Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything else relating to Harry Potter or J.K. Rowling
AU: Sorry if the layout is kind of confusing. Italics are thoughts, everything else is just narration. This is my first fic, so reviews would be nice :)
The Song and The Sinners
She was as smooth as the most expensive silk and smelled of the cheapest cigarettes. Infused with lust she radiated pure, unadulterated sex. Her lips tasted of old red wine and dark chocolate. Every ounce of Pansy Parkinson reeked of sin.
"Well, there's nothing wrong with indulging yourself every once in a while." Hermione thought as she bit down hard on Pansy's chocolate lips, savoring every bite.
As skilled hands removed Hermione's shirt, she couldn't help but wonder how she had gotten here in the first place. Between kisses and caresses she surveyed her surroundings. Walls clad in green and a second bed, empty. Pansy must have gone through hell to get Millicent out of the dorm. That insufferable girl always knew when something was up.
Goosebumps appeared as Hermione realized her skirt had been removed. She couldn't tell if they were from the cold air or from Pansy's warm breath that was slowly making its way up her thighs.
"How I got here? It was a song." Hermione recalled. She had heard it a long time ago, as a child, lost and wandering through the skyscrapers of her town. While trying to dodge the raindrops, it had drifted towards her down the street, teasing her. Why it's lazy rhythm and striking notes stuck with her, no one knows.
Pansy's hot breath was now stopped, suspended at her destination. Her dark hair covered her sleek, pale face, casting shadows across it that made her seem surreal.
For years she had searched for the song, conquering every library she knew. But not even books could sate her desperation. Its ragged melody could not be transcribed.
"Granger," Pansy snarled in a surprisingly soft whisper, considering the amount of animosity in the girl's voice. She was always like this, always so cold. Hermione began to wonder how many other girls had been in this bed, just like this, with Pansy snarling up at them. She wondered how many of them begged. How many of them cried for completion. But that voice. No matter how much hatred it conveyed, Hermione knew there was something else. Something more. She knew because she had heard it once.
She had been in the library. It was so quiet; with everyone gone for the holidays she thought she was the only one there. But somewhere deep within the maze of bookshelves, she had heard it. From the first note she knew what it was - listening, then walking, and then running until she found its source.
Pansy had been completely taken aback when she saw a huffing Hermione running towards her, especially after she realized that she hadn't been alone. Hermione was shocked to see that Pansy Parkinson, of all people, actually knew the song. Knew her song. And it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.
"Stop fantasizing about the Weasley bitch." Pansy continued as she removed Hermione's remaining piece of clothing. She was just starting to realize what exactly she had gotten herself into.
Pansy. The song. The kiss. The bed.
Is this really what she wanted?
Before she could ponder any further, Pansy's actions answered her question immediately.
If someone had told her this yesterday, that she was letting Pansy Parkinson, the dirty, hard, irresistible Slytherin fuck her, she never would have believed it.
But oddly enough it all makes sense. Pansy had always secretly been Hermione's sin, her guilty pleasure. She knew she could never have her as much as she'd like, for all the horrible things that Pansy ensures. But every once in a while she'll cave in for just one more bite.