So, new fic because I'm currently sort of obsessed with Ron/Pansy pairing. I think it's quite fascinating and they'd actually work (insane me, overly romantic me, but seriously don't they seem like an interesting pair?). Anyway, maybe I won't leave it just a one-shot if my obsession doesn't wear off. Anyway, hope you like it and please tell me what you think :)

Unbelievable

***

Unbelievable. Hermione was going to Slughorn's party with snotty McLaggen. After pining after her for so much time she didn't even have the sense to notice!

Sure he had been maybe, just maybe slightly acrid and rude around her but she just bloody pissed him off with her inaccessibleness.

After the Quidditch game she hadn't run to him to congratulate him, even though Harry hadn't slipped Felix Felicis into his drink. She just blatantly believed it was all a Placebo. She couldn't believe in him or have the confidence that maybe for once he could do something right (in her eyes).

It was all useless; trying to get to the Hermione Granger beyond that cold barrier. Because she didn't want him.

Perhaps he had been a fool not to accept Lavender when she practically threw herself on him, but the girl gave him a bad feeling. She only liked him for someone she believed he was, someone entirely different. Even he had noticed that.

And just because, just because girls had swarmed around him after the game Hermione had got so bloody upset. What was he to do? Abandon all those people and go running off after her? Okay, maybe he had flirted, okay maybe he had enjoyed it, but he would have loved to have her in his arms after the game…not some bloody Hufflepuff.

Needless to say he felt wronged by the one girl he really fancied.

Tonight he was alone. Harry and Hermione had gone to that pompous event for prancing prats, Slughorn's party. Tonight he was sitting by the fireside frustrated and alone.

Well – he'd go out. He couldn't stand the solitude. He couldn't stand being left out, like the third wheel.


Unbelievable. Draco had left her to go off on some expedition, God knew where!

She had a slight suspicion he wanted to crash Slughorn's party but that was just infantile! Sure, the man had been hatefully rude not to invite them, but did it matter anymore? In these times, no one dared to tell them anything anymore… The Slytherins, in particular her and Malfoy, were like the plague, avoided and shunned. And all because of her bloody parents and their bloody fancy for the Dark Lord! She wanted nothing to do with it, she wanted to erase the Parkinson name. Oh, but she wanted the beauty, the money, the jewels, the dresses…but not the name, oh no, not the name.

She wasn't used to this desolation and loneliness. She wanted friends, friends, friends! But she was a Parkinson. Of course she was avoided.

She only had Millicent now, but guess what! Millicent had gone with Blaise to that insufferable party.

Needless to say she felt wronged, though she knew she couldn't point her finger at anyone, per se.

And now she was waiting for Draco? Who knew. He usually came back quite late. And he almost never kissed her goodnight. In fact, he hadn't kissed her properly in two weeks. They never held hands, he was never kind or at least nice to her, he was always busy, always in pain and when she tried to get to him, to try and comfort him he just blew her off, because apparently she couldn't understand!

As if they weren't the same mud and water.

Well – she'd go out. She couldn't stand the solitude. She couldn't stand always being left behind and taken for granted.


He was feeling bold, though he had no idea why. He just felt he could do anything tonight. He wanted to do everything. He wanted to forget all about Hermione and her bloody frizzy, soft, curly hair, her honey eyes, her slender legs…

And he wanted to forget all about himself and who he was; Harry Potter's sidekick.

It wasn't worth the bother.

Without even noticing, he was going towards Slughorn's office, where the party was taking place. It must have been subconscious.

He cursed under his breath and was about to turn back when he saw a figure coming up. He dashed in the bathroom, not wanting to be seen there.

A curtain of silky blonde hair and two cold black eyes, a stupid, pug face…and a very, very short skirt. Pansy Parkinson.

What was she doing here?

Before he could come out though, he saw Slughorn's door opening and Neville coming out with a large empty tray. Pansy quickly ducked in the bathroom as well and shut the door behind her, almost crashing into Ron in the process.

'Weasley! What are you doing here?' she asked surprised, scowling.

'Gee, Parkinson, I'm here to wet the roses. What the hell were you doing? Trying to get into Slughorn's party?'

'None of your business, Weasel face. And I wouldn't dare step into that ridiculous place.'

'Funny, it suits you and your pasty boyfriend.'

Pansy smirked and ran a hand through her hair.

'Oh, yeah? Then what's your little girlfriend Granger doing there?'

'Shut up.'

'Oh, she's there with someone else, how sad!' she said chuckling. 'Poor, little Weasel left all alone.'

'Why don't you sod off Parkinson? I'm sure Malfoy needs his shoes cleaned,' he said treading towards her angrily.

'Is that the best you can do, Weasel?' she said scowling again. Her hands were placed on her hips imposingly. 'Malfoy is twice the man you'll ever be.'

Ron was furious, though he really didn't know why. It's not as if Pansy had insulted him or could insult him, but her own presence there, in that ever so short skirt, with that grazing smirk and those cunning eyes, mocking him, telling him that Ferret face was better than him drove him nuts. It was too much for him, it's like someone telling him McLaggen was better than him and that git was just as disgusting as Malfoy.

'Oh yeah?' he said almost pushing her against the wall. 'So being V-Voldemort's little bitch makes him a real man?'

'Don't talk like that about him!'

'I'll talk just as I like Parkinson,' he almost bellowed.

'I'm tired of your retarded rant Weasel-face.'

'Stop calling me that, pug-face!'

'Or what?'

Her eyes were almost sparking venom and his blue eyes were piercing her skull. Their hate was almost tangible; a thin, red line of pure hates emanating from their bodies. He loomed over her menacingly as she twisted her body, ready to slap him.

She was provoking him, she wanted him to know she didn't care what he did or thought, she was going to do it anyway, she was going to defeat him.

He wouldn't allow it, he would make her care about his actions and thoughts.

Without waiting he grabbed her hair and kissed her roughly on the lips, crushing his body over hers.

Pansy flickered her eyes open in astonishment and tried moving away from his grasp, but to no avail, she could barely oppose. He was so strong that she was starting to reconsider belittling him. He was unquestionably strong. She had never guessed he could hold a person like that. She had never been held like that. No one dared grab her like that, not even Draco. She had never thought she could be held like that.

He towered over her mercilessly and she was helpless…and she liked the twisted feeling. She liked feeling like weak porcelain under his hands, she relished in the thought that he could break her in an instant.

She closed her eyes and let the kiss sink in, partly opening her lips. After a long time without receiving affection, this hateful kiss did wonders.

She grabbed the collars of his shirt and drew him to her as he snaked an arm round her waist and pulled her to him roughly. He couldn't get enough of her. He was intoxicated with her smell: cheap perfume, hair dye…and something else, something so intimate that he couldn't define it. Her dirty blonde hair was not soft like Hermione's but rough and tangled and he enjoyed that…he couldn't get his hand out of it.

He never thought anyone could respond to him like that, so violently, so desperately. He never thought he would find her so wild, so frustratingly flawed, so unlike the girl of his dreams. And he loved it. He couldn't get enough of it.

His hands were warm and firm and hers were cold and deceiving.

Pansy felt like she was going to scream because she wanted him to go on and on, without end.

She loved the feeling of being dominated. He loved the feeling of dominating.

She was slammed into the wall and the game continued, even if she could barely breathe.

He bit into the skin of her neck making her shout in pain. She sank her long nails into his white collarbone, making him moan in agony. It was still a war, a dangerous, addictive war.

He bruised her pale, ivory skin, she left him bleeding scars. They battled each other with equal strength.

For one night, if only for one night they'd let themselves go.

It was insane and mad but there it was. Unbelievable.


Thanks for reading :)