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Summary
Pansy snatched the papers from his hands and ducked her head slightly, hoping she could get past the man by the door without her blush being spotted. As she reached the door, she chanced one more glance back at the desk. Percy was still sitting behind it and to anyone else he would look almost no different. But she could see the way his eyes burned, the very slight flush that dusted his cheekbones, the strain in his shoulders and neck, and the fact that one of his hands was balled in a tight fist. She had never realized before how much she wanted to undo him, or how much it would pull at her when he was finally undone.