite with his tongue.

“We shouldn’t,” Percy said, the words more for himself rather than for Pansy, whose hips were rocking up to meet his thrusts against her.

“We absolutely shouldn’t,” she agreed as her head fell back against the door as Percy continued to ravage her skin.

“This is against the rules.” Percy slid his hand up Pansy’s thigh and under her skirt, reaching around to cup her arse.

“I hate rules.” Pansy tore at the buttons of Percy’s shirt, taking no care at all as she pushed the fabric from his shoulders, leaving just his tie hanging loosely around his neck.

Percy used the hand that wasn’t squeezing her spectacular arse to slide under the front of her skirt. He ran a finger along the center of her knickers and groaned at the dampness of the fabric.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lifting his head to claim her mouth again.

Pansy rocked her hips against his hand, a whimper escaping her as Percy’s finger pressed harder against her knickers. She rolled and wiggled her hips, circling her clit against his hand, desperate for the friction she was creating.

“Weasley,” she panted against his lips. “Fucking touch me already.”

She felt Percy’s lips curve against her own as he smiled. “Like this?” He teased his finger against the elastic of her knickers.

“Weasley,” Pansy ground out. “I’m warning you.”

“I wouldn’t want to have to fill out another sexual harassment form. Perhaps we should stop.” He slid his finger under the elastic and brushed lightly up the outside of Pansy’s hot, wet center.

“Sexually harass me, dammit!” Pansy pressed against his finger, rocking her hips upwards and causing his finger to slide between her folds.

“Say please,” Percy whispered, circling her clit with his fingertip.

“Don’t stop,” she moaned. “Keep doing that.”

Disregarding her pleas, Percy stopped. He slid his finger out of her knickers and took his hand fully out from under her skirt.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you to say please,” he replied simply. “You didn’t.”

“Please don’t stop,” Pansy all but whined, and Percy knew that if she wasn’t so overcome with want that she would have hated the way the words came out of her mouth in a whine.

“No, no. I think now you’re going to have to beg for it.”

“Please touch me… Mr. Weasley.”

Percy’s eyes darkened at her use of his name and he felt his cock jump in his trousers. “Oh, you are trouble, Ms. Parkinson.”

“Please, Mr. Weasley. I’m begging you to touch me. Make me come on your hand. Please.”

Smirking, Percy shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Pansy opened her mouth in outrage, but her words caught in her throat as Percy slowly lowered himself to his knees. He shoved her skirt so that it bunched around her waist and grabbed her knickers, sliding them down her legs. He carefully lifted one foot, then the other, before pocketing the lace.

“I think I’m going to taste you instead, Ms. Parkinson.” Percy lifted one of her legs and gently placed it on his shoulder.

Pansy let out a whimper as he kissed her knee and began dragging his lips up her creamy white thigh. Percy inhaled deeply when he got to the juncture of her thigh and let out a shuddering breath.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he whispered against her skin.

“I’m going to kill you,” Pansy hissed.

She let out a squeak as Percy pinched her thigh, but he wasn’t in the mood to tease her anymore. He wasn’t in the mood to tease himself anymore. So instead of reprimanding her, like he was tempted to do, he let his need to taste her win and flattened his tongue to lick a long stripe up her hot center.

Oh, fuck. Pansy Parkinson tasted like sin, and Percy was starving. He moaned into her cunt and began lapping at her folds, drinking up the arousal that was dripping from her. With a gasp, Pansy’s hands went straight to his hair and her fingers wound themselves around the red curls. Percy wrapped a hand around the thigh on his shoulder and gripped her arse with the other, spreading her farther open for him while he alternated between licking at her center and swirling his tongue around her clit.

“Fucking hell,” Pansy whimpered as she rocked her hips against Percy’s face, knocking his glasses askew.

Percy pulled back and looked up at Pansy, his eyes hooded and his glasses smeared with her desire. Grabbing the wire frames, Percy took his glasses and carefully pocketed them as if Pansy’s cunt wasn’t just centimeters from his face, waiting for him to continue feasting on her. Grabbing his wand, he cast a non-verbal silencing charm at the door, before setting it off to the side.

Percy always did things in a measured manner, putting a lot of thought and care into each and every action he took. It was why, as he brought his mouth back to Pansy’s warm center, he was so deliberate with every lick and suck. He listened to the gasps that came from Pansy when he swirled his tongue at her entrance, he paid attention to the tugs she gave his hair when he sucked hard on her clit and swirled his tongue around the pulsing bud. Pansy was rocking her hips against his face, her breath coming in short staccatos, when Percy slid his index finger inside of her.

Pansy’s cunt clenched around his digit and Percy swore at how easily he slid through her arousal. He added a second finger and curled them inside of her, loving the wet sound the action made. Percy brought his mouth back to her clit, licking and sucking as he thrust his fingers into Pansy’s tight cunt. When he could feel Pansy’s cunt begin fluttering against his fingers he took the hand he had on her thigh and pressed it against her hip, pinning her to the door. Pansy cried out in frustration as she was no longer able to rock against his face, but Percy doubled down his efforts and fucked her faster with his hand as he lapped and sucked at her with his mouth.

A high keening noise emitted from Pansy and suddenly she was coming on his face, her fingers tight in his hair, holding his head to her. Percy released the hand on her hip and Pansy began fucking herself on his hand and against his face with a wild abandon that had Percy thanking Salazar Slytherin himself.

“Oh, fuck!” Pansy cried, “Oh fucking fuck, Weasley – Percy – I –” her voice broke off as her orgasm coursed through her.

Percy carefully lowered her leg to the floor, taking note of her shaking body as the aftershocks of her orgasm quivered through her. He licked his lips and ran a hand over his face, wiping off some of Pansy’s arousal, before kissing her chastely.

“Say my name again,” he demanded, his hands already undoing the buckle of his belt.

“What?” Pansy asked breathlessly, her green eyes seeming dazed.

“Say,” Percy shoved his trousers and pants down his legs, letting his cock spring free, “my name,” he reached down to grip under Pansy’s thighs and hoisted her into the air, “again,” he growled as she wrapped her legs around him.

Pansy didn’t argue this time. “Percy.”

“I want to hear you scream as you come around my cock, do you understand?” He positioned himself against her and slid the tip through her folds, coating himself with the desire that was dripping out of her following her orgasm.

Pansy nodded her head up and down quickly before reaching down to wrap her hand around his cock. She lined him up with her entrance with one hand and grabbed his tie with the other, pulling his face to hers.

“Fuck me until I scream, Percy,” she whispered against his lips.

Percy’s carefully controlled demeanor finally snapped and he thrust up into Pansy with no hesitation, burying himself to the hilt. He lowered his head to her shoulder and groaned as her cunt squeezed around his cock. He pulled back and thrust into her again, hissing as Pansy’s nails made their way to his back. Pansy rolled her hips and Percy bit down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder as he sank deeper inside of her, knowing that he was leaving yet another mark on her otherwise unblemished skin.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he said as he thrust into her again. “You’re taking me so well, Pansy. Such a good girl.”

Pansy whined at his words, and Percy smirked into her neck, loving that she clearly had a praise kink. It briefly flashed through his mind that Audrey didn’t seem to have had any kinks.

“Oh, do you like that? Do you like being such a good girl for me, Pansy?”

“Yes,” Pansy keened, scratching down his back. “I want to be good for you!”

“Whose good girl do you want to be?”

“Yours! Fuck, you feel so fucking good inside of me, Daddy!”

Percy’s rhythm faltered as he processed what she’d just said. “What did you just call me?” He asked in a low voice.

“Daddy,” Pansy repeated, rocking her hips. “I want to be so good for you, Daddy. Please!”

Percy roared and held Pansy’s hips against the door in what was sure to be a bruising grip as somehow fucked her even harder, the door rattling behind Pansy’s back with every one of Percy’s thrusts.

“I’m going to ruin this cunt for anyone else,” Percy growled.

“Yes! Yes, Daddy, fuck me harder. Please!” Desperation was clear in Pansy’s voice, as was the way she wrapped her legs even tighter around his waist.

“Will you come if I fuck you harder?” Percy was pistoning into Pansy with such abandon that he knew he himself wouldn’t be able to last much longer. “Is that what you need?”

“Yes!”

He could feel the way her body was tensing, her cunt clenching around his cock as a whine began to escape her lips. He glanced at her face and saw her with her mouth parted, eyes closed in ecstasy – she looked like a goddess

“I’m going to fucking fill you up,” Percy said through gritted teeth. “I’m going to fill you up with Daddy’s come until it’s dripping out of you.”

Pansy couldn’t answer with words as her orgasm broke, instead screaming as she came. Percy felt his balls clench and then he was coming with a roar, hot ropes of his come painting the inside of Pansy’s walls as her cunt milked every last drop from him.

For a few minutes they stayed there, Percy breathing heavily into Pansy’s neck, Pansy with her legs barely holding on to Percy, her arms limp at her sides. Then Percy gently lifted Pansy off his cock and lowered her carefully to her feet, catching her when she struggled to hold her weight.

“Careful,” Percy murmured with a smirk, steadying her before he pulled his pants and trousers up.

Pansy looked up at Percy with hooded eyes. “Merlin fuck.”

“Merlin fuck, indeed,” Percy agreed.

Percy tugged on Pansy’s skirt, pulling it down over her hips and covering her bare skin, before bending down to grab his shirt, which lay discarded and wrinkled on the floor. Frowning slightly, Percy accio’d his wand to his hand and cast a charm on the garment to rid it of wrinkles before sliding it over his arms and buttoning it back up.

“Well.” Pansy straightened the rest of her clothes and ran her fingers through her hair. “I suppose I have to write up the notes from the meeting for you.”

“Yes, of course.” Percy nodded and quickly walked around his desk to sit in his chair. “I’ll be working on some things for the PIMR gala. If you could get the notes for me by the end of the day, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’ll have them to you within the hour,” Pansy replied, opening the door to Percy’s office.

“Oh,” Percy slid his hand into his pocket and held out her knickers. “Here.”

“You can keep those as a souvenir. Daddy.”

With a Slytherin smirk and a wink, Pansy strode out of the office, closing the door carefully behind her and leaving Percy behind with his smeared glasses and the scent of sex in the room.

Chapter Text

Four

The gala came upon them so quickly that Percy and Pansy didn’t have any time to discuss the fact that they shagged against Percy’s office door. Of course, it didn’t help that Percy refused to break from his professional demeanor around Pansy no matter how hard she tried to engage him in flirty conversation.

Another woman may have felt insecure, or vulnerable, but not Pansy Parkinson. Pansy took note of things that might have been minute for others, but spoke volumes from Percy. For anyone else, placing a hand against someone’s lower back could be a casual gesture, leaning down to check someone’s work could mean absolutely nothing, but for Percy – it conveyed significant information.

Pansy saw how Percy interacted with other people at the office and he always kept a formal distance, particularly with witches. So when his fingers grazed her waist, his eyes lingered, or his arm brushed hers when he took a look at the memos she was writing – Pansy noticed.

Pansy also noticed the way his eyes widened when she stepped into his office before the gala, dressed in a slinky emerald green cocktail dress. While the dress boasted long sleeves, the bodice dipped down significantly and the back was a series of thin straps that crisscrossed across her smooth skin. Percy had on a black suit, but the jacket was on his chair, leaving him in just a waistcoat. His sleeves were rolled up on his forearms and Pansy licked her lips – she was such a slag for sexy forearms.

“Are you ready?”

Percy simply stared at her for a moment before he shook his head as if to clear it. “Pardon?”

Pansy gestured towards the door. “Are you ready? It would be remiss of us to be late to the gala we’re throwing. Or, the gala that you’re throwing. I simply chose the linens.”

Percy surprised Pansy by giving a small snort. “You and I both know this gala would have been a disaster without your input.”

“You’re right,” Pansy smirked. “Now, shall we?”

Percy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Let’s do this.”

His hand was on her back as he led them out towards the lifts, but Pansy slid her hand onto his arm as the lifts brought them down to the Ministry ballroom. Percy looked down, but remained silent, instead bringing his gaze back up to stare straight ahead.

“You alright there, Mr. Weasley?” Pansy asked, taking note of his whiter than normal skin tone.

“I’m fine.”

“Of course you are,” Pansy said with a roll of her eyes. She turned and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, turning him to face her. “Listen to me. This event was planned by one of the best – me – and was overseen by the best – you – so the chances of there being any mishaps are slim to none. You should be proud of the work that you’ve put into this gala and the reason behind it.”

Percy pressed his lips together and stared at a spot over Pansy’s head.

“Percy,” she said his name quietly and waited until he looked at her. “You did a great job.”

Percy let out a long, slow breath. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For everything.”

Pansy smiled and straightened his tie just as the lift opened to the ballroom. There was already a large group of witches and wizards; some were dancing, some were crowding the bar, and others were mingling off to the side. Considering how early it was in the evening, Pansy was already dubbing the night a success in her mind. She glanced around the room and took note that the Posh Idiots were very carefully staying close together, not mingling with the rest of the crowd despite being fucking told to mingle.

Scowling, Pansy released Percy’s arm. “Excuse me. I have some matters to attend to. I trust that you can entertain yourself?”

Percy looked slightly uneasy, but nodded. “Of course.”

“Right then.”

Pansy marched across the ballroom and made her way to the very first Posh Idiot she saw – Marcus Flint.

“Marcus, darling how are you?” She airily pressed a kiss to both of his cheeks.

“Pansy. You look ravishing as always.”

“Yes, yes,” Pansy waved her hand dismissively. “What are you doing?”

Marcus gave her a bewildered look. “Drinking?”

Pansy plucked the tumbler out of his hand and drained it, the whiskey sliding smoothly down her throat. “It looks like you’re done drinking, now. Time to actually make people think you’ve changed your tune, Marcus. Go, mingle, and if I don’t see you talking to someone outside of our social circle in the next five minutes I will hex your bollocks right off of you. Got it?”

“Got it,” Marcus muttered under his breath before turning to walk away. “Fucking bitch.”

“I heard that!” Pansy called after him cheerily.

Pansy made her way through the group of socialites and slowly began sending them off on their way to actually interact with others the way they were supposed to. It would be difficult to prove they’ve changed their ways if they didn’t talk to anyone outside of their social group. When she felt a sufficient amount of mingling was happening she began searching for a head of red hair.

Unfortunately for her, the entire Weasley clan was in attendance and there was red everywhere.

She eventually found him talking to a couple she assumed to be his parents and began making her way over to them. As she got closer she caught the tail end of what his mother was saying.

“... can’t even make it to family dinners, but you can put on a whole gala like this?”

“Mum,” Percy said in a clipped tone. “This is my job.”

“A job isn’t more important than your family, Percy! Haven’t you spent enough time away from us? Yet here you are, still choosing the wrong side to associate with!”

Pansy felt her hackles rise at the woman’s harsh words.

“The wrong side?” Pansy asked icily, stepping beside Percy. “Please correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought the whole point of the war we just had was to prove that there aren’t different sides at all.”

Mrs. Weasley opened and closed her mouth, clearly unable to find the right words to comment back with.

“And for that matter, your son has been working tirelessly to ensure that there aren't any more sides in our society. Unless, of course, you want to ostracize members of society that once ostracized you? Please, Mrs. Weasley, tell me how that hypocrisy makes sense.” Pansy raised an eyebrow at the silence that hung between them. “Oh? It doesn’t, does it?”

“Of course we’re proud of the work you’re doing, Percy,” Arthur Weasley said quietly. “We just wish you’d make more time for your family. We missed you when – well, during the war.”

“I know that I have made mistakes in my past and I am trying to atone for them. Yet, somehow, during every family dinner I do attend, I’m reminded of my mistakes. Again and again. I’m trying my damndest to rectify where I went wrong, but none of you seem to realize that.”

As if drawn to the family drama, three other Weasley’s came over to stand by their parents. The living twin, the annoying Harpies player, and… Pansy wasn’t quite sure who the third was, but she thought he might be the dragon tamer based on the burn marks on his hands.

“What’s this?” The Harpies player – Ginny, that’s right – asked. “Percy finally decided to make an appearance since it’s his own gala,” she drew out the word.

“Gin,” the dragon tamer said in a warning tone.

“What?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’m just stating a fact.”

“She has a point, Perce,” the twin said before looking over to Pansy. “Can’t be bothered to see your family, but you’re slumming it with Slytherins now?”

“Slumming?” Pansy asked, her voice cold. “Please, do tell me how I would ever be considered as slumming?”

George opened his mouth to reply, but Pansy held up her hand.

“No, no. That was a rhetorical question as I am quite actually the opposite of slumming. Let us not forget who is always invited to events like this and who doesn’t receive invitations. It looks like even my status as the girl-who-gave-up-Harry-Potter can’t keep me off the invite lists.”

“Pansy.” Percy caught her wrist in his hand and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “It’s fine.”

“You’re right,” Pansy agreed, her voice rising . “It is fine. While your family may not be able to accept that you’ve repented and are trying your fucking hardest to make up for what happened during the war, I can see that. So can everyone else who’s met you and spoken to you over the last few months. Ask anyone else here and they’ll say that nobody wants reform more than Percy fucking Weasley.”

Pansy laced her fingers with his and gave his hand a tug. “Come on, we have somewhere to be before the auction kicks off.”

Percy looked at his family and nodded at them. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Together they left the Weasley family behind, mouths open and aghast at being called out for probably the first time ever. Pansy held tight to his hand and led him across the ballroom floor, out a side entrance, and into a courtyard that was lit up by floating, twinkling lights – Pansy’s idea, of course.

Pansy pushed Percy against the stone wall and brought her mouth to his in a flurry of lips and teeth. His arms wrapped around her waist and crushed her body to his as her hands went to his hair, her fingers tangling in the red curls.

“Godric, you’re fucking amazing,” he murured against her lips.

Pansy pulled back and held his face in her hands. “You’re amazing. Don’t you let anyone tell you otherwise – family or not, I’ll hex their arses.”

Pansy dropped down to her knees and began unbuckling Percy’s belt. When his hands tried to push hers away she swatted at them.

“Let me show you how amazing you are, Percy.”

With a yank, his trousers and pants were around his ankles and he sprang free, his cock bouncing off the tip of her nose. Pansy pulled her hair to the side and watched Percy’s face as her tongue darted out and licked off the precum that had appeared at his tip. Pansy swirled her tongue around his tip like an ice cream cone and watched as Percy’s eyes rolled back into his head. When he opened them again and focused on her, she pulled her head back and spat on him. There was a string of saliva stretching from the tip of his cock to her bottom lip and Percy smirked as Percy gave a choking gasp.

Pansy leaned her head forward and wrapped her lips around him, using her spit to slide her mouth up and down his shaft, sucking as she came back up toward the head. Percy was panting as he tangled his fingers in her hair. Pansy grabbed the base of his shaft with her hand and pumped him up and down as her tongue went back to licking him, from the underside to the tip and all around again. Suddenly her hand disappeared and Pansy took him deep as her hands gripped the backs of his thighs, his cocking hitting the back of her throat. She gave a small gag, but hummed against him, and knew that she was very close to sending him over the edge. She bobbed her head forward and backward, cheeks hollowing out as she sucked the length of him, taking him as far back as she could in her throat.

She cupped his balls and rolled them in her palm as he panted above her, his hands grasping her hair tighter.

“Pansy,” he pleaded, his control clearly about to snap. “Pansy, you need to stop, baby.”

She pulled her mouth off him and gave him a questioning look, one Slytherin eyebrow raised. “Why would I ever do that?”

“Because I’m going to come down your fucking throat in about ten seconds if you don’t.”

“You don’t have to hold back, Percy,” she crooned. “You’re allowed to fuck my mouth, you know.”

Percy made a strangled sound in the back of his throat before reaching down and pulling Pansy up and crashing his lips to hers. When he pulled back, his breath coming in short, he growled, “I don’t want to fuck your mouth right now. I want that perfect fucking cunt of yours.”

Pansy smirked against his lips as she grabbed her wand and cast a Notice-Me-Not charm and a Silencing charm. “How do you want me… Mr. Weasley?”

Percy’s eyes darted from side to side before he spun her around and bent her over a stone wall. He rucked her dress up around her waist and Pansy couldn’t help but wiggle her arse.

“You want me this way?” Pansy asked, spreading her legs and arching her back. The slap against her arse caught her off guard, but Pansy let out a low giggle. “Oh, Daddy’s coming out to play, isn’t he?”

Percy growled and slapped her other arse cheek. Pansy let out a quiet moan as the sting on her skin subsided under his soothing palm.

Leaning over her, Percy placed his hands on either side of her and his lips against her ear. “Daddy always gets what he wants.”

He pulled her knickers – if one could even call the tiny scrap of lace knickers – and with a single thrust, he was inside of her and Pansy gasped at the sudden fullness. He gave her barely a moment to adjust to the size of him before he pulled out and thrust into her again. He reached up and pulled the top of her dress down, putting her breasts on full display. Reaching around her, he palmed her full breasts, rolling her pebbled nipples between his fingers as he slowly thrust himself in and out of her. Pansy moaned and gripped the edge of the stone wall, pushing herself back onto his cock.

“That’s my girl,” Percy growled. “Fuck yourself on my cock with that glorious cunt of yours. I can feel you squeezing me.”

Percy reached down with one hand and placed his hand between Pansy’s legs, finding her dripping with desire. His fingers began circling the pulsing bud between her legs as he fucked her slowly and soon Pansy was mewling and he felt her cunt tighten around him.

“That’s it, baby,” Percy whispered. “Fall apart for me.”

“Keep doing that,” Pansy begged, swirling her hips. “Don’t stop!”

Percy pressed a little harder on her clit, but kept his pace steady and soon Pansy was coming with a cry. Her cunt was practically strangling his cock and the waves of her orgasm barely subsided before Percy grabbed her hips with both hands and began fucking her furiously. Pansy’s breasts bounced with every hard thrust and she had all she could do to hang on as she felt another orgasm building, still so sensitive from the last one.

“Again,” Percy demanded, growling in her ear. “Fucking again.” He pulled back and slapped her arse as if to emphasize his point.

Pansy closed her eyes as she felt her orgasm building again. Tears began streaming down her face, the sensation so strong and intense inside her. “Daddy, please! Please!” she cried.

Leaned her farther over the wall and deepened the angle, which was all Pansy needed to fall apart again. She came with a scream, fucking herself backwards on his cock as Percy continued his fierce thrusts into her. Finally his thrusts stuttered and he came with a roar, filling her with his come.

Pansy collapsed forwards on the wall, panting and uncaring that someone could walk outside at any moment. For all she knew her Notice-Me-Not could have failed, but in that moment all she could think about was the drip down her thighs as Percy pulled out of her. She closed her eyes and moaned as Percy used his fingers to push the sticky mess back inside of her.

“Keep that where it belongs.” He pulled her knickers back in place and carefully pulled the skirt of her dress down.

With a gentleness that he had not used a few minutes prior, Percy pulled Pansy up and turned her around, pulling her dress back up over her breasts and casting an anti-wrinkling charm on it. Pansy almost laughed because obviously it was alright to fuck her out in the open, but Merlin forbid her dress be wrinkled from it – though she did appreciate not having to do it herself. Percy cleared his throat as he tucked himself back into his trousers and buckled his belt, not looking at all like he’d just thoroughly shagged his secretary outside of the Ministry.

“Well,” Pansy said casually as she ran her fingers through her hair, detangling a few strands. “Shall we?”

Percy held out his hand to Pansy and she hesitated. “What?” he asked her, his brow furrowed.

“It’s one thing to make a point to your family,” Pansy pointed out. “It’s another thing entirely to let the entire gala know that you’re fucking your secretary.”

“Pansy,” Percy sighed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying! I’m one of the unredeemable, Weasley. Having me on your arm will only have people question your loyalties.”

“If people can’t see that we’ve changed, then that’s their problem to have. Now, let’s go – we have an auction to begin and Galleons to raise.”

Pansy eyed his hand a moment longer before reaching out and lacing her fingers with his. They ignored the whispers that followed them through the ballroom and made their way over to the stage.

“We’re almost ready for you to begin the auction, Mr. Weasley,” Minister Shacklebolt informed him.

“Perfect,” Pansy declared. “We have time for a drink.” She grabbed two glasses of champagne from a floating tray and handed one to Percy. “To reform,” Pansy said, raising her glass.

Percy clinked his glass against hers. “To redemption.”