Right Kind of Wrong
Title: Right Kind of Wrong
Rating: PG13
Genre: Romance/General
Length: 1522
Pairing: Pansy/Ginny
Summary: There is no word to explain what Pansy is to Ginny so she must make up a word.
Note: Written for pansy_ginny's September challenge, hp_ficathon 'daylight,' and hpfanfic10x10 'scream.'
There is no word to explain what you are to me, I'm sure. At least, not one word. I could use more than one word but that takes so much longer to think -- think because I would never say it aloud.
Woght.
Mostly I like to whisper it in the dark when no one is around. I like the way my lips pucker around the 'w,' like I was about to leave a chaste peck on your pink lips.
Did you know that's the first thing I noticed about you that time you stormed into Fred and George's shop, demanding money for some random kid blowing up one of their products at you. The daylight streamed through the window, lighting your dark hair and bouncing off your shinny lips. I was enraptured, which you had soon found out when I asked you, away from my brothers' prying ears, out for dinner.
I knew right then, when you raised your eyebrows and smiled mockingly at me but agreed to meet, that you were woght. Or half woght. I knew you were wrong for me. I like love, tenderness, and trust. You didn't look like you stood for that.
It wasn't until later that I found out you were the right kind of wrong for me. That's what made you completely woght.
If I kept my eyes squeezed shut I could still smell you, feel your soft skin sliding over mine, and hear your breathy moans. But I knew they weren't really there.
With a snap I wasn't looking forward to my eyes opened. Hands searched my bed for what I didn't know. My eyes weren't lying to me. You weren't there.
It was the first time we slept together and you were gone before daylight. I knew that it wouldn't work. I wasn't good with heartaches, and you were a walking heartache. Somehow, that didn't stop me from meeting you again when you owled.
I was falling fast. The problem was, you weren't.
"Why won't you move in with me?" So, maybe I was moving a little fast, but it had been five months. I wanted to know I had something to hold on to. Something tangent.
"Because, Ginny," you said with a sneer, "I don't want to move into your small house. Mine is way bigger -- and don't even think about it! You're not moving into mine, not with your messy ways." You cast a disdainful look around the dusty kitchen. It wasn't cleaning day, I wanted to scream at you. "Besides, I like living alone."
"Pansy," I whined, knowing I sounded pitiful. "I'll be cleaner. And don't you have house--"
You let out a scream and tossed your hands in the air. The front door slammed shut loudly behind you.
Four days went by and I didn't hear from you. You didn't answer any owls or your door once I snooped and figured out the address.
On the fifth day you showed up on my doorstep looking slightly angry. I was so surprised I didn't react when you kissed me. Once your tongue tapped mine I pulled away and scowled, trying to ignore the snitches in my stomach.
"You can't just expect me to let you back after that," I said sharply. Then more softly, "I was worried."
You smiled and purred, "Ginny." Your hands rested on my hips and nose nudged my cheek. That time your lips reached mine I didn't pull away. There was no way I could bring myself to if I wanted.
Sometimes I wonder if it's all sex for you. Then you do something that makes me believe it.
"How do I look?" I pointed to my hair. It had to be perfect and I think I had it the way Hermione wanted.
You pursed your lips in thought, gracefully standing from my bed. You were almost always at my house so I didn't understand why you wouldn't move in with me. I didn't ever bring it up again though.
"I think it would look better if..." Suddenly you grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me to you. With our tongues battling as distraction I didn't realize until your hands were digging through my hair that you had taken the complicated style out.
"Hey!" I pulled away roughly and your hands tangled, tugging my hair painfully. You shushed me and removed you hands to dip in the waistband of my skirt.
"Now I've got to re-do it. And I still have to go to Hermione's to get the dress. I'm going to be late for her wedding."
I stomped into the loo and you followed, a predatory gleam in your eyes. I ended up being late.
"Who is it?" Hermione asked once she was able to get me alone. It was very hard since she was the bride.
"Who's who?"
Hermione shook her head at me. "You have a glow about you. Who are you with? What's her name?" Hermione was the only one who knew I'm a lesbian.
"Erm." I seriously considered denying it but she would see through it. You didn't want anyone to know about us, did you? Actually, I wasn't sure because we never discussed it, but you don't like to discus a lot of things. "She doesn't want me to tell."
"You and Harry both," she sighed.
"Huh?" I didn't know Harry was dating. I was under the impression he was pinning after me. He asked me last year, five years after I'd gotten over him. Terrible timing that boy has.
Hermione nodded. "Yeah. Says he doesn't want to ruin the relationship by telling anyone. Personally, I think the person won't let him tell."
I smiled, taking it all in. I wondered who it was. Scoring the reception hall I saw Harry with Ron, laughing about something.
"I don't think she's good for you if she doesn't want anyone to know. When Ron and I first started dating he wanted to tell the world." She looked expectantly at me.
I snorted. Of course he did. He finally got the girl of his dreams. But Hermione didn't get it. I needed you.
Hermione's conversation bothered me more than I thought it would.
"I want more," I began hesitantly, hoping it wouldn't turn out the way the moving in one did.
"Greedy," you answered absentmindedly from the other end of the couch. Your nose was buried in a book.
I took a deep breath. "I need commitment from you."
You looked up, face covered in confusion. "I am giving you commitment." Then you were looking at your book again.
I was stunned. There was such raw, honest confusion still etched on your face. Did that mean you just weren't good at showing commitment?
You said you didn't care if I told anyone about us, just that you weren't going to be there. So I did.
Afterwards, I wish I hadn't. Not only did I have to explain about you but that I was attracted to women.
Some rude things were said by all of us. My parents were so very disappointed. They all said I should do without you. That you were wrong for me, though I suspected that was more because you're a female.
When I stumbled into your house, tears streaming down my face, you held me without a word. That I was grateful for. There was no way I would have been able to face your words then, and I think you knew that.
"Woght," I whispered into the mirror, watching the way my lips puckered. "Woght." I closed my eyes and savored the word. It was an important word. It was a word about you. It was your word. "Pansy is woght and I love it."
"I'm what?" you drawled, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorjamb.
I jumped and faced you. "Woght. You're woght." I silently cursed myself.
Your brow creased, making your nose appear more pug-like. It was kind of cute. "Is that some kind of insult?"
"No," I mumbled. I knew it would be better to explain it than to let you get angry. "It's a word I made up. It means the right kind of wrong." I was speaking so quietly I wasn't sure you could hear me. But then you broke out into raucous laughter and I knew you heard me.
"You're so pathetic," you roared. I cringed. A mixture of anger and hurt welled up in me. The snitches were back in my stomach. Suddenly your laughter stopped and you cupped my chin. It was perfect timing because I was just about to believe what everyone was saying. "Then you're my woght too," you said, scrunching your face as you said it.
I knew you didn't want to say it. That you were just saying it to stop me from getting mad, but there was a shred of honesty in your mocking eyes. I pulled you to the bed and we fell on it. You are woght but it's fine because the pain is made better by all the pleasure.
Rating: PG13
Genre: Romance/General
Length: 1522
Pairing: Pansy/Ginny
Summary: There is no word to explain what Pansy is to Ginny so she must make up a word.
Note: Written for pansy_ginny's September challenge, hp_ficathon 'daylight,' and hpfanfic10x10 'scream.'
There is no word to explain what you are to me, I'm sure. At least, not one word. I could use more than one word but that takes so much longer to think -- think because I would never say it aloud.
Woght.
Mostly I like to whisper it in the dark when no one is around. I like the way my lips pucker around the 'w,' like I was about to leave a chaste peck on your pink lips.
Did you know that's the first thing I noticed about you that time you stormed into Fred and George's shop, demanding money for some random kid blowing up one of their products at you. The daylight streamed through the window, lighting your dark hair and bouncing off your shinny lips. I was enraptured, which you had soon found out when I asked you, away from my brothers' prying ears, out for dinner.
I knew right then, when you raised your eyebrows and smiled mockingly at me but agreed to meet, that you were woght. Or half woght. I knew you were wrong for me. I like love, tenderness, and trust. You didn't look like you stood for that.
It wasn't until later that I found out you were the right kind of wrong for me. That's what made you completely woght.
If I kept my eyes squeezed shut I could still smell you, feel your soft skin sliding over mine, and hear your breathy moans. But I knew they weren't really there.
With a snap I wasn't looking forward to my eyes opened. Hands searched my bed for what I didn't know. My eyes weren't lying to me. You weren't there.
It was the first time we slept together and you were gone before daylight. I knew that it wouldn't work. I wasn't good with heartaches, and you were a walking heartache. Somehow, that didn't stop me from meeting you again when you owled.
I was falling fast. The problem was, you weren't.
"Why won't you move in with me?" So, maybe I was moving a little fast, but it had been five months. I wanted to know I had something to hold on to. Something tangent.
"Because, Ginny," you said with a sneer, "I don't want to move into your small house. Mine is way bigger -- and don't even think about it! You're not moving into mine, not with your messy ways." You cast a disdainful look around the dusty kitchen. It wasn't cleaning day, I wanted to scream at you. "Besides, I like living alone."
"Pansy," I whined, knowing I sounded pitiful. "I'll be cleaner. And don't you have house--"
You let out a scream and tossed your hands in the air. The front door slammed shut loudly behind you.
Four days went by and I didn't hear from you. You didn't answer any owls or your door once I snooped and figured out the address.
On the fifth day you showed up on my doorstep looking slightly angry. I was so surprised I didn't react when you kissed me. Once your tongue tapped mine I pulled away and scowled, trying to ignore the snitches in my stomach.
"You can't just expect me to let you back after that," I said sharply. Then more softly, "I was worried."
You smiled and purred, "Ginny." Your hands rested on my hips and nose nudged my cheek. That time your lips reached mine I didn't pull away. There was no way I could bring myself to if I wanted.
Sometimes I wonder if it's all sex for you. Then you do something that makes me believe it.
"How do I look?" I pointed to my hair. It had to be perfect and I think I had it the way Hermione wanted.
You pursed your lips in thought, gracefully standing from my bed. You were almost always at my house so I didn't understand why you wouldn't move in with me. I didn't ever bring it up again though.
"I think it would look better if..." Suddenly you grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me to you. With our tongues battling as distraction I didn't realize until your hands were digging through my hair that you had taken the complicated style out.
"Hey!" I pulled away roughly and your hands tangled, tugging my hair painfully. You shushed me and removed you hands to dip in the waistband of my skirt.
"Now I've got to re-do it. And I still have to go to Hermione's to get the dress. I'm going to be late for her wedding."
I stomped into the loo and you followed, a predatory gleam in your eyes. I ended up being late.
"Who is it?" Hermione asked once she was able to get me alone. It was very hard since she was the bride.
"Who's who?"
Hermione shook her head at me. "You have a glow about you. Who are you with? What's her name?" Hermione was the only one who knew I'm a lesbian.
"Erm." I seriously considered denying it but she would see through it. You didn't want anyone to know about us, did you? Actually, I wasn't sure because we never discussed it, but you don't like to discus a lot of things. "She doesn't want me to tell."
"You and Harry both," she sighed.
"Huh?" I didn't know Harry was dating. I was under the impression he was pinning after me. He asked me last year, five years after I'd gotten over him. Terrible timing that boy has.
Hermione nodded. "Yeah. Says he doesn't want to ruin the relationship by telling anyone. Personally, I think the person won't let him tell."
I smiled, taking it all in. I wondered who it was. Scoring the reception hall I saw Harry with Ron, laughing about something.
"I don't think she's good for you if she doesn't want anyone to know. When Ron and I first started dating he wanted to tell the world." She looked expectantly at me.
I snorted. Of course he did. He finally got the girl of his dreams. But Hermione didn't get it. I needed you.
Hermione's conversation bothered me more than I thought it would.
"I want more," I began hesitantly, hoping it wouldn't turn out the way the moving in one did.
"Greedy," you answered absentmindedly from the other end of the couch. Your nose was buried in a book.
I took a deep breath. "I need commitment from you."
You looked up, face covered in confusion. "I am giving you commitment." Then you were looking at your book again.
I was stunned. There was such raw, honest confusion still etched on your face. Did that mean you just weren't good at showing commitment?
You said you didn't care if I told anyone about us, just that you weren't going to be there. So I did.
Afterwards, I wish I hadn't. Not only did I have to explain about you but that I was attracted to women.
Some rude things were said by all of us. My parents were so very disappointed. They all said I should do without you. That you were wrong for me, though I suspected that was more because you're a female.
When I stumbled into your house, tears streaming down my face, you held me without a word. That I was grateful for. There was no way I would have been able to face your words then, and I think you knew that.
"Woght," I whispered into the mirror, watching the way my lips puckered. "Woght." I closed my eyes and savored the word. It was an important word. It was a word about you. It was your word. "Pansy is woght and I love it."
"I'm what?" you drawled, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorjamb.
I jumped and faced you. "Woght. You're woght." I silently cursed myself.
Your brow creased, making your nose appear more pug-like. It was kind of cute. "Is that some kind of insult?"
"No," I mumbled. I knew it would be better to explain it than to let you get angry. "It's a word I made up. It means the right kind of wrong." I was speaking so quietly I wasn't sure you could hear me. But then you broke out into raucous laughter and I knew you heard me.
"You're so pathetic," you roared. I cringed. A mixture of anger and hurt welled up in me. The snitches were back in my stomach. Suddenly your laughter stopped and you cupped my chin. It was perfect timing because I was just about to believe what everyone was saying. "Then you're my woght too," you said, scrunching your face as you said it.
I knew you didn't want to say it. That you were just saying it to stop me from getting mad, but there was a shred of honesty in your mocking eyes. I pulled you to the bed and we fell on it. You are woght but it's fine because the pain is made better by all the pleasure.