Leigh!fic- Of Guitar Picks and Lineage (1/1)- Michael Corner, Pansy Parkinson
Title: Of Guitar Picks and Lineage (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Rating: PG
Word count: 415
Possible spoilers/warnings: None
Summary: Despite what the outside world thought, Pansy was not heartless and deeply cared for those who'd proven worthy of her affections.
Notes: This was a bit of a stretch for me to figure out, but I hope it turned out alright. Elle (aka elle_blessing ) requested Michael Corner and Pansy Parkinson (the fabulous Michael being hers and Pansy being mine), incorporating the prompts "growing up together" and "a guitar pick." Elle, my darling, I hope this was something like you were wanting. Enjoy!
Michael was not the type of man she was supposed to be attracted to. While he was handsome, intelligent, extremely well off, and the step-brother of one of her dearest friends, he was a Halfblood. He wasn't worthy to stay in the same room as Pansy, let alone touch her.
Regardless, he had grown up in the same social circles as she, and her true feelings towards him would only cause Astoria pain. Despite what the outside world thought, Pansy was not heartless and deeply cared for those who'd proven worthy of her affections. Astoria was one of those people so, despite her reservations about his lineage, Pansy tolerated the succinct Ravenclaw.
And if she privately thought about how his lithe form would look like unclothed, that was no one's business but her own.
Across the room, keen blue eyes studied Pansy, his lips twitching in amusement at the emotion that was boiling underneath her cool composure. Dropping his eyes back to his guitar, the line of his melody filled the room, breaking the silence.
Miss Parkinson was practically vibrating with thoughts and though he usually didn't do so without express invitation, he couldn't resist. Momentarily letting his own mental guard down, he reached out with his mind to probe her thoughts.
He quickly withdrew his mental probes, the merest twitch of his lips the only outward sign of surprise. Where there was normally activity, trains of thought flowing forth for him to hear, there was nothing. It was as if there was no brain activity happening at all.
She was, without a doubt, the most powerful Occlumens he'd ever encountered.
Pansy's eyes shot to Michael when she felt his mind poking at her mental walls. Her lips thinned, pursed with annoyance. How dare he try to read her thoughts?
Rising from her perch, her heels clacked lightly across the room as she strode towards him. The music trailed off and left silence in his wake when she came to stop in front of him. Blue eyes, alight with a dark knowledge, rose up to meet her smoldering brown gaze.
With a flick of her wrist, the guitar pick she'd been turning over and over in her hand went flying, hitting Michael squarely between the eyes. Her own lips twitched in a smirk at the outward look of surprise that crossed his eyes. Leaning in, her face scant inches from her own, she gave him a cold, hard smile.
"Never do that again."
And before he could speak, she straightened and swept out of the room.
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Rating: PG
Word count: 415
Possible spoilers/warnings: None
Summary: Despite what the outside world thought, Pansy was not heartless and deeply cared for those who'd proven worthy of her affections.
Notes: This was a bit of a stretch for me to figure out, but I hope it turned out alright. Elle (aka elle_blessing ) requested Michael Corner and Pansy Parkinson (the fabulous Michael being hers and Pansy being mine), incorporating the prompts "growing up together" and "a guitar pick." Elle, my darling, I hope this was something like you were wanting. Enjoy!
Michael was not the type of man she was supposed to be attracted to. While he was handsome, intelligent, extremely well off, and the step-brother of one of her dearest friends, he was a Halfblood. He wasn't worthy to stay in the same room as Pansy, let alone touch her.
Regardless, he had grown up in the same social circles as she, and her true feelings towards him would only cause Astoria pain. Despite what the outside world thought, Pansy was not heartless and deeply cared for those who'd proven worthy of her affections. Astoria was one of those people so, despite her reservations about his lineage, Pansy tolerated the succinct Ravenclaw.
And if she privately thought about how his lithe form would look like unclothed, that was no one's business but her own.
Across the room, keen blue eyes studied Pansy, his lips twitching in amusement at the emotion that was boiling underneath her cool composure. Dropping his eyes back to his guitar, the line of his melody filled the room, breaking the silence.
Miss Parkinson was practically vibrating with thoughts and though he usually didn't do so without express invitation, he couldn't resist. Momentarily letting his own mental guard down, he reached out with his mind to probe her thoughts.
He quickly withdrew his mental probes, the merest twitch of his lips the only outward sign of surprise. Where there was normally activity, trains of thought flowing forth for him to hear, there was nothing. It was as if there was no brain activity happening at all.
She was, without a doubt, the most powerful Occlumens he'd ever encountered.
Pansy's eyes shot to Michael when she felt his mind poking at her mental walls. Her lips thinned, pursed with annoyance. How dare he try to read her thoughts?
Rising from her perch, her heels clacked lightly across the room as she strode towards him. The music trailed off and left silence in his wake when she came to stop in front of him. Blue eyes, alight with a dark knowledge, rose up to meet her smoldering brown gaze.
With a flick of her wrist, the guitar pick she'd been turning over and over in her hand went flying, hitting Michael squarely between the eyes. Her own lips twitched in a smirk at the outward look of surprise that crossed his eyes. Leaning in, her face scant inches from her own, she gave him a cold, hard smile.
"Never do that again."
And before he could speak, she straightened and swept out of the room.