Postwar Harry/Pansy. Harry and Pansy discover that maybe they aren't so different after all. I know, horribly cliche. Please read it anyway!
A bunch of drabbles, lots of pairings!
On Pansy's seventeenth birthday, he called her to him. She arrived two minutes early, in a pressed black pencil skirt and glossy six inch heels. Voldemort laughed when he saw inside her mind, and ran a proprietary hand over her hair.
She seems at peace, with her long hair drifting on a lazy breeze and her silky blue-grey dress pulled up in her loose fists, revealing her slip. This girl doesn't seem to even see him. Then she turns to him and looks right in his eyes, right in his mind and through his ribcage to his heart which for once isn't so so numb, and he counts his heartbeats and thinks 'she's beautiful'.