Hanging out....
Date: August 24, 2000
Time: Around sunset, and... later....
Location: Pansy's flat
Characters Involved: Perry Derrick, Pansy Parkinson
Rating: PG-13
By the time Perry got to Pansy's flat, he could hardly remember why he'd set off in the first place. Especially when it was so late... too late, in fact. The sun was going down. He had an hour, at most.
Ah, well.
"So, what's this about Flint?" he said as he sat down on the couch. He remembered that much, at least.
Hell, she'd only just found out he was back again; Pansy didn't want to talk about that now. Instead, their journal conversation still fresh in her mind, she pouted, though it was a mock-pout and her lips were curling and spoiling the expression, "Oh no, first things first. Where're my flowers?"
Oh great, they were going to play games first..... not that he minded. He raised a brow and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, then slipped his hands into his pockets. "You want dead flowers?"
Pansy curled up on the sofa next to him and rested her head back, just next to his shoulder. "Well, they are usually dead, yes," she said slowly. "Though I have to say the description doesn't make them particularly appealing. Perhaps that's why generally people just say, 'Flowers'."
Perry grinned and mimicked her, laying his head back beside her. "People like to overlook the obvious. You know me; I'm the straightforward type." When he wasn't being evasive.
...Maybe he'd bring flowers next time.
For now, it was back to the original topic. "Now, what were you saying about Flint?"
He wasn't going to let up about that, was he? Typical. Pansy turned her head so that she was facing him and yet, even though he was so persueing the subject so doggedly, hoped she could put him off. "I wasn't saying anything about him. It's old news, happened years ago. Very uninteresting. Let's talk about something else."
Possibly, Pansy thought, she should have been a bit less keen to change the subject.
Talk about being evasive. Feeling Pansy's eyes on him, Perry turned his head toward hers and just stared for a moment. Then he grinned. "Did you shag him?"
He said that way too casually... way too suddenly. But why else would she be trying to deter him?
Whoah, where had that come from? For a moment or two Pansy stared at him. The idea of it was mind-blowing. Did Perry really think her capable of that?
"No, of course not," she said forcefully, and frowned at the idea, and at the memories. "Though," she added more quietly, "not for want of trying on Flint's part."
Pansy was so outraged by the very suggestion that Perry was sure she was telling the truth. But that last part caused a brow to raise, and he lifted his head from the couch slightly. "Oh really?" Now, that was interesting. Because he knew Flint's reputation with girls, back at Hogwarts....
Pansy sighed. "Yes really." She really didn't want to go over this again. It was the kind of thing you didn't talk about with blokes you were seeing: Hey, when you ignored my existence and I was still a kid, a bloke older than you stalked me and tried to sleep with me. Howabout that? No such conversation ever went well. And yet here was Perry still looking for answers. She sighed again. "He was a pain for a couple of years, back when I first went to Hogwarts. He backed off in my third year. So, all ancient history and no harm done."
The silent addition to the end of that speech: Can we please change the subject now?
Perry was silent for a moment; he needed time to process that information. The thought of Marcus Flint coming on to a girl--more specifically this girl--in her first couple of years at Hogwarts. What was she then, 11, 12? And he was how many years older than her?
He wasn't glaring at her, per se... more like the idea of that dunderhead Flint harassing young girls. Hell--his sister was around that age now, wasn't she? "Did he do anything?" Why, no Pansy, he wasn't going to let this go. Not yet, anyway.
Christ, what was this, a Ministry investigation? Pansy was working hard not to pull away and pull her legs up in front of her and commit all those other treacherous little tells that would have Perry baying for Flint's blood. Instead she stayed where she was and captured one of Perry's hands in her own. Something to play with and look at, so she didn't need to look at him. "No, not really," she said. "It was in my second year he got suggestive and a bit too... touchy-feely." She scowled at the memory and then she did look up at him. "But I could deal with it. I did deal with it. And trust me, compared to the last couple of years those first ones were a breeze."
Oh, Perry was already baying for Flint's blood. At least, he would be if Flint were around... or if it was the full moon. Instead, he looked properly rigid and indignant. He said nothing, just glared at her (TO her) and interlocked his fingers with hers. This idiot girl, she talked as if it was no big deal. But now all Perry could see in his mind was Flint's ugly mits on her, touching her... Pansy. His Pansy.
...His Pansy.
...It made his skin twitch, anyway.
He sighed, his gaze softening a bit... especially after that last comment. Now that, he probably shouldn't inquire about. "Well, getting hit on is one thing. Getting hit on by a complete moron like him is quite another."
As his fingers twisted round hers, Pansy smiled and squeezed them gently, a bit surprised by how right their hands looked like that. Just another way they fit together - to balance all the ways they rubbed each other up the wrong way. "Believe me, getting hit on by anyone when you're twelve or thirteen is a bit of a surprise but, you know, maybe I'm just that wonderful," she said, grinning, determined to lighten the atmosphere. "I mean, you can't blame him for not being able to help himself, can you?" She puncutated that comment with a tilted eyebrow, and a soft kiss.
Agh, Pansy, you and your jokes. Perry didn't seem to mind kissing, anyway. Well, at first. "'Course I can," he continued his indignation, breaking away at brief intervals to do so. "He's an ill-bred, spoiled fuck-nut." He ended one rather strong and lip-sucking kiss with another gem: "And I remember you at thirteen. You weren't that impressive."
Pansy's speech was likewise broken by the kisses which weren't having the desired distracting element Pansy had hoped for. If anything, Perry seemed to be more ireful - at least as far as his ill-judged comments showed. She merely nodded, and laughed a very little, in response to Perry's assessment of Flint but the next sentence past his lips could have gone very badly for him. She pulled away with an outraged expression which was only half a joke. "Well, your memory's defective. I was impressive in my cradle!"
Wow, she didn't seem to like that one. Perry grinned broadly; he was probably enjoying himself a little too much. "Well, I'm sorry I couldn't have known you then! I can't say I'm partial to drool and bald heads, but you might've been quieter, at least." At the same time he was putting a hand around the back of her neck to pull her closer... because, apparently Perry thought that was a good segue into more kissing.
A bit more kissing, perhaps. It was still such a lovely buzz for Perry to pull her close - but all too soon she was coming up for air again. Air and a chance to speak her mind. "I beg your pardon, I have never drooled or been bald, thank you very much!" she exclaimed, and then the quietness comment hit and Pansy couldn't help but notice the irony of Perry claiming he would prefer her quiet when he was here and grinning while she ranted on in her usual fashion. She smiled at him and muttered, "You're such a liar. You love me just the way I am," before leaning over, one hand on his jaw, to kiss him again.
The reaction had been more than he was expecting and Perry would have laughed right in her face if he had not been rendered speechless--and a bit stiff--by her last comment. And that one particular word. And what a time for her to use it!
But... she didn't mean anything by it, he decided. That word had plenty of meanings... none of which he had to dwell on just now. Instead Perry curled his arm around her waist, and he grinned. "Yeah. You're not half bad, Parkinson." He dropped his feet to the ground so their bodies could draw a bit closer, and his kisses became a bit more passionate, more serious.
It had slipped out without her thinking about it, and only that slight tension in Perry's shoulders allowed her to catch it. Shit. She hadn't meant anything by it - it had just slipped out. Spur of the moment, thinking about a million and one things from the past and the present and the future, of course a stupid word like that was going to slip in without her noticing. As Perry's arm tightened around her waist and pulled them closer together, Pansy gave up all those wonderments as insignificant and instead drank in the facts that Perry was here, that he was kissing her and that, (with a sneaky glance out of the window) they had about an hour to spare before curfew. Fabulous.
Time: Around sunset, and... later....
Location: Pansy's flat
Characters Involved: Perry Derrick, Pansy Parkinson
Rating: PG-13
By the time Perry got to Pansy's flat, he could hardly remember why he'd set off in the first place. Especially when it was so late... too late, in fact. The sun was going down. He had an hour, at most.
Ah, well.
"So, what's this about Flint?" he said as he sat down on the couch. He remembered that much, at least.
Hell, she'd only just found out he was back again; Pansy didn't want to talk about that now. Instead, their journal conversation still fresh in her mind, she pouted, though it was a mock-pout and her lips were curling and spoiling the expression, "Oh no, first things first. Where're my flowers?"
Oh great, they were going to play games first..... not that he minded. He raised a brow and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, then slipped his hands into his pockets. "You want dead flowers?"
Pansy curled up on the sofa next to him and rested her head back, just next to his shoulder. "Well, they are usually dead, yes," she said slowly. "Though I have to say the description doesn't make them particularly appealing. Perhaps that's why generally people just say, 'Flowers'."
Perry grinned and mimicked her, laying his head back beside her. "People like to overlook the obvious. You know me; I'm the straightforward type." When he wasn't being evasive.
...Maybe he'd bring flowers next time.
For now, it was back to the original topic. "Now, what were you saying about Flint?"
He wasn't going to let up about that, was he? Typical. Pansy turned her head so that she was facing him and yet, even though he was so persueing the subject so doggedly, hoped she could put him off. "I wasn't saying anything about him. It's old news, happened years ago. Very uninteresting. Let's talk about something else."
Possibly, Pansy thought, she should have been a bit less keen to change the subject.
Talk about being evasive. Feeling Pansy's eyes on him, Perry turned his head toward hers and just stared for a moment. Then he grinned. "Did you shag him?"
He said that way too casually... way too suddenly. But why else would she be trying to deter him?
Whoah, where had that come from? For a moment or two Pansy stared at him. The idea of it was mind-blowing. Did Perry really think her capable of that?
"No, of course not," she said forcefully, and frowned at the idea, and at the memories. "Though," she added more quietly, "not for want of trying on Flint's part."
Pansy was so outraged by the very suggestion that Perry was sure she was telling the truth. But that last part caused a brow to raise, and he lifted his head from the couch slightly. "Oh really?" Now, that was interesting. Because he knew Flint's reputation with girls, back at Hogwarts....
Pansy sighed. "Yes really." She really didn't want to go over this again. It was the kind of thing you didn't talk about with blokes you were seeing: Hey, when you ignored my existence and I was still a kid, a bloke older than you stalked me and tried to sleep with me. Howabout that? No such conversation ever went well. And yet here was Perry still looking for answers. She sighed again. "He was a pain for a couple of years, back when I first went to Hogwarts. He backed off in my third year. So, all ancient history and no harm done."
The silent addition to the end of that speech: Can we please change the subject now?
Perry was silent for a moment; he needed time to process that information. The thought of Marcus Flint coming on to a girl--more specifically this girl--in her first couple of years at Hogwarts. What was she then, 11, 12? And he was how many years older than her?
He wasn't glaring at her, per se... more like the idea of that dunderhead Flint harassing young girls. Hell--his sister was around that age now, wasn't she? "Did he do anything?" Why, no Pansy, he wasn't going to let this go. Not yet, anyway.
Christ, what was this, a Ministry investigation? Pansy was working hard not to pull away and pull her legs up in front of her and commit all those other treacherous little tells that would have Perry baying for Flint's blood. Instead she stayed where she was and captured one of Perry's hands in her own. Something to play with and look at, so she didn't need to look at him. "No, not really," she said. "It was in my second year he got suggestive and a bit too... touchy-feely." She scowled at the memory and then she did look up at him. "But I could deal with it. I did deal with it. And trust me, compared to the last couple of years those first ones were a breeze."
Oh, Perry was already baying for Flint's blood. At least, he would be if Flint were around... or if it was the full moon. Instead, he looked properly rigid and indignant. He said nothing, just glared at her (TO her) and interlocked his fingers with hers. This idiot girl, she talked as if it was no big deal. But now all Perry could see in his mind was Flint's ugly mits on her, touching her... Pansy. His Pansy.
...His Pansy.
...It made his skin twitch, anyway.
He sighed, his gaze softening a bit... especially after that last comment. Now that, he probably shouldn't inquire about. "Well, getting hit on is one thing. Getting hit on by a complete moron like him is quite another."
As his fingers twisted round hers, Pansy smiled and squeezed them gently, a bit surprised by how right their hands looked like that. Just another way they fit together - to balance all the ways they rubbed each other up the wrong way. "Believe me, getting hit on by anyone when you're twelve or thirteen is a bit of a surprise but, you know, maybe I'm just that wonderful," she said, grinning, determined to lighten the atmosphere. "I mean, you can't blame him for not being able to help himself, can you?" She puncutated that comment with a tilted eyebrow, and a soft kiss.
Agh, Pansy, you and your jokes. Perry didn't seem to mind kissing, anyway. Well, at first. "'Course I can," he continued his indignation, breaking away at brief intervals to do so. "He's an ill-bred, spoiled fuck-nut." He ended one rather strong and lip-sucking kiss with another gem: "And I remember you at thirteen. You weren't that impressive."
Pansy's speech was likewise broken by the kisses which weren't having the desired distracting element Pansy had hoped for. If anything, Perry seemed to be more ireful - at least as far as his ill-judged comments showed. She merely nodded, and laughed a very little, in response to Perry's assessment of Flint but the next sentence past his lips could have gone very badly for him. She pulled away with an outraged expression which was only half a joke. "Well, your memory's defective. I was impressive in my cradle!"
Wow, she didn't seem to like that one. Perry grinned broadly; he was probably enjoying himself a little too much. "Well, I'm sorry I couldn't have known you then! I can't say I'm partial to drool and bald heads, but you might've been quieter, at least." At the same time he was putting a hand around the back of her neck to pull her closer... because, apparently Perry thought that was a good segue into more kissing.
A bit more kissing, perhaps. It was still such a lovely buzz for Perry to pull her close - but all too soon she was coming up for air again. Air and a chance to speak her mind. "I beg your pardon, I have never drooled or been bald, thank you very much!" she exclaimed, and then the quietness comment hit and Pansy couldn't help but notice the irony of Perry claiming he would prefer her quiet when he was here and grinning while she ranted on in her usual fashion. She smiled at him and muttered, "You're such a liar. You love me just the way I am," before leaning over, one hand on his jaw, to kiss him again.
The reaction had been more than he was expecting and Perry would have laughed right in her face if he had not been rendered speechless--and a bit stiff--by her last comment. And that one particular word. And what a time for her to use it!
But... she didn't mean anything by it, he decided. That word had plenty of meanings... none of which he had to dwell on just now. Instead Perry curled his arm around her waist, and he grinned. "Yeah. You're not half bad, Parkinson." He dropped his feet to the ground so their bodies could draw a bit closer, and his kisses became a bit more passionate, more serious.
It had slipped out without her thinking about it, and only that slight tension in Perry's shoulders allowed her to catch it. Shit. She hadn't meant anything by it - it had just slipped out. Spur of the moment, thinking about a million and one things from the past and the present and the future, of course a stupid word like that was going to slip in without her noticing. As Perry's arm tightened around her waist and pulled them closer together, Pansy gave up all those wonderments as insignificant and instead drank in the facts that Perry was here, that he was kissing her and that, (with a sneaky glance out of the window) they had about an hour to spare before curfew. Fabulous.