Linger

Pansy Parkinson was not considered to be a conventional beauty. Her dark, almost jet-black, hair flowed down her back, impossibly straight with a slight curl at the very tip. Her eyes were a shimmering blue, almost husky-like in their intensity, and never failed to captivate even the most obstinate of men. She pursed her lips together as she stepped away from the door. She shrugged off her jacket, tossing it against the nearest chair, revealing a dress that left little to the imagination. The silky material clung to her hips, molding against her curves as she walked towards the lone figure in the room who was casually lounging in his rich, brown leather chair, completely unaware of her presence and the outside world. He was beautiful, dressed in a deep green button-down shirt, his pale skin glistened against the moonlight coming through the windows.

“Sickle for your thoughts?”

His grey eyes flashed open at the sound. Pansy put her hand on her hip, a smirk forming on her lips as she watched him react. He visibly tensed for a moment before he sighed, taking a sip of the drink he held in his hands.

“Same thoughts as every night. Not worth nearly a sickle, I’m afraid.”

“Then why don’t I,” she whispered huskily as she walked around his desk and leaned down towards him, running her hands down his chest, “put a stop to all this noise in here.” She placed a kiss to his temple, “Hmm?”

She could feel him tensing up again as she continued her caresses but shook her head in determination. Draco Malfoy would not reject her again. He had been in mourning long enough. “It’s been nearly two years,” she whispered against his cheek as she straddled him, taking the drink out of his hands and placing it on the desk.

He grabbed the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white. He made no move to stop her, his eyes staring beyond her to the wall, seemingly entranced at a fixed point.

“She’s gone, Draco,” her voice coated over him like honey, “She left. Her-“

“Don’t say her name,” he growled, pushing back the chair, standing up to his full height. At nearly 6”2, he cut an impressive figure. His platinum blonde hair was shorter than it was in his school days, now cleanly cut. He pushed a lingering strand away from his face, his eyes turning into a molten silver as he glared at her.

Pansy landed unceremoniously onto the carpeted floor. She frowned and huffed to herself. Apparently, he was going to put up a fight. She brushed the dust from her dress and as gracefully as she could manage, picked herself off the ground, refusing to let his towering figure intimidate her.

“You can’t live in denial forever, Draco,” she snapped, now annoyed. “No one has heard a single word from her in two years. She’s the smartest girl of our age. If she wanted to hide herself, she will, as she’s so clearly done.”

“She didn’t leave,” his voice strained as he attempted to mollify the anger stirring within him.

“Then what happened to her?” Pansy demanded, her eyes narrowed, “Potter is Head Auror and the entire Wizarding world has been looking for her but to no avail. Do you honestly believe he could’ve defeated the Dark Lord but not find a single girl if she wanted to be found? She is gone. The princess of Gryffindor is no more, Draco. Accept it. The war got to her,” she exhaled, closing her eyes momentarily as she held back the memories, “It got to all of us. She cracked and she left. That’s all there is to it.”

“I can’t believe that,” he said simply, his face resolved. “She wouldn’t have left like that. She wouldn’t have left without a word. She would’ve said goodbye.”

“And, have you and the rest of the bloody world put a stop to her plans?” Pansy asked sharply. “You never would’ve let her leave you and neither would Potter or Weasley.” She let out another sigh, “You all needed her too much.”

He was silent for a few moments, as if absorbing her words. “I still feel her, Pansy,” Draco confessed quietly, his eyes boring a hole into the ground as he ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s like I can feel her right next to me and every time I reach out to touch her, she disappears. It’s like I can never-,” he shook his head and trailed off.

Pansy watched him sadly, her heart breaking a bit for the shattered man in front of her. Hermione Granger, what have you done? She took a few hesitant steps towards him and placed a hand against his chest, avoiding his questioning glance. “I know you still love her but don’t you just get tired of it all?” She continued, despite his silence, “I can help you forget,” she leaned up, whispering against his lips, “Just for tonight.”

“I can’t-“

She brushed her lips against his teasingly, “Just for tonight. You need this.”

Without looking or even glancing in her direction, he grabbed her body and roughly smashed their lips together. She smiled against his lips as she felt his resolve crumble beneath their kisses. She moaned in approval, shifting her weight and pulling him on top of her as she lied back on the table, wrapping her legs around his hips. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, dueling with his as she ripped his shirt off, the buttons flying across the study. She hungrily kissed his bare chest, fumbling with his belt buckle. Her body thrummed with anticipation as she pushed his trousers off and within a moment, he was inside her, pushing into her gloriously as stars exploded behind her eyes.

Pansy panted against his ear, holding his body close as they moved together. Draco slammed into her frantically, not making a single sound, merely indulging in the physical. He couldn’t look at Pansy and he couldn’t pretend it was her.

They moved silently. Pansy moaned every so often, running her hands up and down his back as she placed kisses to his face, neck and chest. Draco, however, continued to thrust without care, his eyes closed, his mind far away. A strangled moan escaped from his throat as he climaxed, his ears blocking out Pansy’s screams of pleasure.

Forgive me.

-*-

“Malfoy! I swear, you have had one too many chocolate frogs,” Hermione chastised as she put a hand on her hip, pouting as he fidgeted yet again. “Will you please just sit still? You’re acting like a five-year-old.”

“Keep in mind, Granger,” he emphasized, “that I am doing you a favor. It’s not every day an amateur artist like yourself can have the great Draco Malfoy as a sitter.” He smirked at her outraged expression, “I’ll have you know that many great artists in the past have begged to paint my family members but only the most exceptional were granted this artistic favor.” He leaned towards her, his hands reaching out to grab her as he added, “And, if I remember correctly, it was ‘Oh, Draco, Draco’ this morning,” his smirk grew, “and last night and oh,” he lifted a finger to his chin, pretending to ponder, “and the night before as well.”

“Shut up, you tosspot,” Hermione smacked him half-heartedly and let out a girly squeal as he pulled her closer, breathing in the smell of her.

“Tosspot?” He said with a pout, “You wound me.”

“Nothing will ever wound that over-inflated ego of yours,” she returned with a gentle smile, kissing him softly. He wound his fingers through her curls, deepening the kiss with a moan, exploring her mouth with his tongue. She was intoxicating. He cradled her face with his other hand before moving it down over her body. He loved the feel of her—so warm and soft.

Hermione felt him reach under her shirt, the pads of his fingertips grazing against her hardened nipples. She jumped out of his reach and with a devilish smile she returned to her place behind the camera, “Behave yourself. You’re going to wrinkle your robes and we can’t have you looking anything less than pristine now, can we?”

“You’re a tease,” he said with a playful growl before he readjusted himself. He ran his hand through his hair, the strands falling perfectly back into place. Within moments, Draco Malfoy was perfectly poised once again.

“You disgust me with how pretty you are sometimes.”

He raised an eyebrow in amusement, “Jealous, darling?”

“Of course not, honeybunch,” she returned before she snapped a few pictures. She frowned slightly, though her expression was hidden behind the camera, “Will you stop smirking and just smile?”

He continued smirking for a few more shots until Hermione let out a sign of frustration, “Malfoy! Stop being a prat.”

“I don’t understand why you can’t use a Wizarding camera? You’re bound to get a smile in a photograph at some point if you do.”

“I happen to enjoy muggle photography, I’ll have you know. I find it to be more enjoyable. There’s more of an artistic process.”

“An artistic process?” Draco snorted. “Trust you to be the one who enjoys something that requires more work.”

Hermione merely ignored his comment and grinned, “Stop talking. Now, smile.”

“You have to earn it.”

She rolled her eyes, “And, just what do I have to do before you decide to grace my presence with a smile, Lord Malfoy?”

“Say it.”

She shook her head, her eyes softening with adoration, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he smiled.

She snapped the shot.

-*-

Viola hummed softly to herself as she busied herself with cleaning up the café. It was her favorite time of the day. All the customers and regular staff had left and it was the one quiet hour she had to herself without disturbances. She twirled around the café, dancing to herself, her body moving gracefully around the chairs and tables as she finished her mopping. The owners of the café, a nice, old Scottish couple originally from Aberdeen, had trusted her enough to take care of most of the responsibilities. Within a few short months, she had basically been running the café by herself. She enjoyed being given a challenge and also found delight in the independence.

She was almost done wiping down the tables when she heard the crash from the back room. Brow furrowed, Viola threw the rag onto the counter, wiping her hands against the apron as she moved towards the back. She turned on the light, frowning when no light came on. Annoyed, she muttered to herself as she realized a box of plastic utensils had fallen from its shelf and was now scattered all over the ground. She bent down and began to pick up the pieces when she felt someone grab her from behind, the smell of tobacco and alcohol invading her senses before she felt a sharp pain in her neck and head and the world went dark.

Viola awoke to a scream. Her mind was groggy as she cracked open one eye, her hand coming up to the side of her face to block the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

“Viola? Viola?” Shannon, the waitress with the morning shift leaned over her, her pretty face marred with worry, “What happened to you? Viola, can you hear me?”

Slowly, she sat up with her help, her mind still readjusting to the circumstances.

“Viola, what the hell happened here?”

Her voice was hoarse when she finally spoke, “My name is Hermione.”

-*-