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“My, my, my, if it isn’t the chosen one” Pansy’s words slurred slightly as she hopped down from her bar stool and teetered towards him on too high heels.
Harry looked at Pansy, eyes narrowed before widening when he realized who the speaker was. “Parkinson? Is that you?” He held a hand out to steady her.
“In the flesh,” She replied, running her hands over her body before giving her ample chest a light squeeze. She leaned into him, her breath smelling like cheap spirits and cigarettes, “You like what you see?”
Harry’s face reddened as his eyes drank in her scantily clad visage. She was wearing a cheap red sequinned mini dress. Her makeup was caked on her skin giving it a sickly hue, and her once perfectly coiffed hair was limp and stringy. Oh how the mighty have fallen. As he trailed his eyes back up her body, pausing at her wide hips and narrow waist and soft breasts, he felt his pants tightening in the groin. His eyes met hers and she smirked.
“Mind if I have a seat?” She asked as she climbed on to the bar stool next to him. “So tell me Chosen One,” she smirked “What brings you to Knockturn Alley?”
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just needed to get away for a bit, from everyone.”
Pansy nodded sagely, “A houseful of brats isn’t the happily ever after you were looking for?”
“What brings you here Parkinson?” He responded sharply.
“Poverty.” Pansy’s face had lost it’s mischief. “Poverty brought me here Potter.”
Suddenly her clothes and flirtatious manner made sense. “You’re a, a--”
“I’m a whore Potter.” She lit a cigarette and inhaled before offering him the pack. “After the war I found myself the Head of my house with two younger siblings to feed. Whatever money that my darling father hadn’t gambled away before his death was seized as reparations by the ministry.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t lie Potter.” She glared at him. “We both made choices and chose sides. Your reward was a passel of brats and a ginger housewife. Mine was this.” She uncrossed and recrossed her legs exposing her pink folds. “I’d say that I made the better bargain.”
Harry swallowed thickly, his eyes darting from her face to her center and back again. “Pansy that’s awful. There has to be something else for you to do, a job at the Ministry maybe.”
“I don’t want to work for the Ministry or in some shop Potter. Why would I when I can make 300 galleons for 15 minutes of work? I can afford to keep my sisters in the style they’re accustomed to and set aside a nice little nest egg for myself as well. Your pity is three years too late. I’m not starving anymore.” She glanced over his shoulder at the door and a predatory smile spread across her face. “It looks like my 10 o'clock appointment is early.” She grabbed a cocktail napkin and pressed her lips to it before sliding it in front of him. “If you ever get bored of your weasel, you know where to find me,” She said before sauntering away.
Harry downed his drink as he watched her slink over to Ludo Bagman and lace her arm through his. He placed his payment on the bar and pocketed the napkin, knowing full well that he would be back.