crackle into the dark
Title: crackle into the dark
Author:waxrose
Summary: "Weep for your own dead, Weasley. God knows there will be enough."
Rating: R
Pairings: Pansy/Ginny, implied Pansy/Draco
Length: 2,712 words
Warnings: Character death, sexual situations and heavy angst.
Notes: Written for animegurl65 as part of the hp_lovebirds exchange. Make sure to check out the exchange masterlist - there's lots of great fics! Also, my eternal gratitude to my beta, summerborn for looking this over on such short notice.
Follow me
Through a city of frost-covered angels
I swear I have nothing to prove
I just want to dance in your tangles
To give me some reason to move
But to take on the world at all angles
Requires a strength I can't use
So I'll meet you up high in your anger
Of all that is hoping and waiting for you
- Gardenhead (Leave Me Alone) - Neutral Milk Hotel
Since the devastating attack on the Daily Prophet two weeks past, news of the war traveled a little more slowly through the wizarding world. It was also often a great deal less reliable after being chewed up and picked over by every gossip from Diagon Alley to Hogsmeade.
Which is why Pansy didn't believe for a second that Draco Malfoy was dead.
Some big-eyed Hufflepuff second-year had shrieked this latest piece of gossip out in the Great Hall over breakfast on Tuesday, apparently included in a letter from her gran. It wasn't very hard to hear, meals were a subdued affair with less than a hundred students left to fill the hall. Most students had not returned to Hogwarts after the summer, whether by their wish or that of their parents. The teachers seemed to be trying to keep everything as normal as possible, but the war always lurked just beneath the surface, a palatable terror and presence. The atmosphere was thick with tension; everyone was paranoid. Laughter in the empty corridors rang hollow and unnaturally loud and students huddled in their locked common rooms by night. The war may not have been on Hogwarts' doorstep, but it was by no means simply a distant unpleasantness. Owls arrived daily, from relatives or the Ministry (We regret to inform you...) Until the head offices of Daily Prophet were reduced to ash and the acrid smell of burning ink, each morning had brought tales of torture, murder, deceit and betrayal along with breakfast.
Pansy remained because she had no choice. And according to her father, she was here because she was no damn good for anything else and thus, the job of spying inside the walls of Hogwarts fell to her. It was hardly a reasonable expectation: if any strategy or plans were discussed within the walls of Hogwarts, these conversations within the Headmistress's office and were not generally privy to students. Pansy was aware that her father was shunting her aside for her own safety (or so, she liked to believe), but how on earth did he justify her position? What worth could Hogwarts possibly hold for the Dark Lord? Dumbledore was dead, Potter had not returned at the beginning of the school year and one fantastical rumor after the next failed to provide a fix on his whereabouts. The castle was not a formidable fortress any longer, merely a potent symbol. But for the sake of sheer malevolence and desire to see the last bastion of Mudblood-loving ideology crushed and Dumbledore's supporters utterly defeated, it held no significance in the greater war. It would be the last to fall, Pansy concluded, but fall it would, in time.
In the meantime, she intended to pass her NEWTs with honors. She wrote her weekly reports to her father, detailing any "suspicious" conversations or exchanges she had observed, often struggling to find anything beyond Sprout and Flitwick bickering about Quidditch practice schedules. She was sure that her father just tore the letters up, but the elaborate game was one that they had to play. Honestly, Pansy was grateful to be well out of the war. And even if the Slytherin common room was simply a little too dark, a little too quiet without Draco to help her with her Potions homework...well, she got along. The war wouldn't last forever.
The rumor lay in the back of her mind all day, niggling at the edges of her consciousness as she worked in the library before dinner. She was unable to focus, and her Runes homework became stained and blotted beyond legibility. It wasn't right, people shouldn't gossip like that. That goddamned little Hufflepuff! Why, what if someone had actually been stupid enough to believe that her batty old grandmother's tall tales were actually true? Draco was not dead. Her father had refused to answer on his whereabouts when pressured, but she knew that he was with Snape, and that meant that he was safe. Draco was bold and cunning and he was fighting for the survival of their world. Like a true Slytherin.
It was wrong. It was wrong; she couldn't let anyone tell lies about Draco like that. With a snarl, she snapped her ruined homework shut inside of her book and stalked out the library.
~
Hufflepuffs had always annoyed Pansy. She found them to be, in general, wishy-washy and feeble. She'd even cursed Hannah Abbot's pigtails into snakes once, in Runes class when Professor Vector was occupied in his office. Pansy enjoyed Ancient Runes, she was damn good at it and Hannah's remark about how that one pretty little symbol ("Looks exactly like a flower, doesn't it? Oh Pansy, you're so luck to have such a pretty name, a flo-") was enough to make Pansy's patience disappear. She still smiled at the memory of the ensuing screams.
The second-year in question and her little friends seemed to be no exception to the rule. She found them within a quarter-hour, stumbling out of the Great Hall in a mass of giggles. Pansy's stomach rumbled and she realized, somewhat distantly, that she must have worked through dinner. No matter. Her eyes narrowed and she stalked towards the small brunette Hufflepuff, noting with satisfaction how she and her friends fell silent at her approach. Fearful? Oh, yes. She took her time, walking in deliberately in their path and stopping them, not speaking. Intimidation. Power. This was what Pansy lived for, it was what she was good at. People could be stripped to their barest self, a shadow of their professed ideals and virtues. She enjoyed peeling away those layers, exposing their fears and doubts with a look, a word.
"Zeller, isn't it?" she said finally, and the brunette in the center of the small huddle of Hufflepuffs whimpered. "We need to speak, you and I. Walk with me." It was an order, not a request. Zeller followed her, looking as though she was heading to an execution. The other brats hovered anxiously for a minute, then departed.
Pansy led the girl to an alcove off of the Entrance Hall. It was isolated and remote, dark except for a single torch flickering high on one wall. She intended to make her point and make sure that the lesson stuck. She shoved the girl against the stone wall and the surprised Hufflepuff hit the wall, sliding down to the floor with a terrified squeak.
"I have no patience for lying brats," Pansy hissed, slowly pulling out her wand from her sleeve.
"I-I don't know what you mean..."
"Draco Malfoy is not dead," Pansy interrupted. "And you are an idiot if you think anyone would believe otherwise."
Comprehension dawned in the girls's eyes. "But my gran said that they..."
"Your gran is a senile old cow and a liar!" Pansy let some sparks erupt from the end of her wand, swirl around the terrified girl. There would certainly be trouble if she actually hurt the girl. "You just liked the attention, didn't you? Everyone crowding around you, asking you questions. Did it make you feel important, Zeller?"
"Please! No! She was there, she said his body was found in a town near Manchester, she-"
"Shut up!" Pansy raised her wand, "I said shut up, or I'll-"
"-It was the Killing Curse, and they all looked for a Dark Mark, but," Rose Zeller looked imploringly at Pansy, caught between fear and curiosity, "There was nothing and everyone said isn't that odd, ‘cuz they thought he was a Death Eater."
Pansy felt her heart pounding, the steady thump-thump resounding in her ears. "You," she hissed, furious, "I'll kill you-"
"Parkinson." Pansy gritted her teeth, lowering her wand as Zeller let out her breath in a whoosh of relief at the sight of her rescuer. "Lower your wand and get away from her, now."
Pansy turned, smirking. "Did the badger brats run to fetch you, Weasley? You must be glad to feel...wanted."
Ginny Weasley looked calmly past Pansy to the terrified girl huddling wide-eyed on the floor near the wall. "You can leave now, Rose," she said quietly. "Your friends are waiting for you in the Hall - be sure to go straight to your common room."
Zeller scrambled to her feet and ran flat-out, her steps echoing in the silence that followed her departure.
Ginny looked Pansy steadily in the eye. "I don't know why you're still here instead of murdering innocent people with all your other friends," she said finally, "But I don't trust you, Parkinson. I'll make allowance for your grief tonight, but if I catch you threatening to harm anyone again, I'll report you to the Headmistress."
"You're only a prefect because Lavinia Anderson copped it over the summer," Pansy said, an edge of hysterical laughter in her voice. "Why are you here, Weasley? Your precious Potter and your brother - and that Mudblood. They left you behind, didn't they?"
"I said, I’ll make allowance for your grief," Ginny snapped. "Don't test my patience, Parkinson. I don't really give a damn if Malfoy is dead. I'm sure he left a trail of blood in his wake."
Pansy laughed. She laughed and laughed, madly, wildly, loudly. She laughed until she could taste bile in the back of her throat, until her ears rang and Weasley stepped back, looking uncertain.
"Damn you, Weasley," Pansy choked out, between hysterical giggles. "I keep telling everyone. He isn't fucking dead."
"They found his body."
"The little Hufflepuff was just making that up, it's a stupid lie."
"Parkinson, you're in fucking denial. Get yourself together. Malfoy is dea-"
"No!" Pansy's hands flew out, almost unbidden and soon she was pinning Ginny to the wall of the alcove. "He isn't dead, he isn't, he can't be..."
"Parkinson, get off of me," Ginny said calmly, if a little uncertainly. "It won't take much to make me hex you at this point, believe me." Her body shifted below Pansy's hands, Pansy's hands convulsively gripped her shoulders, Ginny's slim arms pinned to her sides against the wall. The front of her black robes had been left open and she still wore her uniform beneath, red and yellow Gryffindor tie untucked from her vest, collar unbuttoned to reveal pales skin dotted with cinnamon-colored freckles, collarbone jutting out just slightly, visible in the flickering torchlight of the alcove.
Pansy's eyes trailed downwards and then back up, taking in Ginny's socks, pushed down around her ankles, her nipples, hard and visible through her blouse. Laughing softly, crazily, she lifted her hand from Ginny's right shoulder and lightly brushed a fingertip against one of the redhead's nipples, delighting in Ginny's shocked hiss, the flush of her cheeks and the brief flash of arousal in her eyes before it was replaced by fiery anger.
"Back off, Parkinson. Don't make me repeat myself."
Pansy only laughed again, light-headed and feeling not quite like herself. She had seen something in Weasley's eyes for a moment - vulnerability. She moved closer, desiring to regain some measure of control as in her mind, the world slowly crashed and screamed. She ducked her head, closing her eyes slightly and shaping her lips around Ginny's nipple again, stiffening and straining against the white cotton of Ginny's shirt. Heard the smaller girl's breath, faster, gasping as she breathed, hot and slow against her, letting her tongue dart out briefly against the pointed flesh beneath the cool fabric.
Her other hand remained on Ginny's shoulder, her thumb tracing small circles against the redheaded girl's collarbone as she drew back and stood upright again, anglign her head down slightly and leaning her forehead against Ginny's. Ginny's eyes were dark and wide, her breath coming faster. She was biting her lip, but there were no more threats, no pleas. Mine, Pansy's mind crowed, relishing the victory, Yes, I can do this and you'll let me. She leaned forward and captured Ginny's bottom lip between her own.
She gloated inwardly at the younger girl's involuntary little whimper as Pansy crushed her mouth against hers. It was barely a kiss, that wet, hot tangle of lips and teeth, no method or reason behind Pansy's tongue forcing Ginny's lips open and tracing the inside corners of her mouth lightly, daintily. Her other hand drifted downward from Ginny's shoulder and fumbled with the buttons of the Weasley girl's blouse, fingers slipping occasionally. Ginny made a strangled noise into Pansy's mouth and her hands flew up from her sides, touching, but not letting her hands stray on any one part of Pansy's body for long, as if each touch burnt her, tugging at clothes and clumsily undoing buttons. One of her hands wove into Pansy's
hair, fingers slipping through dark, silky strands and tracing the curve of her earlobe lightly.
The air in the Entrance Hall smelled of rain, thick and oppressive, musty. Distant rumbles of thunder sounded lazily, slow and thick in the late evening air: there would be a storm tonight. Pansy broke away from the kiss, gasping. Ginny let her head fall back against the wall, mouth open, red lips swollen and dark. For a moment, their eyes met and there was silence, except for harsh breaths, the growling sky before it's storm and the slow drip-drip of rain, pattering against the windows, tentatively at first, but growing stronger.
Pansy didn't say If he really is dead... because there was no room for anything, truth or lies, between them, this close, her own body warmed by the radiating heat of Ginny's skin.
And Ginny didn't say I'm afraid because to speak of silent nightmare visions of Harry's body, dead and vacant-eyed, alone and still in a place where she cannot reach him was too near a possibility and too much to comprehend, to accept.
And then the moment was broken and they crashed together again, thunder resounding, cracking the sky open as Pansy slid her hands beneath Ginny's skirt, tugging the other girl's knickers down. Ginny cried out in tandem with lightning flashes, eyes squeezed shut, one hand feverishly combing through Pansy's hair as Pansy’s fingers entered her, exploring and tracing. Her other hand clutched high on Pansy's bare thigh, nails digging into pale flesh. The lightning's white glow pierced the dark of the alcove, illuminating, reflecting in Pansy's eyes as she watched Ginny, breathing in gasps, quickly, quickly -
A flash.
The world lit by a sharp, unforgiving light.
Outside, far away, lightning has struck a tree, felling it deep within a lonely forest.
Ginny sagged against the wall, skin glowing slightly with sweat, throat catching as she gasped for breath. Pansy moved back and turns away, absentmindedly buttoning her blouse and straightening her skirt.
"Parkinson." She did not turn around. Ginny's voice was softer, hesitant. "I'm sorry. Really."
Pansy laughed hoarsely, ironically, almost coughing in the effort. Her throat was raw. "Weep for your own dead, Weasley. God knows there will be enough."
And with that, she swept out of the alcove, leaving Ginny alone.
Pansy continued through the Entrance Hall, wandering its length until she found the smaller iron door that lead to a small courtyard in the back of the castle. She shoved the door, sobs catching and threatening to rise in her throat as the rusty metal door groaned and creaked and finally gave way. She stumbled into the courtyard, drawing her robes close to her body and turning her face towards the angry sky, letting the clod, sharp raindrops mingle with her tears and spill down her cheeks.
The wind whistled angrily past her head, grazing her cheeks like a knife. Thunder punctuated her quiet sobs, loud rumbles masking each gasp, each cry. She savaged her lower lip with her teeth until it bled, coughing and hacking in the cold wetness, barely registering the rain hitting soaking into her skin. The world around her was still broken, too loud and angry, the jagged remains of everything she had known to be true harshly lit, as if to gloat at their destruction.
"No," she whispered hoarsely as lightning once again illuminated the courtyard. "Enough. Enough."
But the world refused to fall silent.
FIN
Author:waxrose
Summary: "Weep for your own dead, Weasley. God knows there will be enough."
Rating: R
Pairings: Pansy/Ginny, implied Pansy/Draco
Length: 2,712 words
Warnings: Character death, sexual situations and heavy angst.
Notes: Written for animegurl65 as part of the hp_lovebirds exchange. Make sure to check out the exchange masterlist - there's lots of great fics! Also, my eternal gratitude to my beta, summerborn for looking this over on such short notice.
Follow me
Through a city of frost-covered angels
I swear I have nothing to prove
I just want to dance in your tangles
To give me some reason to move
But to take on the world at all angles
Requires a strength I can't use
So I'll meet you up high in your anger
Of all that is hoping and waiting for you
- Gardenhead (Leave Me Alone) - Neutral Milk Hotel
Since the devastating attack on the Daily Prophet two weeks past, news of the war traveled a little more slowly through the wizarding world. It was also often a great deal less reliable after being chewed up and picked over by every gossip from Diagon Alley to Hogsmeade.
Which is why Pansy didn't believe for a second that Draco Malfoy was dead.
Some big-eyed Hufflepuff second-year had shrieked this latest piece of gossip out in the Great Hall over breakfast on Tuesday, apparently included in a letter from her gran. It wasn't very hard to hear, meals were a subdued affair with less than a hundred students left to fill the hall. Most students had not returned to Hogwarts after the summer, whether by their wish or that of their parents. The teachers seemed to be trying to keep everything as normal as possible, but the war always lurked just beneath the surface, a palatable terror and presence. The atmosphere was thick with tension; everyone was paranoid. Laughter in the empty corridors rang hollow and unnaturally loud and students huddled in their locked common rooms by night. The war may not have been on Hogwarts' doorstep, but it was by no means simply a distant unpleasantness. Owls arrived daily, from relatives or the Ministry (We regret to inform you...) Until the head offices of Daily Prophet were reduced to ash and the acrid smell of burning ink, each morning had brought tales of torture, murder, deceit and betrayal along with breakfast.
Pansy remained because she had no choice. And according to her father, she was here because she was no damn good for anything else and thus, the job of spying inside the walls of Hogwarts fell to her. It was hardly a reasonable expectation: if any strategy or plans were discussed within the walls of Hogwarts, these conversations within the Headmistress's office and were not generally privy to students. Pansy was aware that her father was shunting her aside for her own safety (or so, she liked to believe), but how on earth did he justify her position? What worth could Hogwarts possibly hold for the Dark Lord? Dumbledore was dead, Potter had not returned at the beginning of the school year and one fantastical rumor after the next failed to provide a fix on his whereabouts. The castle was not a formidable fortress any longer, merely a potent symbol. But for the sake of sheer malevolence and desire to see the last bastion of Mudblood-loving ideology crushed and Dumbledore's supporters utterly defeated, it held no significance in the greater war. It would be the last to fall, Pansy concluded, but fall it would, in time.
In the meantime, she intended to pass her NEWTs with honors. She wrote her weekly reports to her father, detailing any "suspicious" conversations or exchanges she had observed, often struggling to find anything beyond Sprout and Flitwick bickering about Quidditch practice schedules. She was sure that her father just tore the letters up, but the elaborate game was one that they had to play. Honestly, Pansy was grateful to be well out of the war. And even if the Slytherin common room was simply a little too dark, a little too quiet without Draco to help her with her Potions homework...well, she got along. The war wouldn't last forever.
The rumor lay in the back of her mind all day, niggling at the edges of her consciousness as she worked in the library before dinner. She was unable to focus, and her Runes homework became stained and blotted beyond legibility. It wasn't right, people shouldn't gossip like that. That goddamned little Hufflepuff! Why, what if someone had actually been stupid enough to believe that her batty old grandmother's tall tales were actually true? Draco was not dead. Her father had refused to answer on his whereabouts when pressured, but she knew that he was with Snape, and that meant that he was safe. Draco was bold and cunning and he was fighting for the survival of their world. Like a true Slytherin.
It was wrong. It was wrong; she couldn't let anyone tell lies about Draco like that. With a snarl, she snapped her ruined homework shut inside of her book and stalked out the library.
~
Hufflepuffs had always annoyed Pansy. She found them to be, in general, wishy-washy and feeble. She'd even cursed Hannah Abbot's pigtails into snakes once, in Runes class when Professor Vector was occupied in his office. Pansy enjoyed Ancient Runes, she was damn good at it and Hannah's remark about how that one pretty little symbol ("Looks exactly like a flower, doesn't it? Oh Pansy, you're so luck to have such a pretty name, a flo-") was enough to make Pansy's patience disappear. She still smiled at the memory of the ensuing screams.
The second-year in question and her little friends seemed to be no exception to the rule. She found them within a quarter-hour, stumbling out of the Great Hall in a mass of giggles. Pansy's stomach rumbled and she realized, somewhat distantly, that she must have worked through dinner. No matter. Her eyes narrowed and she stalked towards the small brunette Hufflepuff, noting with satisfaction how she and her friends fell silent at her approach. Fearful? Oh, yes. She took her time, walking in deliberately in their path and stopping them, not speaking. Intimidation. Power. This was what Pansy lived for, it was what she was good at. People could be stripped to their barest self, a shadow of their professed ideals and virtues. She enjoyed peeling away those layers, exposing their fears and doubts with a look, a word.
"Zeller, isn't it?" she said finally, and the brunette in the center of the small huddle of Hufflepuffs whimpered. "We need to speak, you and I. Walk with me." It was an order, not a request. Zeller followed her, looking as though she was heading to an execution. The other brats hovered anxiously for a minute, then departed.
Pansy led the girl to an alcove off of the Entrance Hall. It was isolated and remote, dark except for a single torch flickering high on one wall. She intended to make her point and make sure that the lesson stuck. She shoved the girl against the stone wall and the surprised Hufflepuff hit the wall, sliding down to the floor with a terrified squeak.
"I have no patience for lying brats," Pansy hissed, slowly pulling out her wand from her sleeve.
"I-I don't know what you mean..."
"Draco Malfoy is not dead," Pansy interrupted. "And you are an idiot if you think anyone would believe otherwise."
Comprehension dawned in the girls's eyes. "But my gran said that they..."
"Your gran is a senile old cow and a liar!" Pansy let some sparks erupt from the end of her wand, swirl around the terrified girl. There would certainly be trouble if she actually hurt the girl. "You just liked the attention, didn't you? Everyone crowding around you, asking you questions. Did it make you feel important, Zeller?"
"Please! No! She was there, she said his body was found in a town near Manchester, she-"
"Shut up!" Pansy raised her wand, "I said shut up, or I'll-"
"-It was the Killing Curse, and they all looked for a Dark Mark, but," Rose Zeller looked imploringly at Pansy, caught between fear and curiosity, "There was nothing and everyone said isn't that odd, ‘cuz they thought he was a Death Eater."
Pansy felt her heart pounding, the steady thump-thump resounding in her ears. "You," she hissed, furious, "I'll kill you-"
"Parkinson." Pansy gritted her teeth, lowering her wand as Zeller let out her breath in a whoosh of relief at the sight of her rescuer. "Lower your wand and get away from her, now."
Pansy turned, smirking. "Did the badger brats run to fetch you, Weasley? You must be glad to feel...wanted."
Ginny Weasley looked calmly past Pansy to the terrified girl huddling wide-eyed on the floor near the wall. "You can leave now, Rose," she said quietly. "Your friends are waiting for you in the Hall - be sure to go straight to your common room."
Zeller scrambled to her feet and ran flat-out, her steps echoing in the silence that followed her departure.
Ginny looked Pansy steadily in the eye. "I don't know why you're still here instead of murdering innocent people with all your other friends," she said finally, "But I don't trust you, Parkinson. I'll make allowance for your grief tonight, but if I catch you threatening to harm anyone again, I'll report you to the Headmistress."
"You're only a prefect because Lavinia Anderson copped it over the summer," Pansy said, an edge of hysterical laughter in her voice. "Why are you here, Weasley? Your precious Potter and your brother - and that Mudblood. They left you behind, didn't they?"
"I said, I’ll make allowance for your grief," Ginny snapped. "Don't test my patience, Parkinson. I don't really give a damn if Malfoy is dead. I'm sure he left a trail of blood in his wake."
Pansy laughed. She laughed and laughed, madly, wildly, loudly. She laughed until she could taste bile in the back of her throat, until her ears rang and Weasley stepped back, looking uncertain.
"Damn you, Weasley," Pansy choked out, between hysterical giggles. "I keep telling everyone. He isn't fucking dead."
"They found his body."
"The little Hufflepuff was just making that up, it's a stupid lie."
"Parkinson, you're in fucking denial. Get yourself together. Malfoy is dea-"
"No!" Pansy's hands flew out, almost unbidden and soon she was pinning Ginny to the wall of the alcove. "He isn't dead, he isn't, he can't be..."
"Parkinson, get off of me," Ginny said calmly, if a little uncertainly. "It won't take much to make me hex you at this point, believe me." Her body shifted below Pansy's hands, Pansy's hands convulsively gripped her shoulders, Ginny's slim arms pinned to her sides against the wall. The front of her black robes had been left open and she still wore her uniform beneath, red and yellow Gryffindor tie untucked from her vest, collar unbuttoned to reveal pales skin dotted with cinnamon-colored freckles, collarbone jutting out just slightly, visible in the flickering torchlight of the alcove.
Pansy's eyes trailed downwards and then back up, taking in Ginny's socks, pushed down around her ankles, her nipples, hard and visible through her blouse. Laughing softly, crazily, she lifted her hand from Ginny's right shoulder and lightly brushed a fingertip against one of the redhead's nipples, delighting in Ginny's shocked hiss, the flush of her cheeks and the brief flash of arousal in her eyes before it was replaced by fiery anger.
"Back off, Parkinson. Don't make me repeat myself."
Pansy only laughed again, light-headed and feeling not quite like herself. She had seen something in Weasley's eyes for a moment - vulnerability. She moved closer, desiring to regain some measure of control as in her mind, the world slowly crashed and screamed. She ducked her head, closing her eyes slightly and shaping her lips around Ginny's nipple again, stiffening and straining against the white cotton of Ginny's shirt. Heard the smaller girl's breath, faster, gasping as she breathed, hot and slow against her, letting her tongue dart out briefly against the pointed flesh beneath the cool fabric.
Her other hand remained on Ginny's shoulder, her thumb tracing small circles against the redheaded girl's collarbone as she drew back and stood upright again, anglign her head down slightly and leaning her forehead against Ginny's. Ginny's eyes were dark and wide, her breath coming faster. She was biting her lip, but there were no more threats, no pleas. Mine, Pansy's mind crowed, relishing the victory, Yes, I can do this and you'll let me. She leaned forward and captured Ginny's bottom lip between her own.
She gloated inwardly at the younger girl's involuntary little whimper as Pansy crushed her mouth against hers. It was barely a kiss, that wet, hot tangle of lips and teeth, no method or reason behind Pansy's tongue forcing Ginny's lips open and tracing the inside corners of her mouth lightly, daintily. Her other hand drifted downward from Ginny's shoulder and fumbled with the buttons of the Weasley girl's blouse, fingers slipping occasionally. Ginny made a strangled noise into Pansy's mouth and her hands flew up from her sides, touching, but not letting her hands stray on any one part of Pansy's body for long, as if each touch burnt her, tugging at clothes and clumsily undoing buttons. One of her hands wove into Pansy's
hair, fingers slipping through dark, silky strands and tracing the curve of her earlobe lightly.
The air in the Entrance Hall smelled of rain, thick and oppressive, musty. Distant rumbles of thunder sounded lazily, slow and thick in the late evening air: there would be a storm tonight. Pansy broke away from the kiss, gasping. Ginny let her head fall back against the wall, mouth open, red lips swollen and dark. For a moment, their eyes met and there was silence, except for harsh breaths, the growling sky before it's storm and the slow drip-drip of rain, pattering against the windows, tentatively at first, but growing stronger.
Pansy didn't say If he really is dead... because there was no room for anything, truth or lies, between them, this close, her own body warmed by the radiating heat of Ginny's skin.
And Ginny didn't say I'm afraid because to speak of silent nightmare visions of Harry's body, dead and vacant-eyed, alone and still in a place where she cannot reach him was too near a possibility and too much to comprehend, to accept.
And then the moment was broken and they crashed together again, thunder resounding, cracking the sky open as Pansy slid her hands beneath Ginny's skirt, tugging the other girl's knickers down. Ginny cried out in tandem with lightning flashes, eyes squeezed shut, one hand feverishly combing through Pansy's hair as Pansy’s fingers entered her, exploring and tracing. Her other hand clutched high on Pansy's bare thigh, nails digging into pale flesh. The lightning's white glow pierced the dark of the alcove, illuminating, reflecting in Pansy's eyes as she watched Ginny, breathing in gasps, quickly, quickly -
A flash.
The world lit by a sharp, unforgiving light.
Outside, far away, lightning has struck a tree, felling it deep within a lonely forest.
Ginny sagged against the wall, skin glowing slightly with sweat, throat catching as she gasped for breath. Pansy moved back and turns away, absentmindedly buttoning her blouse and straightening her skirt.
"Parkinson." She did not turn around. Ginny's voice was softer, hesitant. "I'm sorry. Really."
Pansy laughed hoarsely, ironically, almost coughing in the effort. Her throat was raw. "Weep for your own dead, Weasley. God knows there will be enough."
And with that, she swept out of the alcove, leaving Ginny alone.
Pansy continued through the Entrance Hall, wandering its length until she found the smaller iron door that lead to a small courtyard in the back of the castle. She shoved the door, sobs catching and threatening to rise in her throat as the rusty metal door groaned and creaked and finally gave way. She stumbled into the courtyard, drawing her robes close to her body and turning her face towards the angry sky, letting the clod, sharp raindrops mingle with her tears and spill down her cheeks.
The wind whistled angrily past her head, grazing her cheeks like a knife. Thunder punctuated her quiet sobs, loud rumbles masking each gasp, each cry. She savaged her lower lip with her teeth until it bled, coughing and hacking in the cold wetness, barely registering the rain hitting soaking into her skin. The world around her was still broken, too loud and angry, the jagged remains of everything she had known to be true harshly lit, as if to gloat at their destruction.
"No," she whispered hoarsely as lightning once again illuminated the courtyard. "Enough. Enough."
But the world refused to fall silent.
FIN