i knew a girl

Author:
Pairings: Pansy/Hermione, mentions of Pansy/Draco
Rating: R

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i knew a girl who was loud and a cold fish on the outside. inside she was hot. my hands would sweat every time i got near her. inside my panties a slick would form as i imagined the things that mouth could do to me. her tongue was cruel but in feverish dreams it would touch me right there and i'd shatter into a thousand pieces of red glass.

the time i touched one of her strands of black hair, her red-nailed hand was around my wrist in an instant. her fingers like claws.

what the fuck do you think you're doing, mudblood, she hissed at me through rouge-tinted lips. lips that looked delectable and utterly kissable even as she spat hatred at me.

i felt a crimson flush creeping up my neck, my tongue felt thick and useless. instead of stammering out an answer as she expected i idly said, getting a lock of hair for a potion. what do you think? implying through my expression that the answer was quite possibly something else altogether. i looked at her through sex hazed eyes. or so i liked to think. she probably thought i was suffering from a fever.

she fell back a few steps, almost stumbling over those stupid high heels she liked to wear. suspicion lay heavily in her eyes. we were in the crowded hallway outside of potions and heads were beginning to turn. harry and ron were making their way over, puffed up with indignation that she would dare have her hands on me. she dropped her hand (which had risen up, as if to strike me) and said dangerously, don't play a game you don't understand, granger. then without ceremony she strode away almost regally. damn her for making me want, making my throat dry with need. that night i masturbated with the hand she had touched (my left). my thoughts were jumbled images of how she had looked, at the words she had hissed at me. my lips were bloody from keeping in the whimpers. i had forayed through many a fantasy but none quite so vivid. the echoes of that release had followed me into my dreams and there i was propped against dungeon walls and thoroughly fucked by pansy parkinson's tongue.

during the day i would read my books and write completely competent essays (usually one roll of parchment extra). at night i would dream of her. through one secret catalogue purchase i obtained the perfume she liked to wear. i would apply it on my skin and smell it at night. imagining her arms around me, listening to the calm sound of her heart beat.

not that i ever really believed in the fairy tale happy ending of lying in her arms after we fucked. i would never bother even thinking of the words 'cuddle' or 'make love.' those were words that girls like parvati would use. as if having sex with dean once was making love.

it really made me quite sad. i had once been oblivious to such things as sex and listening to the mutterings on the same by my classmates. i now devoured every word as if it would explain my incomprehensible feelings towards her. i read books from the library but it was all in vague terms. 'coming together as one' was popular. though i was sensible enough to know that if i got my way it wouldn't involve a penis.

i found myself wandering the halls one night, my head girl badge glittering sharply in the dim light. i had the power to wander (or not wander) at will, one rule that i could never be punished for again (though i do find that many of my housemates have been found by snape when hurrying back from a shag). coincidentially i found her. at the time she was gazing at the steadily retreating back of draco malfoy. it must have been him. only one boy has hair that color, a blonde so utterly devoid of character and life. i stared at her for a few moments, taking in her tousled appearance. apparently she had just shagged the king of slytherin. hurrah.

jealousy was hot and acid in my mouth. she felt my furious eyes on her and looked at me coolly. spying on me, granger?

i merely shook my head in negative. of course not, you silly bint.

she came over to me in what i can only describe as a glide. a smile was playing on her lips. her skin is so very white, as devoid of color as snow. so utterly unlike my pinkish complexion. she came so close i took a step back, then another. she slowly made her way towards me until my back was against the wall. it felt cold through the thin cloak i had hurriedly thrown on earlier. i could feel her breath against my skin.

looking sharply into my eyes, she said, don't play a game you don't intend to finish. it was different than what she had said that time so long ago. then she kissed me.

it began sensibly and sweetly. then it was as if she were devouring me. we were nipping and biting, drawing blood. i could taste it, salty and metallic in her mouth. i moaned as our tongues twined, her hands were fisted in my hair. she and I were two halves of a lustful wish, one that had decayed and soured like milk left out for days. my hands plunged into her robes and wormed their way into her clothes until I felt bare skin. soft skin that I laid open with my nails as she grasped one of my breasts with her hand.

we ended up in an empty classroom, on the floor, with her kissing me thoroughly, her hands between my legs.

i didn't return to my room until a few hours later, utterly drained. the scratches stung and my mouth felt bruised. I was one exposed nerve. i could almost feel the whisper of her touch along my breasts and of her teasing mouth on the curve of my neck. on my face there was a stuttering grin, it would grow wide and then fade away as quickly as it came. within minutes i fell into a sleep devoid of feverish dreams.

the next day when i approached her she glared at me, get the fuck away from me, granger.

my hands twisting together, i retreated and i felt my thin hopes die. my castle in the air, the one built from the memory of her lips against mine and the way her dark eyes glittered as she touched my face, utterly destroyed.

i knew a girl who didn't know the meaning of love. i think it's better that way.

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