Loathing (Pansy Parkinson)

Three Little Words; Spoken Unknowingly

"Why not?"

"Because, we dated. If you started talking about dating it would not be a good equation."

He looked to her more curiously. Her tongue seemed free.

She spoke again. "I mean look at you, Blaise." She pinched his arm, and he scowled. "You're attractive as hell. If I were to discuss anything to do with a romantic relationship, I might just snog you."

He let her fall into his embrace, as she nuzzled into his chest. As much as holding her in his arms was the most comforting and calming feeling he had experienced, he convinced himself to be annoyed. "Are you drinking?"

"No!" She looked up at him startled. Then, breaking into a hysterical bout of laughter, she reached down to pull the bottle of firewhiskey from underneath the bleacher they were sitting. "Alright fine." She shoved the half empty bottle into his hands.

"Pansy, we should go find Draco." He caught her as she nearly fell backwards.

"No. I don't need him. I'm not dependant on him, okay?" She whined, striking a pouty face.

He studied her features carefully. "I never said you were."

Just then a bludger came soaring toward the pair. Blaise ducked, pulling Pansy with him. "Oi, Flint, you could have killed us!" He shouted, throwing up his one arm in offense.

The dark haired Slytherin just sniggered, and flew to the opposite side of the pitch, his robes of green billowing behind him.

Eventually, despite her persistence otherwise, Blaise slung Pansy over his shoulder, and began to trek back to the castle.

"Put me down you psycho!" She screamed and kicked.

Halfway up the grassy slope his eyes flicked to Hermione Granger. Suddenly his stomach felt queasy, and he was unsure if he could support the weight of his friend. He gripped to Pansy's waist for a sense of being grounded; she hissed a string of insults in response.

Hermione was reading, for what purpose he could not derive. The only thing he noticed was the way the breeze blew the locks of hair from her face as she sat underneath the tree. He approached cautiously.

"You wouldn't know a spell to help lift wasted friends back to the castle?"

She looked up, holding a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun. "Sorry?"

"Er-"

Hermione looked to him sympathetically. "Try Leviosa. Harry got drunk a few times after Quidditch matches. It helped me get him into bed. He had no recollection of it though." Her voice was delightfully pleasant, in a good samaritan sort of way.

"I can't lift heavy objects though. The most I could do with that spell is lift History of Magic."

Her eyes lit up. "You like History of Magic, Blaise?"

"You know my name?"

She laughed a little. "Yeah, well, I've spent multiple occasions with you at Slughorn's. Besides, I tend to know most peers I've spent my entire duration at this school with."

He felt stupid. Though above all, he was surprised she wasn't disgusted by the mere sight of him. A Slytherin, he had assumed was loathed entirely by the golden trio. "Right." He attempted a grin.

"I'll help you if you'd like."

A moments later, the pair were guiding Pansy up the slope, an arm strung around each shoulder. As they reached the main entrance of the castle, Hermione spotted Harry within conversation with Ginny.

"I better be going. Do you think you'll manage alright to the Slytherin common room?" She arched an eyebrow in question.

Before Blaise could answer, Pansy placed a hand to Hermione's cheek. "I know I hate you and all mud-blood, but you're moderately attractive."

"Thank you Pansy." Hermione said, glancing to her feet shyly. She met Blaise's awaiting gaze.

"I owe you." he whispered, and she bit her lip.

"Nonsense. I received a compliment from my arch nemesis. I think your debt has been paid." She gave him one last look from underneath her lashes, before pivoting to head over to Potter.

"Oh, bloody hell." He muttered, watching her retreating figure.

"Zabini!" Pansy slung both arms around his neck now. "Your jaw is dragging on the floor." 

"Bugger off."  He glanced down to her.

They made the rest of the way to the common room in a sluggish manner.

"I hate you!" She mumbled.

"Trust me I hate you more." Blaise responded.

"I also want to-" she stood leaning against him.

"Ah-" he dodged her attempted kiss, spotting Draco walking swiftly toward them. "There he is." 

"What happened?"  Draco asked, observing the pair.

"I believe your fire whiskey, mate."  He shifted the weight toward Malfoy.

The blonde took the witch in his grasp, picking her up fully.

<><><><><>

"Hey-" the voice filtered through her dreams. Just the sound of it felt euphoric.  But then the voice was loud, and caused a ringing within her skull. She snapped her eyes open.

Opening her eyelids slowly, she took detail of the scene. Draco sat beside her, wearing his set of grey joggers that nearly matched the color of his eyes.  She exhaustedly let her head fall onto the skin of his chest.  She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and let her fingers claw closer to him, lightly grasping his shoulders.

"Pansy, come on, we have classes soon." He informed.  "We have to get up." 

She ignored him, letting one leg wrap around his waist, as they lay on the bed. "I'm naked!" She shouted.

"You're not naked Pansy, you have a jumper and pajamas on."  He chuckled slightly. 

"Then why can I feel your skin?"  She mumbled, letting her lips gently press to his chest. 

"I'm not wearing a shirt."

"Thank you." She whispered.

He resigned to letting her lay on top of him, beginning to run his hands through her soft hair.  "You're welcome." 

"I love you, Draco." 

When he heard the words he stopped breathing for a moment. A fear greater than the feeling of Voldemort being in the same room, filled his chest. 

He swallowed, her nails creating a strange sensation as they ran across his skin. 

For a moment he remained frozen, analyzing the spoken words. Then he pulled her closer, and even connected to him she wasn't close enough.