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The Perky Pixie Coffee Shop

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“Parkinson?” Ginny hadn’t seen her since Hogwarts, and Upper Flagley was the last place she expected to see anyone familiar. After all, the point of leaving was to not see anyone she knew.

“Yes, Weasley. Unless it’s Potter now.” Parkinson pointed to the blackboard hanging on the wall behind her. Levitating beside the blackboard were chalks and erasers, waiting to erase and replace sold out menu items. “So, what will it be?”

Three years ago, Ginny would have hexed Parkinson on the spot. Two years ago, she’d have left and sought her coffee elsewhere while holding her temper in check. Today, she decided to simply order her espresso macchiato.

The coffee shop had a dozen or so round wooden tables, each with teal painted wooden chairs. The Perky Pixie Coffee Shop, or Pixie as the locals called it, was nestled between a hat boutique and a second-hand Quidditch shop.

Ginny chose a table by the storefront window that looked onto an ice cream parlour. She enjoyed the hint of sweetness that the steamed milk brought to the taste of her coffee. The window’s reflection gave Ginny a good view of Parkinson as she stepped out from behind the counter. Growing up had given Parkinson all sorts of sharp edges and angles from her undercut bob to her highlighted cheekbones. Ginny saw glimpses of the girl who oversaw Hogwarts’ detentions in the woman in front of her. Mostly, Ginny saw a different person. The Parkinson she knew at Hogwarts wouldn’t have been serving coffee.

In different ways, the war had changed them all. They all had been broken and put back together. The war had changed her too. Ginny and Harry hadn’t fit in the same way. It had been hard and sad, but also a relief when Ginny and Harry decided they would no longer be a couple.


After having sampled the watered down beverage that passed for coffee at The Giggling Goat and trying a beverage that was more sugar than coffee at the Beans 'n Cream Cafe, Ginny made up her mind. She wouldn’t suffer bad coffee because of Parkinson.

Three children jostled Ginny on their way out of Pixie. Followed shortly by two adults who ran out yelling an apology to Ginny for their children’s behaviour. The fresh aroma of grounded coffee beans wafted through as Ginny walked in. She made her way to the counter, nearly missing two levitating mugs, and once again came face to face with Parkinson.

“Wh…” Ginny used the elastic on her wrist to create a messy bun out of her ponytail. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s called a job, Weasley. I’m sure one of your parents must’ve had one given the number of siblings you have,” Pansy said as she grabbed a lemon coloured mug. “Go and have a seat will you? I’ll bring your coffee over. Wouldn’t want that Weasley temper of yours to cause a scene.”

The morning rush had passed, leaving scattered mugs and plates on the tables. The table by the storefront window was clean and Ginny took it as her own. She looked at the window’s reflection as Parkinson worked. Parkinson’s pursed lips showed off her lilac lipstick as she poured the right amount of steamed milk directly into a single shot of espresso. Somehow, even with her coffee-stained black apron, Parkinson managed to make working in a coffee shop look stylish.

Parkinson came over with Ginny’s mug. “Here.” With a quick Tergeo, Parkinson wiped off the bit of coffee that had spilled onto the table. A simple tree was drawn in the foam. Parkinson pulled a chair and sat at Ginny’s table.

“It’s still Weasley by the way,” said Ginny before taking a sip of her coffee.

“No little Weasley-Potters to start up your own Quidditch team?” Parkinson asked.

“No. Just Weasley. No Quidditch. And just me.” As Ginny drank more of her coffee, the foam tree lost its shape until it was unrecognizable. “Again, what are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I suppose. Aren’t you here to get away? I needed to get away from the aftermath of the War. To get away from the stares and the whispers. Fuck. Everybody knew. Everybody knew what I did.” Parkinson looked around Pixie and once satisfied that no customer needed her, she leaned back against her chair. As she crossed her legs, her pink ballet flat dangled from her left foot.

“I got tired. Tired of being the girl who wanted to turn bloody Potter to The You-Know-Who.” Parkinson ran her fingers through her hair, revealing a subtle star shaped pattern shaved under her hair. “How about you try being me, and I’ll be the girl who shagged bloody Potter? Sounds much easier if you ask me.”

The sound of small-talk filled the air along with the smell of vanilla. Ginny started to wish she was drinking something a bit stronger than coffee.

“As hard as it might be for you to believe, Parkinson, other people had high stakes in the War. Not only…” Ginny’s voice came down to a whisper, “children of Death Eaters.” Ginny clenched her fist as she let go of her mug. “Fred’s dead.”

“Oh. Fuck. I didn’t...I..fuck.” Parkinson grabbed Ginny’s empty mug and left with one last swear on her lips.

Ginny exhaled. Fred would have found this turn of events hilarious. Almost like one of their mum’s well-read romance books: Ginny being alone in Upper Flagley and stumbling on a gorgeous witch from her past. An infuriating witch, but a gorgeous one. Ginny wished she’d come out to Fred. He did always wonder if Harry wasn’t a bit bent. What with the way he always went on about Malfoy. And so, Ginny liked to think that Fred would have been fine with his little sister being bisexual.

Ginny screwed up her eyes against the glare. The sun dazzled off the road surface. She grabbed the Quidditch section of an old Daily Prophet to shield her eyes until they adjusted to the light.

Once again able to see, Ginny noticed the one other person in Pixie. With her bejeweled glasses, the girl a few tables over reminded Ginny of Rita Skeeter. The purple Quick-Quote Quill completed the image. Even after being away from Hogwarts for two years, Ginny saw reminders of her time at school everywhere. And with Parkinson, here, those reminders were even stronger.

“Skeeter all over again, that one there. Sometimes, she comes in with a pile of books that can only be carried by using a feather-light charm. Anyway, I figured your lot served tea when people were upset.” Parkinson gave a half smile while placing a coral coloured mug on Ginny’s table. “It’s just hard, you know?”


The afternoon sun heated the chair by Pixie’s storefront window and it’s warmth comforted Ginny. She toyed with the corner of her invitation. The Holyhead Harpies wanted her to join their summer practices. Gwenog Jones, herself, wrote the invitation. This was a big deal. But Ginny wasn’t ready to decide. She wasn’t ready to go back. She didn’t want to go back to who she was.

Ginny’s Self-Inking Quill lay forgotten on the table beside her mug. She had answered, of course. More like stalled. But she had answered. No child of Molly Weasley would be rude enough not to answer.

On the day that rain hit Upper Flagley without warning, Ginny came to Pixie drenched and had sent an owl inquiring about the training schedule. Parkinson had given her a towel to dry off. The day that Parkinson had created a Snitch from the foam in Ginny’s espresso macchiato, she had asked about holidays, medical leave and family emergencies. And on the day Ginny started to daydream about Parkinson’s lilac painted lips, she had asked about the training stipend.

“Enough is enough,” said Parkinson as she made her way to Ginny. She levitated a steaming mug right in front of Ginny. “I’ve seen you toying with that letter for weeks now. I’m not much of a sport’s enthusiast, but even I know that symbol and those green and gold colours. Probably got asked to be Captain of the Holyhead Harpies or received some otherwise ridiculously lucky offer. You like Quidditch. So go and play Quidditch.”

“Of course, I love Quidditch. But I can’t just go back.” Ginny tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

“Why not? As far as I know there is no new evil wizard consuming your time. What’s stopping you?” Parkinson braced her hand against the back of Ginny’s chair, leaning much closer than Ginny felt comfortable with, her lips almost brushing Ginny’s ear. “I’ll only say this once, so you better listen.” You have all sorts of people who love and support you. Be you. Change who you are if that’s what you want. Fuck the people who are trying to tell you how to be you. Go back home and play Quidditch, Weasley.”


The gurgling of the coffee brewing, the bubbling of the steamer warming the milk and the creaking of Pixie’s door welcomed Ginny as she made her way to her table. A group of older women chatted as they crocheted; hooks flew skillfully through the yarn as they talked.

Near the ceiling, behind the counter, different kinds of coffee beans were packed in big burlap bags. Ginny liked watching Parkinson work. When a customer asked for a rarely used coffee bean, Parkinson would make clever use of a Summoning and Levitating charm to get the burlap bag down from its shelving.

In-between wiping down tables and tending to new customers, Parkinson brought Ginny her espresso macchiato. This time a foam unicorn decorated Ginny’s coffee. Ginny breathed in the familiar aroma. Pixie had become such a part of Ginny’s routine that without a strong cleaning charm all her clothes smelled of crushed coffee beans and vanilla.

Parkinson somehow become part of Ginny’s life. When Ginny closed her eyes, images of Parkinson crept in. Her pink bra that sometimes peeked from under her blouse.
Parkinson licking her lips before leaning in for a kiss. Parkinson reaching down to touch Ginny’s cheek before pulling her closer.

Ginny couldn't keep spending her afternoons daydreaming about Parkinson. She needed to deal with it head on. Grab Parkinson by the collar of her shirt and kiss her. A horrible kiss would make everything go back to normal. Like that time she kissed Fay behind Hogwarts’ Quidditch stands. They both loved Quidditch but that sloppy kiss convinced Ginny that Fay wasn’t the one for her. She could do this. She was a Gryffindor, after all.

Ginny nursed her coffee until it was too bitter and cold to drink, and waited out the very last customer of the day.

“Time to go, Weasley.” Parkinson cleaned up all the tables except for the one by the storefront. The table Ginny still occupied. “Seriously, Weasley, we’re closed.”

“I know. But first I’m going to kiss you, Parkinson.” Ginny took Parkinson’s hand in her own and pulled Parkinson toward her. She pulled Parkinson until their lips locked. At first, the kiss was tentative, but it deepened as Ginny felt Parkinson’s tongue slide across her lips. Eagerly, she parted her lips in response. Ginny caressed the back of Parkinson’s hand with her thumb. The kiss broke as Parkinson placed her hand on Ginny’s cheek.

“Fuck.” Ginny’s gamble hadn’t paid off. Kissing Parkinson was like nothing else. The right amount of pressure and tongue. “I want to try that again. I want to try that again...Pansy.”

Pansy gave a half smile. “Why not?”

Ginny felt Pansy’s hand on the nape of her neck and let herself be guided into another kiss. As Pansy’s lips met hers, Ginny started to feel breathless. Pansy tasted like caramel from those sickly sweet mochaccinos with added caramel that Ginny knew Pansy drinks during her breaks. This was what a kiss was supposed to feel like. Ginny gripped Pansy’s hips, pulling her closer.

Pansy used her free hand to grab her wand and flip Pixie’s sign from open to close. Still kissing, Ginny and Pansy fumbled their way to the backroom. Tripping and regaining their balance while navigating the clutter of boxes, Ginny and Pansy’s hands roamed over each other’s bodies, squeezing and tugging at flesh and hair.

Her back against a stack of coffee bean bags, Ginny pulled away and took a few shallow breaths. Her heart raced against her rib cage. The first few buttons of her shirt undone, Pansy’s pink bra peeked out from her shirt.

“Is that all you’ve got, Weasley?” asked Pansy as she slipped her leg between Ginny’s, so that it pressed against her pussy.

Ginny rocked back and forth against Pansy’s leg while grabbing her wand, which was tucked into the back of her trousers. “Far from it.” Ginny placed soft open mouth kisses down Pansy’s neck, pointing her wand at Pansy’s bra. “Just you watch.” Her mouth against Pansy’s soft skin, Ginny whispered, “Evanesco.”

Hard nipples pushed against the fabric of Pansy’s shirt now that Ginny had vanished her bra. Ginny enjoyed watching Pansy’s nipples stiffen in the cool air of the coffee shop. Ginny’s kisses continued downward, licking and nibbling the exposed skin.

Encouraged by Pansy’s whimpers, Ginny undid a few buttons of Pansy’s shirt so that her breasts spilled out. Pansy had lovely breasts. Smaller than Ginny’s. A little more than a handful, and full at the bottom so her nipples pointed upward. Ginny squeezed Pansy’s nipples between the thumb and middle finger of each hand then ran her forefinger over the sensitive tips.

Ginny cupped Pansy’s breasts, enjoying the weight of them in her hand, the smoothness of her skin against her palms. The only sounds filling the coffee shop were moans and laboured breaths. Her hand on the small of Ginny’s back, Pansy caressed the exposed skin between Ginny’s shirt and trousers. Ginny had never seen anything more beautiful than Pansy, her cheeks flushed a nice pink, with her breasts on display.

After giving each nipple a hard pinch, Ginny bent down and soothed them with her tongue. Pansy pushed Ginny’s head to her breasts, her fingers getting caught in Ginny’s hair. Sucking and kissing on Pansy’s hardened nipples, Ginny felt the dampness on her knickers as she pressed down on Pansy’s leg.

Tugging Ginny’s hair, Pansy pulled Ginny back so that she was pinned against the wall. “Not bad, Weasley.” Pansy nibbled Ginny’s earlobe between words. “I’d wager your pussy is all wet now.” With one hand cupping and squeezing Ginny’s breast, Pansy pulled down Ginny’s trousers and knickers to her ankles.

Pansy ran her fingers through the neat strip of hair along Ginny’s pussy and gave a small tug. Ginny spread her legs open as Pansy traced and teased her outer lips. As she kissed Ginny’s neck, Pansy slipped two fingers inside her pussy.

Ginny closed her eyes and focused on Pansy’s fingers as they slipped in and out. She pushed down on Pansy’s fingers. When Pansy brushed against the rough spot against her inner wall, Ginny felt a tremble through her muscles as she gripped Pansy’s fingers. Pansy’s hold on Ginny’s hip tightened as her fingers slipped in and out into a rhythm. When Ginny swayed, Pansy simply pressed her back against the stack of coffee bags without skipping a beat.

“Yes,” Ginny gasped as Pansy’s rubbed her clit back and forth. The pleasure was enough to make her moan Pansy’s name. With Pansy’s fingers deep in her pussy, Ginny felt her muscles clench tightly and wetness trickle down. It felt hot and tingly starting at the bottom of her feet and creeping up her legs. It built up and up until Ginny’s vision became blurry. Arching her back and bucking her hips, Ginny pulled Pansy against her.

Ginny rested her head on Pansy’s shoulder as she caught her breath. Pansy kissed the top of her head and stepped away when Ginny’s breath returned to normal.

“Well, tonight isn’t going to be the quickest I’ve ever closed up Pixie.” Pansy buttoned her shirt while Ginny cleaned herself with a spell.

“Can I stay and help?” asked Ginny.

“Yeah, that would be okay with me.”


Nobody noticed Ginny following Pansy to the back of the shop. The whirring sound of the coffee machine masked her footsteps.

“I did it,” said Ginny.

“And what did you do?” Parkinson asked, while folding the corner of her page and closing her book. She leaned back against a stack of coffee bean bags that were sure to fall down at any moment. “It better be worth interrupting me during my break.”

“I sent an owl two days ago. And I said yes. I said yes to the Holyhead Harpies. I wanted to tell you before I left. They want me there right away. My Portkey leaves tonight actually.” Ginny leaned beside Pansy against a stack of bagged arabica beans.

“Congrats. That’s...that’s great, Weasley.” Pansy toyed with a loose burlap bag thread. “You know, I don’t hate Quidditch.”

Ginny smiled. “What are you saying? You’ll come and see me practice?”

“I figure I should take some of my own advice and fuck the people who dislike me. So,why wouldn’t I watch you practice? Fit ladies riding brooms. Even better, a fit redhead riding her broom.”

The sound of chatter and laughter filtered to the back of the shop, swallowing Ginny’s “I should go”. Moving closer to Pansy so that her lips almost brushed against her ear, Ginny admired Pansy’s lips from the corner of her eyes. “I left something for you at my table. It’s not much, but it is for you.” Ginny’s hands slipped down to the curves of Pansy’s side to rest on her hips. “I’ll see you later, Pansy.” Ginny gave Pansy a quick kiss before leaving Pixie for the last time.

On the empty table facing the storefront window was a single pink coloured mug. A pink mug that didn’t belong to Pixie. A mug that Ginny had brought in because Pansy loved pink. With some practice and a lot of magic, Ginny managed to do it. In the mochaccino, Ginny left a foam pansy beside a small heart.