Pansy sat sullenly at an outdoor cafe, pulling her red cloak more tightly to her and adjusting her scarf to ward against the chilly October air. After she placed her order with the waiter, a disgusted, "Tea, no milk, no sugar. Off with you." She noticed that she was seated next to a large planter of her namesake flower. She gazed at the purple and yellow petals, and, rolling her eyes dramatically, turned away from them, pushing her perfectly glossed bottom lip out another fraction of an inch.

Pansies were supposed to be hardy. Not lately, she thought. Her father had always teased her that he should have called her after the alternate name for the flower, "Do what I say," due to her persuasive, demanding demeanor. Her mother said that there was no difference anyway, so he needn't bother. Draco had always said that Pansy meant 'love-in-idleness,' and that she needn't do anything but adore him and look pretty. Gregory had whispered that Pansies stood for thoughts, that his Pans must always be in deep thought. As far as she was concerned, it was all nonsense. "Ridiculous," she murmured.

Cormac was distracted. Lately, every time he saw glimpsed a woman with long dark hair he thought he was seeing Pansy. Must be my eunuch-like status playing tricks on my mind, he thought. He would get closer, and these phantom Pansy sightings would turn out to be just some woman with dark hair - nothing close to Pansy Parkinson in the looks department. Seated at a table at the Blue Owl, a quaint eatery just a moment's Floo from the Ministry, he decided he had finally lost his mind. Seated next to a virtual wall of what else, but pansies, Cormac heard her disembodied voice ordering tea. This is just perfect. He ran through an imaginary checklist. Visual hallucinations? Check. Auditory hallucinations? Check. Yes, healer, the visual and auditory hallucinations began a few days after the trauma. What trauma you ask? Long story.

"Ridiculous," he heard Pansy's voice murmur.

Cormac froze. Sweet Merlin on high, the voices are answering me. Trying to figure out what a sane person would do upon hearing voices, and then realizing it didn't matter any more since he'd gone mad, he answered aloud, "What's ridiculous is me standing here, talking back to the voices in my head."

Pansy turned her head abruptly to see Cormac McLaggen, looking every bit as edible as the last time she'd seen him, standing not ten feet from her. As their eyes met, her traitorous stomach flip-flopped. She felt her heartbeat speed up, her breathing quicken, and she ground her teeth together, repeating herself, although her breath caught in the middle of the word. "Ri-diculous," she whispered. Pansy swallowed, forcibly taking control over her body.

"Well. Cormac McLaggen. If I weren't detached from such feelings altogether, I'd say that this little encounter might be awkward." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Sit?" she asked, pushing out the chair across from her with her toe gingerly.

Cormac's bewildered expression cleared and a smile broke on his face. "I'm not barmy. You're here." Shaking his head as if to clear the last few moments of crazy self-talk, he crossed over to where Pansy sat and took the chair offered him.

They were interrupted by the waiter returning with Pansy's tea. When she looked at Cormac to offer him some as well, her throat wouldn't work. What the hell is wrong with me?, she thought wildly. Oh, Gods, I wish he'd quit smiling. Maybe I then could form a coherent sentence. Improvising, she glared up at the waiter. "We'll need another cup." Still not looking at Cormac, she asked, "Do you take milk?"

Cormac nodded. "Sugar, as well."

Eyes still on the waiter, she snapped, "You heard him. Cup. Milk. Sugar. Go." She turned her gaze on the pot in front of her before steeling herself to look at him again. She took a mental inventory. Breathing? Calm. Facial expression? Calm. Voice? Under control. Heartbeat? No compliance. Shite. Her lips curved into a crafted smile. "H-how have you been?" Oh, good, Pans. Excellent conversational gambit. Father's money was wasted on elocution lessons, apparently.

Cormac answered hesitantly, "I've been well, Pansy. More importantly, how have you been?" He leaned forward across the table and looked at Pansy, searching her face for something. He smiled and responded cheekily, "Although, you are looking a lot more...alert than when I saw you last."

Pansy's expression turned sour. "Yes. I imagine so. I spent much of last weekend asleep, apparently. Haven't been able to lay my hands on the rogue elf responsible." She gestured to the extra cup the waiter sat on the table. "I'm forced to go out for my tea. Shall I pour?"

"Please," he murmured.

She poured their tea, and at his prompting, added a fair amount of milk and several heaping spoonfuls sugar. She sighed heavily, looking at her tea. "I envy you."

He couldn't have been more shocked. "Why ever would you envy me?"

She smirked and waved a hand towards the cup he was holding. "I adore sugar and milk. I miss sugar and milk.

He frowned and she leaned forward conspiratorially. "It's not as easy as one might think to keep fit, you know. One has to make concessions." She pointed to her cup. "Naked tea, for example." She chuckled. "I just can't seem to behave around you, can I? Even when we're being completely civilised, having an innocent cup of tea." There you go, old girl. More comfortable footing. Breathe.

"I like the way you behave, especially when we're having an innocent cup of tea," he said and smiled, his dimple showing, his eyes appreciatively taking in Pansy's lean figure. "But certainly your figure could afford a few milk and sugar splurges, love. You're quite lovely."

"A week on milk and sugar and I'd resemble the late Millicent Bulstrode, trust me," she said, laughing softly. The smile reached her eyes that time, and Cormac was struck by just how lovely she truly was. "So," she continued, "What is appropriate tea conversation? Ah, yes. Work? How long have you been with our esteemed Ministry?"

"Ever since I graduated from Hogwarts-more or less. I took about six months off to travel a bit-a gift from my uncle, and then accepted a job with the MLE straightaway."

"And are you pleased with your position there? Law Enforcement seems so... brutal. Any plans to run for head of your department?" She laughed again. "Or are you going to be Minister of Magic one day?"

"Am I pleased with my position? I suppose anyone else would be." His brow furrowed. "Everyone says it's amazing progress, and I guess it is if all I wanted was to be a department head." His eyes burning bright with determination, he concluded, "You're right in one, though. I'm going to be Minister someday. And to think you'll be able to say you knew me when..." He winked.

Pansy drew back slightly, as if to see the bigger picture around him. She narrowed her eyes and thought for a moment. Perhaps I've been seeing Mr. McLaggen in the wrong light. She touched her fingers to her lips lightly, and flashed him the detatched smile once more. "Really? Minister? And you're completely serious?"

"Absolutely. I realize I'm young and there's a lot of competition but I will do anything it takes to achieve my goals and I will not stop until I get what I want," he said with a steely voice. "It's only a matter of time."

She considered him for a moment. Cormac McLaggen. He was a completely beautiful man. He had hair that she just longed to muss, and extremely kissable lips. He was almost, but not quite, prettier than her. She hadn't really thought much about him past the 'fun' that they might be able to have together, however, looking at him now, she saw a determination, a shrewd and calculating man who would welcome the artful manipulation of people to get exactly what he wanted. He had a Slytherin side, but it was wrapped up in a handsome, dashing, perfect Gryffindor exterior. Pansy became a little giddy at the prospect.

"I assume you have people strategically placed to help to achieve your goals?"

"I have been making the proper contacts, shaking the right hands, doing favors for those who matter." Cormac was wearing a look of concentration and excitement Pansy had never seen before. "I'm going to have to ride on a few coattails yet to get to where I need to be, but matters like this take patience-and planning. I've plenty of patience and a fool-proof plan. So you see? I am plenty serious, Pansy."

She sipped her tea and mulled over what he'd said. There were all sorts of possibilities and scenarios running through her head, and she was unsure of how exactly to handle the situation. "I see that you're serious." She leaned slightly in his direction. "And you're not afraid of being seen with someone who may or may not have been associated with people who may or may not have been Death Eaters?"

Cormac leaned forward as well. "Are you asking if I'm afraid of being seen with you?" He shot her a wry smile. "While I won't be donning a Death Eater mask and robe anytime soon, I have no issues associating with people who still believe that blood status is good for more than just a nice table at a fancy restaurant.

"Hmmm," she replied. "I agree." She tapped her fingers on the table lightly. "You know, darling, I think there might be something that I can do for you," she murmured, her gaze taking in as much of him as the table would allow, "above and beyond the obvious."

"Yes? Something you can do for me?" he said as stretched back in his chair to allow Pansy a wider view. "I am intrigued, however, I am still very interested in the obvious."

She smiled again. "As am I." She took another sip of tea, and set her cup down on its saucer. "What I was referring to, however, are my own associations with the Ministry. Do you know anything about me at all?" she asked.

"I know your Estate paid for massive renovations and repairs to the Ministry as retribution for your parents' allegiances during the war." He continued, "I know that you still donate large amounts of Galleons to the Ministry on a regular basis."

She silently marvelled at his tactful way of answering her question. A born politician. "'Donate' isn't quite the word I'd use. 'Extort' is closer to the mark. The money I give the Ministry from the Parkinson Trust keeps me out of Azkaban, and keeps the Department of Mysteries open. So, I suppose it's mutually beneficial. I do not, however, have great love for the Ministry, as you can imagine. They are, in essence, punishing me for Father's little hobby, and Mother being too insipid to stop him. I would rather," she said, emphasizing the last word, "put my Galleons to better use."

Bloody hell. She's offering to back me. Pansy-I'm practically royalty-Parkinson is offering to bankroll me. Act calm, my boy. Do not stand up and sing. Breathe. "You're not looking for a place to invest your Galleons but rather a person?" Cormac leaned forward a bit and smiled. "I could act coy and pretend to not know what you are referring to, but I won't. I know what I want and what I want will take a financial partner. Are you offering to be that person, Pansy?"

"Unlike my late mother, I am not a stupid woman. I'd expect returns on my investment, something to show for all of my generosity. I don't know what I'm offering, actually. There will probably need to be negotiations," she said, smirking.

Letting his eyes slowly and deliberately pass over every inch of her he could see, he smiled and answered eagerly, "I feel I should warn you, love. I'm quite good at negotiating. I do look forward to it; I've been known to spend the entire weekend in negotiations." Cormac looked Pansy directly in the eyes. "And we should probably start the proceedings-soon."

Pansy finished her tea and glanced around at the other patrons that had filled the outdoor cafe. She smirked at the avid expression on the face of the man sitting in front of her. He was looking at her as if he held all the power, as if he were in charge, that he held the future of whatever it was that they had in the palm of his hand. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug look off of his devastatingly handsome face.

She smoothed the white tablecloth with her palms, smiling, and held his gaze as she slipped off her Italian leather pump and let her foot inch its way up to the inside of his thigh. Pansy smiled a little evilly as she watched his expression go from sexy and in control to one of complete shock, and then to rapt pleasure.

He closed his eyes and hissed as he sucked in a breath. Half moaning, half speaking, Cormac uttered, "Merlin, even your toes are lovely."

Mentally cursing the wretched goblins at Gringott's for their insistence on punctuality, Pansy slipped on her shoe, rose and crossed to his side of the table leaning down slightly so that her lips brushed his ear. He opened his eyes as she whispered, "Oh, yes. We shall, 'start the proceedings,' darling. I'm going to be thinking about you, rest assured. And you can think of our little encounter at the tea table here as a little bonus to the game, because you, my darling Cormac McLaggen, are most definitely 'It.'" She brushed her lips against his, and walked gracefully out of the cafe, giving him a sly smile over her shoulder before she Apparated away.

{Summary:  Pansy and Cormac run into each other.  And it's not awkward.  At all.}