Author's Note: So, I felt the inspiration for a One-Shot, mostly triggered by the quote at the beginning. And yes, I do love HP/PP. JK herself hates Pansy, but I quite love her. I feel she is misunderstood and since we aren't given a lot of info about her, she is one of my favourtie characters to use. Anyway, read, review, and enjoy =)
"Fate has delivered us over to each other. Your life is in my hands; my soul rests in yours. Beyond this place and this night all is dark."
-The Hunchback of Notre Dame
The sun was setting, sending a golden glow over the frozen blades of grass. The weather had been harsh, the wind cruel and unforgiving, much like the day itself. The halls of Hogwarts lay silent and empty, their whispers stilled with the memories of the battle that had just finished within them. In the still of the night, a silent truce had been called.
Somehow, Pansy found herself huddled behind a desk in the potions room. She had been there for hours now, listening as the battle cries dimmed and the fighting came to a halt for the night. However, Pansy knew all too well that it was only temporary. Once the sun rose, blood would once again seep into the stone, the stench of death would permeate every surface, and The Dark Lord would continue to take out his enemies as though he were merely squashing bugs.
The heavy rasping is what shook her from her reverie and brought her back to the present, the images of death-pale faces and the blood-curdling screams fleeing from her mind for the time being. She pulled herself up just enough to peer over Snape's cherry wood desk. The room was dark, but it wasn't difficult for Pansy to make out the person that had intruded on her sanctuary.
Harry Potter stood with his back against the door, panting and cursing. His glasses were hanging loose and broken off of an ear, his black hair sticking out in every direction. Pansy groaned. She did not want to spend the last night of her life stuck in a room with Harry Potter. But she knew that even though the night signaled a temporary end to the fighting, it was not wise to go roaming about the castle. Wherever the weary soldiers had found themselves as the sun set is where they would spend the night; she was stuck in this potions classroom with The Boy-Who-Lived.
Pansy pulled herself to her feet and Harry started in surprise, his wand poised. He readjusted his glasses. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, they narrowed and he loosened the grip on his wand, but only slightly. "Parkinson?"
Pulling herself up tall, she made her way to the front of the desk, leaning back against it, calm and collected, as though a wand wasn't trained at her heart. "Potter," she nodded in acknowledgement.
A minute passed in silence before Pansy sighed and stepped closer to Harry. "Put you wand down, Potter, I am no threat to you." She reached out and touched his hand, willing him to lower it to his side, which he finally did after several long moments.
"What are you doing here?"
She snorted. "Hiding. You?"
"Running," he responded in a detached voice.
"Well, I think a cease-fire had been called for the night."
Harry nodded, his eyes studying the petite raven-haired girl before him. Her wand was tucked in her pocket, her hands crossed over her chest, slowly studying her fingernails. Pansy saw Harry tuck his wand into his pocket, though she was still unsure why he was willing to trust her in the first place.
"As much as it pains me to say this, it looks as though you and I are stuck together tonight, Potter. Unless you really want to open that door and run the risk of facing Death Eaters without your band of merry men." She finally looked up and spied the despondent look on his face. He was tired and, by the looks of it, bleeding in several places.
"Why don't you just take me out now and spare them the trouble?"
She smirked at his attempt to rile her. She signed dramatically and resumed her place in front of the desk, her eyes never leaving his. "Potter, I know you love to think the worst of me, and the feeling is reciprocated, trust me, but I am not a Death Eater. If I was, I would have already Stupified you."
Harry looked uncertain. He pulled his broad shoulders off the door and collapsed into a nearby desk. "Then what exactly are you, Parkinson?"
"I'm simply someone trying to stay alive. I refuse to fight with you and your sodding Order and I'm smarter than to fight with You-Know-Who." She heard Harry snort. "Fine, don't believe me. Look, I don't want any place in this war. I was content studying in the common room when you brought it to Hogwarts."
Harry chuckled at this.
"Think it's funny, do you, Potter? Putting everyone's lives at risk? Maybe it's so easy for you to choose a side, but it is not so for everyone." Her green eyes glittered with malice but her voice was weak and tired, it didn't come out hard like it normally did when she was insulting him.
"So, you have no loyalties." She nodded even though his words were more of a statement than a question. "It's hard for me to believe that someone's humanity can allow them to be neutral."
Pansy sighed audibly and pulled herself up on Snape's desk. "I'm a Slytherin, Potter. My parents are pureblooded supporters of You-Know-Who and my whole life I have been raised to be as I am. Just because I don't want to be a Death Eater doesn't mean I have any humanity."
"So you have no remorse as you watch people die around you?" Harry's voice was bitter and hard. He pulled himself out of the chair with only a small hiss of pain. He slowly made his way towards the desk. Pansy watched, but didn't move. She would not let him intimidate her, nor would she let herself feel guilty. Pansy Parkinson was who she was and she made no excuses for it. Yes, she had hid in the classroom instead of fighting. Not because she was unsure of which side to fight for, but because she was concentrated on one purpose: to survive.
When he was within an arms' reach, he stopped. "I feel nothing, Potter. You would think after all these years you would know that."
"Malfoy's up there fighting, do you not care?"
She shrugged with indifference, her eyes long-since trained to remain cold and uncaring. "Draco will do what he wants. As will the others."
"And what do you want, Parkinson?" It was obvious he was angry at her coldness and she didn't doubt that if she provoked him enough he would strike. He had just been in battle, fighting for his life and the lives of his precious Order members. She glanced down and, sure enough, his hand twitched towards his pocket.
She met his eyes. "I just want to still be alive tomorrow."
His anger was gone as quickly as it had come. His face was once again ragged and tired. His green eyes met hers and he nodded in understanding. "If both of us live through this, I will remember that," he said finally.
Pansy was surprised, but she did not show it. He knew she was neutral, that she wanted no part in this, and instead of reprimanding her farther for her obvious lack of conscience, he was letting her know that he would testify to her innocence.
She let out a loud, harsh laugh at the mere absurdity of her situation. When Harry raised an eyebrow at her, she quickly wiped the smile from her lips. "This is possibly the last night of my life and I'm stuck in a room with you."
Harry smiled. "Life is funny sometimes."
"Do you have any regrets, Harry Potter?" He startled at the sound of his name on her lips but she made no recognition and continued watching him, waiting for a response.
"There are things I maybe should have said, but I suppose if Voldemort"—Pansy flinched at his name—"killed me tomorrow, my only regret would be not taking that bastard to Hades with me."
Pansy was a bit surprised to hear such profanity leave his lips and she bit back a smile. "And you, Pansy Parkinson?"
Pansy stared at him for a minute, a comfortable silence surrounding them as she contemplated the answer and then tried to decide whether or not to confide it in him. Finally, she responded, "Only one big one, but that is certainly none of your concern."
His eyebrow rose, interested. "Come on, Parkinson, I told you."
She rolled his eyes at his childish behavior. "No, it's of a very personal nature."
Harry narrowed his eyes, but said nothing more. After a few more minutes of silence, he asked, "You really don't care what happens to Malfoy?"
"Why should I?"
Harry shrugged. "I guess I just always assumed you two were an item. I mean, the way you followed him around…."
She let out another unladylike snort. "I suppose I was a bit pathetic. Draco and I were never anything, although our parents wished it. I followed him because I had nothing else to do. Malfoy was the direction of Slytherin house. It was either be his lap dog or fall into the shadows." She caught Potter's eyes. "And if there is one thing Pansy Parkinson does not do, Potter, it is being ignored."
Harry chucked but nodded at the truth of the statement. "Don't worry, Parkinson, it's very difficult to ignore you."
"And what about you and the Weaslette?"
"Ginny?" Harry gave a small smile at the thought and then shook his head. "I don't think anything will ever happen there, but maybe."
She pursed her lips. "I was convinced you'd have shagged her by now. I guess I overestimated your masculinity."
Harry's eyes widened incredulously. "Don't tell me you you've actually thought of me as a male, Parkinson."
Pansy blushed. "Look, I may not be able to stand you, but even I can't deny that you could have some sex appeal, Potter." When she saw the surprise cross his face, she amended, "To a girl of low standards, of course."
Harry smiled and then took a step closer to her. Pansy's knuckles tightened on the edge of the desk. She watched as he took another sure step, now right up against her, his midriff touching her knee. "I must be crazy…."
Pansy was just about to ask what he was mumbling about when he bent over, cupped her chin in his hand, and pressed his rough lips to hers. She jumped back. "Potter, what are you doing?"
"It's the eve of battle, Parkinson. I don't want to be alone. And neither do you. Besides, given the circumstances, I figure that at the moment your standards are relatively low so…."
Pansy's eyes widened. "I am not so desperate."
"Are you not?" He raised an eyebrow, a small smile on his lips. His hand was still lightly cupping her chin.
"You have lost your mind." Pansy tried to say these words harshly, in a bitter, uncaring voice, but they came out in barely a whisper and Potter's thumb stroked her bottom lip. She looked up and met his eyes, exhausted and hopeless. She couldn't remember ever seeing Harry Potter looking so defeated and unsure.
He leaned forward again and after a barely audible "perhaps," placed his lips once again to hers. They were firmer this time and his hand that held her chin made it nearly impossible for Pansy to break the embrace. But, shortly into it, Pansy decided she didn't want to. If the one contribution Pansy could make to this war was to comfort their hero, she would do it. After all, Pansy could die tomorrow just as easily as Harry. Not having loyalties was often just as dangerous as having them. If You-Know-Who won, she would certainly be punished.
Pansy closed her eyes and leaned into his kiss, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck. It was just one night. Harry's mouth prodded hers and she opened her lips, allowing him inside. Harry shifted so he was in between her legs and she felt a shiver pass through his body when she moaned in his mouth. Pansy deepened the kiss, pulling him flush against her and searching his mouth. Harry pulled his mouth from hers, but her disappointment was short-lived as his lips descended upon her neck, suckling and leaving little love bites as he traced a path from her collarbone to her jaw line.
Her fingers grasped at his cloak and she listened gleefully as it fell to the floor. She gasped as she felt his cold hand roaming on her bare back. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt and yanked it from his body, leaving the top of his body exposed to her curious hands. Harry met her lips again and, with the help of Pansy, stripped her clothes from her body. He lay her down on the cold desk and she shivered with delight at its refreshing touch on her skin. Harry pulled away and yanked off his pants and his boxers before climbing up onto the desk, placing himself on top of Pansy's small frame.
Her hands traced his broad shoulders and walked a path down his chest. Harry was watching her, studying her naked body, pale white in contrast to the dark room. He pushed her down on the desk and met her lips again fervently. Pansy couldn't hold in the moans of pleasure as his hands explored her body, kneading her breasts. She could feel Harry against her entrance, his desire for her obvious.
"Pansy…."
He trailed off uncertain, but she understood. She gazed up, their green eyes meeting in understanding of what they were about to do. Pansy hesitated but a moment before she reached up and claimed his lips in response. Even if she died tomorrow, thanks to Potter, she would have no more regrets. Finally, she knew the touch of a man. He stifled her cry of pain against his lips as he entered her. And in the dead of the night, as wounded and wary fighters lay scattered throughout the castle, clinging to a thread of hope, Harry Potter made love to Pansy Parkinson.
In the morning, he would leave her without a glance backwards. The battle would continue and blood would stain the walls of Hogwarts, the sun's rays unable to hide the horror of war. Pansy would stay hidden in the dungeons, hoping not to be found, listening to the fall of broken heroes and the cries of pain and loss. Maybe they would both survive, maybe they would not. Either way, Pansy doubted that they would ever see each other again. But none of that mattered because in this moment, it was only his body in rhythm with hers, their hearts racing wildly to the same beat. In this moment, they both had something solid to hold onto. Beyond that, all else was dark.