Work Text:
Alone Together
Pansy sighed before grabbing onto her aggressively shaking portkey within moments she felt the usual pull at her navel that came along with this particular mode of travel, she loathed the feeling entirely.
When she arrived at her destination it was on shaky legs and an angry glare at the muddy grass below her. She’d been dreading this particular work excursion for months not only because one of the speakers was part of the now semi-retired golden trio but also because this weekend was about werewolves. Fucking werewolves.
She had been a journalist at the Witch Weekly for eight years now, slowly climbing the ranks to manage her own fashion column. No one had wanted to hire her after graduating, her Father was a notorious Death Eater and she herself was tied to shouting, "someone grab him" about a certain scar head on that fateful day in the Great Hall.
She had worked for free when Witch Weekly had first hired her but slowly and ever so surely she had clawed her way up to where she was now; head of the fashion department with her own weekly column of style advice and predictions. She loved it, loved the fact she had gotten there all on her own merit and that now instead of being linked to a certain Dark Lord she was honed as ‘the fashion witch’.
She was proud of her accomplishments, proud of how far she had come from when she had first left Hogwarts; but most importantly she was proud of the working witch she currently represented. Paving the way for working pureblood witches had never been on her intentions list but she was glad she had started encouraging witches to go against their expected pureblood duties.
She had been happy, very happy.
Well, that was up until last year when the magazine had been taken over by Patricia Lolander and there had been a few ‘shake-ups’. Said shake-ups had included everyone swapping sectors at least once a year as a 'great opportunity to widen your current working skills set' she could almost hear her repeating the sentence in that sweet saccharine tone of hers, it was eerily reminiscent of Umbridge.
What it was; was complete and utter bollocks.
Pansy didn’t like change and she certainly didn’t like the idea of ‘expanding her current working skills set.’
So now here she was miles away from home in some Merlin forsaken area of Scotland. She’d chosen this particular ‘work swap opportunity’ as it had been the last one on the list and it had also been the one with the furthest away date scheduled. She had thought, perhaps a little foolishly looking back that this entire thing wouldn’t last a month, let alone an entire year. To Pansy’s utter dismay the ‘work swap’ had been a roaring success with colleagues of hers looking forward to the next round of swaps.
Currently, Micheal Corner was in charge of her column.
The column she had worked her arse off to make happen, the column that didn’t exist five years ago, the column that meant everything and more to her.
Michael Corner was one of the least fashionable wizards throughout the entirety of England actually, scrap that he was the least fashionable wizard within the entire world. He wore the same outfit day in and day out at work threadbare jeans and a shirt buttoned all the way up to his neck not forgetting (in Pansy’s good opinion) the worst part of all, the man often wore odd shoes.
She groaned aloud thinking of the mess she would have to inevitably sort out next week upon her return.
The portkey upon further inspection had appeared to land her at the bottom of a gigantic hill, she could just about make out her inn’s location right at the top, she stomped in frustration wanting to scream into the void of the black Scottish night over the absurdity of it all. Her 1,000 galleon dragon hide leather stilettos were certainly not made for this. She zipped up her coat right to the top of her neck clutched onto her suitcase and started the long trudge up to the top of the hill.
The inn looked like a disaster, the outside light flickered on and off and the sign ‘Stein Inn’ was far rustier than acceptable even if they were intending to go for the ‘shabby chic’ look.
She somewhat doubted that was the inn owner's intentions.
She pushed open the creaky door almost tripping on the obnoxious step that happened to be there. When she finally arrived at the front desk there was notably no one to greet her and the entirety of said front desk was covered in dust with large cobwebs hanging above her head, luckily she had not seen any spiders, yet.
She scrunched her nose up in disgust not daring to remove a glove before reaching forward to press down on the rather old and battered bell that by her count should have been replaced perhaps a few hundred years ago.
A loud ding echoed throughout the place and she rolled her eyes when no one appeared. Craning her neck she looked over the front desk just as a large portly wizard seemed to appear out of nowhere.
She screamed stepping backwards and wobbling for a few seconds before righting herself and her almost twisted ankle.
He smiled at her as if what he had just done was totally normal.
“You could have given me a heart attack,” she spat clutching her chest.
He held his hands up to facilitate her, “sorry about that, the name Miss?”
“Parkinson,” she barked, “I’m here with Witch Weekly.”
He nodded along before he turned his back towards the wall, which she now noticed only had one set of keys left hanging behind it. He turned back towards her with the keys in his old weathered hand and she noticed how his appearance wasn’t dissimilar to Albus Dumbledore’s if the man had been much shorter and wider, his greying beard seemed to never end.
She snatched the keys from him and was about to ask where she was meant to head to in this disgusting dump when the inn’s door swung open again.
“Hello Otto,” a voice called, “how have you been?”
She didn’t even need to turn and see the witch to know exactly who it was.
She knew that voice.
It had been the voice of far too many swotty remarks during Hogwarts.
It was the same voice she heard every year at the war memorial ceremony.
It could belong to only one person.
“Ahh,” the wizard nodded, “Hermione so good to see you again.”
“Can hardly believe it’s been a year-“ her sentence promptly stopped when she saw Pansy. Pansy was easy to recognise, her sleek bob style hadn’t changed even after the years since leaving school.
She swivelled on her heel to face the witch behind her, “Granger,” Pansy greeted as she twirled the keys around in her hand, “what are the chances.”
“Why are you here?” She questioned or rather demanded.
“Rather rude,” Pansy bit back, “no hello?”
Granger turned slightly red blinking a few times before schooling her face back to neutrality, “hello Parkinson,” she began again, “what are you doing here?”
“Work,” she replied rolling her eyes, “obviously.”
“Where’s Michael?” She questioned her eyebrows knitting in confusion, “I thought he was in charge of the creatures division at Witch-“
“Part of the swap scheme,” Pansy replied cutting her off, “not that it’s any of your business,” she sighed, “I see you still haven’t learnt that curiosity killed the cat.”
Pansy didn’t offer her a chance to reply before she turned back to what she now presumed was the inn owner, “if you could direct me to my room.”
He nodded eyes seeming to twinkle over the entire exchange. He pointed towards a small set of stairs just to the left of her. She grimaced, the set looked just as old and dusty as everything else. She picked up her suitcase happy to be done with this entire awful exchange, her room would no doubt be a disaster but at least she would be away from Granger. She headed up towards her room without a backwards glance.
Pansy muttered a quick scourgify over the bed before she fell into it; she had done her best to ignore the rest of her room upon her arrival not wanting to dwell too much over the dust mites amongst other things. She closed her eyes attempting to relax, she was only just slightly settled when her room door opened.
Her eyes flew open and she bolted upright in bed; wand in hand and already aimed.
There stood Granger. Again.
“Parkinson? What are you doing in here?”
“Obviously this is my room,” Pansy replied seething, “I think I should be the one asking why YOU are in it.”
“Well I was told this was my room,” she replied sounding indignant as if Pansy was the one who was in the wrong place.
“I was here first,” Pansy screeched, “and I will not move!”
“Well this is the room I always stay in,” Granger replied hand on her hip, reminiscent of her stance from back in Hogwarts.
Pansy scoffed, “and I was given the keys to it first this time,” she shooed her away, “now I suggest you turn back and find another room.”
Granger bit her lip, she looked somewhat appealing doing the action and Pansy wanted to shake herself over her current insanity of finding goody-Granger remotely appealing.
“This was the last one,” she replied, “Otto told me I was lucky to have the last one.”
“Well,” Pansy replied crossing her arms, “it appears little Otto was wrong and actually I had the last room, so I suggest you find somewhere else Granger.”
“There is nowhere else,” she sighed, “the other inns are all full because of the conference, and they’re always booked up at least a year in advanced for the conference the following year.”
“Oh,” Pansy sweetly smiled, “isn’t that a shame, you’ll have to sleep outside perhaps with the werewolves you seem to love so much.”
Granger rolled her eyes, “good to see you haven’t changed from school.”
Pansy nodded batting her eyelashes, “nope.”
Granger then headed out of the room and Pansy sighed in relief. She could go and stay in a barn for all she cared, this room was already unsightly she couldn’t imagine having to share it with her of all people-
The door flew open again this time it was Granger and the little wizard.
“This is the last room,” he informed them both, he was smiling why was he smiling?
“I’m afraid you’ll have to share it,” he added.
“SHARE?” Pansy shouted, “SHARE THIS DUMP?”
“It’s not a dump,” Granger replied haughtily.
“Oh please,” Pansy glared at her, “you think the Weasley hovel is a lap of luxury so excuse me if I find your taste something to be desired.” She eyed the witches’ outfit her nose wrinkling, “and don’t even get me started on what you wear.”
“At least I wear cruelty-free items,” Granger retorted, “those things you call shoes are dragon hide leather. Dragons are on the endangered list-“
“BLAH, BLAH, BLAH,” Pansy replied cutting her off by shoving her hands over her ears, “are you quite done with your lecture? It’s so good to see your ever such boring personality hasn’t changed from school.”
“You’re intolerable.”
“Leave then!”
At some point, the inn owner retreated leaving the two bickering witches to it.
The bickering continued for what felt like hours.
A few hexes were thrown after a while but eventually, the pair came to a reluctant agreement that they would, in fact, share the room.
There wasn’t much to share besides a bed, a wardrobe and a bathroom. The wardrobe looked so warn and decrepit that Pansy gave Granger the entire thing to herself. She thought her clothes would be much safer nestled within the confinements of her suitcase thank you ever so much.
Granger would take the left side of the bed and Pansy the right, they were going to use pillows to split the thing in half, they had already tried magic, which much to both of their chagrins hadn’t worked, it appeared there were charms set on it to repeal such things.
The bathroom was a bit of contention between the pair, Granger believed Pansy would be a bathroom hog and Pansy knew that Granger would swaddle the entire thing in her hair. This had caused a further argument where in which Granger accidentally singed one of the curtains and Pansy had accidentally broken the wardrobe, it appeared only the bed was impenetrable to magic.
Eventually, they begrudgingly settled on whoever woke up first was going to use it first. A first come first serves kind of thing.
Pansy knew this was only the beginning of a very long weekend from hell.
Granger’s mass of curls only seemed to have expanded since their Hogwarts days, Pansy was annoyed as she found herself having to reluctantly admit it was in a good kind of way. It appeared that the witches’ hair no longer looked as if it had been dragged through a bush backwards but rather the curls looked intentionally voluminous and bouncy. Not only this but it appeared that she had rather grown into herself her body, which had once been rather scrawny, was now filled with glorious curves.
Pansy found the entire epiphany fucking jarring but she wasn’t blind.
After, their initial arguments they kept mostly to their sides of the beds. Granger appeared to practice her speech for the conference (thankfully in silence) whilst Pansy rather resentfully read Michael’s notes. His handwriting was an absolute disgrace with only half of his sentences actually making any sense.
“You wear glasses?” Granger asked her rather suddenly.
Pansy sighed slowly lifting her head up from her reading, “I never would have known, thank you for pointing that out to me.”
Granger’s cheeks turned a rather pretty shade of pink but she didn’t try and talk to her again for the rest of the night even as the pair readied themselves for bed. Pansy had done more than enough scourgify’s but she still didn’t feel entirely comfortable sleeping in the below-par sheets she worried over when they were last washed let alone the dire thread count. Pansy noticed the numerous eye rolls her unwanted companion sent her way as she herself settled (far too easily in Pansy’s good opinion) into her side of the bed.
Pansy-eyed Granger for the last time before pulling on her silk eye mask, she didn’t need on set early eye wrinkles on top of everything else. Her last conscious thought was that Granger was a peaceful sleeper, if she didn’t know her to be an annoying little know-it-all she might have even found her slightly parted pink lips to be endearing.
The first thing Pansy noticed when she awoke the following morning was that she was warm actually she felt rather…snug. There was a body pressed up against her back and a face nuzzled against the crook of her neck, once she removed her eye mask she noticed the arms looped around her middle too. Their legs were intertwined and the pillows that had once divided their shared bed so precariously were long gone. It appeared at some point in the night the pair had drifted; well actually Pansy was sure she hadn’t moved but rather Granger had gravitated towards her.
Whatever way you put it.
Granger was spooning her.
For the briefest of moments Pansy considered leaning into it, the witch behind her was warm and welcoming and it had been a long time since she had felt that. If she thought about it, it might have been years. But, after the briefest moment of even considering entertaining it, Pansy remembered who exactly the witch was and suddenly she felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over her.
She shoved Granger off, kicking her in the shin and removing her arms from around her stomach. The result of said removal was Granger landing in a splattered heap on the floor.
“Oww,” she moaned, “what the-“
“You were spooning me,” Pansy cut in, “it was ghastly.”
She didn’t wait around to hear Granger’s reaction as she ushered herself into the bathroom and locked the door. She did her best to ignore the rapid beating of her heart, attempting to drown out Granger’s inane questions through the door as she busied herself under the hot water.
Pansy knew she was hogging the bathroom if not for the fact her face had been ready five minutes previously but the constant thumping coming from beyond the door had increased tenfold.
“YOU’RE BEING UNREASONABLE,” Granger shouted, “I’LL BE LATE IF YOU’RE ANY LONGER.”
Pansy rolled her eyes but gathered the towel around her body and flung open the door.
Granger was glaring at her, her hair was rumpled this way and that and there was an air of restless magic in the room as she barged past her.
“All yours,” Pansy called to her as she swanned over to her suitcase, “there was no need for all that thumping now was there?”
She could feel Granger’s glare long after the door had slammed behind her.
Pansy was already bored and the day had barely even begun.
She had opted to leave quickly after getting dressed rather than bearing witness to Granger’s no doubt awful attempt at dressing herself. There was also the other part being Pansy wasn’t sure how she would react to seeing Granger come out of the shower, her being wrapped up in a small towel rivulets of water dripping down her body was playing havoc with her imagination. She needed to leave so she did.
She wrapped herself up against the winter chill and ignored Otto’s happy smiles as she headed out of the inn’s front door and towards the conference's location, the fact the conference didn’t allow Floo or portkey access was yet another gripe she had with the entire thing.
It had been a long drawn out and icy walk to the conference her heels had slipped on numerous occasions and she cursed Patricia hoping her boss could sense her wrath never mind her being back in Diagon Alley.
After being security checked umpteen times she had then been allowed through, there were hundreds of people at this thing but more than that Granger’s face was plastered everywhere, it appeared the little swot was the face of this convention.
Pansy wasn’t surprised it seemed the busybody do-gooder was always going to be on top no matter the bloody topic. It seemed whatever she devoted her life to or whatever cause she rallied around her face was going to be there, very much front and centre.
If it had been anyone else she would have been impressed but it wasn’t so obviously she wasn’t.
She was glad that most of the conferencegoers were giving her a wide berth seeming more than surprised that she was here representing Witch Weekly instead of Michael. She couldn’t help but agree with them that this was very much the wrong setting for her to be in: between her gender, style and for lack of a better term care over the entire subject matter.
It appeared Granger was the only witch interested in this topic. Fancy that?
“Colour me surprised,” Pansy mumbled as she took her seat for the first speech of the day, the empty seat next to her own was marked: Hermione Granger and not two minutes later the witched hurried in offering every single person in her wake a happy smile. It slipped promptly off her face upon seeing who she was seated next to, Pansy smirked at her tapping the empty seat before focusing back on the talk lead for the next hour.
The day carried on much the same after that, Pansy and Granger were lumped together during every single dull speech that the conference entailed. Granger took note after note shoving her hand up to ask all types of questions. Pansy felt as if she were back at school, watching on, as the Gryffindor know-it-all almost combusted with sheer academic excitement.
Granger was the final speech of the day and for the first time in Pansy’s life she could have sworn the witch looked nervous. She was repeatedly shuffling through the pile of cards in her hands and pacing in front of the door just waiting to be admitted into the room, much like the rest of them.
Pansy sighed, “will you stop with the pacing?” She questioned pointedly eyeing her feet as they shuffled this way and that, “you’ll walk a hole in the fucking carpet.”
Granger paused her pacing to glare at the witch in return, “do you have to be so rude all the time? This is a very important speech for me and I-“
“I didn’t ask,” Pansy cut her off rolling her eyes and looking down at her nails she paused, “focus on something when you’re speaking. Find a person or an object and pretend you’re talking to that alone.”
Pansy had no idea why she had offered her any advice it wasn’t as if they were friends, they were barely acquaintances. Still, the advice made the witch pause in her constant pacing and that was enough of a win for Pansy, neither witch had a chance to speak any more about it as the doors opened and everyone was ushered inside.
Pansy caught Granger’s eye on more than one occasion throughout her speech and for all of Pansy’s moaning regarding the conference and just Granger in general, Granger’s speech was the first and last she used her quick-quotes quill for. To say the witch was enthusiastic was putting it lightly but she really did appear to shine the more she spoke about the topic. She was positively abuzz when she asked for questions and numerous hands shot up.
She smiled at Pansy and Pansy could only offer her a slight nod in return.
By the time her speech ended, Pansy was ready for the only perk of the entire day: the free bar. She settled herself into the far corner of the bar, telling the barkeep, to ‘keep them coming’ after asking for her first firewhiskey.
“Parkinson,” a familiar voice spoke as she settled into the spare seat beside her.
“Granger,” Pansy replied offering her a salute as she knocked back her drink.
“Thanks for the advice,” Granger spoke again, “I always get so nervous just before I speak and that helped. Do you mind me sitting here by the way?”
“If I say no will you leave?”
“No,” she shrugged, “probably not.”
It appeared the more alcohol they laced themselves with the more they spoke to one another.
“You look good in glasses,” Granger confessed after perhaps her third glass. Pansy who appeared to be a lot better at handling her alcohol than her counterpart could only smirk at her.
“Really?”
“Yep,” she nodded signalling for another glass.
“Your hair isn’t as disastrous as it once was,” Pansy admitted a glass or two later.
Granger snorted, “thanks.”
“I read your column every week,” Granger nodded and then hiccupped before continuing, “It’s really good.”
“I find your enthusiasm for this droll topic,” Pansy slurred her sentence, “cute.”
“You’re so tall Pansy,” Granger admitted, “even without the heels, I like it.”
“Do you think I’m intimating?” Pansy questioned, “my ex said I was intimidating.”
Pansy no longer had a tally over how much either of them had to drink but if she had to guess it was far too much.
Granger shook her head, “no,” she pointed her finger aiming to touch her nose but skimming her cheek instead, “you’re determined and that’s,” she shook her head, “I think that’s sexy.” She sighed gulping more of another drink again; “my ex said I never made any time for her, far too concerned with work.”
“You’re passionate,” Pansy replied pushing a way-wood curl out of her face, “it’s very, very sexy.”
They laughed, drank and confessed until the barkeep told them they had to leave. They stumbled away, almost falling over each other and various other obstacles as they did.
The wind was biting when they finally managed to venture outside and a thick layer of snow had settled over the grounds. Granger’s scarf was wrapped haphazardly around her neck and her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol.
Pansy was sure she had never seen a more beautiful sight.
“Shall we make snow angels?” Granger questioned already about to bury herself in the thick white blanket; “I haven’t done that in years.”
Pansy shook her head she was drunk, not foolish, “let’s head back-“
“NO,” Granger replied shaking her head and cutting her off, “I don’t want the night to end.”
The comment somewhat sobered Pansy up, “why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Granger replied stumbling slightly as she slipped on a particularly snowy piece of grass, “I’m lonely,” Granger confessed, “Merlin I’m so lonely.”
“Ditto,” Pansy quietly admitted, her brain hardly in the right state to alert her to the magnitude of their current conversation, “my job is my life and-“
“You have little time for anything else?” Granger questioned the drunken state she was in seeming to disappear into thin air quite suddenly too.
Pansy nodded and held her hand out to her, “you won’t be lonely tonight.”
Granger nodded and slipped her hand in Pansy’s, “Merlin fuck I hope I don’t splinch us,” Pansy whispered as she attempted to apparate them back to their room.
They landed back in a heap on the floor with the pair of them laughing as the alcohol and the day's venture caught up with them both. Pansy wasn’t sure who made the first move but one moment the pair were laughing, the next they were kissing and dragging each other towards the bed.
Sunlight broke through the curtains and Pansy groaned a heavy headache blossoming across her forehead. She was once again wrapped up in a warm body, arms looped around her and a warm head pressed into her neck. She froze becoming stiff as a board for a moment as the memories of the night surged forward. Granger bundled closer to her appearing to want the pair to be as close as humanly possible. Pansy mirrored the same actions, as the previous morning debating over her next move this was still Granger after all.
“Granger?” She whispered tapping her.
There was no reply.
“Granger?”
“Granger?”
She sighed, “Hermione?”
Granger woke up slowly blinking at her. Their positions didn’t seem to bother her and neither did the person she was in the position with.
“A few more minutes,” she grumbled, “my head feels like it’s been hit over the head with a hammer.”
Pansy smiled despite herself, if Granger was willing to see if this thing was worth lasting past one night then so was she.
Sometime later Granger panicked and rolled out of bed hurrying to the bathroom to get ready. Pansy had more than enough to write her article but Granger was still one of the guest speakers and enjoyers of this conference. When she returned from the bathroom she had two hangover potions and a beaming smile on her face.
Pansy watched on as she got ready biting her tongue over her outfit choices, it probably wasn’t the best way to start this with constant criticism no matter how frumpy her particular dress choice made her look.
“Are you still going to be here when I get back?” Granger questioned as she stood just before the door twiddling her thumbs, it appeared the confident witch was now suddenly nervous over what last night had actually meant for them both.
Pansy sighed, “yes Granger I have a column to write in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Granger nodded stepping towards the door but not before pausing and shuffling back towards her once more, “we’ll grab dinner tonight then?”
“Yes,” Pansy nodded, “unless you’ve got another witch in mind.”
Granger nodded eagerly smiling at her, “no only you.”
“Come here,” Pansy instructed rolling her eyes as she pulled out a lipstick from her purse.
She walked over settling between Pansy’s legs, Pansy smiled at her before slowly applying a muted red to her lips, “good luck for today,” she told her before closing the gap and placing a gentle kiss on her lips.
“Don’t overthink this,” Pansy instructed her, as they broke apart, she reached forward and gave her hand a squeeze.
“Okay,” Granger nodded in agreement squeezing back herself before hurrying out of the room only stopping to offer her a final grin over her shoulder before rushing out of the door.
As Pansy lay there writing her article she couldn’t help but think her boss was on to something with this work scheme after all.
BONUS SCENE:
Printing Day….
“Have you seen this?” Pansy questioned as she chucked the latest Witch Weekly at her girlfriend's head. Granger picked it up giggling when she saw the headline and byline:
“Why a signature look isn’t over-rated.” by Michael Corner
So I like to wear odd shoes? I thought fashion was meant to be fun.
“I’ve seen the other article too,” she smiled up at her, “I loved it by the way.”
Hermione Granger, a witch on a mission by Pansy Parkinson
After winning the war and campaigning for elf rights it appears she is only just getting started.
“You did?” Pansy asked smirking.
Granger nodded, “I did you were very complimentary.”
“Don’t get too used to it,” she smiled at her, “only on rare occasions do I ever compliment people even if I do rather like them a lot."