The first time he notices that she’s special is on the platform. He didn’t even expect her to come, but there she is next to Malfoy, with her head held high despite all the whispers and stares. Harry is sneaking glances at Malfoy -- as usual -- and he can’t really help rolling his eyes. When he looks over again, she’s smirking at him. She’s seen them too.
Over the next few weeks it becomes a habit to make eye contact whenever Harry or Malfoy is being extra transparent. Which means that he’s smiling, or smirking or rolling his eyes at Pansy Parkinson several times a day. And she always smirks back, or shakes her head minutely, or makes a vulgar gesture behind Malfoy’s back. He kind of admires her range of rude handsigns, actually. She may even know more than George.
When Harry and Malfoy finally stop dancing around each other and start shagging, he talks to her for the first time. She’s got a wicked sense of humour, and she’s quick! Not as smart as Hermione, of course -- no one is -- but she always has a clever comeback or sees a situation from a completely unexpected perspective.
When they start talking to each other he notices other things about her. The way she uses her hair as a curtain to shield her from the hostile looks she’s still getting. And the way her eyes look so weary and resigned in the privacy behind her shiny hair, when someone whispers and points. And he realises that she’s letting him see. That she’s granting him access to a side of her that’s only known to her closest friends. It makes him feel honored, in a way, that she chooses to let him see her.
The first time they kiss is after he loses his first game of chess in forever. It didn’t even take her very long to beat him, and he can’t honestly say that he minds. Her mouth is warm and her hair is just as soft as he imagined, as it slips through his hands. He breathes in the scent of light perfume mixed with something warmer and more human. Something that’s just her. She’s pressing him up against the wall in the Slytherin common room, and he lets himself go boneless against the cold stones and surrenders all control. She did win, after all.
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timeasmymeasure
PANSY: Ficlet
Date: 2014-02-11 04:20 pm (UTC)The first time he notices that she’s special is on the platform. He didn’t even expect her to come, but there she is next to Malfoy, with her head held high despite all the whispers and stares. Harry is sneaking glances at Malfoy -- as usual -- and he can’t really help rolling his eyes. When he looks over again, she’s smirking at him. She’s seen them too.
Over the next few weeks it becomes a habit to make eye contact whenever Harry or Malfoy is being extra transparent. Which means that he’s smiling, or smirking or rolling his eyes at Pansy Parkinson several times a day. And she always smirks back, or shakes her head minutely, or makes a vulgar gesture behind Malfoy’s back. He kind of admires her range of rude handsigns, actually. She may even know more than George.
When Harry and Malfoy finally stop dancing around each other and start shagging, he talks to her for the first time. She’s got a wicked sense of humour, and she’s quick! Not as smart as Hermione, of course -- no one is -- but she always has a clever comeback or sees a situation from a completely unexpected perspective.
When they start talking to each other he notices other things about her. The way she uses her hair as a curtain to shield her from the hostile looks she’s still getting. And the way her eyes look so weary and resigned in the privacy behind her shiny hair, when someone whispers and points. And he realises that she’s letting him see. That she’s granting him access to a side of her that’s only known to her closest friends. It makes him feel honored, in a way, that she chooses to let him see her.
The first time they kiss is after he loses his first game of chess in forever. It didn’t even take her very long to beat him, and he can’t honestly say that he minds. Her mouth is warm and her hair is just as soft as he imagined, as it slips through his hands. He breathes in the scent of light perfume mixed with something warmer and more human. Something that’s just her. She’s pressing him up against the wall in the Slytherin common room, and he lets himself go boneless against the cold stones and surrenders all control. She did win, after all.