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ayane_tsurugi) wrote2010-01-23 03:54 pm
ayane_tsurugi) wrote2010-01-23 03:54 pm
Entry tags:
Fifteen to Seven (Harry/Pansy, G)
Title: Fifteen to Seven
Author:ayane_tsurugi
Rating: G
Pairing: Harry/Pansy
Word Count: 428
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the property of J.K. Rowling, who is definitely not me. I make no money from my efforts here; I’m just playing around.
Warnings: None.
Summary: It was early, far too early for anyone in his right mind to be standing, much less Apparating across London.
Author’s Notes: Written for Round 2, Challenge 1 at the Harry/Pansy LDWS Competition on LJ.
Harry Apparated onto Diagon Alley and celebrated not splinching himself with a long yawn. It was early, far too early for anyone in his right mind to be standing, much less Apparating across London.
Glancing around, he saw Lucius Malfoy glaring discontentedly at the still-locked doors of Gringotts Bank - point proven.
To make things worse, he had absolutely no idea what he was doing there. An owl had swooped through his window just as he’d been getting into bed the night before asking that he meet Pansy in Diagon Alley at fifteen to seven. He rubbed at his eyes, the sleep still not completely gone.
“You’re late,” a voice accused lightly from behind him, and he scoffed.
“By two minutes, maybe. And how in hell are you this awake already?” Not only did his girlfriend look entirely conscious, but her hair was fixed and she, unlike he, was wearing pants that weren’t part of a pajama set.
She grinned. “Oh, come now, Harry. These are prime shopping hours.”
His eyes narrowed. “Pansy. Nothing’s open yet.”
“Exactly! No crowds.” She grabbed his hand. “Now come along.”
She pulled him through the deserted streets and down a side-street he wasn’t sure he’d ever noticed before, finally landing in front of a small shop simply labeled “Antiques.” It appeared closed like everything else, but Pansy knocked three times and an elderly woman pulled the door open.
“Good morning, Miss Parkinson. Mr. Potter.” She turned, walking behind a low counter and disappearing through a door into the back.
“Pansy, what are we doing here?”
“Hush.”
When the woman reappeared, she was carrying a small black box. Making her way to stand in front of Harry, she pulled the top open to reveal an ornate gold watch on a long chain. Picking it up and turning it over, she showed him the elegant inscription on the back: Potter. She held it out to him.
He took it and turned it over slowly in his hands. “She thinks it was your grandfather’s. It was part of an anonymous donation to the store that she suspects came from Dumbledore’s estate.” He popped it open, and folded inside was a photograph. It showed four people, two of them instantly recognizable as his parents, and the other two older, the man’s graying hair just as uncontrollably mussed as his son’s.
Looking from his girlfriend to the picture and back again, he couldn’t quite find the right words. Of course, with Pansy around, he never seemed to need to: she found them for him.
“Happy Birthday, Harry.”
Author:
ayane_tsurugiRating: G
Pairing: Harry/Pansy
Word Count: 428
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the property of J.K. Rowling, who is definitely not me. I make no money from my efforts here; I’m just playing around.
Warnings: None.
Summary: It was early, far too early for anyone in his right mind to be standing, much less Apparating across London.
Author’s Notes: Written for Round 2, Challenge 1 at the Harry/Pansy LDWS Competition on LJ.
Harry Apparated onto Diagon Alley and celebrated not splinching himself with a long yawn. It was early, far too early for anyone in his right mind to be standing, much less Apparating across London.
Glancing around, he saw Lucius Malfoy glaring discontentedly at the still-locked doors of Gringotts Bank - point proven.
To make things worse, he had absolutely no idea what he was doing there. An owl had swooped through his window just as he’d been getting into bed the night before asking that he meet Pansy in Diagon Alley at fifteen to seven. He rubbed at his eyes, the sleep still not completely gone.
“You’re late,” a voice accused lightly from behind him, and he scoffed.
“By two minutes, maybe. And how in hell are you this awake already?” Not only did his girlfriend look entirely conscious, but her hair was fixed and she, unlike he, was wearing pants that weren’t part of a pajama set.
She grinned. “Oh, come now, Harry. These are prime shopping hours.”
His eyes narrowed. “Pansy. Nothing’s open yet.”
“Exactly! No crowds.” She grabbed his hand. “Now come along.”
She pulled him through the deserted streets and down a side-street he wasn’t sure he’d ever noticed before, finally landing in front of a small shop simply labeled “Antiques.” It appeared closed like everything else, but Pansy knocked three times and an elderly woman pulled the door open.
“Good morning, Miss Parkinson. Mr. Potter.” She turned, walking behind a low counter and disappearing through a door into the back.
“Pansy, what are we doing here?”
“Hush.”
When the woman reappeared, she was carrying a small black box. Making her way to stand in front of Harry, she pulled the top open to reveal an ornate gold watch on a long chain. Picking it up and turning it over, she showed him the elegant inscription on the back: Potter. She held it out to him.
He took it and turned it over slowly in his hands. “She thinks it was your grandfather’s. It was part of an anonymous donation to the store that she suspects came from Dumbledore’s estate.” He popped it open, and folded inside was a photograph. It showed four people, two of them instantly recognizable as his parents, and the other two older, the man’s graying hair just as uncontrollably mussed as his son’s.
Looking from his girlfriend to the picture and back again, he couldn’t quite find the right words. Of course, with Pansy around, he never seemed to need to: she found them for him.
“Happy Birthday, Harry.”