merflk:

Pairing: percy weasley x pansy parkinson
Words: 2005
Link: ao3

Now, if you asked Pansy what her type was, she would say: rich guys. Classy guys. Smoking, drinking, lazy guys. Rebels, sometimes.

What she would not say was: stick-up-the-ass, strict, disciplined, sweater-wearing, red-headed librarian.

Yet here she was, staring at Percy Weasley like she had every day for the past two months as she sat studying in the university library.

He was frowning. He was always frowning. There was always something not entirely in place, always something crooked and always something irritating. Often, it was her.

It was her, when she brought a cup of coffee to the library and put it on the cover of a book she wasn’t currently using. He came raging at her the first time, voice clipped and annoyed, authoritatively asking her to please remove that substance from the expensive work of their public library. It was her, when she dropped her books onto the desk too loudly and she could see him keeping himself from violently shushing her, just aware enough that that would make him look ridiculous.

And Percy Weasley never looked ridiculous. He looked crisp and cool and in charge, even though he wore stupid homemade sweaters and vests, the sleeves of his shirts pushed up to reveal unfairly beautiful forearms.

(She had dreams about those forearms. Interesting dreams.)

Keep reading