Author's Note: Hope you enjoy it.
Chapter Two:
"Hermione...I..." Ron began. He grabbed one of Hermione's hands in two of his. He paused, not sure of what to say. Damn! What would impress her?!
Hermione, as usual, seemed to understand what Ron meant. "Ron," she whispered, but she didn't finish her statement. All she could do was stare into his big green eyes and think, 'My Ronald. My Ronald Weasley.' She was so happy to have him, so glad that she finally had someone to love her, to care about her, as she had always cared about him.
This rather made Harry the third wheel, didn't it? Of course the position of their best friend mattered not to them at the time,as their lips met together in a sort of sweet connection.
The sort of sweet connection Hermione had longed to feel since...well...how long had it been? All she knew was that she had finally, finally retrieved what she had wanted for a very long time.
But not that anything would change between them outwardly. Ron would still annoy her, ask her to copy his homework. Hermione would roll her eyes, pretend that it aggravated her. They would hide their loving looks at each other, and they'd hold hands, but only under the desk or under the table, away from Harry or anyone else. It would be there little secret.
Severus Snape swept, or limped, rather, into Number 12, Grimmauld Place, his black robes, for once, not billowing behind him. Blood dripped from his lower lip. A deep navy welt had blossomed underneath his right eye. His left arm clutched his right and a soft moan escaped his lips as he fell to the ground with a light thud.
"Severus!" Molly Weasley cried. She had been conversing in the hall with Lupin about something or other when Severus had limped in.
"I'm u-useless..." Severus wheezed, trying very hard to get up but collaspsing in Mrs. Weasley's outstretched arms. "H-he knows, he knows all about what I-I've been doing..."
Severus grimaced, annoyed with himself for looking so pathetic in front of one of his enemies, Lupin, but it couldn't be helped. "Molly...he knows..."
Pansy pushed Draco on her bed, which had a bright pink mosquito net around it, an ugly, hot pink, plush bed spread and pillows to match it. It was hard to look at, really, sort of like the girl herself. Ones eyes tended to burn if they gazed at it for too long.
"Draco..." Pansy declared in a sing-song way, her version of a sultry, seductive voice. She rolled over on her back. "Draco..."
Draco was seriously fucking sick of hearing his name by now. Draco...Draco...Draco...Draco, do you love me? Draco, do I matter to you at all? Draco, will we be together forever?
Dream on, sweetie, because he's got his eyes set on someone else...
"Draco!" Pansy screamed. She sat up. She had ripped her shirt off in an attempt to avert Draco's attention to her, however, he was still found gazing off into space.
Like I said, it was a lost cause.
"P-Pansy?" Draco stuttered, eyes falling automatically to her chest.
"I can't believe you!" Pansy cried. Still shirtless, she grabbed Draco by the forearm and forced his mouth to hers. She pushed him to the ground, feeding him kisses that were almost...angry. Angry, and forceful. She dug her sharp, claw-like fingernails into his neck, shoving her tounge down Draco's throat all the while.
Draco finally decided to let her. Let Pansy have her way with him. Let Pansy finally feed this fucking hunger so she could leave him alone. He would just pretend it was ...her.
Pretend it was her, to make it bareable.
Oh, who the fuck was he trying to kid anyway? Pretending it was her would make it pure bliss.
So Draco relented, maybe even got into it a bit, tounge swinging wildly in Pansy's mouth, running his fingers through her dark hair...
"Pinnie heard Miss Pansy screaming, sir," came a female house-elf's voice down the hall.
Pansy pulled away from Draco immediately, her normally glittering, malicious eyes now wide and fearful. "Oh, shit."
Draco stood up immediately, knocking Pansy off his chest. The door flew open.
Come on Pansy, really. Haven't you the sense to close your door when going to snog?
Pansy's mother, a pugfaced woman, just like her daughter, let out a little scream and clasped her hands over her mouth. Her father, a tall, scary looking man just glared at Draco.
"Daddy!" Pansy squealed, "Mum!" She gasped, and slapped her hands over her bare chest.
Draco had never felt more awkward in his entire life. Really. But no one had to know that. Draco was smooth, sexy,...never awkward. Like his father. Like his father. Psh, right.
Draco shook his head to clear it of confusion. What to do, what to do? Of course, Mortimer Parkinson, Pansy's father was accquainted with Lucius. And of course, this "lewd" act would no doubt be reported to him. Damn, damn, damn. No, damn just didn't do it. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Draco winced, picturing his dad after hearing the news. "Ruining the family name!" he would bellow, and then he would shout random profanities at Draco, and finally, come dangerously close to hexing him.
So obviously, Draco couldn't return home. Mortimer Parkinson entered the room, robes swishing behind him almost menacingly. He advanced on Pansy, who by now had found her shirt and pulled it on. Draco glanced around madly. There was a space where Mortimer had stood, next to Pansy's mother. He could make a run for it. He could grab a bit of floo powder, and go wherever he wished.
Yes. Draco raced for the door, dashing across Pansy's bed, and he was out the door before Pansy's parents could do anything about it. He rushed towards his guest room, snatching his trunk while doing so. He scurried down the long, winding staircase, and finally to the main fireplace.
DAMN IT! Where was the floo powder?! His frantic gaze finally rested on the mantle, where a large clay jar sat, labeled in a swirly script, "Floo Powder."
His heart ramming painfully against his chest, he grabbed a fist full of it, and threw his trunk into the fireplace, and finally stepped in himself.
"THE LEAKY CAULDRON!"
Chapter Two:
"Hermione...I..." Ron began. He grabbed one of Hermione's hands in two of his. He paused, not sure of what to say. Damn! What would impress her?!
Hermione, as usual, seemed to understand what Ron meant. "Ron," she whispered, but she didn't finish her statement. All she could do was stare into his big green eyes and think, 'My Ronald. My Ronald Weasley.' She was so happy to have him, so glad that she finally had someone to love her, to care about her, as she had always cared about him.
This rather made Harry the third wheel, didn't it? Of course the position of their best friend mattered not to them at the time,as their lips met together in a sort of sweet connection.
The sort of sweet connection Hermione had longed to feel since...well...how long had it been? All she knew was that she had finally, finally retrieved what she had wanted for a very long time.
But not that anything would change between them outwardly. Ron would still annoy her, ask her to copy his homework. Hermione would roll her eyes, pretend that it aggravated her. They would hide their loving looks at each other, and they'd hold hands, but only under the desk or under the table, away from Harry or anyone else. It would be there little secret.
Severus Snape swept, or limped, rather, into Number 12, Grimmauld Place, his black robes, for once, not billowing behind him. Blood dripped from his lower lip. A deep navy welt had blossomed underneath his right eye. His left arm clutched his right and a soft moan escaped his lips as he fell to the ground with a light thud.
"Severus!" Molly Weasley cried. She had been conversing in the hall with Lupin about something or other when Severus had limped in.
"I'm u-useless..." Severus wheezed, trying very hard to get up but collaspsing in Mrs. Weasley's outstretched arms. "H-he knows, he knows all about what I-I've been doing..."
Severus grimaced, annoyed with himself for looking so pathetic in front of one of his enemies, Lupin, but it couldn't be helped. "Molly...he knows..."
Pansy pushed Draco on her bed, which had a bright pink mosquito net around it, an ugly, hot pink, plush bed spread and pillows to match it. It was hard to look at, really, sort of like the girl herself. Ones eyes tended to burn if they gazed at it for too long.
"Draco..." Pansy declared in a sing-song way, her version of a sultry, seductive voice. She rolled over on her back. "Draco..."
Draco was seriously fucking sick of hearing his name by now. Draco...Draco...Draco...Draco, do you love me? Draco, do I matter to you at all? Draco, will we be together forever?
Dream on, sweetie, because he's got his eyes set on someone else...
"Draco!" Pansy screamed. She sat up. She had ripped her shirt off in an attempt to avert Draco's attention to her, however, he was still found gazing off into space.
Like I said, it was a lost cause.
"P-Pansy?" Draco stuttered, eyes falling automatically to her chest.
"I can't believe you!" Pansy cried. Still shirtless, she grabbed Draco by the forearm and forced his mouth to hers. She pushed him to the ground, feeding him kisses that were almost...angry. Angry, and forceful. She dug her sharp, claw-like fingernails into his neck, shoving her tounge down Draco's throat all the while.
Draco finally decided to let her. Let Pansy have her way with him. Let Pansy finally feed this fucking hunger so she could leave him alone. He would just pretend it was ...her.
Pretend it was her, to make it bareable.
Oh, who the fuck was he trying to kid anyway? Pretending it was her would make it pure bliss.
So Draco relented, maybe even got into it a bit, tounge swinging wildly in Pansy's mouth, running his fingers through her dark hair...
"Pinnie heard Miss Pansy screaming, sir," came a female house-elf's voice down the hall.
Pansy pulled away from Draco immediately, her normally glittering, malicious eyes now wide and fearful. "Oh, shit."
Draco stood up immediately, knocking Pansy off his chest. The door flew open.
Come on Pansy, really. Haven't you the sense to close your door when going to snog?
Pansy's mother, a pugfaced woman, just like her daughter, let out a little scream and clasped her hands over her mouth. Her father, a tall, scary looking man just glared at Draco.
"Daddy!" Pansy squealed, "Mum!" She gasped, and slapped her hands over her bare chest.
Draco had never felt more awkward in his entire life. Really. But no one had to know that. Draco was smooth, sexy,...never awkward. Like his father. Like his father. Psh, right.
Draco shook his head to clear it of confusion. What to do, what to do? Of course, Mortimer Parkinson, Pansy's father was accquainted with Lucius. And of course, this "lewd" act would no doubt be reported to him. Damn, damn, damn. No, damn just didn't do it. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Draco winced, picturing his dad after hearing the news. "Ruining the family name!" he would bellow, and then he would shout random profanities at Draco, and finally, come dangerously close to hexing him.
So obviously, Draco couldn't return home. Mortimer Parkinson entered the room, robes swishing behind him almost menacingly. He advanced on Pansy, who by now had found her shirt and pulled it on. Draco glanced around madly. There was a space where Mortimer had stood, next to Pansy's mother. He could make a run for it. He could grab a bit of floo powder, and go wherever he wished.
Yes. Draco raced for the door, dashing across Pansy's bed, and he was out the door before Pansy's parents could do anything about it. He rushed towards his guest room, snatching his trunk while doing so. He scurried down the long, winding staircase, and finally to the main fireplace.
DAMN IT! Where was the floo powder?! His frantic gaze finally rested on the mantle, where a large clay jar sat, labeled in a swirly script, "Floo Powder."
His heart ramming painfully against his chest, he grabbed a fist full of it, and threw his trunk into the fireplace, and finally stepped in himself.
"THE LEAKY CAULDRON!"