Pansy's face was set, and a muscle in her jaw worked furiously. "I suppose it would be bad form to curse a Ministry employee in the Ministry proper, then?" she asked Cormac through gritted teeth.

Cormac bristled and forced himself not to reach for his wand, his hand twitching severely. He turned to address the little man. In a low voice he said, "Jenkins, you filthy Muggle-lover. You will apologize to my date--immediately."

The man paled and speaking to Pansy he said, "Please, forgive me. I should not have gotten in your way." He bowed his head and trotted off as fast as his short legs could carry him.

Cormac turned towards Pansy and reached for her, pulling her into his arms. "I'm so sorry, doll. I invite you to a night out and you're accosted by low-level Ministry peon." He shook his head. "Damn Muggle-borns, anyway. They have no place in the Ministry."

Pansy's face plainly read displeasure. "That one has no place anywhere. Horrid suit. A bath wouldn't go amiss, either." She shuddered a bit. "How can you stand working with someone like that?"

"Truthfully? I can't. He disgusts me. People like him disgust me. He and his type, always going about lobbying for Muggle Awareness and Muggle Rights. It's nauseating." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I need to stop by my office quick; would you mind?" He released her from his embrace and they walked towards a lift. "It seems as if there aren't that many people anymore who give blood status the credence it deserves."

She followed him, thinking about what he'd said. "Why do the Muggles need rights? Why would you need to consult them about anything? If wizards would just stay away from them, it would be best."

Riding in the lift to Cormac's office, he answered, "You're exactly right. Why do Muggles need rights?" He sighed as the lift announced, "Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement" in clear, bell-like tones.

Offering Pansy his arm, they weaved their way through the many cubicles to his office. Removing his wand from his black formal dress robes, he unlocked his office door with a flourish. "After you, M'lady," he said, holding the door open for Pansy.

Pansy swept in and watched him as he sat in his chair, preoccupied with what he was saying, and followed, perching on the edge of his desk.

"It's the Muggle-borns who lobby for Muggle rights. They worry their families will be somehow threatened--knowing about us like they do. I think Hogwarts is partly to blame. Sending letters, informing Muggle-borns that they're wizards, inviting them to mix with the wizarding population," he scoffed.

"Hmmm." She thought about it momentarily. "But then what would you do with all of the people who had magical tendencies from birth? The anomalies that occur in non-magical households. Something would have to be done; that would be a great risk to our world, as well. Right now, they're allowed into Hogwarts. Where would you have them go?"

"That's great question. I'm afraid I don't have an answer for it yet, but I know there has to be a better solution. Muggle-borns," he spat.

Pansy leaned back, resting her weight on her arms. "Do you mind if I ask you something, darling?"

"Not at all."

"How far back exactly can you trace your family? How many generations?"

"Eight on my mother's side. Ten on my my father's. All Pureblood," he said with pride. "Of course we've lost a few relations along the way who chose to taint themselves, but I suppose that happens in all families. I assume your pedigree is at least as illustrious?"

"I'm the thirteenth. On both sides of the family," she said. "What do you think of that?"

"Thirteenth. It figures," he said, smiling.

"What figures?"

"Well, you are a Slytherin."

"Is there anything wrong with being a Slytherin, Cormac McLaggen?" she asked, sitting up a bit straighter.

"Absolutely not, doll. It's just that if my stereotypes are correct, Slytherins are all about Blood Status. Of course, as a Gryffindor, I'm supposed to be-

"--Noble, brave, valiant, kind to children, the elderly and small animals," she finished in a bored tone. "Yes, yes, I've heard it already."

"Well, yes, and you can see how many of those virtues I encompass." He chuckled and pulled Pansy off his desk and down onto his lap.

"I am none of those things, darling," she said, kissing him softly. "But I do have an impeccable bloodline. That will just have to do."

"Oh, I think that will do just fine."

She continued kissing his neck as she murmured, "And I think you're brave. After all, how many men are courageous enough to date Pansy Parkinson?" Alright, a fair few. But still.

"I'm hoping just me," he answered without thinking. He decided he could verbally abuse himself later, not wanting to waste the opportunity sitting, quite literally, in his lap.

Her eyes widened and she looked at him, stunned for a moment before recovering and smoothing the dupioni silk fabric of her skirt.

He caught her hand and kissed it. "Your dress is beautiful. I know you probably spent a fair amount of time getting into it, but I have to admit, I'm a lot more interested in getting you out of it. Would you mind terribly if we were a bit late joining the others?" He stood up and placed Pansy gently down on his desk and slipped out of his dress robes, tossing them onto the chair in the corner.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think the valiant Gryffindor had ulterior motives for bringing me to his office tonight," she said with a smirk, turning slightly so that he could unzip her dress. "That certainly wouldn't be the case, would it?"

"Never," he said. "But now that we're here, and alone and it's dark and you're-" he paused as he finished unzipping her, "naked," he hissed as her dress pooled around her ankles, "now it is most definitely the case." He reached out for her, running his hands over as much of her smooth skin as was possible, cupping her perfect breasts in his hands, the entire time delighting in the view. "Beautiful," he murmured as he lowered his head to her breast to worship her with his mouth and tongue.

Pansy leaned back, intent on enjoying herself to the fullest extent. She laced her fingers through his soft hair, holding his head gently, and gasped as he used his tongue in ways that he knew brought her the most pleasure. Pulling his head up so that she could kiss him properly, she backed up until she was leaning against his desk again. Looking up at him, she whispered, "You ought to be illegal. I can't resist."

Chuckling lightly, he picked her up and placed her back on the desk, and she ran her fingers lightly across his shoulders until they found their way back into his hair.

She tugged gently, and asked, "You've got me, now what are you going to do?"

"I think the question you should be asking is, 'What am I not going to do,'" he said, his voice deep with desire. He crashed into her lips with his own, his hands on her shoulders, pushing her back against the desk until she was lying down. Cormac reluctantly pulled away from her, loosened his tie and pulled it out of his shirt collar, and quickly unbuttoned his shirt. He shrugged out of it and pulled off his undershirt, and moved back to Pansy, his eyes burning bright with a predatory lust. "You," he said, kissing his way from her neck to her navel, "are the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen." He edged off Pansy and the desk and kneeled down on the plushly-carpeted floor. He grasped Pansy's hips in his hands and slid her over to the edge of his desk, grinning as she gasped, and dipped his head towards her center.

Pansy moaned, closed her eyes and let the sensations take over. The feel of him, of his mouth, of his hands, of his muscled shoulders supporting her knees, heightened her awareness. She reached out and rested her hand gently on the back of his head, not wanting to stop him, just wanting to touch him. He really is far too good at this, was her last rational thought before she felt the familiar quickening and small tremors signifying her release. Losing control, she allowed delicate, panting moans to escape her mouth and finally cried out in pleasure.

It was more than Cormac could bear, seeing and feeling the formidable Pansy Parkinson coming to pieces before him--and knowing he had caused it. Unbuckling his belt and pushing down his trousers and boxers with one hand, Cormac stood and gripped Pansy's hips once more as he thrust into her.

Pansy's eyes flew open in surprise, and she sat up and wrapped a leg around his hip, smiling at the look of intense concentration on his face. You have to respect a man that takes his job so seriously, she thought. It wasn't often that she got to see this unguarded, softer side of him. He was always so carefully charming and put together. She decided she rather preferred the out of control Cormac to the buttoned down one, Although either one will do, as long as he keeps this up, she thought.

Cormac lifted his eyes to gaze at Pansy, and almost lost control at the sight of her merely gazing at him. He wasn't sure what he'd seen in her expression, but he knew he'd never seen it before, and he that he hoped to see it again. He lifted Pansy off the desk, supporting her with his arms as she wrapped her legs around him.

She quickened their pace and fisted a hand in his hair as a breathy sigh escaped her. Crashing her mouth to his, she tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth and kissed him roughly, her other hand moving down the defined muscles of his arm with a feather light touch. Gods, he's beautiful, she mused, before kissing him again.

With sweat starting to bead on his forehead, he forcefully pushed into her, wanting, hoping she was as turned on as he was. "You feel so good," he murmured. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his neck as he intently gazed upon Pansy as she began to find her release. Feeling her her muscles clench rapidly around him, he threw his head back, increased the tempo and let himself go, joining Pansy in a overwhelming culmination, one like they hadn't yet experienced together.

It felt as if she had melted together with him; her muscles wouldn't cooperate and she had a crooked smile on her face. She traced circles on his back, and waited for his breathing to become even. "Do you know how I know that I like you, darling?"

Cormac raised his head from where he'd collapsed on her shoulder and looked at her curiously. "No. How?"

She laughed softly and pulled his forehead to hers, their hot skin touching, and said, "I know, because I spent countless hours worried about actually being in the Ministry, six hundred galleons on that dress on the floor, two hours with glamour and hair charms, and right now, I don't care about any of it."

"Well, I don't think you've ever looked prettier than you do now, doll--if that makes you feel any better about your time spent primping." He looked down sheepishly at the puddle of green silk on the floor.

She put her finger under his chin and turned his face back to hers. "Men. You'd all much rather see the garment on the floor than on us," she said winking, and kissed him again, smiling against his mouth.

He kissed her back and held her for a moment, the pulled away to scoop her dress off the floor. "Why don't you let me get you dressed again and then do me the honor of actually attending the Ball with me?"

Pansy's lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. "I'd love to."

{Summary: Cormac and Pansy attend the Ball--by way of Cormac's office.}