Playing Pretend
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
By Jewel
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters belong to JK Rowling and are copyrighted to their rightful owners. I'm only borrowing these two charactersfor a fanfic drabble that is in no way is meant to infringe on any copyrightsor trademarks.
Rated PG-13 for themes.
For my sister, HPfan000. Andbecause I torture A/W enough in "Blood Debt."
PLAYING PRETEND (1/1)
In the dark Alicia could pretend he was anyone. He could be another Gryffindor, or a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff. He could be a sixth year or a seventh year. He could be anyone not on a Quidditch team. He could be anyone but a rival. Anyone except a Slytherin, and probably a future Death Eater. In the dark, where she could feel his hands and taste his lips, he could be anyone but the enemy in a war, which, according to Harry Potter, had already started.
After dinner in the Great Hall, and after studying with her friends in the Gryffindor common room for an hour, after she made her rounds as a prefect, she could meet him. On the sixth floor, in a forgotten classroom filled with cobwebs and dust, she could pretend he was Roger Davies, she could even make herself think he was George Weasley.
When he slipped his hands under her robe, and even when he murmured her name, she could pretend it was Kenneth Towler, an old boyfriend from two years ago. Once they were done, and she had straightened her robes and fixed her hair back into a pony tail, she could return to the Gryffindor Tower and pretend she had been with anyone else in the school but him, a Slytherin who tried every year to knock her off her broom. In her dorm room, surrounded by her friends, she could pretend it didn't happen almost every night. She could pretend she was on an extended patrol. Or she was in the library looking up a particularly challenging potion.
In the dark, with his lips trailing across her collarbone, and her hand tangled in his hair, she could try to convince herself that she didn't care. That it could be like this with anyone, he was just convenient. In the dark, even when she pulled his robe from his broad shoulders, she could try to convince herself that it didn't matter. There wasn't any love involved, and she could stop anytime she wanted.
And, of course, this never worked. With his breath hot in her ear, and her own hand groping in his robes, he was the only thing occupying her mind. Whether she was trying to give him someone else's name, or another's face. Even when she tried to think up of tonight's excuse for returning to the Tower after curfew, she was so very much aware of him. He would never let her forget who he was. He might let her try to think of someone else, imagine someone else, but it was always his name she called.
"Warrington!"
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Okay, I hope everyone enjoyed this. I wrote this in my head while listening to Pink's "You Make Me Sick" and DJ Z-Trip's "Walking Dead."
I realize that this is angsty in its own way, but what can I say? Fluff isn't my genre. If you liked this, then keep an eye out for "Blood Debt," a really angsty Warrington 'fic that's in the works.
So what are you waiting for? Quit reading these annoying author's notes and go review!
JEWEL
06.05.2005