http://mypetelephant.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
mypetelephant.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hpkinkfest2012-02-04 07:56 pm
mypetelephant.livejournal.com) wrote in hpkinkfest2012-02-04 07:56 pm
FIC: Life Lessons-Part 2/3 (Pansy/Fleur, NC-17)
Part One
Cosmo Life Lesson #2: If you want to know his thoughts, learn to overanalyze body language
Pansy was severely disappointed that the first task of the Triwizard Tournament didn’t end Fleur’s life. Ever since the awkward bath situation, she had spent a considerable amount of time plotting the demise of the persistently infuriating French girl. On the day of the first task, as the students crowded around the massive pit filled with ominous black rocks and charred bushes, Pansy began to hope that the tournament would do the job for her.
Why was Pansy so concerned with the imminent destruction of Fleur Delacour?
Simple. Fleur was trying to steal her boyfriend.
Pansy had not been able to convince her friends of the threat Fleur posed. When she launched into tirades explaining Fleur attempts to take Draco away from her, Pansy’s friends replied with skeptical coughs. But Pansy knew better. She had spent an evening in a bath with Fleur. If you want to know your enemy, Pansy recited to herself, soap her back.
Of course, Pansy hadn’t told anyone about that night in the Room of Requirement. She had considered it, tempted to use the story as an example of the Beauxbaton girl’s extreme impropriety. But every time she had come close to mentioning it, the thought of sharing what had passed seemed too revealing. She hadn’t even mentioned it to Draco.
But Pansy was very astute. When Fleur began to appear in her peripheral vision, Pansy knew exactly what was going on. She was trying to get with Draco. It was so obvious, and Pansy knew that she only had herself to blame. She had spent all that time talking up the great Malfoys, and now Fleur wanted in. The stupid wench probably thought that dating Draco would win her the tournament. That was why she kept flitting around them, glancing periodically in their direction like some silly tart. She had even invited herself to Slytherin social gatherings, her obnoxious beauty and charm filling up the room until she had captivated everyone.
So when it became apparent that the first task was dragons, Pansy closed her eyes and quietly wished that Fleur would suffer a humiliating defeat. Unfortunately, Fleur was a perfectly capable witch. In fact, Pansy would go as far as to call her clever. Hypnotizing the dragon so that it fell asleep? At least that was better than transfiguring a rock. But Pansy was still disappointed that the fire on Fleur’s skirt didn’t consume her. When Fleur emerged from under the sleeping form of the Welsh Green, proudly carrying the golden egg in one arm as she glowed from underneath layers of ash and grime, Pansy refused to join in the applause. She was so disappointed that she couldn’t even comfort Draco’s distress over Potter’s success.
However, as much as Pansy would have loved to devote more time to plotting Fleur’s destruction, she had another more pressing issue to attend to: the Yule Ball.
Unlike many of her classmates, Pansy didn’t have to go through the trials and tribulations of finding a date. All she had to do was tell Draco the color of her dress so that he could match accordingly. Still, the Yule Ball presented certain opportunities that Pansy felt she should use to her advantage. She was still in possession of her virginity and this was seriously starting to grate on her nerves.
It wasn’t for lack of trying. The Room of Requirement was all booked up, and no amount of blackmail or threats could get Pansy a spot on the waiting list. She had tried several times to use empty classrooms or deserted dungeons, but tragedy always struck in the form of interfering classmates and professors. During one particularly promising moment, Crabbe and Goyle accidentally stumbled in. Draco had nearly hexed them.
Pansy was less merciful.
When Crabbe and Goyle went to the infirmary that night, they were covered in a nightmarish, putrid green combination of warts and tentacles. A group of first years had fainted at the sight. Pansy’s sexual frustration was starting to take a toll on the student body.
But the Yule Ball was going to be different; Pansy just knew it. It was a school dance, and she knew that school dances were essentially life’s way of allowing teenagers to formalize their sexual interest in each other. All she had to do was wear the perfect dress and show up with Draco hanging off her arm. Everything else would just fall into place.
Still, Pansy had learned to not leave anything to chance. She couldn’t risk another ferret incident or intruding presence. Pansy had developed a strategy as soon as rumors of the Yule Ball began to swirl amongst the chattering student body. Recruiting a set of entrepreneurial young Slytherin students, she presided over them as if they were preparing for battle. To start off, she sent them on scouting missions to decide on the best location in terms of isolation and ambiance, specifically instructing them to avoid the Astronomy Tower. She laughed whenever she imagined the inevitable mass gathering of couples in the tower. It almost made her wish that she could be around to witness the embarrassing consequences of their lack of imagination.
When a classroom in a relatively quiet corridor of the school had been selected, a series of charms and spells were tested on the perimeter of the room to determine their efficacy. It was an arduous task that required the group of young students to make frequent trips to the library. Pansy was more than happy to take credit for their improved performance in Charms.
Pansy had set herself to work on what she felt was the most important part of the evening: the decor. This was more difficult now that she didn’t have a Room of Requirement to do the work for her. The desks had to be stashed away to make room for everything. The bed was not quite as magnificent as she would have liked, but at least the sheets were silk. The dusty walls were cleaned and then hidden by a veneer of pale blue. Delicate balls of light floated high in the air, casting a soft glow around the room. A set of gauzy curtains allowed the light from outside to pour into the room, but when the night sky came out, it would be the haze of the moons and stars that kept them company.
Really—Pansy decided when she had finished—Draco was quite lucky to have her.
The last measure that Pansy took was to make sure that some of her minions were invited to the Yule Ball. Their assignment was simple: make sure that Potter and his friends came nowhere near Draco. It would have warmed Pansy’s heart to see Draco take on the Golden Trio while they were in their finest, but it wasn’t worth the risk of another jinx or animal transfiguration. She loved Draco, but not enough to put up with anal gland secretions again.
When the day of the ball came, Pansy felt an unusual mass of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. What if something went wrong? What if she had made a mistake? As soon as the thought crept into her head, she shooed it away. Pansy Parkinson didn’t make mistakes, she reminded herself as she put on her dress. Tonight would be perfect.
Of course, life insisted on testing her commitment to that belief.
It was all Granger’s fault. How that beaver of a girl had managed to hoodwink Viktor Krum into taking her as his date was beyond Pansy. Granger was a good witch, but Pansy felt certain that only an expert knowledge of the Dark Arts could incite that kind of cosmic discrepancy. And worse, everyone seemed to be amazed by Granger’s transformation. It was as if going from hideous to something slightly less hideous was something to be proud of. What was the point of being pretty if it took several bottles of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion to get there?
The only thing that got everyone to shut up about Hermione was Fleur. Pansy thought everyone would be tired of just how gorgeous Fleur was. It wasn’t like stunning blondes suddenly decide to no longer be stunning. But when Fleur emerged from the entrance, Pansy couldn’t help but gasp. All the words that ran through Pansy’s head regarding the way her hair shined and her body moved in the silver silk of her dress seemed too cliché and undeserving. It was only when Fleur turned and caught her staring that Pansy remembered that the girl was an affront to everything she believed in. Fleur looked at Draco and then back at Pansy, smiling slightly before turning to her date.
Pansy was fuming, her fists balled up in her dress as she watched the flow of Fleur’s skirt around the dance floor, angry at the stupid way everything she did seemed so damn perfect. She could hear Fleur’s laughter over the myriad conversations of the crowd, a soft ringing melody that looped over and over in her head. Fleur was teasing her, making fun of her.
Pansy wished she had never gone to the Room of Requirement that night. She would never have met Fleur, and she would never have gotten herself into this sort of situation. The worst part was just how frequently she thought about that night. She didn’t want Fleur to be worth more than five seconds of thought, but when she closed her eyes, the sight of Fleur’s pale wet skin played in her mind. As she watched Fleur move around the dance floor, laughing at what was probably some inane joke, Pansy couldn’t help but remember the way she traveled languidly through the water, the way her body curved in and out. She could almost feel the warmth of Fleur on her fingers again as her eyes dropped to where Roger Davies’ hand had rested on Fleur’s back.
“Are you okay?”
Pansy was startled by the sound of Draco’s voice. She had practically forgotten he was standing right next to her. Shaking the image of Fleur sans clothing out of her head, Pansy smiled. “Of course I’m fine. I’m here with you after all.”
Draco grinned back and slipped his hand around Pansy’s. “You just looked…bothered, that’s all.”
Pansy flushed a little when she thought about just what was bothering her. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she assured him, trying to mask the unease in her voice. “Just a bit of nausea at the sight of Granger.”
“Ugh, yes.” His lip curled in disgust as he rolled his eyes. “I thought that a Durmstrang champion would have better taste.”
“I bet she bewitched him,” Pansy whispered conspiratorially. “She probably used as much magic on him as she did on her hair.”
“Oh, look,” Draco said happily, pointing at the champions. “Potter keeps tripping on his feet.” He nudged a few of his friends to share the sight, inciting a mass of derisive snorts and whispered taunts.
And with that, Pansy knew that the evening had to go well. Even Granger’s transformation could do nothing to damper her excitement. Pansy was at a dance with Draco, and that was all that she needed to know that the night would be everything she had hoped it would be.
The rest of the ball was a blur of drinking and dancing. Pansy knew that she was going to go hoarse from screaming over the loud music, but she was so caught up in the frenzy of laughing with her friends and being twirled around the dance floor that all worries faded away. She had everything she wanted. And by the end of the night, she would have everything she needed.
As the last chords of music reverberated around the hall, couples began to slowly seek each other. Students tried to subtly figure out the logistics of their amorous exploits, relying on the ancient language of suggestively raised eyebrows and head nods. Pansy was grateful for the work she had put into planning the night. If everyone else had read Cosmo, they would know that relationships and sex require work. Even a spontaneous encounter necessitates forethought when done the Cosmo way.
Pansy wanted to check one last time that everything was set up correctly, leaving Draco behind with clear instructions on how and when to go to the classroom. Every few seconds, Pansy came across another couple headed towards the Astronomy Tower. None of them seemed to realize the foolishness of their plan, and Pansy sure wasn’t going to take time out of her busy schedule to explain it to them. The corridors became increasingly more desolate until her footsteps were the only things she heard echoing through the hall. She turned the last corner to see a pair of stalwart first years standing guard over the door. In exchange for their services, Pansy had promised them a spot on the Quidditch team next year. Well, she thought, she still had a while to figure out how to make that happen. Maybe they would forget by then. Or she could always injure one of them before try-outs.
Dismissing them, she waved her wand towards the door and let herself in. Standing at the entrance, she looked proudly at her handiwork.
“Oh, this eez so beautiful!”
Pansy didn’t have to look to know who was behind her. Instantly, all of the good will that had been building inside of her vanished, replaced with annoyance and a strange jump of anxiety in her chest.
“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” The words came out as if Pansy were trying to punch the air. She refused to look at Fleur.
“I am always finding you in the most beautiful rooms,” Fleur said, ignoring Pansy’s question. She took a step forward, walking straight into the magical barrier Pansy had set up.
Pansy smiled and turned around. “You can’t come in unless I invite you.” She was pleased to see the slightly flustered look on Fleur’s face as she reached out to touch the magical barrier with her fingers.
Fleur retracted her hand and looked at Pansy. They were less than a meter apart, and Pansy could make out the individual strands of Fleur’s hair shining silver from the floating lights. “Will you invite me in zen?”
“No,” Pansy answered quickly. “Of course not. I don’t even know what you’re doing here.”
“I am waiting for zis boy. Roger Daveez.” Fleur looked around the hallway as if she expected him to pop up at any moment. “But I think that I ‘ave lost him.”
“That’s too bad,” Pansy replied without an ounce of sympathy. She moved to shut the door in Fleur’s face.
Before she could close the door all the way, Fleur asked, “And you? Your boy…this Draco? Iz he coming?”
Pansy narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to know?”
“I waz just curious.”
Pansy couldn’t believe the nerve of this girl. Fleur must think she was pretty thick to not know what was going on. “I know what you’re doing,” she said, lowering her voice as she leaned forward. “It won’t work. Not with me.”
A slightly shocked expression appeared on Fleur’s face, but she quickly hid it. “Oh? What iz it that I am doing?”
“You’re trying to get with Draco!”
Fleur laughed out loud, the sound ringing shrilly in Pansy’s ears. Every time Fleur went to say something, a fresh new round of laughter had her doubling over.
“What’s so funny?!” Pansy asked angrily.
“I am so sorry,” Fleur said, as she wiped tears from her eyes. “It iz just so ridiculous. Me? Wanting Draco? Why would you think zat?”
Pansy recoiled in confusion. “Because he’s a Malfoy, of course.”
“And I am a Delacour. I have no need for a Malfoy.”
“You’re lying, you stupid cow.” Pansy edged closer to the threshold, staring boldly into Fleur’s eyes. “You’re showing up everywhere and inviting yourself to our parties. You’re doing it so that you can steal Draco away from me.”
Fleur stopped laughing, her gaze drifting over Pansy’s face. “So this whole time, you think that I am wanting thiz Draco?” She didn’t sound like she was teasing Pansy. In fact, she sounded somewhat earnest.
“Well, isn’t it?”
“No.”
Pansy swallowed nervously. “Why are you showing up everywhere then?”
Fleur looked up at the doorframe and then back down at Pansy. “If you invite me in, I can explain it to you.”
Pansy looked behind her, assessing the possible damage she could cause Fleur without destroying her hard work. “Why don’t I just step outside?”
“Very well.” Fleur moved aside, letting Pansy exit the room.
“Okay,” Pansy said when she was standing in the hall. “Now will you tell me why you won’t go away?”
“I am everywhere because I want to see you.”
Pansy took a step backwards into the wall. “What?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly. “What does that even mean?”
Fleur placed a finger under Pansy’s chin, just as she had before. Leaning forward, she whispered, “But surely you know what that means?”
“No. No, I don’t.”
“Perhaps I should explain it to you,” Fleur answered, her face only a few centimeters away from Pansy’s.
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
But Fleur had already closed the distance between them. Her lips were soft against Pansy’s, a sharp contrast to the hard wall behind her. The kiss started out gentle at first, a light caress of warm lips against her. Pansy was too shocked to close her eyes, and she realized that she was staring right into Fleur’s face. She could count blemishes if she wanted to, though she wouldn’t make it very far past zero.
She wanted to protest, to exclaim that this was not what she wanted. But Fleur’s lips were so convincing, and Pansy found herself closing her eyes and tilting her head so that she could respond. She was hesitant at first, unsure that she should proceed. One of Fleur’s hands was still holding onto her chin, the other flat against the wall so that Pansy was trapped. Pansy was so caught up in the feeling of Fleur’s kiss that she didn’t realize just how close their bodies had become. She could feel the curves of Fleur’s breast against her own. A desire to touch Fleur worked its way through her until it was the single commanding thought in her head.
She opened her lips, allowing Fleur’s insistent tongue to taste her. The hand that had been raising her chin moved further back to grab onto Pansy’s hair, pushing her further into Fleur. The kiss felt full of contradictions. Delicate and yet forceful. Strange and yet so comfortable. All she knew was that every contact that their bodies made seemed to ignite a need that she had not been aware of.
Fleur’s hand trailed down, caressing the outline of Pansy’s body until it found the skirt of her dress. Fleur began to pull up at it until she found the bare skin of Pansy’s thigh. It was only then that Pansy returned to her senses.
“What are you doing?!” she cried out, pushing the other girl away from her.
Fleur cocked her head, a faintly bemused look on her face. “I did not think I was doing anything you did not want.”
“Well, you’re wrong!” Pansy spat out. “I don’t like girls! Not like that anyway.”
That statement earned a smirk from Fleur. “Are you quite certain?”
“Yes!”
The sound of someone else’s footsteps approached them. From around the corner, Draco was hurriedly walking towards them. Pansy quickly smoothed out her dress and beamed at him. Turning back to Fleur, she said, “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to be alone. With my boyfriend.”
Fleur smiled as if she saw right through Pansy. “I guess I should find my boy for ze evening,” she replied breezily. “Or maybe I will just find another one. Zere are so many in this castle.” And with that, she left, leaving only the scent of her perfume on Pansy’s dress.
That night, as Draco’s fingers clumsily figured their way inside of her, she closed her eyes and imagined that the fingers were the slender digits that Fleur had used to touch her. An image of Fleur rising above her, naked and wet, played in her head. She found herself wishing that Draco’s hair was longer, that his body was curvier—that everything about him that was Draco could become more like Fleur instead.
Part 3
Cosmo Life Lesson #2: If you want to know his thoughts, learn to overanalyze body language
Pansy was severely disappointed that the first task of the Triwizard Tournament didn’t end Fleur’s life. Ever since the awkward bath situation, she had spent a considerable amount of time plotting the demise of the persistently infuriating French girl. On the day of the first task, as the students crowded around the massive pit filled with ominous black rocks and charred bushes, Pansy began to hope that the tournament would do the job for her.
Why was Pansy so concerned with the imminent destruction of Fleur Delacour?
Simple. Fleur was trying to steal her boyfriend.
Pansy had not been able to convince her friends of the threat Fleur posed. When she launched into tirades explaining Fleur attempts to take Draco away from her, Pansy’s friends replied with skeptical coughs. But Pansy knew better. She had spent an evening in a bath with Fleur. If you want to know your enemy, Pansy recited to herself, soap her back.
Of course, Pansy hadn’t told anyone about that night in the Room of Requirement. She had considered it, tempted to use the story as an example of the Beauxbaton girl’s extreme impropriety. But every time she had come close to mentioning it, the thought of sharing what had passed seemed too revealing. She hadn’t even mentioned it to Draco.
But Pansy was very astute. When Fleur began to appear in her peripheral vision, Pansy knew exactly what was going on. She was trying to get with Draco. It was so obvious, and Pansy knew that she only had herself to blame. She had spent all that time talking up the great Malfoys, and now Fleur wanted in. The stupid wench probably thought that dating Draco would win her the tournament. That was why she kept flitting around them, glancing periodically in their direction like some silly tart. She had even invited herself to Slytherin social gatherings, her obnoxious beauty and charm filling up the room until she had captivated everyone.
So when it became apparent that the first task was dragons, Pansy closed her eyes and quietly wished that Fleur would suffer a humiliating defeat. Unfortunately, Fleur was a perfectly capable witch. In fact, Pansy would go as far as to call her clever. Hypnotizing the dragon so that it fell asleep? At least that was better than transfiguring a rock. But Pansy was still disappointed that the fire on Fleur’s skirt didn’t consume her. When Fleur emerged from under the sleeping form of the Welsh Green, proudly carrying the golden egg in one arm as she glowed from underneath layers of ash and grime, Pansy refused to join in the applause. She was so disappointed that she couldn’t even comfort Draco’s distress over Potter’s success.
However, as much as Pansy would have loved to devote more time to plotting Fleur’s destruction, she had another more pressing issue to attend to: the Yule Ball.
Unlike many of her classmates, Pansy didn’t have to go through the trials and tribulations of finding a date. All she had to do was tell Draco the color of her dress so that he could match accordingly. Still, the Yule Ball presented certain opportunities that Pansy felt she should use to her advantage. She was still in possession of her virginity and this was seriously starting to grate on her nerves.
It wasn’t for lack of trying. The Room of Requirement was all booked up, and no amount of blackmail or threats could get Pansy a spot on the waiting list. She had tried several times to use empty classrooms or deserted dungeons, but tragedy always struck in the form of interfering classmates and professors. During one particularly promising moment, Crabbe and Goyle accidentally stumbled in. Draco had nearly hexed them.
Pansy was less merciful.
When Crabbe and Goyle went to the infirmary that night, they were covered in a nightmarish, putrid green combination of warts and tentacles. A group of first years had fainted at the sight. Pansy’s sexual frustration was starting to take a toll on the student body.
But the Yule Ball was going to be different; Pansy just knew it. It was a school dance, and she knew that school dances were essentially life’s way of allowing teenagers to formalize their sexual interest in each other. All she had to do was wear the perfect dress and show up with Draco hanging off her arm. Everything else would just fall into place.
Still, Pansy had learned to not leave anything to chance. She couldn’t risk another ferret incident or intruding presence. Pansy had developed a strategy as soon as rumors of the Yule Ball began to swirl amongst the chattering student body. Recruiting a set of entrepreneurial young Slytherin students, she presided over them as if they were preparing for battle. To start off, she sent them on scouting missions to decide on the best location in terms of isolation and ambiance, specifically instructing them to avoid the Astronomy Tower. She laughed whenever she imagined the inevitable mass gathering of couples in the tower. It almost made her wish that she could be around to witness the embarrassing consequences of their lack of imagination.
When a classroom in a relatively quiet corridor of the school had been selected, a series of charms and spells were tested on the perimeter of the room to determine their efficacy. It was an arduous task that required the group of young students to make frequent trips to the library. Pansy was more than happy to take credit for their improved performance in Charms.
Pansy had set herself to work on what she felt was the most important part of the evening: the decor. This was more difficult now that she didn’t have a Room of Requirement to do the work for her. The desks had to be stashed away to make room for everything. The bed was not quite as magnificent as she would have liked, but at least the sheets were silk. The dusty walls were cleaned and then hidden by a veneer of pale blue. Delicate balls of light floated high in the air, casting a soft glow around the room. A set of gauzy curtains allowed the light from outside to pour into the room, but when the night sky came out, it would be the haze of the moons and stars that kept them company.
Really—Pansy decided when she had finished—Draco was quite lucky to have her.
The last measure that Pansy took was to make sure that some of her minions were invited to the Yule Ball. Their assignment was simple: make sure that Potter and his friends came nowhere near Draco. It would have warmed Pansy’s heart to see Draco take on the Golden Trio while they were in their finest, but it wasn’t worth the risk of another jinx or animal transfiguration. She loved Draco, but not enough to put up with anal gland secretions again.
When the day of the ball came, Pansy felt an unusual mass of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. What if something went wrong? What if she had made a mistake? As soon as the thought crept into her head, she shooed it away. Pansy Parkinson didn’t make mistakes, she reminded herself as she put on her dress. Tonight would be perfect.
Of course, life insisted on testing her commitment to that belief.
It was all Granger’s fault. How that beaver of a girl had managed to hoodwink Viktor Krum into taking her as his date was beyond Pansy. Granger was a good witch, but Pansy felt certain that only an expert knowledge of the Dark Arts could incite that kind of cosmic discrepancy. And worse, everyone seemed to be amazed by Granger’s transformation. It was as if going from hideous to something slightly less hideous was something to be proud of. What was the point of being pretty if it took several bottles of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion to get there?
The only thing that got everyone to shut up about Hermione was Fleur. Pansy thought everyone would be tired of just how gorgeous Fleur was. It wasn’t like stunning blondes suddenly decide to no longer be stunning. But when Fleur emerged from the entrance, Pansy couldn’t help but gasp. All the words that ran through Pansy’s head regarding the way her hair shined and her body moved in the silver silk of her dress seemed too cliché and undeserving. It was only when Fleur turned and caught her staring that Pansy remembered that the girl was an affront to everything she believed in. Fleur looked at Draco and then back at Pansy, smiling slightly before turning to her date.
Pansy was fuming, her fists balled up in her dress as she watched the flow of Fleur’s skirt around the dance floor, angry at the stupid way everything she did seemed so damn perfect. She could hear Fleur’s laughter over the myriad conversations of the crowd, a soft ringing melody that looped over and over in her head. Fleur was teasing her, making fun of her.
Pansy wished she had never gone to the Room of Requirement that night. She would never have met Fleur, and she would never have gotten herself into this sort of situation. The worst part was just how frequently she thought about that night. She didn’t want Fleur to be worth more than five seconds of thought, but when she closed her eyes, the sight of Fleur’s pale wet skin played in her mind. As she watched Fleur move around the dance floor, laughing at what was probably some inane joke, Pansy couldn’t help but remember the way she traveled languidly through the water, the way her body curved in and out. She could almost feel the warmth of Fleur on her fingers again as her eyes dropped to where Roger Davies’ hand had rested on Fleur’s back.
“Are you okay?”
Pansy was startled by the sound of Draco’s voice. She had practically forgotten he was standing right next to her. Shaking the image of Fleur sans clothing out of her head, Pansy smiled. “Of course I’m fine. I’m here with you after all.”
Draco grinned back and slipped his hand around Pansy’s. “You just looked…bothered, that’s all.”
Pansy flushed a little when she thought about just what was bothering her. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she assured him, trying to mask the unease in her voice. “Just a bit of nausea at the sight of Granger.”
“Ugh, yes.” His lip curled in disgust as he rolled his eyes. “I thought that a Durmstrang champion would have better taste.”
“I bet she bewitched him,” Pansy whispered conspiratorially. “She probably used as much magic on him as she did on her hair.”
“Oh, look,” Draco said happily, pointing at the champions. “Potter keeps tripping on his feet.” He nudged a few of his friends to share the sight, inciting a mass of derisive snorts and whispered taunts.
And with that, Pansy knew that the evening had to go well. Even Granger’s transformation could do nothing to damper her excitement. Pansy was at a dance with Draco, and that was all that she needed to know that the night would be everything she had hoped it would be.
The rest of the ball was a blur of drinking and dancing. Pansy knew that she was going to go hoarse from screaming over the loud music, but she was so caught up in the frenzy of laughing with her friends and being twirled around the dance floor that all worries faded away. She had everything she wanted. And by the end of the night, she would have everything she needed.
As the last chords of music reverberated around the hall, couples began to slowly seek each other. Students tried to subtly figure out the logistics of their amorous exploits, relying on the ancient language of suggestively raised eyebrows and head nods. Pansy was grateful for the work she had put into planning the night. If everyone else had read Cosmo, they would know that relationships and sex require work. Even a spontaneous encounter necessitates forethought when done the Cosmo way.
Pansy wanted to check one last time that everything was set up correctly, leaving Draco behind with clear instructions on how and when to go to the classroom. Every few seconds, Pansy came across another couple headed towards the Astronomy Tower. None of them seemed to realize the foolishness of their plan, and Pansy sure wasn’t going to take time out of her busy schedule to explain it to them. The corridors became increasingly more desolate until her footsteps were the only things she heard echoing through the hall. She turned the last corner to see a pair of stalwart first years standing guard over the door. In exchange for their services, Pansy had promised them a spot on the Quidditch team next year. Well, she thought, she still had a while to figure out how to make that happen. Maybe they would forget by then. Or she could always injure one of them before try-outs.
Dismissing them, she waved her wand towards the door and let herself in. Standing at the entrance, she looked proudly at her handiwork.
“Oh, this eez so beautiful!”
Pansy didn’t have to look to know who was behind her. Instantly, all of the good will that had been building inside of her vanished, replaced with annoyance and a strange jump of anxiety in her chest.
“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” The words came out as if Pansy were trying to punch the air. She refused to look at Fleur.
“I am always finding you in the most beautiful rooms,” Fleur said, ignoring Pansy’s question. She took a step forward, walking straight into the magical barrier Pansy had set up.
Pansy smiled and turned around. “You can’t come in unless I invite you.” She was pleased to see the slightly flustered look on Fleur’s face as she reached out to touch the magical barrier with her fingers.
Fleur retracted her hand and looked at Pansy. They were less than a meter apart, and Pansy could make out the individual strands of Fleur’s hair shining silver from the floating lights. “Will you invite me in zen?”
“No,” Pansy answered quickly. “Of course not. I don’t even know what you’re doing here.”
“I am waiting for zis boy. Roger Daveez.” Fleur looked around the hallway as if she expected him to pop up at any moment. “But I think that I ‘ave lost him.”
“That’s too bad,” Pansy replied without an ounce of sympathy. She moved to shut the door in Fleur’s face.
Before she could close the door all the way, Fleur asked, “And you? Your boy…this Draco? Iz he coming?”
Pansy narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to know?”
“I waz just curious.”
Pansy couldn’t believe the nerve of this girl. Fleur must think she was pretty thick to not know what was going on. “I know what you’re doing,” she said, lowering her voice as she leaned forward. “It won’t work. Not with me.”
A slightly shocked expression appeared on Fleur’s face, but she quickly hid it. “Oh? What iz it that I am doing?”
“You’re trying to get with Draco!”
Fleur laughed out loud, the sound ringing shrilly in Pansy’s ears. Every time Fleur went to say something, a fresh new round of laughter had her doubling over.
“What’s so funny?!” Pansy asked angrily.
“I am so sorry,” Fleur said, as she wiped tears from her eyes. “It iz just so ridiculous. Me? Wanting Draco? Why would you think zat?”
Pansy recoiled in confusion. “Because he’s a Malfoy, of course.”
“And I am a Delacour. I have no need for a Malfoy.”
“You’re lying, you stupid cow.” Pansy edged closer to the threshold, staring boldly into Fleur’s eyes. “You’re showing up everywhere and inviting yourself to our parties. You’re doing it so that you can steal Draco away from me.”
Fleur stopped laughing, her gaze drifting over Pansy’s face. “So this whole time, you think that I am wanting thiz Draco?” She didn’t sound like she was teasing Pansy. In fact, she sounded somewhat earnest.
“Well, isn’t it?”
“No.”
Pansy swallowed nervously. “Why are you showing up everywhere then?”
Fleur looked up at the doorframe and then back down at Pansy. “If you invite me in, I can explain it to you.”
Pansy looked behind her, assessing the possible damage she could cause Fleur without destroying her hard work. “Why don’t I just step outside?”
“Very well.” Fleur moved aside, letting Pansy exit the room.
“Okay,” Pansy said when she was standing in the hall. “Now will you tell me why you won’t go away?”
“I am everywhere because I want to see you.”
Pansy took a step backwards into the wall. “What?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly. “What does that even mean?”
Fleur placed a finger under Pansy’s chin, just as she had before. Leaning forward, she whispered, “But surely you know what that means?”
“No. No, I don’t.”
“Perhaps I should explain it to you,” Fleur answered, her face only a few centimeters away from Pansy’s.
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
But Fleur had already closed the distance between them. Her lips were soft against Pansy’s, a sharp contrast to the hard wall behind her. The kiss started out gentle at first, a light caress of warm lips against her. Pansy was too shocked to close her eyes, and she realized that she was staring right into Fleur’s face. She could count blemishes if she wanted to, though she wouldn’t make it very far past zero.
She wanted to protest, to exclaim that this was not what she wanted. But Fleur’s lips were so convincing, and Pansy found herself closing her eyes and tilting her head so that she could respond. She was hesitant at first, unsure that she should proceed. One of Fleur’s hands was still holding onto her chin, the other flat against the wall so that Pansy was trapped. Pansy was so caught up in the feeling of Fleur’s kiss that she didn’t realize just how close their bodies had become. She could feel the curves of Fleur’s breast against her own. A desire to touch Fleur worked its way through her until it was the single commanding thought in her head.
She opened her lips, allowing Fleur’s insistent tongue to taste her. The hand that had been raising her chin moved further back to grab onto Pansy’s hair, pushing her further into Fleur. The kiss felt full of contradictions. Delicate and yet forceful. Strange and yet so comfortable. All she knew was that every contact that their bodies made seemed to ignite a need that she had not been aware of.
Fleur’s hand trailed down, caressing the outline of Pansy’s body until it found the skirt of her dress. Fleur began to pull up at it until she found the bare skin of Pansy’s thigh. It was only then that Pansy returned to her senses.
“What are you doing?!” she cried out, pushing the other girl away from her.
Fleur cocked her head, a faintly bemused look on her face. “I did not think I was doing anything you did not want.”
“Well, you’re wrong!” Pansy spat out. “I don’t like girls! Not like that anyway.”
That statement earned a smirk from Fleur. “Are you quite certain?”
“Yes!”
The sound of someone else’s footsteps approached them. From around the corner, Draco was hurriedly walking towards them. Pansy quickly smoothed out her dress and beamed at him. Turning back to Fleur, she said, “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to be alone. With my boyfriend.”
Fleur smiled as if she saw right through Pansy. “I guess I should find my boy for ze evening,” she replied breezily. “Or maybe I will just find another one. Zere are so many in this castle.” And with that, she left, leaving only the scent of her perfume on Pansy’s dress.
That night, as Draco’s fingers clumsily figured their way inside of her, she closed her eyes and imagined that the fingers were the slender digits that Fleur had used to touch her. An image of Fleur rising above her, naked and wet, played in her head. She found herself wishing that Draco’s hair was longer, that his body was curvier—that everything about him that was Draco could become more like Fleur instead.
Part 3