Of Black, Blond, and Butterbeer.
StoryGirl.
Their first kiss was awkward, a mixture of lips and tongue, the experience from Draco, and the nerves from Pansy. Their lips mashed together, almost painfully, Draco's tongue demanding entrance to her mouth. His hands clutched at her black strands of hair, while her own arms dangled limply by her side before he brought them up to his neck, her fingers clutching at the thin strands of blond hair almost instinctively.
Their lips parted, both breathing heavily in the thick night air, Draco still clutching at her hair, desperation written all over his face. She smiled sweetly at him, flushing as he pulled her closer to him, both slumping to the floor, Pansy's head landing squarely on Draco's chest, her ears listening to his heart beat.
"Wow," he breathed out, his voice making her shiver as it raised goose-bumps on her skin. She echoed the thought, breathing out thick clumps of cold air, hands nervously making their way closer to where Draco had placed his. He noticed this with a slight smile, brushing hair away from his face before clasping her hand within his.
They lay there, enjoying the silence, and glad to get away from the rest of their House, away from the prying eyes and gossip that the rest of Slytherin felt worthy to drown them in. Here, Draco could be himself, be kind to her, instead of the dominant role he had to portray to the rest of Slytherin if he wanted to succeed. And, here, away from prying eyes, they could be together.
Pansy knew that both their fathers had been negotiating an arranged marriage between her and Draco ever since Draco had shown a liking to Pansy as a toddler, and apparently, because he had helped her up off the ground, their lives were meant to be together. Not that she didn't want the marriage to become more than a bunch of papers drawn up but not signed, she did. A marriage to Draco Malfoy would be the best thing that could happen to her, and it seemed just out of her grasp, making her climb a few more steps before she could have it.
Draco seemed to have no problems with his impending arranged marriage, though, and that was a benefit. To have a spouse whom hated her would be horrible, Pansy knew, and sympathized with Daphne who had been engaged to a son of one of her father's business associates since birth. The French boy and Daphne had only met once, and she had remarked of their meeting that the boy, named Louis, apparently, was so stuck up that Daphne was surprised he didn't fall off balance because of the large stick stuck up his arse. A ring had been sent last month, a heavy gold thing, with three diamonds, one that any girl would envy. But Daphne, who was a romantic, had huffed, placed it back in its box, and shoved so far under her bed Pansy was sure she would have trouble finding it at the end of the year.
Draco had given her a ring for her most recent birthday, a small, silver thing that she had worn with pride on a chain that she kept close to her heart. Girls had eyed it with envy, longing for even a strand of hair from Draco but she, possessor of his heart, had beamed brightly and flounced through the common room happily.
Life seemed to beam bright with Draco at her side. Everything seemed to sparkle, the wind seemed to rustle her hair just right, her eyes seemed to appear black, instead of the murky brown they really were. She despised them, as once, by an insolent first-year Gryffindor, she had been compared to that mudblood, Granger.
But then, her sparkling, shiny, gleaming world shattered.
He kissed another girl.
Pansy threw a fit, beating her tiny fists on his chest, her voice rising to a pitch not even she had heard before. She picked up a wand, threateningly pointing it at Daphne, her hand shaking.
"You bitch," she spat out, circling the girl, who merely smiled, and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, her blue eyes locking onto Draco's.
"You tramp," she continued, raising the stolen wand to point it squarely in the middle of the shorter girl's forehead. "You knew full well that Draco was dating me, and yet, you crawled up onto his lap and cuddled up to him, battering your fake eyelashes, desperate for a score."
"And," she finished, laughing softly, the wand dropping to her side. "Y'know what's so funny?" She glanced around the room, confused faces meeting her, with only one realization dawning on one particular girl's face. "Draco doesn't even know you're engaged. Way to screw everything up, hey Daphne?"
With that said, she dropped the wand, an eager second-year scrambling to retrieve it, and left the common-room, leaving a state of distress and madness behind her.
Draco glanced over at Daphne, whom had a single tear sliding down her cheek. "You're engaged?" he questioned her, already grey eyes growing colder.
She shook her head as an answer, speechless, hands desperately clutching at her robes. Sniffling, she allowed herself to be led away by her younger sister, two matching blonde head disappearing from Draco's glare.
From that day on, it was wide know through Slytherin that no-one played with Pansy Parkinson.
Still, despite her happiness at destroying what could have been a future relationship with Daphne and Draco, her lips were red-raw at breakfast the next morning.
Because, no matter how hard she tried, Pansy could never truly rid her lips of the taste of Draco.
Butterbeer.
Written for the First Kiss challenge on HPFFC. A big thank you to my fabulous beta Lea for checking this over. :)