Happy holidays, ifanciful! (Ginny/Pansy, PG-13) Title: Beneath the Mistletoe Author/Artist: ? Recipient:ifanciful Rating: PG-13 Length/Medium: approx 1800 words Pairing(s): Pansy/Ginny, with reference to Ginny/Harry. Summary: Ginny finds herself trapped under the mistletoe with none other than Pansy Parkinson. Warning(s): none, really. Notes: Thanks to my beta, to the mods & to ifanciful for requesting my very favourite femslash pairing. I hope you like it!
There were a thousand insults you could use for Pansy Parkinson, Ginny reflected, but 'inelegant' was not amongst them. The girl had style; unfortunately she seemed to lack any morals whatsoever.
Tonight, perhaps fittingly, Pansy wore black: knee high black leather boots, black stockings and a little black dress. Little being the operative word in this case, since the dress begun at bust line and ended shy of Pansy's knees. It was made of black lace and while it was hard to see clearly in the candlelight, Ginny thought she could glimpse skin through the fabric. At the top of it all was Parkinson's sleek black hair, expensively coiffed.
Ginny had not expected to see Pansy tonight and the girl's arrival was a distinctly unwelcome surprise. Although there has been efforts to promote 'inter-house harmony' following Voldemort's defeat, those efforts obviously hadn't extended to Death Eaters or their supporters and Parkinson's behaviour before the battle at Hogwarts put her firmly into the latter camp. Really, Ginny thought, somebody should tell the woman that she wasn't welcome here.
Ginny drained her glass and set out for the drinks table, intending to make a snide remark as she passed by. Parkinson was standing amidst a group of Ravenclaws with her back turned to the room, but somehow her mere body language conveyed an aloof attitude of boredom.
"I'm amazed you have the nerve to show your face here," Ginny said.
Parkinson swivelled slowly on her stiletto heel. "Really?" she replied coolly, "Luckily our host doesn't agree. Perhaps that's because I live with his girlfriend."
"Seriously…you? Live with Padma?"
"She and I have grown closer since the war," Pansy said pointedly, "given that we both lost a parent."
"No, Weasley, we're not all as childish as your siblings. Some of us don't feel a compulsive need to clown around."
"My brother is dead!" Ginny said hotly, "Don't you dare speak ill of him."
"Everyone knows someone who died. That's why we're here, isn't it?" Pansy drawled, gesturing with her glass of champagne. "Drinking and making merry so we can all move on. Why don't you do precisely that?"
"Fine!" said Ginny, turning and attempting to walk away.
For some reason, though, her feet wouldn't move. She struggled for several seconds and then heard a faint hum in the air, indicative of a boundary charm. With a sinking feeling, Ginny looked upwards. Right at the bunch of mistletoe above them.
"Fuck!" she said.
"What's the – oh, Circe's cunt," Pansy cursed, seemingly unaware of the incongruity between her attire, cut-crystal accent and the vocabulary of a sailor.
For a moment they simply stared at each other, Ginny in horror and Pansy in narrow-eyed contempt.
"For heaven's sake, Weasley, you got us into this predicament."
"There is no way I'm kissing you," Ginny said baldly. "I'd rather-"
She had been going to say that she'd rather die, but of course she wouldn't. One couldn't say such things after living through a war, after weighing choices that had to be made and their costs. There weren't many things Ginny would die for: her family, perhaps a few friends, probably Harry. To avoid making out with Parkinson certainly wasn't one of those things.
"I'll stand here all night if I have to," Ginny finished instead.
"If you want to lurk in a corner all evening that's your business. Leave me out of it," Pansy said crossly.
"Believe me, I'm trying to!" Ginny shot back, crossing her arms and turning so that she faced in the opposite direction. Unfortunately the hum resumed when she tried to move, so the charm was clearly still in place.
There was a long and pointed silence.
"This is pathetic," Pansy sneered, "Don't you Gryffindors have a reputation for bravery to live up to?"
Ginny ignored her. Instead she watched the other side of the room, where other people were talking, drinking and circulating with apparent enjoyment. Nobody else seemed to be having this ridiculous problem.
She saw Luna and Justin Finch-Fletchley exchange a peck on the lips to escape from some mistletoe that was hanging in an archway, and the next moment they were happily going their separate ways. How bad could that be?
"Look…" Pansy said.
"Don't talk to me!"
"I have no desire to speak to you," Pansy replied scathingly, "but we're going to be trapped here until one of us does something. And I'd rather not ring in the New Year with the goddess of ginger."
"What did you call me?" Ginny said, whipping round to glare at Pansy.
"A goddess, darling. You are superhumanly annoying."
Pansy glared back.
"You know what? Fine. I'll do whatever it takes to get rid of you," Ginny announced furiously and leant forward to press her lips quickly, firmly against Parkinson's.
As Ginny pulled away and made to leave, the hum of magic resumed louder than ever. The mistletoe seemed to be swaying with the vibration of the charm, as if there were a nest of angry wasps behind it.
"Oh come on!" Ginny exclaimed, throwing up her arms. "It worked for Luna and Justin so why…"
"Obviously you can't get free that easily," Pansy said with evident amusement.
"I can't believe you're enjoying this."
"It's called 'schadenfreude'. Rather a speciality in Slytherin," replied Pansy with a smirk.
"Right. I should have gathered that from all the Cruciatus Curses you lot threw around."
"I'll give you ten galleons," Pansy said with obvious relish, "for every incident you can recount where I used the Cruciatus Curse."
Ginny paused, racking her brain, but – unlikely as it seemed – she couldn't think of any. Parkinson was always there with her Prefect's badge, always drawling something offensive or playing the sycophant. Yet, perhaps she hadn't used that curse, hadn't used any Unforgiveables as far as Ginny could recall. Was it better to be the tacit supporter instead of the torturer?
'Well, yes, duh!' Ginny's brain responded and she sighed with annoyance.
There was silence as Pansy looked expectantly at her.
"I'll make it twenty galleons."
"Fine, you've made your point, there's no need to be a bitch about it," Ginny said crossly.
Pansy smiled and tipped up her champagne flute, draining it. "While this has been entertaining, I need a fresh drink. Get on with it, Weasley."
"I did it last time," Ginny pointed out, "so it's your turn. I don't want anyone thinking I'm eager to do this."
"I think your childish petulance has made that quite clear," Pansy said crisply, "but if you insist."
Pansy leaned over and placed the champagne flute on the floor.
"Why are you doing that?"
"So that I'm not tempted to stab you with it," Pansy said, narrowing her eyes. "Come here."
When Ginny didn't move, Pansy sighed and extended her arms.
Ginny barely had time to register that there was a hand on her shoulder blade and another in the small of her back before Pansy had tugged her firmly forwards. Suddenly she was barely inches from Pansy Parkinson and was very much aware of the proximity of their breasts.
"Don't wriggle," Pansy ordered and then kissed her.
This was definitely not a peck on the lips. Instead, Pansy's lips were warm and soft against hers, Pansy's dark hair falling in a soft curtain around them. She felt Pansy's tongue move tentatively over her bottom lip and opened her mouth almost without thinking, feeling a shiver run through her as their tongues met.
The hand on her back pulled Ginny closer and she stepped forward, their breasts pressing softly together and the curve of Pansy's stomach meeting her hip. It was new and a little peculiar to have a girl's body against her, smooth and malleable whereas male bodies were muscular. Compared to Harry's stubble, Pansy's cheek was delightfully soft.
The kiss was slow and as it deepened Ginny felt Pansy sigh a little, a sweet, contented sound. It was…it was enjoyable and yes, rather sexy. They should probably stop.
Ginny swept her tongue against Pansy's one final time and took the opportunity to glide her hand down Pansy's back, feeling the way the other girl arched into her touch. Then, with more than a hint of regret, she stepped back.
"Yes, I can see you're not enthusiastic at all," Pansy said, looking rather flustered.
"It could have been worse," Ginny conceded, moving a couple of steps away to test the charm and finding that there was no resistance this time. "Well, we’re free to go. See you around, maybe."
"Wait a sec," Pansy said, plucking an ivory card out of her bra. "This was…Okay, it was fucking surreal, but if you want to get drunk and surreal again sometime then Floo me."
Ginny paused for a moment, a smile curving on her lips. "Is that a proposition, Parkinson?"
"No, it's a fucking death threat. What else would it be?" Pansy said with annoyance. "Take it or leave it, but I think we could have some fun. Excuse me."
Ginny watched Pansy walk away in the direction of the bar, where she acquired not one but two glasses of champagne before gliding off towards Padma and her friends.
She looked down at the card, which bore Pansy's contact details, and for a moment she couldn't think what to do with it. Then, recalling where Pansy had produced it from, Ginny tucked the card into the top of her own bra. It felt warm against her skin and Ginny rather liked the implications of that.
She grabbed a drink herself and headed towards Harry, Ron, George and Lee, trying to figure out how to explain this turn of events. Apparently, though, there was no need.
"That," said Lee, "was the sexiest thing I've seen in ages."
"People pay good money for steamy witch-on-witch action," George said sagely. "With one of our Patented Daydream Charms you could explore that scenario to your, ahem, satisfaction for a whole thirty minutes."
Ginny punched him on the arm.
"I had my eyes shut," Ron complained, "but the mere thought of you kissing Parkinson has scarred me for life."
She turned to Harry, whose cheeks were rather pink. "And?"
"I, um," Harry said, blushing further. "It was pretty hot."
"Excellent!" Lee said cheerfully, "Aren't you glad we modified that mistletoe for you?"
"You what?" Ginny said, turning on Lee.
"They did," said Ron, "but it wasn't from a shortage of objections from me."
Ginny looked furiously from Lee to Harry.
"You just ruined any chance you had of getting lucky tonight," she announced and Harry's face fell.
"I reckon she'll have other offers," said George, grinning. "If that card's anything to go by. Thinking of a repeat performance?"
"I just might!" Ginny said, glaring at them. "And next time, we won't let you watch."