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Pansy took another sip of her drink and looked around the crowded room. She spotted a gaggle of Ravenclaws by the beverages, probably competing to see who could make the strongest drink, while the Gryffindors nearby laughed loudly at something Weasel had just said. A few Hufflepuffs were dancing in the middle of the room while a group of Slytherins had taken over the far corner near the windows. McGonagall liked to claim that they were all part of ‘one house of eighth years’, but everyone still automatically separated into their original houses. Of course, parties like these definitely helped blur the lines. If she looked closely she could see the intermingling; Dean Thomas and Seamus Finn-whatever his name is were dancing with the Hufflepuffs, Blaise had just joined the Ravenclaws drinking game, and Draco and Potter were sitting quite close together on one of the couches.
It was the third party the eighth years had had in as many months and Pansy was finally starting to relax, but she still didn’t know what her place was in this strange new social hierarchy. In fact, it wasn’t much of a hierarchy at all and maybe that’s what really bothered her. Where did she fit in? With the Slytherins that no longer treated her like the queen bee? Maybe with the Gryffindors who Potter was slowly convincing to thaw toward ex-death eaters and those associated? Or perhaps with the ever-benevolent Hufflepuffs who would accept her unquestioningly but whom she couldn’t relate to at all? Certainly not with the Ravenclaws who despised her social savvy when their specialty was more intellectual and academic? So there she stood, in a crowded room but feeling ever so alone.
A shriek from the group of Gryffindors brought her out of her thoughts in time to see Granger yelling something then angrily stomping away from whoever she had been screaming at. Pansy watched with mild interest as the bushy haired girl stopped by the drinks, took a cup out of a Ravenclaws hand, downed it in one go, then stalked past Pansy and out of the room entirely. No one from the Gryffindor group followed her. After a few seconds, Pansy decided that provoking Granger further would be quite entertaining, so she finished her drink and slipped out of the party.
The hallway seemed much too quiet compared to how loud the common room had been, but it was a welcome reprieve to her ears. Pansy walked determinedly down the corridor until she turned the corner and saw Granger pacing back and forth while muttering to herself. This is gonna be good, Pansy thought to herself as she approached.
“Trouble in paradise?” Pansy asked, trying not to sound too self-satisfied.
Granger stopped her pacing and whipped her head around to face Pansy. Granger’s angry glare actually lessened in intensity when their eyes met and Pansy suddenly felt off guard.
“Oh, it’s just you,” Granger said without much feeling, her glance sliding down from Pansy’s face to rest somewhere at knee level.
What the hell? thought Pansy. Wasn’t the sight of a Slytherin Potter-hater supposed to make Granger’s blood boil? Maybe Pansy just had to push a few of her buttons.
“So, did Weasel forget to give you a goodnight kiss or something?”
Granger scoffed, “As if I want a kiss from him.”
Pansy frowned and accidentally sounded close to genuine when she said, “I thought you two were… an item.”
Granger finally met her gaze again and the anger was back, “Of course you do, just like everyone else! It seems the whole bloody school expects us to get married and have 15 kids as soon as possible, regardless of what we actually want!”
Pansy couldn't hold back her giggle when Granger whirled around and kicked the wall, huffing and puffing like a child having a fit. Clearly the drink was getting to her.
“Just fuck off,” Granger said, then resumed her angry pacing.
“The sex was that bad, huh?” Pansy inquired, unable to help her curiosity as to why the ‘perfect’ couple hadn’t worked out.
“What– no, it’s not… I mean it didn’t–,” Granger sputtered, a dark blush spreading over her golden brown skin.
Pansy nodded understandingly, her desire to upset the Gryffindor almost entirely replaced with pity.
“Let me guess; the sex was mediocre at best and now he’s clingy, terrible at communicating, and wants to shag all the time.”
Granger’s eyes widened, “...How did you know that?” she asked slowly.
“I tried to date my best friend not too long ago and that’s exactly how it went,” Pansy shrugged.
“You mean Malfoy? But isn’t he gay?”
Pansy nodded, “I was talking about Blaise, but yeah, me and Draco hooked up, too, before he realized he only likes cock.”
Granger averted her eyes and her blush seemed to deepen even further. God, the poor girl was so uncomfortable about sex. Well, with her only friends being Weasel and Potter it did make a lot of sense, unless the rumours of them being a throuple were true. Yeah right…
“Listen,” started Pansy, “All I’m trying to say is that it’s normal, what happened between you and… Weasley. Being friends with a guy is not the same as dating one– it’s like something chemically happens in their brains after you shag and they never treat you the same again. It’s bollocks, sure, but it is normal.”
Granger looked like she was actually listening, nodding along, and Pansy had to remind herself why that seemed so strange. They were supposed to hate each other, right? Granger seemed to have come to the same conclusion because she cleared her throat and looked away.
“Aren’t you supposed to insult me or something now?” Granger asked, swaying a bit before catching herself against the wall.
Pansy felt a surge of shame and tried to tamp it down. Yes, she was supposed to insult or berate or demean, but all of that was so much easier when Granger was just the idea of a person rather than an actual person.
For a moment Pansy actually couldn’t think of an insult, “Right, um… your skirt is quite wrinkled,” she immediately cringed inwardly at how stupid that sounded.
Granger met her gaze again and Pansy prepared for the harsh words that would surely come out, but instead the girl laughed. And continued to laugh far too long for Pansy’s liking.
“That was the worst insult I have ever heard,” Hermione said, laughter finally abating.
Pansy scoffed, although she knew Granger was right, “Why don’t you give it a go, then?” she challenged, taking a step toward the other girl.
Granger’s eyes took on a mischievous glint, “Hmm… let me think,” she tapped her chin exaggeratedly, “Here’s one: only gay men are attracted to you.”
Pansy’s jaw actually dropped in surprise. How dare the little virginal brat say something like that? Opening her mouth to shoot off a truly cruel sentence, Pansy stopped as she noticed that Granger was giggling again, covering her mouth with her hand. Pansy huffed a sigh, remembering that she was dealing with a drunken idiot and it wasn’t worth the anger.
“You should’ve seen your face, oh Merlin, that was hilarious!” Granger exclaimed, “Wait, do you think there’s a pensieve around we could use? ‘Cause I want to replay that moment over and over again.”
“Granger. You are so drunk.” Was all Pansy could say in response to the antics of the usually straight-laced Gryffindor.
“Am not.” Granger replied, frowning.
Pansy cocked an eyebrow. “I saw you down a whole cup of firewhisky on your way out here.”
The curly-haired girl raised both eyebrows at that, “So you were watching me?”
Fighting the blush threatening to spread across her cheeks, Pansy replied, “You’re the one who made a scene.”
But that only seemed to fuel Granger further and she took a few more steps until she was barely a foot away from Pansy. “Right… so you followed me,” Granger said, lips quirking up into a smile that could only be described as devilish. Pansy swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that she could feel the heat radiating off of Granger, smell the perfume she was wearing, see the flecks of shimmering gold in her eyes. Shit. Shit.
“I–” Pansy started, not quite sure what her excuse was going to be.
Then Granger said the thing Pansy least expected, “Have you ever kissed a girl?”
Pansy inhaled sharply, this time entirely unable to help the flush that rose to her face. “N-no,” she stuttered, realizing the familiar ground of bickering had just been snatched right out from under her. Completely uncharted territory lay before her and anxiety warred with a desire Pansy hadn’t realized she could feel so strongly.
“Do you want to?” Granger whispered, leaning forward just a centimeter closer.
Pansy nodded slowly, her gaze drifting down to Granger’s barely parted lips. The smell of Firewhisky brought Pansy crashing back into reality, a reality where she was barely tipsy and Granger was most definitely drunk. Regardless of Granger being the initiator, Pansy knew without a doubt that it would still be taking advantage to kiss her. Merlin, she was literally about to kiss Hermione fucking Granger and she needed to put a stop to it.
Pansy tilted her head back just slightly, “Wait, I don’t think we should while you’re–” but Granger had already taken several steps back, her expression hurt.
“I didn’t really mean it anyway,” Granger spit out, turning to leave.
“Wait!” Pansy said, going after her.
“You’ve humiliated me enough, just let me be.” Granger was still walking away, and for some reason Pansy couldn’t have that. They couldn’t leave things like this, not with this misunderstanding. Something had shifted in Pansy; she didn’t know if it was her earlier feeling of isolation or a gay awakening or a goddamn spell that had been cast on her, but she cared about Granger’s feelings. She didn’t want to hurt them anymore.
She jogged to catch up with the Gryffindor, “Please give me a chance to explain.”
But Granger kept stalking forward.
“Hermione, please,” Pansy practically begged.
Granger whirled around, opening her mouth for what was sure to be the mother of all telling-offs, but Pansy cut her off. “I want to kiss you.” she stated, and Granger’s mouth snapped shut.
“I really do, but I think we should both be sober for it. You know?” Pansy tried to look as sincere as she could, something her facial muscles weren’t really used to.
Granger looked taken aback. After a few aborted attempts at responding, a determined look crossed Granger’s face and she reached into her pocket for her wand.
“Depulso Firewhisky,” Granger spoke the incantation as she flicked her wand. She grimaced and then coughed. “Alright, I’m sober.”
Pansy supposed she should have expected it, but it was still a surprise when Granger grabbed her by the collar and kissed her.
It was… different than the boys had been. In the most incredible way. Hermione’s soft lips moved against hers, a little too roughly at first but then finding just the right amount of pressure to have Pansy leaning in for more. Pansy couldn’t help steadying herself by holding Hermione’s waist, digging in her fingers slightly as the Gryffindor did something exceptionally brilliant with her tongue. Then Hermione’s hands were on Pansy, bringing their bodies flush together in a way that lit up Pansy’s whole being, heat building everywhere she could feel the other girl. Merlin, but she could kiss. Pansy was so turned on she barely felt it when her back hit the wall, laser focused on the sensation of fingers trailing down her thigh, the delicious jolt of pleasure as those fingers inched back up, dangerously close to exactly where she wanted them. Then Hermione broke the kiss, leaning back just slightly. Pansy met her gaze and was about to ask why the hell she’d pulled away when Hermione smirked and started in on Pansy’s neck. Pansy buried a hand in Hermione’s long curls and tugged gently, feeling the vibration of the responding hum where Hermione’s lips were mouthing along her collarbone. When those lips met the spot behind Pansy’s ear she couldn’t hold back her moan. It echoed loudly through the wide hallway, drawing Pansy out of her kiss-drunken stupor, and she gently pulled Hermione away from her. Hermione stepped back but kept one hand on Pansy’s waist, and Pansy’s thighs clenched together involuntarily at the loss of full body contact.
“Well, fuck me,” Pansy said, breathless. Hermione’s eyes darkened as she licked her lips and Pansy realized what she’d just said. Shit, “I mean, where’d you learn to kiss like that?”
“I read a lot of books,” Hermione said with a sly smile, “You’re much better than reading, though. I like how you went all soft and let me take the lead.”
Pansy blushed and the heat in her core started growing again. What was wrong with her? How exactly was it that Hermione-Muggleborn-Granger was making her feel this way when no one else had even come close?
“Maybe you just caught me off guard,” Pansy challenged, hoping the cheekiness would
cover just how out of her depth she felt in this new dynamic.
“Mhmm, of course,” Hermione nodded, clearly disbelieving, “Well, I think I’d like to see you off guard much more often.”
Pansy shook her head, “And here I was thinking you were the sexually repressed one of the two of us.”
Hermione giggled and Pansy decided she liked the sound–decided she’d do anything to hear it again. Merlin, she was truly fucked. “There’s another inter-house party next weekend, right?”
“I was actually thinking of tonight… in my dorm room…”
The End.