Disclaimer: I do not own rights to Harry Potter. All characters and related material belong to J.K. Rowling. This is for entertainment purposes only, no money is being made.
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Smoking
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spectrosilver
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a/n: Rated PG13 for smoking. Just a heads up, if you couldn't tell from title. And no, I do not condone underage smoking/drinking/whatever...On with it...
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Pansy Parkinson stands alone by the fireplace. It sits, now cold, but still lit with dying embers. She bites on a long, pink fingernail, ignoring the myriad of lectures Mother has told her about performing such lewd acts in public places. It's not really public, she thinks, if nobody else is around. Soon enough, however, Draco Malfoy is walking down the stairs, smirking.
"Parkinson," he starts, laughing dryly, "you're up a bit late. I suppose you'll be joining me, then," his voice lingers in the air as he studies her. She shrugs as she quickly drops her hand from her mouth and safely tucks it into a pocket. He raises an eyebrow as her eyes remain locked with his. "Well..." he begins, but never finishes. His robe sweeps past her as he waits by the portrait hole. She follows and passes him, pushing the portrait door open. He doesn'tacknowledge her as she holds the door for him. She turns around to quietly secure it back in place. He has already walked a few meters ahead when she finishes, and she must lengthen her stride in order to catch up. He is proudly adjusting the silver badge adorning his chest, and she looks down to make sure hers is also in place. PREFECT, it reads. They walk the dark passages, void of students and teachers and ghouls, in silence. Shadows dance off of the jagged stone walls. It isn't long before they're at a heavy wooden door. This time, Draco opens the door, and lets it falls onto Pansy's hands as he saunters across the grassy field. His robes flow openly, unfasted, in the crisp autumn wind. He picks a spot to stand, near the edge of the lake, hidden in a natural alcove of trees and shrubbery. She takes her time, slowly reaching the spot. She looks up at him, the top of her head barely reaching his sholder, and shivers. It's well past midnight, and the chill of darkness and autumn and life slips under her skin. She draws her purple robes closer, trying not to appear cold in front of the boy. Draco fumbles around for something in his pocket, his robes still blowing freely in every gust of wind, and Pansy ties her hair back with a long, black ribbon.
"Here." He says, handing her a small, rolled paper cylander.
"Oh," she comments, taking the cigarette and bringing it to her petal-pink lips. He mirrors her, and draws his wand. A spark floats between the two. He draws in a long breath, and dark green smoke flows from his mouth. Like a dragon blowing fire. She tries to mimic him, coughing slightly as she inhales. He grins and watches her try again. And again. Until she looks just like him. Swirls of green fill the air. After awhile, when the dried ashes that lay in a pile have built up, Draco flicks the cigarette into the lake and brushes his robes off. Pansy snubs hers out in the grass and stands, but Draco manages to surpass her. He hands her an arm and pulls her up to her feet. And they walk together back into the castle, their silver badges reflecting the bright moonlight.
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a/n: Sorry if verb tense is a tad confused throughout. I didn't intend to write this in present tense, but that's how it started off, so I continued. It also turned out much longer than planned...I'm also American, so cigarette equals fag. Sorry for my lack of British-isms, tehe.