Work Text:
The air was cold, the chill in the breeze nullifying the ice she enclosed around her heart. She hadn’t walked the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley for quite some time, avoiding this place for obvious reasons. And for reasons she rarely even understood herself. Her breath danced in faint clouds around her face as she sauntered through the busy alley, glancing aimlessly about without a destination or purpose. The shops looked exactly as they did when she had left them all those years ago and held an eerie peace over a thin layer of snow.
Pansy had been away in America after the war ended, finding the change to be a vibrant welcome to the melancholic tones of London. She’d wrapped herself in muggle culture, much to her parents' own horror, and embraced the woman she was over the witch she was supposed to be. She found love in America too; love in the shape of a blonde muggle from Queens.
Frankie was everything Pansy was not, and she soaked in the sunlight of her spirit those swift and passionate months they had been together every chance she got. But it was Frankie’s spirit that abandoned her in the end, over nearly as wild as their first rumble between the sheets. Pansy knew she couldn’t hold her, wouldn’t diminish who she was because she selfishlessly needed to be held herself, so she didn’t argue when Frankie kissed her for the last time and left her alone on the floor of their studio apartment.
“Well I’ll be. Pansy Parkinson. What can I get ya?”
Pansy shuttered, blinking herself back to the now and realizing she had sat down at a dusty old bar. The Leaky Cauldron . She rarely visited this place when she was younger, her parents seeing it as beneath them as it was too close to the muggle side of London but the room was unmistakable. She peered up at the woman behind the bar, a blonde with specs of silver dancing in her bright blue eyes. She smiled back at Pansy expectantly.
“Vodka martini. Dirty.”
The woman’s smile wavered but didn’t fall as she nodded and prepared Pansy’s request.
“An odd choice for you, Ms Parkinson.” The woman’s tone sounded slightly more professional than it had moments before. “I would have guessed something a bit more traditional .”
Pansy’s eyes snapped back to the blonde’s and narrowed. She wasn’t offended, but she studied the woman’s face more thoroughly. She didn’t recognize her.
“You assume to know much for someone I’ve never spoken to before.” Pansy fixed the sleeve of her coat for no apparent reason other than to appear less involved in the conversation. She was curious to know who this woman was, though she wasn’t exactly a nobody in this town. And the Prophet had been eating up her arrival since she returned just days ago.
“That’s true.” The woman presented the martini in front of Pansy. “But it’s my business to observe people.”
“Funny. I thought it was your business to serve .”
The woman laughed, sliding a napkin Pansy’s way before walking off to assist someone else who entered the bar. Pansy gave a silent snarl in the woman’s direction, lifting the glass to her lips and downing the martini as if it were meant to be shot back. The olives calmed the bitterness of the vodka, but it still heated her throat on its descent, and a shiver ran through Pansy as she fought back an episode of her memories demanding to play out in her mind.
She was fidgeting with the wooden stir in her glass when she noticed the shimmer of writing on the napkin, the ink partially expanded from the wet ring on the bottom of her glass. She quirked a brow, bringing the stir to her lips and nibbled it between her teeth. She flicked her eyes to the woman behind the bar - Hannah , the napkin read. She smirked as she caught the blonde before tossing some change on the uneven bar top and walked slowly out of the Leaky Cauldron and back toward Diagon Alley. She had a full wicked grin as she felt Hannah’s eyes on her back as she left.
It was late when she saw her again, and Pansy’s hands were practically ice by the time Hannah approached her. She rolled her eyes as she appeared through the puffs of air from Pansy’s staggered breathing.
“‘About bloody time.”
“I wasn’t quite sure you’d come back.” Hannah was smiling, her eyes sparkling under the strips of moonlight shimmering down over the rooftops. She clearly took the bite in Pansy’s tone to be the chill in the air. “Come on. Let’s get out of this cold, yeah?”
Pansy didn’t have time to reply before Hannah had taken her hand. It was warm against her cold flesh, and it sent a shiver up her arm.
“I almost didn’t,” she said finally, pushing a stray hair from her face. “Come back I mean. I typically don’t make it a habit to meet up with strangers in the night.”
Hannah stopped then, turning with a quizzical look in her eyes.
Pansy let out an irritated huff. “ What ?”
“You really don’t remember me do you?” Hannah didn’t appear offended from the sound of her tone, but her eyes held a level of disappointment. Pansy shrugged.
“I’m not apologizing for who I was in school.”
“Good.” Hannah said as she ascended a narrow staircase. Pansy ignored the pull in her stomach as she followed her, running her gaze over Hannah’s blonde hair. She pretended not to notice how differently her fingers settled between Hannah’s, or how she rather liked the tightness in her grip. It was almost as if Hannah was afraid to let her go. “I’d never want you to deny who you were. Or are.” She peered back and tossed Pansy a playful wink. Despite herself, Pansy breathed a laugh.
Hannah led them into a small studio flat hidden away behind decorated walls of trellises adorned with herbs and flowers. The combination held a pleasant and welcoming aroma in the air. It caused another smile to escape Pansy’s lips, allowing her eyes to flutter as she smelled the faint scent of her home in New York - stale wine and a perfumed infused pillow, the smell of Frankie in her arms after they’d made love.
“Sorry!” She heard Hannah say in the back of her mind, feeling a hard tug on her arm before the door shut loudly behind her. “I’ve been playing around with hybrids of rose petals and peppermint using pearl dust and the remnants of ashes from ashwinder eggs in my garden for the ales in the tavern.”
Pansy blinked. A lot.
“You say that as if any of that made sense to my ears.”
“Right. They manipulate desires? Sort of like a love potion. I could tell you were starting to get a bit-”
“Nothing so primitive as a love potion has any effect on me.” Pansy interrupted coldly. She ignored the half smirk ghosting on her couterpart’s lips.
“Well, the blooms are pretty fresh so…” Hannah let out a laugh. “I’ve always had sort of a love for plants so I tend to over explain them at times.”
“So you spike your customers’ drinks with love potions for what exactly? So they’d meet up with you after hours?”
“That does sound a bit out of sorts, doesn’t it?” Hannah released Pansy’s hand. Pansy had forgotten they were still touching - that is, until she no longer felt the heat from Hannah’s fingers. “But no. With everything that has happened here, a lot of the people who stop by still struggle, so I serve them ales and drinks that make them feel better .”
Pansy let out a soft hum in response, following Hannah to the small sofa in the center of the small flat. It was cluttered but didn’t feel crowded, bright colors adorning the walls and furniture in a comforting fashion.
“That’s actually,” Pansy paused, peering over into Hannah’s eyes, those silver flakes swirling, “quite nice, Hannah.”
“Thank you.” Pansy could tell she meant it, the appreciation beaming in her eyes but a silence fell between them and they both sort of stared off in opposite directions. “Where did you go anyway? After the war ended?”
It was a question she had expected to answer all evening though it still caught her off guard when Hannah asked, and she looked at her with an expression not even she could describe.
“America.” Pansy choked the word out as if she were trying to lie under veritaserum. “New York more specifically.”
“I hear there are wonderful places there for a witch to-”
“No.” Pansy didn’t mean to cut her off but she was getting the impression Hannah was making assumptions. “If I wanted to lay low properly I needed to seclude myself from the reach of my parents. So, I hid amongst the muggles for a time.”
Hannah’s expression didn’t change, though her head seemed to bob slightly in approval.
“How did that work out for you?”
“It was-” Pansy thought back to her time in America - her studio apartment over a Greek deli, the faint smells of lamb and bread in the hall before it was replaced with the endless sticks of incense Frankie insisted on lighting - patchouli, lavender, and completely her. “It was perfect.”
“But?” Hannah was pouring them both a drink. Pansy side eyed her a bit. “Don’t worry. This is from France, not my little garden.”
Pansy took the small glass and was relieved it smelled nothing like her past. “But, all things end eventually, right?”
“You know, every saint has a past, Pansy.”
“Cheers to us sinners with a future then.” She clinked their glasses together and stood with a casual roll of her eyes. “I’m no saint obviously.I just miss her- it ! I miss it.” She stumbled over her words in a very non-Parkinson sort of way she knew Hannah didn’t miss.
“You want to talk about it ?”
Pansy wasn’t sure. She knew she didn’t want Frankie anymore but she had fallen in love with who she became when she was with her. “Why?”
“Because it sounds like you might need to? Besides, I’m pretty good at releasing stress.” Pansy could see something luring in those specs of silver in her eyes.
“I’m a bit curious as to what you mean by that.”
“Look, you’re here for the same reason I gave you that napkin.” Hannah had stood, a mere inches from Pansy. “At least, I hope it is.”
Pansy smirked in spite of herself. “It was rather straightforward, Hannah.”
Hannah stepped closer. “You got the point of it at least.”
Pansy could feel Hannah’s breath upon her skin as she spoke, and she watched as Hannah’s tongue darted across her lower lip.
“ Yes .” Pansy could only whisper as she parted her mouth in invitation. Hannah connected their lips, the heat of her causing Pansy’s eyes to flutter as the blonde’s arms snaked around her. Hannah held her in a way that was unfamiliar, though she leaned closer into her touch. It was as if Hannah feared Pansy would run; as if it was her spirit meant to roam free. It was a realization she hadn’t expected to come across while kissing a cute stranger from her past, but the hunger in Hannah’s kiss brought back the sunlight Pansy thought she had lost. It wasn’t in the shape of a blonde, but of Pansy herself and she caught herself nipping Hannah’s lip in response to it.
“Feeling better?” The feel of Hannah’s lips were still lingering over Pansy’s as she spoke. “Your mouth is heavenly, Pansy.”
The blonde laughed, and Pansy realized Hannah heard the level of cheesiness in her words. She smirked in response.
“Heavenly maybe, but my lips want to do downright sinful things right about now.”