A/N: Just a spur of the moment thing... Sometime ago I read a fic that was based on the same general idea, although it was Daphne Greengrass and a little less "occasions", I think. Thanks to whoever wrote that fic.
Disclaimer: Not mine. If HP belonged to me HBP and DH would have been different...
Pansy Parkinson's Seven Sins
There had been seven occasions when Pansy Parkinson had woken up in someone else's bed, although, after the first time, she'd sworn not to do it again. She liked to call them her seven sins, but in reality, they hadn't all been sins.
That first day, Pansy Parkinson woke up in someone's bed. She didn't recognize the bed. It had to be somewhere in Slytherin, though. The green curtains were always a dead giveaway.
Still feeling sleepy, she turned around, already expecting to see an unfamiliar face, some guy or another. They were all meaningless, anyway. Despite her reputation as a slut, she didn't sleep around a lot. Pansy simply needed company when she felt lonely. And that was quite often.
But, as she turned, she discovered a familiar face next to her, black hair falling over his pillow, a smile on his face. Pansy smiled – it was neither a happy nor a nice smile. Of course not, since she'd just found out she'd slept with her best friend. She wanted to get up, and forget it ever happened, but then Blaise opened his eyes.
They agreed not to talk about what happened for their friendship's sake. Nevertheless, it felt strange to be near him afterwards. Pansy immediately thought of what they had or hadn't done together. So she vowed never to do such a stupid thing again. Pansy Parkinson would never again wake up in a bed that didn't belong to her, and even less in a bed with green curtains like that first morning.
Finally the war was over. Harry Potter and his Dream Team had successfully beaten the Dark Lord. The entire wizarding world was ecstatic. Naturally, celebration parties were held everywhere, especially at Hogwarts. All Houses united, celebrating a future time of peace and security.
When Pansy opened her eyes the next morning, she couldn't help noticing something was wrong. In Slytherin, the sheets never were anything but black, silver and green. Strangely, her sheets were golden, golden like the morning sun shining into the open window. Sighing, she accepted the inevitable. She'd done it again. But still, it came as a shock to her to wake up in bed next to the Gryffindor bookworm. It could have been perfectly innocent, since they were in a girls' dorm, but judging by their state of undress, Pansy highly doubted it.
In spite of her slightly aching head, she remembered some vague images from the night before. Apparently, both girls had been quite drunk. So she decided quickly to leave before the Gryffindor woke up. Pansy put on her robe, and practically ran out, mentally cursing herself for being so stupid.
It had all been because of Ginny. The third time, it was definitely not her fault. Sure, she was lying in Draco's bed in the Slytherin boy dorms, but that didn't imply anything. They were friends, had been fiancées for a while, but they had grown up together. Brother and sister simply didn't do that sort of things together. No matter what people said about Purebloods, that was definitely not true.
Moreover, they were used to sleeping in the same bed. Children, they had done it to protect each other from trivial things, such as lightning. Now, grown up, they did it to console each other, and to protect themselves, but from more serious things, never ending nightmares and the cruel outside world. This time, it was Draco's turn to be sad.
Ginny had been badly hurt in the last battle. When he'd seen the Healers and Madam Pomfrey about her, they weren't sure she would make it. And even if she did recover, why would she want to be with him, the son of a Death Eater, while she could easily have her childish crush, the Boy-Who-Lived? They had been perfect together. Temperamental redhead and supposedly evil Slytherin, they had been striking, as much in battle as off the battlefield, as lovers. So he'd cried himself to sleep in Pansy's arms. Finally, they'd fallen into Morpheus' sweet kingdom.
A knock on the wooden door had rudely awoken them. Blaise, entering the room with a smile on his face, had told them Ginny wanted to see Draco. Of course he'd got up and left.
There she was, lying in his silk sheets, alone, lonely again. At times like those, Pansy wished for someone. Someone to hold her, to talk to, to fill that emptiness inside her. But, alas, maybe she would never meet that someone, thus continuing her lonely life the way she had done before.
The fourth time, Pansy lay in her own bed, unable to fall asleep once again. Steady breathing next to her left ear told her there was someone else in bed with her. She didn't really care who. She'd been lonely the evening before, worse than most former times. It didn't matter to her who it was, as long as he made her feel loved. The emptiness she felt was always easily extinguished by fire burning in her veins. Indeed, she'd felt the fire that night. She remembered it flowing through her veins, making her whole body feel like liquid wax, a flower caressed by rain and sunshine, and finally a particle inside an exploding star, falling and falling until all her forces left her and she sank into oblivion.
Smiling unconsciously, she went for a shower, but she turned around one last time. All she could see was a mop of blonde hair and a body underneath the covers. Pansy grinned. She hadn't known the Hufflepuffs were audacious enough to approach her. Grateful, she turned and left the room.
The morning sun shone onto two beds, lighting up the two bodies that lay in them. Two girls, in each other's arms, were sleeping peacefully. One of them opened her eyes, and looked at their tangled limbs. Pansy then leaned over to brush a kiss over Daphne's cheek.
The other girl was beautiful, no doubt. So was Pansy herself.
Beauty didn't matter to them. Caught in the past, the two Slytherin girls had been mourning for their families. Naturally, the war was over. Although it should have been a time of happiness and bliss, many had lost their families, their friends in the war. Mourning was an important part. Never would the victims be forgotten, nor the attackers. For Pansy, who thought herself strong, the tears had been a surprise. When she broke down, it had been Daphne Greengrass that picked her up and took her in her arms, until she'd also begun to cry. During the night, they'd simply held each other. It had been a relief to feel a warm, living body next to their own, and they'd shared their grief without actually talking.
The next morning, the tears had dried away. But they were still holding onto each other for dear life, needing each other, incapable to let go.
The sixth time, Pansy found herself in the Ravenclaw common room, under a mass of old blankets on the maple-colored wooden floor. Next to her, she saw the lanky figure of Terry Boot, curled up into a ball. But there were many people on the floor like them. Pansy saw Cho Chang, her top hanging rather loosely around her shoulders, next to a Michael Corner with mussed up hair. She also saw Ginny sleeping peacefully on top of Draco on one of the dark blue sofas, and Crabbe and Goyle in a corner; not to mention Blaise, or half of Hufflepuff House, or the whole lot of Ravenclaw. Even the Golden Boy and his faithful sidekicks were there.
Then McGonagall opened loudly the Common Room portrait. Everyone's eyes flew open, astonishment and confusion clearly written on their features. Unlike the others, Pansy lay back, sighing, and closed her eyes again. It was too late for regrets. She'd sworn not to do it again, yet there she was, savoring the sixth time like nothing else mattered. And maybe, maybe it didn't matter, after all. Maybe there were no justice and no sins, after all.
Pansy woke up to the smell of fresh orange juice and rolls next to her. Slowly opening her eyes, she saw an unfamiliar room, a bed with red curtains and a boy, no, a man smiling at her.
That had been the last sin, because he'd made her feel at home and completely at ease. Loneliness was only a word, but she'd long forgotten its meaning after the first few minutes with him. And, fortunately, he didn't want her to leave, either.
Before her first sin, she wouldn't have imagined being with him of all people could feel so good. But it felt perfect, so perfect she didn't want to risk it by leaving. Never again would she leave a strange bed in the morning, secretly ashamed of what she'd done, but knowing no other way to relieve her frustration and helplessness. This bed and this man were her sin for eternity. As unlikely as it may sound, Pansy Parkinson had found her equal in Neville Longbottom.
So she turned around and kissed him.
A/N: So, what do you think? Please review!
Anna Scathach