This was my 2013 Charlieficathon Fest (charlieficathon . livejournal . com) entry. The fest is over and reveals are out, so now I can post this for you here. This fanfic is multi-chaptered, but is already finished. I will post a chapter up every week until it's done. Here was the prompt I worked from:

Prompt: #3 - Fic based on a "stuck" scenario (elevator, weather-related, etc.). Post-war. Would love for the majority of the fic to be told in dialogue. Lots of sexual tension, unresolved OK.

Many thanks to UL, who gave me excellent advice on the plot for this fic, and LS for the beta work! Thanks to luvscharlie and lunalovepotter for Modding this great fest!

This is my first attempt at a Charlie x Pansy fic, and a second attempt at a fic with Charlie as a lead romantic character. I hope you enjoy this take on the trope!

DISCLAIMER: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

TIMELINE: Post-Hogwarts. (year: 2006).

MAIN CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name): Pansy Parkinson, Charlie Weasley

SECONDARY CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name): Reginald Cattermole, Stan Shunpike, Arthur Weasley

SUMMARY: "Sometimes when you push, you accidentally pull." That particular play on words is something Charlie had never expected to experience, himself... but when he gets stuck in a Ministry lift with Pansy Parkinson one afternoon, he'll discover the truth in that old wives' tale.


WARNINGS: Snarky insulting, Snogging, Copping a feel over clothes, Sexy talk & Sexual innuendo, Implied sex (off-screen, not described), Child birth (off-screen)

Notes: "To push" = slang for rejecting someone for sex. "To pull" = slang for trying to pick someone up for sex.



British Ministry of Magic, London

Friday, 14 July, 2006

The First Five Minutes...

"Don't be an idiot, Weasley. Just push really hard."

Charlie wanted to laugh at the irony that was his life. Of all the women in the world to be in this particular situation with, he had never imagined it would be with his little brother's demanding ex-lover, Pansy Parkinson.

He almost wished he was anywhere else at that very moment.

"I am pushing - as hard as I can!" he growled at the witch. "Can't you tell?"

Parkinson snorted and tossed her head back to blow her dark, sweaty bangs from her eyes. "Not really. I can't feel anything different at all."

Charlie sighed. "Then you give it a go, if you're so keen." He tossed her a suggestive smirk. "I'm sure I'll get my rocks off watching you take charge."

The witch frowned at his lewd commentary, and then brusquely shoved him aside and began pressing the elevator button with gusto - to no avail. They were still stuck somewhere in the magical ether between floors four and five of the British Ministry, their progress paused for some unknown reason.

"Oh, for Salazar's sake, this is ridiculous!" she snarled when she realised she was getting absolutely no results. "Where the bloody hell is Magical Maintenance when you need them?"

Charlie snorted. "It's Friday, lunchtime. Where'd you think they've all gone off to? They're at the pub for an early weekend starter." He slammed his fist against the metal wall in frustration, his quick temper riled. "Precisely where I'd planned to be before getting stuck in this blasted cage with a slag like you!"

Charlie winced. Okay, so that wasn't a very nice thing to say, but a part of him felt a bit justified, as Parkinson had cheated on Ron that one time and broke them up as a result.

Besides, he reasoned, if the witch hadn't jumped into his lift seconds before the door had closed, and then begun smacking one button after another, he was quite sure their lift wouldn't be stuck now. Somehow, she'd broken the elevator -with him in it- and that didn't endear her to him in the least.

Furthermore, she was making him miss out on hooking-up with one Enola Capucine at The Leaky for a lunch date (not that Charlie had been looking forward to the blind date Bill had set up for him today, as the tall, beauteous blonde witch didn't sound like the type of woman he'd be attracted to at all as she was one of Fleur's school friends -the typical French, pureblood socialite who hated the outdoors, smoked entirely too much, and ate nothing but salad for all three daily meals- but he'd figured on enjoying a pint or three to make up for what was sure to be a pleasantly forgettable speed dating session).

Basically, being trapped in a small, enclosed space with the pushy, stuck-up Parkinson, when he was hungry and dying for a bitter, had put him a right foul mood. So, it was natural he'd snap and say something mean in such a case, right?

...Yeah, that was a totally crappy excuse. He should definitely apologise.

Parkinson turned on him before he could open his mouth, though, her wand tip tucked nice and tight under his chin. Her face was a mask of righteous fury, her little pug nose wrinkling as her lip curled with anger. "If any one of you red-headed morons calls me that word one more time, I'll rip out your bollocks and feed them to you for breakfast. I am not a slag!"

Charlie raised an eyebrow at that, but wisely said nothing. Instead, he stared her down, waiting for her to flinch. She didn't, of course. Those brilliant blue-green eyes of hers merely stared right back at him, daring him to open his mouth and refute her claim.

Parkinson, he suddenly realised, might be a Slytherin in her soul, but she clearly had the temper of a Gryffindor. The queen viper, it seemed, would bite when provoked, rather than slither away and hide. Strangely, he found he respected her for that strength.

"Sorry," he stated quickly. "Didn't mean it. I'm frustrated, is all."

She stared at him long and hard, before finally dropping her wand arm, turning her nose up, and sniffing in dismissal. "Whatever." She returned her attention to the control station again, intently focussing on every curve and angle. "If only the budget had allowed for a lift attendant, like the good, old days, hmmm? Well, there has to be some way of calling for help. Surely, they've got contingencies for just such a break-down." She started fiddling with the various buttons, pushing them all in order, top to bottom. They lit up, and then went dark again. She tried it again in backwards order with the same results. "This sort of thing must happen all the time around here, what with your corruptible lot running the Ministry nowadays."

Charlie became instantly incensed by her accusation. "What the hell does that mean? My family doesn't run the Ministry, and we're not corrupt!"

Parkinson sniffed again. "Really? Your father's the Minister now that Shacklebolt's stepped down, Percy is the Minister's Ambassadorial Representative to the I.C.W., you're the head of the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau in the Beast Division, your sister-in-law, Fleur, is the current Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, and Ron's not only a high-ranked Auror, but he's also got the ear of the Head Auror, Harry Potter. Tell me that isn't nepotism at its finest."

"It's not!" he snarled in automatic defence of his family. "We all earned our positions, working hard to rebuild everything after the war." He stepped closer to her and poked her in the shoulder. "If not for our efforts, sweetheart, you and your family would have been dragged back down to the courtrooms in chains for a retrial, with a rigged presiding assembly to decide your fate, instead of getting the small slap on the wrist you'd received. In case you forgot, there were a lot of really angry people back then who'd wanted to see anyone even remotely involved with the Dark Lord end up in a pair of striped pyjamas. If they'd had their way, your family would have rotted alongside the other sympathizers in Azkaban. Now, you're not just a free citizen, but you're also sitting pretty in a cherry job in International Magical Co-Op. So, chew on that little nugget before insulting my family's honour."

Pansy was completely undaunted by his proximity, his glare, or his poking finger. She merely stared up at him with a cool serpent's gaze. "Feels pretty lousy to be slandered by false allegations, doesn't it?" she asked, and tossed him a wry smirk. "Welcome to my world."

It took Charlie a moment to realise what exactly she'd really meant by that statement. When he got it, he let out a deep breath and his anger simply evaporated. "You were fucking with me, then? You didn't mean it at all."

She rolled her eyes and snorted in a delicate, ladylike fashion. "I spent every Sunday for eight months around the Weasley table at brunches. Of course I know your lot's not the type to wrest control for your own desires. If you had been, your family certainly wouldn't be living in Ottery St. Catchpole, for one. They'd be in a posh Hyde Park townhouse overlooking the royal commons. And two, Ron would be head of the Auror Department, not Potter." Her smirk widened. "Clearly, you're all too goody-good for your own good. Justice, and fairness, and all that."

Turning her attention to the buttons on the wall again, Parkinson punched the one for 'Lobby' a few more times. When there was again no lift movement in response, she sighed, and with great poise, squatted down to open a panel door just underneath the buttons. Charlie noted that she was careful to assure that her skirt was properly tucked underneath her knees so nothing indecent would flash him.

She leaned a bit forward, balancing precariously on the balls of her toes, the ridiculously high heels of her dress shoes lifting off the floor. "Huh. Well, that's convenient," she stated, staring into the panel she'd just opened.

"What is?" he asked, not squatting down, but leaning a bit forward to look over her shoulder... and getting a nice, accidental peep show at the same time. From his angle, he could see right down Parkinson's blouse. Her red, satin bra matched her shirt and was a push-up, and it was doing wonders to give her a sweet, well-defined cleavage.

"This is," she stated, pointing to a large, red lever inside the panel, with the words, 'Pull in case of Emergency' written underneath.

"Huh. What do you know? Well, pull it down then," Charlie bid. "Let's see what happens."

She shrugged. "Right, but you're taking responsibility," she forewarned before reaching out and doing as he'd instructed.

Lowering the handle required her to rise up a bit so she could press her weight down upon the handle to make it move. It gave a great 'ka-thunk' when she finally managed to get it all the way down... and the lift dropped a foot in response. Charlie's stomach fell into his shoes and a nervous sweat broke out upon his brow.

Parkinson let the handle go, shot to her feet, and backpedaled right into Charlie, pressing them both into the far corner of the elevator, as far away from the handle as possible. Her breathing was as rapid as his, and he was betting her eyes were just as wide as they both stared at the lever in terror. One never knew what surprises had been left over from Voldemort's reign here at the Ministry; they were finding things all the time to put back into order, even all these years later.

When a minute passed, then two, then five, and nothing more happened, both he and Parkinson relaxed.

"Let's not do that again," he said, his heart sliding back down his throat to take its rightful place in his chest.

Parkinson's dark head bobbed up and down. "Agreed."



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