A/N: As I grow older and older, I grow more and more confused about my sexuality. Part of me thinks that I'm straight, but another part of me, which may or may not be larger, thinks I'm gay. I suppose this story sort of helps me work through that confusion. It's one of the few HGPP stories on and I want to make it a good story, because I love femmeslash. If anyone has any suggestions for good Hermione/Pansy stories, I'd love to hear them. Adios!

-CatJetRat

Chapter 4

What Could Be Considered Friends

Pansy's POV

It was quite early when I first awoke. I glanced at the clock. 7 a.m. I stretched out, feeling joyous when I remembered that it was Saturday. My hand then knocked against something warm. I froze and turned over. My heart leapt in my chest when I saw who it was, and, for a moment, I entertained a fantasy about how she might have gotten there, before my memory caught up with me. I relaxed, and rolled over, relishing in the details of her face in the morning.

Her mouth was slightly open, her hair mussed to an extreme degree. I wrinkled my nose when she exhaled, getting a good whiff of morning breath. I ignored it, though, after a few seconds. She looked so content, so relaxed that I wished I could let her stay like that for an eternity. But then her eyelids fluttered, and my fairy was taken away from me.

"Wha' time 's it?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"Seven," I whispered. She groaned.

"Remind me why I'm awake," she muttered, burying her face into the pillow. Then she sat straight up.

"What the hell?" she said sharply, looking around, alert and tense. Then all the confusion left her face, and she looked rather weary. "Oh. I remember now. Shit."

Something seemed to break inside of me at the sight of her crumpled face. I reached out and touched the side of her cheek. "Hey, it's okay," I said gently.

"Yeah, whatever," she said flatly, and got up. "Mind if I take a shower?"

I shook my head, and watched her walk swiftly into the bathroom, scratching at her right forearm again. I fell back against the bed, and got up, grabbing my guitar. I plucked at the strings, making sure it was tuned, and paused, wondering what to sing. I settled on an unfinished song, not even a song, really, just some lines.

"The ceiling glitters,

"The cabin shivers,

"And I don't know what to do.

"The cat purrs,

"The lady slurs,

"And I don't know what to do.

"As the moonlight dies

"And the children cry,

"I'm left with little to do.

"I would have laughed away

"All your cries today

"If the fairies left me with news.

"But the cat wants attention

"While I'm in detention,

"With nothing else to do."

My voice faded, and I gazed down at the guitar in my hands, running through the songs in my head, wondering which one I should sing next. But my mind failed me, and I looked towards the bathroom door, heartily aware of the fact that the woman I had an insane crush on was likely naked right now, bathing herself in my bathroom. I put my guitar away and walked out to the veranda, looking out over my backyard, which was somehow more beautiful now than it had ever been before.

I wanted to feel bad that Hermione had been kicked out of her home, but somehow, I couldn't manage it. Had she not been kicked out, life probably would have gone on the way it always had done, and we might have even left high school without me ever telling her how I feel.

Not that this was a very likely possibility, I mused with a frown, leaning against the railing. I was too much of a wimp to ever admit how I felt to her. And besides, all the other cheerleaders would kick me off the team if I came out. But then, why did I even care? What did the opinions of Millicent and all those other idiots matter to me? What the hell was wrong with me?

I stood there, thinking about all of this for the half-hour it took Hermione to take a shower. She emerged from the bathroom toweling her hair dry and frowning.

"What's wrong?" I asked, coming inside.

"It's just…there are a lot of items at my house that I really need and want," she said, rubbing her hair.

"So let's go get them," I suggested, rather reasonably, I thought. She laughed at me.

"I can't do that," Hermione said. "Remember, my parents disowned me. Hell, they've probably changed the locks by now. Besides, my mom stays home during the day. The perfect housewife," she added mockingly. "The perfect housewife who had a maid, and let her daughter be raised by the maid, using her as a nanny. What a fucking hypocrite."

I felt a sudden sense of unease, staring at her pretty face, contorted in anger. "Hey, it's okay. It doesn't matter now." I took a step towards her, reaching a hand out. She ducked away from my hand. My heart clenched.

"Yeah, sure. Do you have something I can wear?"

"Um, yeah," I muttered. "My mom washed your clothes." I gestured to the folded clothes on a chair. "Look, is there any way to sneak into your house?"

Hermione turned away from me to get dressed, but I felt my cheeks warm nonetheless at the sight of her bare back. "Maybe during church," she said contemplatively. "If they changed the locks, I might be able to sneak in through my bedroom window."

"Great," I said. "So, tomorrow, during church, we'll sneak in."

She shook her head. "We can go today. They go to church on Saturdays too."

"All right. Just let me get dressed, and we'll go," I said brightly.

"Don't you want to take a shower?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine. I'll take one when we get back. What time do they leave for church?"

"7:30," Hermione told me.

"Cool."

Ten minutes later, after a hurried explanation to my mother, who was, oddly enough, awake, we were in my car and driving to her house. I glanced at her hands. She was twisting her fingers in her lap, occasionally pausing to rub her right arm.

"What's wrong with your arm?" I asked her again. She tore her hand away from her right forearm immediately.

"Nothing, why do you ask?" she said in a rush.

"Because you rub at it whenever you're agitated," I said. "Is there something—"

"No," she said hurriedly. "Nothing at all. It's just a habit."

Then I lost my temper. "You're lying to me!" I exclaimed, glad we had pulled up to a red light or I might have just veered the car right off the road. "Why don't you just tell me—"

Pressing her arm into her side as if afraid I might reach out to grab it, she shouted back, "Because it's none of your goddamn business!"

A ringing silence fell, and I concentrated on the road in front of me. The red light turned green, and I continued down the road. "I see," I said quietly.

She pressed her face into her hands, and I could see them quivering. "No, you really don't," she responded tiredly.

"Then help me," I pressed her.

"I can't," she whispered. "You don't know what it's like. All my life, I grew up raised basically by the maid. She was like a mother to me, and she was from Mexico. She taught me Spanish, and American politics. She was really liberal, and an Atheist as well. She taught me so much, and then my parents found out, when I was sixteen, because I was fool enough to sneer at Mr. Bush when he was speaking on the television, at the same time Flor did. They figured it out from there, and called Immigration on her, since she didn't have a green card." Tears welled in Hermione's eyes. "I haven't seen her since, and it was all my fault."

"Hermione," I spoke gently as I pulled the car over to the side of the road. "It really wasn't your fault. Your parents were assholes."

"But I don't even know how to find her!" Hermione said desperately. "Pansy, how would you feel if you went with out seeing your mother for over a year and a half?"

"Pretty crappy," I said honestly.

Hermione nodded. "She was my mother, whatever biology says. I miss her, god, I miss her."

I reached out and took her arm in my hand. I pulled the sleeve up. Though I had been pretty sure of what I would find there, it still didn't prepare me for the sight of the many little cuts adorning her arms. "Is that why you did this?" I asked, trying to keep my voice kind and compassionate.

She looked down at her arm in some surprise, as if she had never really taken the time to assess the damage she had done to herself. She nodded.

"Oh, god, Hermione," I sighed, running my thumb across the cuts. "I wish you had gone to someone."

She gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "Who? Anyone I would have gone to would have just gotten it back to my parents somehow. If I told a teacher, or something, they would have insisted I get help, and my parents would have sent me to some religious school. If I told a friend, they would have told a teacher, and it would have just…." Hermione shook her head.

I focused on the scars on her arm, my heart breaking at the mere sight of them. Her entire body was shaking, and I ran my hand down her arm to clasp her hand. She looked up at me, on the verge of tears. I wanted nothing more than to wipe her tears away, hold her, and fix all of her problems in an instant. But instead….

I kissed her.

Hermione's POV

I looked back up at her, horrified at the tears that were attempting to force their way out of my eyes, and scared that I would see nothing but disgust in hers. I was wrong. Her eyes held love, compassion, and protectiveness. For the third time, and at a completely inappropriate moment, my gaydar went off. Of course, perhaps it wasn't so much inappropriate as it was ironic, as she chose that same moment to kiss me.

My breath caught. Her lips were warm and soft on mine, and as she ran her fingers through my hair, I felt goosebumps erupt all along my skin. She opened her mouth up to mine and plunged her tongue into wrap around mine.

It was the most incredible feeling ever. Her tongue was warm, wet, and exploring. I did a little exploring of my own. My hand fell on the gentle swell of her hips, and I slid my hand up her shirt, tracing the skin there in little circles. For the first time I was able to let go. I felt safe and terrified at the same time, all the while exhilaration covering both of these emotions. Her hands moved from my hair to my shirt, slowly unbuttoning it. She got a few buttons down, and undid the front clasp on my bra. I shuddered at the feel of her cold hands sliding across my warm front. She pressed her fingers into the soft flesh of my breasts, almost as if she was trying to warm her hands up. I unbuckled my seatbelt and slid easily into her lap, not breaking the kiss, frightened that if I did so, she'd realize who she was kissing and shove me away. But then she broke it for me, burying her face in my bosom, placing tender kisses along the skin there. I laid my head across the top of hers, trembling violently as she began to suck on my left nipple, running a hand across the other. She pulled away after a few moments and brought me back down to kiss her again.

I had to pull away after a few minutes, though, to catch my breath. "Wow," I whispered.

"That about sums it up," she agreed, and I laughed, staring at her. She was still looking at me with the same love and respect she had before, and I leaned forward, catching her mouth in another kiss.

She broke it after a few moments, though. "Am I coming on too strong?" she asked worriedly.

I laughed. "No. I've had a thing for you for a while."

She grinned. "Really? You too."

"Since when?" I asked curiously.

"Since that day you wore that outfit to school at the beginning of this year," she said.

My brow furrowed, and I remembered what she was talking about with a laugh. "Oh, yeah, I spent all summer not shaving my legs so I could wax them. It was absolute torture, but I was finally able to, and I was feeling rebellious that day, so I hid the skirt and shirt in my backpack, putting them on when I got to school." I shrugged. "I wanted to look pretty, for once. I hated it, of course, and, I mean, that was the day Ronald Weasley asked me out. I tried never to do it again."

"Well, it did it for me," she said dryly. "I saw you, and realized that I was gay and in love with you. Of course, that pissed me off, and it was impossible for me to be nice to you after that."

"Why?" I asked with a frown. She shrugged.

"Just…issues with my sister." When I continued to look at her expectantly, she shook her head. "I'll tell you about it later. I'm not really in the mood right now." She grinned suddenly. "I'm in the breaking and entering sort of mood."

"Me too," I said, sliding off of her lap. I did up my bra and buttoned my shirt. I wondered vaguely if I had ever felt this happy before. I decided that I probably hadn't, and smiled.

Life was getting good.

A/N: Ah, yes, I could have added so much more to this chapter, but I wanted to end on fluff, since I just wrote a really depressing chapter of SOTP. Next chapter, breaking and entering! YAY! Lol, and a few other things. Review, my sweets! Adios!

-CatJetRat