LJ sucks and a meh Consumed update
LJ is being a pain in my ass, and my patience tonight is at an all-time low as it is.
Have a chapter of Consumed. I don't know what I think of it, but... it's writing. It helped to be able to do this, no matter how it turned out. I really appreciate any feedback anyone has! The best part of this update is the darling icon sarcasm_aloud made for me!!! *hugs*
If Pansy Parkinson had been capable of feeling embarrassment, she might have been embarrassed upon walking into Ginny's flat, considering all the things she'd done with Ron in it.
As it was, however, she was greeted by a rather spectacular view of Ginny bending over to fetch a spoon she'd dropped on the floor.
"How many times a day do we think Draco is told he's a sinfully lucky bastard?" Pansy said wistfully, lounging in the kitchen doorway and appreciating the view. To her credit, Ginny didn't jump or rush to finish her task, she merely shot a glance at Pansy that, though upside-down, would have quelled a lesser person.
Luckily for her, Pansy thought, she wasn't a lesser person. "Avail me again of the appropriate customs. Would a kiss hello be untoward?" She arched an eyebrow at the redhead and winked, softening (but not quite eliminating) the genuine nature of the question.
"Quite," Ginny said, barely checking the blush that instinctively wanted to steal over her cheeks any time Pansy said… well, anything. "Thank you for coming."
"You've… what, another week left until the Ministry starts baying to have you back? I should make the most of my time." Pansy crowded Ginny at the counter and plucked a biscuit from the tin. "Not that I don't always make the best of my time." She looked sidelong at the newly-minted Mrs. Malfoy and nibbled at the biscuit, thinking how unfair it was-
that Gin looks so much like Ron-
that Ginny was married. Pansy scowled at the thought that had almost intruded. Ron was miles away. For a whole month.
She didn't want to think about Ron, the cowardly, deserting git.
It was just a bit difficult when his sister, so ginger and cute and freckled, was standing right in front of her.
"Now, there's why I asked you over," Ginny said briskly, picking up the tea tray and setting it on the kitchen table. She'd rather grown to love that table. As a result, she failed to notice Pansy eyeing the table with a mixture of nostalgia and annoyance. "You're a thousand miles away, Parkinson. You didn't even pinch my bum when you came in." She slid into a chair before Pansy decided to right that particular wrong.
"Perhaps I'm saving up for something bigger," Pansy said, settling into a chair and crossing her legs, playing her fingers over the edge of the table. She'd been nearly eye-level with this table not so long ago, Ron's back braced against it, his hands in her hair-
She crossed her legs tightly and pretended the sudden rush of heat she'd felt had everything to do with her gorgeous hostess.
Ginny looked at Pansy shrewdly. Her mum had told her more than once that being married and happy gave a woman a bit of a mind to meddle-if you're happy, Molly's reasoning had been, you want everyone else to be happy.
At the time, Ginny had been convinced her mother was simply looking for excuses to stick her nose where it didn't belong.
Now, she thought she understood.
Pansy snagged another biscuit and stared forthrightly back at Ginny. As much as she wanted to believe she and Ginny had reached the stage where they could simply be friends, the fact of the matter was Pansy had no female friends, and she couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was something more than a social visit. "Love, if you're going to ogle me, the least you can do is give a little time to my cleavage."
"I don't think Draco would appreciate that." Ginny wiggled her left hand, gleeful with the feel of the wedding ring there.
Besides, Ginny thought that ring was going to provide her with the perfect opportunity to nag.
"Ah, monogamy. Chief among the… joys of marital bliss." Pansy hid a grin behind a cup of tea, completely enamored with how sickeningly perfect her best friend and his wife were. Truly, if the whole of Slytherin house could witness the domestication of Draco Malfoy, they'd either have applauded or asphyxiated.
"You don't know what you're missing, you know," Ginny said, perfectly casual as Pansy snorted into her teacup.
"I know I enjoy my life the way it is," Pansy said, now fully discomfited. She hadn't ever tagged Ginevra Weasley as the proselytizing type, but it sounded like she was about to get a lecture on the fine establishment of marriage and a whole lot of other hogwash. "I like being alone, Weasley."
"Malfoy."
Pansy ignored the correction. "Listen, sugar, sweet as your intentions may be, I'm the kind of person who thrives on solitude. Besides, if I get a bit lonely now and again, it just helps me appreciation the times when I have a little good company." She grinned wolfishly. "You know what they say about anticipation."
Ginny turned her teacup around in her hands. "You sound like Ron," she said absently, thinking about what Draco had told her-long hours, no explanation, flitting from bedmate to bedmate without so much as a second thought.
Perhaps Ron wasn't quite so nonchalant about intimacy, but the rest sounded awfully familiar. And she'd heard him say more than once that bachelorhood suited him, which she personally thought was a load of bollocks.
Besides, she noticed he was awfully careful not to say that around Molly, which meant either that he didn't mean it or that he didn't want his ears boxed.
Or both.
The biscuit crumbled to pieces between Pansy's fingers and she forced a laugh. Surely she was not being set up here, she wasn't being trapped into confessing over tea and biscuits, for Merlin's sake. "Surely you're not trying to say your brother and I are suited to one another?"
Ginny blinked, blinked again, and burst into laughter. "Oh, Merlin, Pansy," she finally managed. "You and my brother?" It had been the farthest thing from her mind, and the idea was so farfetched it made her giggle even after she thought the laughter had tapered off. "Not in a million eons."
In her mirth, she completely missed how Pansy's eyes narrowed.
"You're not his type," Ginny finally said, trying and failing to see the two of them together.
Care to place a wager on that, my pretty? "I'm every man's type," she said confidently, though something in Ginny's certainty shook her. Not Ron's type? What in the bloody hell was Ron's type, then?
Her concern for Pansy's mating habits momentarily curbed, Ginny shook her head. "Ron would be too frightened of you to ever make a go of that, I'm afraid. He likes Quidditch birds, athletic types with no social aptitude." She screwed up her face, remembering the last girl he'd brought home.
She'd made the unfortunate mistake of mentioning how utterly tiresome being a housewitch must be and how much of a dreadfully idle sentence it would be to do nothing but raise children for a lifetime.
Ron had shuffled her out of the Burrow so quickly Molly couldn't even cram a wooden spoon down the girl's skinny throat.
"He's just into safe types," Ginny explained. "Though I can't say you're all that unlike him in that aspect." She saw Pansy's glare and reached across the table. "Pansy, you were good enough to see what I needed and help me get it. Don't you think I at least owe you a bit of the same?"
Pansy was trying to get past the thought of Ron with some bird-thin peabrain, her colorful imagination easily placing him in arms' reach of a billion needy Quidditch witches at his convention. The mental picture caught her off-guard, and Ginny's kind words did the rest, completely eradicating her balance. "There's no end to what I need," she said, nearly snapping at Ginny as she tried to think of anything other than Ron with some half-rate athlete. "I'm the kind of woman who can never be completely satisfied, Ginny. So if I live my life dissatisfied, when I get a little satisfaction, I can at least recognize it, right?"
Ginny hadn't expected such honesty from the woman she'd seen nothing but toughness and bawdiness from. "That's the point of finding the right one, you know. Total satisfaction."
"Not for everyone," Pansy insisted. She saw a shadow flit over Ginny's face and hated herself and Ron both for worrying the girl, hated how serious she'd let the moment become. "But I'll make an exception if you ever find yourself single."
Ginny smiled, but wasn't going to let her off the hook quite so easily. "Why don't you take all that overtime you've been working and find your own exception? This one belongs to someone else."
Marital bliss, Pansy thought.
It had certainly made Ginevra a bit of a smartarse.
Have a chapter of Consumed. I don't know what I think of it, but... it's writing. It helped to be able to do this, no matter how it turned out. I really appreciate any feedback anyone has! The best part of this update is the darling icon sarcasm_aloud made for me!!! *hugs*
If Pansy Parkinson had been capable of feeling embarrassment, she might have been embarrassed upon walking into Ginny's flat, considering all the things she'd done with Ron in it.
As it was, however, she was greeted by a rather spectacular view of Ginny bending over to fetch a spoon she'd dropped on the floor.
"How many times a day do we think Draco is told he's a sinfully lucky bastard?" Pansy said wistfully, lounging in the kitchen doorway and appreciating the view. To her credit, Ginny didn't jump or rush to finish her task, she merely shot a glance at Pansy that, though upside-down, would have quelled a lesser person.
Luckily for her, Pansy thought, she wasn't a lesser person. "Avail me again of the appropriate customs. Would a kiss hello be untoward?" She arched an eyebrow at the redhead and winked, softening (but not quite eliminating) the genuine nature of the question.
"Quite," Ginny said, barely checking the blush that instinctively wanted to steal over her cheeks any time Pansy said… well, anything. "Thank you for coming."
"You've… what, another week left until the Ministry starts baying to have you back? I should make the most of my time." Pansy crowded Ginny at the counter and plucked a biscuit from the tin. "Not that I don't always make the best of my time." She looked sidelong at the newly-minted Mrs. Malfoy and nibbled at the biscuit, thinking how unfair it was-
that Gin looks so much like Ron-
that Ginny was married. Pansy scowled at the thought that had almost intruded. Ron was miles away. For a whole month.
She didn't want to think about Ron, the cowardly, deserting git.
It was just a bit difficult when his sister, so ginger and cute and freckled, was standing right in front of her.
"Now, there's why I asked you over," Ginny said briskly, picking up the tea tray and setting it on the kitchen table. She'd rather grown to love that table. As a result, she failed to notice Pansy eyeing the table with a mixture of nostalgia and annoyance. "You're a thousand miles away, Parkinson. You didn't even pinch my bum when you came in." She slid into a chair before Pansy decided to right that particular wrong.
"Perhaps I'm saving up for something bigger," Pansy said, settling into a chair and crossing her legs, playing her fingers over the edge of the table. She'd been nearly eye-level with this table not so long ago, Ron's back braced against it, his hands in her hair-
She crossed her legs tightly and pretended the sudden rush of heat she'd felt had everything to do with her gorgeous hostess.
Ginny looked at Pansy shrewdly. Her mum had told her more than once that being married and happy gave a woman a bit of a mind to meddle-if you're happy, Molly's reasoning had been, you want everyone else to be happy.
At the time, Ginny had been convinced her mother was simply looking for excuses to stick her nose where it didn't belong.
Now, she thought she understood.
Pansy snagged another biscuit and stared forthrightly back at Ginny. As much as she wanted to believe she and Ginny had reached the stage where they could simply be friends, the fact of the matter was Pansy had no female friends, and she couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was something more than a social visit. "Love, if you're going to ogle me, the least you can do is give a little time to my cleavage."
"I don't think Draco would appreciate that." Ginny wiggled her left hand, gleeful with the feel of the wedding ring there.
Besides, Ginny thought that ring was going to provide her with the perfect opportunity to nag.
"Ah, monogamy. Chief among the… joys of marital bliss." Pansy hid a grin behind a cup of tea, completely enamored with how sickeningly perfect her best friend and his wife were. Truly, if the whole of Slytherin house could witness the domestication of Draco Malfoy, they'd either have applauded or asphyxiated.
"You don't know what you're missing, you know," Ginny said, perfectly casual as Pansy snorted into her teacup.
"I know I enjoy my life the way it is," Pansy said, now fully discomfited. She hadn't ever tagged Ginevra Weasley as the proselytizing type, but it sounded like she was about to get a lecture on the fine establishment of marriage and a whole lot of other hogwash. "I like being alone, Weasley."
"Malfoy."
Pansy ignored the correction. "Listen, sugar, sweet as your intentions may be, I'm the kind of person who thrives on solitude. Besides, if I get a bit lonely now and again, it just helps me appreciation the times when I have a little good company." She grinned wolfishly. "You know what they say about anticipation."
Ginny turned her teacup around in her hands. "You sound like Ron," she said absently, thinking about what Draco had told her-long hours, no explanation, flitting from bedmate to bedmate without so much as a second thought.
Perhaps Ron wasn't quite so nonchalant about intimacy, but the rest sounded awfully familiar. And she'd heard him say more than once that bachelorhood suited him, which she personally thought was a load of bollocks.
Besides, she noticed he was awfully careful not to say that around Molly, which meant either that he didn't mean it or that he didn't want his ears boxed.
Or both.
The biscuit crumbled to pieces between Pansy's fingers and she forced a laugh. Surely she was not being set up here, she wasn't being trapped into confessing over tea and biscuits, for Merlin's sake. "Surely you're not trying to say your brother and I are suited to one another?"
Ginny blinked, blinked again, and burst into laughter. "Oh, Merlin, Pansy," she finally managed. "You and my brother?" It had been the farthest thing from her mind, and the idea was so farfetched it made her giggle even after she thought the laughter had tapered off. "Not in a million eons."
In her mirth, she completely missed how Pansy's eyes narrowed.
"You're not his type," Ginny finally said, trying and failing to see the two of them together.
Care to place a wager on that, my pretty? "I'm every man's type," she said confidently, though something in Ginny's certainty shook her. Not Ron's type? What in the bloody hell was Ron's type, then?
Her concern for Pansy's mating habits momentarily curbed, Ginny shook her head. "Ron would be too frightened of you to ever make a go of that, I'm afraid. He likes Quidditch birds, athletic types with no social aptitude." She screwed up her face, remembering the last girl he'd brought home.
She'd made the unfortunate mistake of mentioning how utterly tiresome being a housewitch must be and how much of a dreadfully idle sentence it would be to do nothing but raise children for a lifetime.
Ron had shuffled her out of the Burrow so quickly Molly couldn't even cram a wooden spoon down the girl's skinny throat.
"He's just into safe types," Ginny explained. "Though I can't say you're all that unlike him in that aspect." She saw Pansy's glare and reached across the table. "Pansy, you were good enough to see what I needed and help me get it. Don't you think I at least owe you a bit of the same?"
Pansy was trying to get past the thought of Ron with some bird-thin peabrain, her colorful imagination easily placing him in arms' reach of a billion needy Quidditch witches at his convention. The mental picture caught her off-guard, and Ginny's kind words did the rest, completely eradicating her balance. "There's no end to what I need," she said, nearly snapping at Ginny as she tried to think of anything other than Ron with some half-rate athlete. "I'm the kind of woman who can never be completely satisfied, Ginny. So if I live my life dissatisfied, when I get a little satisfaction, I can at least recognize it, right?"
Ginny hadn't expected such honesty from the woman she'd seen nothing but toughness and bawdiness from. "That's the point of finding the right one, you know. Total satisfaction."
"Not for everyone," Pansy insisted. She saw a shadow flit over Ginny's face and hated herself and Ron both for worrying the girl, hated how serious she'd let the moment become. "But I'll make an exception if you ever find yourself single."
Ginny smiled, but wasn't going to let her off the hook quite so easily. "Why don't you take all that overtime you've been working and find your own exception? This one belongs to someone else."
Marital bliss, Pansy thought.
It had certainly made Ginevra a bit of a smartarse.