"Come on Drakey, don't leave me like this." The blonde Slytherin simply sneered slightly and turned his back.
"Pansy, don't get all emotional on me." Pansy's eyes immediately began to water as she watched Draco put on his previously discarded clothes, and leave the room without a backwards glance.
It always happened like this. It was never supposed to. Pansy had a weakness that was for certain. Her weakness just happened to be a very smooth talking, insatiable, man-whore. And when those kissable lips began talking, crooning into her ear, speaking of all the things Pansy fantasised about, she couldn't resist. Who could?
Through her tears, Pansy smiled thinking of that silver hair all mussed up, that cheeky smirk and the glinting grey eyes that always seemed to want her. Her smile vanished when she remembered all he ever wanted her for was sex. That was all she was worth to him.
Every time he walked out without even a kiss of any sorts, Pansy promised herself that next time it would be different because there wouldn't be a next time, he wouldn't take advantage of her again. But then he would turn to her during dinner and focus all his attention on her, and she would think yes, this is it, he wants me for me. It was never true though. Poor Pansy was always left in the bed on her own, sobbing with no shoulder to lean on, no ear to confide in and no lips so kiss away the tears.
Wiping her eyes, Pansy began to scuttle round the circular room, searching for her clothes that had been thrown willy-nilly during the passion.
"Fuck him." She said aloud, but it did no good, the longing remained, and she had no idea how to resist his sexy, well anything.
"Useless." She muttered. "I'm useless except for sex." Pansy dressed, silent tears streaming down her cheeks, still. No-one would ever believe that she wasn't a whore. There were rumours flying from the mouths of her 'friends' about her sleeping habits. Barely any were true, except those which stated Draco got some. Malfoy got Pansy. Parkinson and Malfoy in the cupboard. She was branded and anything she said got written down as lies. After all, who believes the resident whore?
This is the story of Pansy Parkinson.
A.N: I'm kind of writing this because I wanted a to try my hand at writing in the third person (so if anyone has any advice on how to improve then please drop me a line), but I still intend to take this story seriously. If you love it or hate it, just leave a review (or if you have advice or PM me).
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns all.