Disclaimer: I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to play in it on occasion.

Author's Note: For those who have read my in-progress piece 'Curse You, DeWitt!', or my finished piece 'It's Never Just Sex', yes, this is basically the same Pansy, mostly because I kind of really like certain aspects of her character that I've developed in my head. In theory, it's set about two months after the end of 'Curse You, DeWitt!' (which we really are still working on, I promise), and is meant to be a stand-alone piece, so don't feel like you have to read some other story that's not yet completed. I should mention I'm NOT a fan of this particular pairing, but the idea got stuck in my head and I had to run with it. Also, while it's not yet completed, it's not meant to be terrifically long, and I expect to have it finished within a week or so.

Obsession

by Scribe Teradia

Part One

His mouth was driving her crazy.

She'd been sitting in his office, facing him across the desk, for the better part of an hour, watching him talk. He had a wide, generous mouth, the lips almost feminine in their fullness, his teeth just a little bit crooked, enough to be endearing rather than off-putting. It was the flash of tongue that had done her in, and she'd spent the last ten minutes imagining what it would feel like to have his mouth on her skin, teeth and tongue lavishing attention on sensitive flesh...

"Parkinson?" The sharp, almost concerned note in his voice snapped her out of her daydream, and she realized she had no clue what he'd been saying for several minutes. "You feeling all right?"

"Of course," she replied, feeling suddenly ridiculous. "I was just thinking about where to have lunch." Her tone was flippant and dismissive, the words an outright lie, but there was no way he'd ever call her on it; subtlety wasn't his strong suit. "What were you saying?"

"I was saying the projections for the new book look good," he repeated, looking irritated. "If you're not going to pay attention, though, maybe we should just call it a day."

Pansy rolled her eyes, but she was inwardly glad for an excuse to get away from him. "What's to pay attention to?" she asked, rising gracefully to her feet. "I may not be all that bright, but I know my craft. If I understood the business, I wouldn't need you, would I?" This, too, was a lie, but it was the pretense by which their working relationship continued to function.

"Your lack of ambition never fails to astound, Parkinson."

"I have plenty of ambition, where it counts. Look at it this way: by me leaving now, you have time to rendezvous with Lovegood before the Potters' little soiree this evening." There was just enough sarcasm to her tone that one might believe she didn't care that he was in a relationship.

"How did you--" he began, only to have her cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"Please don't insult my connections, Weasley. I may not be all chummy with you and Potter and your respective significant others, but I'm still at the top of the gossip chain." She rolled her eyes again and turned to go. "Next week, then?"

"As scheduled," was his reply, and she knew without looking that he was frowning at her, his tongue moving over his lips to moisten them as he thought.

Still without looking, Pansy fled. Oh, her walk was as graceful and unhurried as ever, but she was fleeing none-the-less, silently berating herself for her behavior. Ron Weasley! Even if he wasn't engaged to that Lovegood woman, the idea of being infatuated with the youngest of the Weasley men was preposterous, for someone of her background and upbringing. True, her parents had never taken the necessary steps to join the Dark Lord's cause, but they'd been tacit supporters of it... at least when he seemed to be winning. To obsess over the best friend of the Boy Who Lived was just... completely unacceptable.

Pansy stepped into the lift and stabbed at a button with a manicured finger, willing the doors to close while she was still alone. Wish granted, she breathed a sigh into the quiet compartment, followed by a murmur, just under her breath, "Draco, this is entirely your fault."