A moment (Pansy/James Sirius)
SO, weird pairing, yes. Written for a weekly challenge at sortinghatdrabs a while ago, but never posted on my journal. 171 words. Implied sex. Nothing graphic. Smoking.
Her head sort of hangs from his bed, a mess of long black hair, as she lies on her stomach and searches for cigarettes in her purse, situated somewhere on the floor, between her black dress and his grey shirt.
(He stares at her from the kitchen, thinks she looks beautiful, like a really old painting, the kind that no one bothers to paint anymore.)
"Remind me again, why did I allow myself to be coaxed into staying at your flat?"
He smiles, shakes his head, thinks, hopes he'll never get used to this.
"I told you not to smoke in my bed," he says instead.
He's sure he can hear her cursing along with the sound of her putting on clothes.
He turns his back to her, to grab the kettle from the shelf, she'll put her hands around his waist, and he'll pretend to not see it coming.
She kisses his neck, bites him lightly.
"You can smoke on the balcony."
(He always gives in, she counts on that.)
Her head sort of hangs from his bed, a mess of long black hair, as she lies on her stomach and searches for cigarettes in her purse, situated somewhere on the floor, between her black dress and his grey shirt.
(He stares at her from the kitchen, thinks she looks beautiful, like a really old painting, the kind that no one bothers to paint anymore.)
"Remind me again, why did I allow myself to be coaxed into staying at your flat?"
He smiles, shakes his head, thinks, hopes he'll never get used to this.
"I told you not to smoke in my bed," he says instead.
He's sure he can hear her cursing along with the sound of her putting on clothes.
He turns his back to her, to grab the kettle from the shelf, she'll put her hands around his waist, and he'll pretend to not see it coming.
She kisses his neck, bites him lightly.
"You can smoke on the balcony."
(He always gives in, she counts on that.)