Ron got the owl a week or so later. “Free for a drink after work, famous boy?” it read. “I’d love to catch up.” He didn’t even need to see the signature – extravagant and written in what looked like lipstick – to know who it was from, and wondered why he felt guilty. It wasn’t like he and Pansy had actually done anything, just talked and drank. So why didn’t he want Hermione to know about it?
Regardless, he couldn’t deny that he wanted to see her again. He didn’t really know why but she had intrigued him, and any excuse to find out more about her or spend more time with her was sounding pretty good. In any case, he surprised himself with the speed with which he sent an inter-departmental memo upstairs to Hermione, telling her that he had a lead on a case and was going to work late. It was kind of true – he did have a lead and would probably work a little late anyway – but he was still lying.
Lying to Hermione. He had to admit it felt weird. However, it was also strangely liberating – if she took the bait. He’d never been able to lie to her successfully before and if he could manage it now it would be an achievement.
“What’s up, Ron?” Harry’s voice cut into his thoughts.
“It’s the Mortlake case,” Ron said, picking up a bit of parchment from his desk. “We’ve had a breakthrough – bloke called Albert Bungs reckons he’s spotted him in Devon. Splinched, no less. I was about to go over there and check it out.” This was at least true, and it was an important lead on a case that had mystified them for months.
“Good work,” Harry said with a grin. “Take Gumboil or Toke or someone with you, though, just in case. Could be a set-up.”
“Already got that organised,” Ron grinned. “Nellie Toke’s getting her stuff ready as we speak. We could be gone a while.”
“No worries,” Harry said. “Good luck, mate. And take care. I don’t want to have to tell Hermione that something’s happened to you.”
Ron shuddered. “Nor me,” he admitted. “We’ll be fine.” And, gathering up his wand, travel cloak and a few accessories, he wandered through the office to find Nellie Toke, the junior Auror, and get her organised for Disapparition.
His mind wasn’t really on the job, though, and more than once young Nellie had to remind him what they were doing. Finally he convinced her that he had his head in the right place and sent her back to London, saying that he had everything under control. And he had. Mortlake, who they had been tracking for months, had Splinched himself in Devon and had been captured and sent to St Mungo’s. Ron’s job, which was potentially too gruesome for Toke, was to try to find the missing leg – rumoured to be nearby rather than at the place of origin - so it could be re-attached.
Before long, however, he was hurrying back to London and to the assigned rendezvous point with Pansy. The leg could wait, he reasoned. This was something that for whatever reason he really wanted to do.
“Hey there, famous boy,” Pansy said, that seductive smile on her face. She wasn’t wearing much more than she had been the previous week in the pub and Ron had no intention of not enjoying the view. No bra, that was clear, and quite possibly no pants either, though he wouldn’t be finding that one out tonight. No, he was a happily married man, just meeting an old school friend for a drink.
School friend. Ha! He wondered why he was thinking of Pansy like that. Shaking his head, he convinced himself that it didn’t matter.
“How are you, Pansy?” he asked, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. He did that with everyone, it wasn’t just her – as he’d got older he’d just found himself doing it. Hermione was fine with it, it was no big deal. It was just a greeting.
Pansy, however, didn’t see it like that. Moving her face deftly, she caught his lips with hers and started kissing him with such passion that he was nearly knocked over. What was worse was he was reciprocating. So much for being a happily married man, he thought. A minute later they’d left the pub and found a spot in an alley nearby, both their hands busy with the other’s clothing. It was frenzied and hungry and oh-so-satisfying.
“Did you want to do it here,” Pansy whispered, her halter-neck undone and her voluptuous breasts on display for him, “or did you want to go back to my place? I’m just around the corner.”
Ron didn’t even stop to think and pulled his mouth away from her for just long enough to respond. “Why not both?”
She smiled into his kiss. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” She undid his trousers with practiced movements and he hitched up her dress, pushing her back against the wall. He’d been right: no pants. He was glad about that – not only did it mean that this wasn’t a rash decision that she’d regret later, but it made things so much easier.
Afterwards, her halter-neck tied up again and his trousers re-fastened, they scurried, separately, to the door to a flat above a shop across the road. Ron even cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself so he wouldn’t be recognised. He knew what he was doing was wrong but for some reason he couldn’t help himself. There was just something about her that he couldn’t stay away from.
He made his way upstairs to find her waiting for him, still dressed but with her halter-neck positioned in such a way that there was virtually nothing left to the imagination. Instinctively he went to her again, holding her, kissing her with more ferocity than he’d realised he possessed, letting her walk him backwards to what he assumed was the bedroom. Eventually she put both hands to his chest and pushed him backwards so that he landed on her bed, red satin sheets and all. Yes, this was Pansy’s room, undeniably.
This time they went more slowly, taking their time, enjoying each other’s bodies. Pansy was very good at this, he realised, probably from more practice than he wanted to know about. He appreciated it, though. He liked to be able to really let loose sometimes, and to be frank his sex life with Hermione was a little more regulated than that. There were times that she liked to be intimate and times that she didn’t, and they were so predictable that he could mark them on the calendar. This, though, this was absolute freedom. He knew instinctively that could do whatever he liked with Pansy and she’d be happy to go along with it. The very thought was liberating.
“I knew you’d meet me tonight,” she whispered in that husky voice when they had finished yet again. “We had that spark, didn’t we?”
“We did,” Ron acknowledged. “Dunno why, though.”
Pansy feigned shock. “You mean that these weren’t enough to get your attention?” she asked, gesturing to her breasts. “I showed you enough of them.”
“It’s never enough,” he told her, paying them some more attention. “They’re magnificent.” And twice the size of what I’m used to, he added to himself. It was nice to have some variety in life. Finally, though, he asked what he’d meant to ask the previous week but had never got around to. It didn’t really matter, but he was curious. “So what happened with you and Malfoy? Didn’t work out?”
Pansy scoffed. “Draco? Class A nutter, really. I realised that not long after we left school. Head so far up his own arse that he could see what he’d had for lunch.” She shook her head disparagingly. “Nah, he ended up with Daphne Greengrass’ kid sister Astoria. Last I heard they had a kid. Good for him – I certainly wouldn’t have bred with him.”
“Why not?” Ron asked, genuinely surprised. “Kids are great.”
“I’m sure they are,” Pansy said, “but not his. Can you imagine?”
Ron grinned. “Yeah, fair point,” he admitted. “Someone like Malfoy shouldn’t have been allowed to breed.” He was still playing with her breast and she put her hand on his.
“If you’re going to keep doing that,” she said, changing the subject, “we’re going to have to go again. You’re not allowed to lead me on like that.”
Ron faked a groan. “Again? Do I have to?”
Pansy grinned and rolled over to have him on top of her, that seductive smile back on her face. “Yes, famous boy. I think you do.”
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