Written for the "Girls of Harry Potter" Competition. Just a short drabble. It's something I may expand upon further later down the road, but this is all for now :] R&R!


As long as she could remember, Pansy Lorraine Parkinson had never desired anything more than Draco Lucius Malfoy. She wanted nothing more than to make him her's, and in every way. She wanted to be Lady Malfoy, to raise little golden haired pureblooded children, to live in the spotlight of their first class society. She wanted to host parties at Malfoy Manor and for photographers to follow her around Diagon Alley when she shopped. She wanted to travel to Paris and Rome, to the Americas, she wanted to live extravagantly.

But more than she wanted any of that. More than she wanted the title and the fame and the money. She wanted him. She wanted to come home from the shopping trips and have him gaze upon her with pure love and compassion. She wanted him to be there with her in Paris and Rome. She wanted to make love to him on the beaches of Sweden. She wanted him to whisper sweet nothings to her in his families native French. She loved it when he would let a word slip when frustrated, it just endeared him more to her. She wanted that sweet skilled tongue to caress her lower lip before pulling it into his beautifully sculpted mouth to nibble. She wanted his graceful fingers to trace the contours of her body. She wanted the Quidditch hardened callouses on his palms to rub her bare skin, making her shiver in delight and for the baby hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end as he kissed her neck.

She wanted it so badly she could almost feel his lips upon her skin. She could imagine how perfectly their bodies would mold together, how easily they would fit. She could just imagine how much time and care he would take with her, and she him. Touching, loving, caressing one another. She could feel his hands running along her body. She could feel the tingling, fiery trail they would leave behind them. She could hear the moans of pleasure coming from deep within his chest, and his husky whisper. Je t'aime, ma chérie. She would melt.

She wanted to wrap up together in silken bedsheets and rest her head on his pale, muscular chest after a night of lovemaking, and to fall asleep together peacefully. She wanted to watch that chest rise and fall as he slept, and she wanted to bask in the glory of being surrounded by his beauty. She wanted to trace the angular lines of his face and memorize them. She wanted to watch the sun rise together, and to promise themselves to each other always. She wanted to be round with his child one day, and she wanted it to be because they were madly in love. She wanted him to want her.