I'm so excited! I finished Chapter 18 of Origin of Storms and sent it off to my beta-reader this morning. *dances* Woot! Now all I have left is the epilogue!

Thanks to all who sent me challenges, they really jump started me. I loff you. And I've decided to write them in the order in which they were recieved.

First off is eska_rina's request:
Harry/Pansy, a marriage of some sort, and a little row.

It's a little rough around the edges, of course, but I think it works :)


*****
Slip of the Tongue

“Potter.”

Harry grunted and batted away the finger that was poking his side.

“Potter,” the voice hissed again.

“Wha..?” He rolled his head to the side, blinking at the blurry form beside him. Reaching up, he lazily pushed his glasses back up his nose, bringing into focus an angry, black-haired woman in a tight lipstick-red sheath that pushed her breasts up so high he could almost see the top of her nipples. “Pansy?” he asked, voice thick with confusion. “What the bloody hell are you doing in my bed—“ He cut off, suddenly aware that the chair he was currently sprawled in was white and frilly and good Merlin he’d fallen asleep! Straightening from his slouched position so abruptly he nearly toppled the delicate armchair, he whipped his gaze about the room. “Where’s Hermione?”

Pansy rolled her eyes and tapped the tip of her stiletto against the hardwood floor, drawing Harry’s eyes down the woman’s impossibly long legs below an impossibly short dress. “She’s gone, Potter,” she growled. “You were supposed to watch her!”

Harry jerked his gaze off her shapely stems and demanded indignantly, “How was I to know she’d run?”

“Because it’s Granger, Potter, and Blaise barely got her to agree to this in the first place. That’s why you were supposed to watch her.” She threw up her hands in disgust. “You’re an entire waste of space; you do know that, right?”

Harry scowled down at the floor and grumbled something unintelligible.

“What was that?”

He sent her a narrowed glare. “I said I was useful enough to kill Voldemort, now wasn’t I?”

“You can’t pull that Savior of the Wizarding World crap with me,” she shot back, hands on her hips. “Not when we’ve got a church full of guests and my best friend alone at the altar.”

Standing, Harry shoved a hand into his curls and sighed. “She can’t have gone very far,” he offered wearily.

“Oh? Miss Brilliant-Witch doesn’t know how to Apparate? Or use a Floo? Use your brain, Harry—“

“What?”

Pushing his hand aside, she smoothed his fringe over his forehead, then tapped his skull with a perfectly manicured nail. “Your brain. You know, the pea-sized organ rattling around in this oversized head of yours. It might be hard to find, but I’m sure if you concentrate… what?”

Harry blinked at her. “You called me Harry,” he pointed out.

Her mouth gaped slightly and she hastily dropped her hand from his hair. A second later she collected herself and tilted her chin up at a haughty angle. “What of it?”

“You don’t call me Harry,” he answered lamely.

“Yes, well…” She crossed her arms under her breasts and glared at him. “That’s beside the point, don’t you think?”

He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Does Ron know?”

“Know what?” she bit out quickly, brown eyes rounding.

Harry gave her a suspicious look, then said slowly, “That Hermione’s gone.”

Visibly relaxing, she replied, “I have no idea, Potter.”

A crooked smile pulled at his lips. “Back to Potter, then?”

“Does it matter?” she asked, exasperated.

“I rather liked the sound of Harry coming from your mouth.”

“Let me reiterate this for you, Potter,” she stated tightly. “Granger: gone. Blaise: alone. Us: screwed.”

His brows rose on her last remark. “Really?”

With an irritated oath, she shouted, “Get your mind out of the gutter! We’ve got a serious situation on our hands!”

Cocking his head, he leisurely ran his gaze over her body. “How is that dress staying up, anyway? Charms?”

Clenching her jaw, she growled, “I’m getting angry.”

“Getting?” he asked, blatantly amused. “Thought you already were.” He took a step closer to her, eyes now firmly fixed on her chest. “Really, how is that staying up?”

“Would you just—“ She froze, lips parted on a soundless ‘o’ as two of Harry’s fingers dipped into her cleavage, tugging on the smooth satin that bound her breasts. Her skin tingled and mottled an embarrassing red and he gave her a mischievous grin.

And then the door burst open and Hermione strode in, breathless and harried with a scowl of frustration on her face. “Damned if I’ll let that smarmy bastard get the best of me,” she muttered, yanking her white dress-robes off their hanger and shoving her arms viciously into the sleeves. Glancing up at a startled Harry and Pansy she snarled, “Tell the bloody minister to start the organ.”

Surprise melting from his face, Harry gave Pansy a smug glance. “Problem solved.”

“Don’t think I’ll just let you get away with this, Harry,” Pansy said pointedly, finally gathering her wits and forcibly removing Harry’s hand from her dress.

“Never crossed my mind.” Humming slightly, he strolled towards the door. Pausing with his hand on the knob, he threw over his shoulder, “In fact, I’d be highly disappointed if you did.”
*****


Next up should be some Charlie slash.