Trouble

"Knock knock!"

Draco starts slightly at the sudden, cheery greeting before automatically smiling at sight of the visitor.

"Pansy!" he grins before suddenly looking alarmed. "Did we make plans that I've forgotten about?"

"Wouldn't I have you by your bollocks right now if that were the case, darling?" Pansy breezes in, walking effortlessly on six-inch long pencil heels in sparkly silver, her salmon pink dress tight enough that Draco wondered if she could breathe at all in it. "No, I just missed your pretty face; it's been ages," she frowns as he stands and kisses her cheek.

"I know, I know," he groans, falling back into his seat and letting himself sag back for a few seconds in a rare display of exhaustion. "I've been--"

"Busy, yes, I thought it was safe to assume," she rolls her eyes as she inspects the silver framed photograph of Draco's parents on his desk. "It's why I thought it was time to rescue you for a bit – let's go get an early lunch," she says brightly.

"Shit, Pans, I wish I could," Draco looks desperately apologetic. "But I'm just--" he seemingly struggles for words as he indicates to his vast mahogany desk that was covered in sheets and sheets of paperwork, dozens of files, some lying open and spilling out more sheets of paperwork, three mobile phones, two of them charging, his laptop open and revealing him to be in the middle of typing out what looked to be an incredibly dull, interminable email. "--inundated," he finally sighs.

Pansy rolls her eyes. "I told you," she says with a scowl, crossing her arms, enormous handbag hanging off the crook of one. "You rushed too quickly into this whole taking-over-the-family-business business. It's not like your father was hurrying you into it – you're all of twenty five. You're wasting prime years, darling," she perches on the desk, her arse landing right on top of a large green file.

"Don't sit on that," Draco hurries to yank the file out from her silk clad bum. "I'll need it for my meeting with James Potter today," he grumbles, straightening out the small sheaf of papers that had folded over and creased under her.

"James Potter?" Pansy looks astonished. "As in, billionaire hotelier James Potter?"

"The very same," the smug pride in his voice makes her snort loudly. "What? I have one meeting to knock his socks off," he says heatedly to her. "Even Father never managed to secure a contract with him, so imagine me snagging Potter's next project – and it's going to be right here in London."

"Wow," Pansy intones, her expression wooden. "When was the last time you got shagged, darling?" she adds abruptly, apropos nothing.

Draco splutters for a moment. "Wha-- how is that relevant to our conversation?"

"I can't remember the last time you were this excited about a man," she looks slightly disgusted.

"I'm plenty excited about my men, thank you," Draco sniffs.

"When was the last time?"

He ignores her and turns back to his laptop though Pansy couldn't have missed that slight pink tinge on his high cheekbones even if she'd been standing across the room.

"Oh my god, when?!" her voice rises shrilly.

"Eight months, give or take," he snaps without looking at her. When she doesn't reply for several seconds, he finally sneaks a glance. She looks horrified.

"You're--" she flounders for words. "You-- that's a joke," she finally declares. "You're joking, aren't you?"

"Don't feel like you have to stick around," he scowls.