FIC: Coming Clean, Coming Home [Ginny/Pansy]
Title: Coming Clean, Coming Home
Author/Artist: plaidphoenix
Prompt: #76 by mebeingmebe
Pairing(s): Ginny/Pansy
Word Count: 2092
Rating: R for language
Warning(s): None
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Apologies if this seems rushed in any way, a computer crash led to a total rewrite.
Summary: A chance encounter between Ginny and Pansy leads to challenges, cures and more that neither one would have ever expected.
As Ginny applied the sunscreen to her legs, she couldn’t help but think back to the weekend that had just ended and made a mental note to send thank you notes to her two oldest brothers but also her sister-in-law.
One note to Bill and Fleur for letting her use their cottage in Herrault, conveniently located near a nude beach and another to Charlie, for introducing her to Tatiana, the younger sister of his Russian girlfriend. It hadn’t been anything other than a weekend fling seeing as both of them were coming off horribly bad relationships.
They’d spent all weekend in bed, not bothering too much with conversation, instead switching between sleeping and fucking. It had been nice and Ginny was sorry to see her go but she had all summer off before Quidditch season started up again and Tatiana did have to get back to her job at Tunguska.
It was in the midst of this reverie that Ginny didn’t even notice a familiar face approach her from behind.
"So, Weasley, this is where you’ve been exiled to," Pansy Parkinson announced as she sat down in the beach chair next to Ginny, completely resilient in all her naked glory.
"What are you doing here, Pansy," Ginny muttered, not even bothering to look away from the rather nice tan she’d managed to achieve on her legs. "Don’t you know you’re going against several thousand years of culture and history by showing your face in public?"
"Funny, Weasley," Pansy remarked in that slow drawl that anyone who spent time at Hogwarts recognized as belonging to Professor Snape. It was an unremarkable Slytherin trait. "Shouldn’t you be busy sleeping with half of London? After all, that’s what I’d be doing if my boyfriend left me standing at the altar."
"That’s cute, Pansy," Ginny can’t help but spit with a bit more snark than she’d intended. "Tell me, what’s it like knowing you’re going to die a virgin? I’ve always wanted to know."
The barb lands directly where she intended and Pansy’s face turns the same dark red as a crate of beets.
"At least I don’t have a reputation for giving it away," Pansy sneers, obviously hoping to score points with her snide remark concerning Ginny’s sex life.
"You can insinuate all you want, Pansy," Ginny says as she fakes a yawn and showing her total disinterest. "I’ve never felt any need to apologize for my sex life and I’m certainly not going to start now. Harry knows what he did was wrong, he’s apologized for his poor behavior and we’ve both agreed to move on."
"How very evolved, Weasley," Pansy growls. "But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re damaged goods."
"Damaged goods don’t get laid on a regular basis, Pansy," Ginny observes as she pretends to inspect her fingernails as if considering getting a manicure. "You on the other hand, what’s it like knowing you can’t even give it away? I’m surprised your parents haven’t signed you up for a convent, although wearing a habit with those legs, what an utterly atrocious fashion choice."
It’s all Pansy can do to keep from committing an act of violence as she starts become apoplectic with rage. It’s at this point that she ferociously mutters something under her breath.
"I’m sorry, Pansy, I didn’t quite catch that," Ginny remarks with the calm of someone totally disinterested.
"I said," Pansy says through gritted teeth so forcefully clenched together it’s amazing she’s able to speak at all, "that I don’t want to die a virgin."
"Oh, you don’t want to die a virgin," Ginny observes, her eyes dancing with mirth. "You make sure to let me know that turns out. Maybe you could hire a house-elf to give you a hand job. Or hire a muggle to give you a pity shag."
It’s at this point that Pansy loses any semblance of calm and tackles Ginny out of her beach chair and onto the ground. "You’ll pay for that, Weasley!"
"Like hell, Parkinson," Ginny shouts back as she struggles to get out from underneath Pansy’s primeval grip. She almost manages to shake loose of the Slytherin before Pansy leans in to…
Several hours later...
As she lies in bed, Pansy can’t help but comment on her current situation, "You really are a bitch, you do know that don’t you?"
"Why," Ginny asks as she applies some Weasley Bruise Remover to the black eye she received earlier in the day, "because you finally lost your virginity or because I’m the one who took it from you."
"Both," Pansy mutters, "or either. Is it always like that, or is it just you?"
"Is what like that," Ginny asks as she finishes applying the paste to her face and puts the container on the end table next to the bed. "Sex? Or losing your virginity?"
"You aren’t going to make this easy for me, are you," Pansy remarks as she turns over onto her stomach so she can look directly at Ginny.
"No, I’m not," Ginny remarks, perfectly content with her current situation and how she arrived there. "It’s always a little unnerving your first time. At least it was for Harry and me our first time."
"I’m surprised you didn’t wait until your wedding night," Pansy remarks. "Saint Potter, always so virtuous, so noble, so magnificent he makes women swoon when he enters the room.."
"You can leave anytime you want, Pansy," Ginny snaps. "Don’t think I did you any favors today, I simply didn’t have anything better to do with my time."
"It’s all a game to you, isn’t it Weasley," Pansy says with a pout. Despite her scathing nature, she’s always been insecure inside and having this Gryffindor bitch be so indifferent to her situation is cutting closer to the bone then she’d care to admit.
"Yes, Pansy, it is," Ginny admits. She knows she’s got the other woman on the proverbial ropes and plans on keeping her there a little while longer at least. She knows she isn’t cruel by nature but Pansy has always been difficult and never utters a kind word about anyone when she isn’t working an angle. So letting her temper shows tells Ginny she might just be, if not sincere, then at least honest in how her emotions are revealing themselves.
"I hate you, you know that," Pansy spits, her expression moderating between rage and fear. Despite the hatred and self-loathing running through her brain, she can’t bring herself to leave.
"I’m not surprised," Ginny remarks as she stretches out her legs. There’s a cool breeze coming through the bedroom window and it’s helping cool her off from the remnants of physical ardor still covering her body. Regardless of her feelings for Pansy, when she has sex she puts everything she has into the encounter, meaning Pansy got the very best of what she has to offer.
"Is there any reason you’re being such a bitch," Pansy asks with a sniff. "I know I’m not always easy to get along with but you could be a little kinder you know."
"Pansy, I’m not a bitch and I’m not cruel," Ginny tells her, "but you make it all but impossible for anyone to like you. Now here you are, in a comfortable bed in a nice room having just lost your virginity and instead of showing any appreciation, you’re behaving like a spoiled princess who got served the wrong flavor ice cream at her birthday party. Now you tell me, are you all that surprised I’m being a bitch to you?"
It’s this observation that destroys the last of Pansy’s inner strength and the tears start streaming down her face. She isn’t bawling like a baby but it’s clear she’s at the end of her emotional rope.
"Oh lord," Ginny mutters as she takes in Pansy’s act of emotional self-destruction and comes to the realization that perhaps Pansy has finally hit rock bottom, here in her bedroom after giving her what the redhead considers to be the best night of her life. "This really is all there is to you, isn’t it, Pansy? You have no clue how to communicate with people. Boy did your parents screw you up."
"What parents," Pansy sobs. "They died when I was three. I was brought up by my grandmother who has the emotional fortitude of a mountain troll. She makes Professor Snape look like a Hufflepuff by comparison."
"Don’t play me, Pansy, I’m not in the mood," Ginny rumbles.
"I’m not playing you, Ginny," Pansy nearly spits through her fits of sobbing, using the redhead’s name for the first time. "I honestly have no idea how to relate to people. My grandmother never taught me anything beyond the proper etiquette and behavior any proper witch is supposed to know. And as for emotions go, you know Slytherins aren’t big on displaying their emotions for the world to see."
"Maybe you should try it," Ginny suggests, "you might find that you like it."
"Try what," Pansy asks with a blank look on her face, not understanding what Ginny is suggesting.
"Ok, give me a second," Ginny answers as she gets out of bed and walks to the closet and grabs a shirt off the rack before returning to bed and grabbing her wand off the end table. "It’ll kill me to give this up but if it keeps you from being an emotional trainwreck for five minutes, I can live with that. Put the shirt on."
The shirt is nothing special, just something she picked up in a muggle shop.
Holding up the shirt, Pansy asks, "Who’s this on the shirt?"
"Gisele Bundchen," Ginny answers. "She’s a muggle fashion model, but that’s not important."
"I didn’t think you went in for muggles, Weasley," Pansy observes as she pulls the shirt over head.
"I’m trying to help you here, Pansy," Ginny observes. "I can do without the sarcasm."
"Sorry," Pansy replies, her apology sounding almost heartfelt. "Now what?"
Picking up her wand, Ginny points it at Pansy and utters the incantation, "Motus Vero"
"I’m sad, I don’t like feeling sad," a voice out of nowhere announces. "I want to be happy. I want to be loved."
"Who said that," Pansy says with a start which only deepens when she sees Ginny start to grin.
"It’s the shirt, Pansy," Ginny informs her. "I cast an Emotional Truth spell on it. Whenever you’re feeling a strong emotion, the shirt will announce it to everyone in earshot."
"Oh god," Pansy says in terror as she tries to take the shirt off.
"Wait, Pansy," Ginny says in a firm voice that tells Pansy she knows what she’s doing. "Trust me, it’ll help. I was going through the same thing when Harry broke up with me. I was actually feeling low at the time and had to talk to a Healer at Saint Mungo’s before things started getting better. She’s the one who taught me the spell I cast on the shirt."
"This actually helped?" Pansy asks now with what seems to be genuine curiosity.
"You’re a very confusing woman and I don’t know what to think of you," the shirt announces.
"Yeah," Ginny laughs. "It’s stupid and embarrassing and everything you’re thinking right now, but it does help. It made me feel good about myself and it also helped me come out to my family."
"About being queer," Pansy asks.
"Yeah," Ginny acknowledges. "I mean, they already knew but it helped for me to be able to actually say the words out loud."
"So you think this will help me," Pansy asks with a newfound respect for the freckle faced Gryffindor.
"Well you tell me, Pansy," Ginny says with the straightest face she’s ever worn, "do you honestly think you could feel any worse about yourself?"
"No," Pansy says with what seems to be total honesty.
"I feel better about myself," the shirt announces and it’s this simple statement that causes the faintest of smiles to creep onto Pansy’s face.
"See," Ginny observes, "that wasn’t so hard."
"I still feel like an idiot," Pansy remarks, scowling more at Ginny’s perky optimism then her own situation.
"But I still feel better about myself," the shirt remarks.
"I’m so going to get you for this," Pansy laughs as the absurdity of the situation washes over her.
"Only if you’re lucky, Pansy," Ginny tells her as she leans in to give Pansy a kiss. "Only if you’re lucky."
"I already am," the shirt booms as their lips collide, their bodies slowly merging into one.
Author/Artist: plaidphoenix
Prompt: #76 by mebeingmebe
Pairing(s): Ginny/Pansy
Word Count: 2092
Rating: R for language
Warning(s): None
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Apologies if this seems rushed in any way, a computer crash led to a total rewrite.
Summary: A chance encounter between Ginny and Pansy leads to challenges, cures and more that neither one would have ever expected.
As Ginny applied the sunscreen to her legs, she couldn’t help but think back to the weekend that had just ended and made a mental note to send thank you notes to her two oldest brothers but also her sister-in-law.
One note to Bill and Fleur for letting her use their cottage in Herrault, conveniently located near a nude beach and another to Charlie, for introducing her to Tatiana, the younger sister of his Russian girlfriend. It hadn’t been anything other than a weekend fling seeing as both of them were coming off horribly bad relationships.
They’d spent all weekend in bed, not bothering too much with conversation, instead switching between sleeping and fucking. It had been nice and Ginny was sorry to see her go but she had all summer off before Quidditch season started up again and Tatiana did have to get back to her job at Tunguska.
It was in the midst of this reverie that Ginny didn’t even notice a familiar face approach her from behind.
"So, Weasley, this is where you’ve been exiled to," Pansy Parkinson announced as she sat down in the beach chair next to Ginny, completely resilient in all her naked glory.
"What are you doing here, Pansy," Ginny muttered, not even bothering to look away from the rather nice tan she’d managed to achieve on her legs. "Don’t you know you’re going against several thousand years of culture and history by showing your face in public?"
"Funny, Weasley," Pansy remarked in that slow drawl that anyone who spent time at Hogwarts recognized as belonging to Professor Snape. It was an unremarkable Slytherin trait. "Shouldn’t you be busy sleeping with half of London? After all, that’s what I’d be doing if my boyfriend left me standing at the altar."
"That’s cute, Pansy," Ginny can’t help but spit with a bit more snark than she’d intended. "Tell me, what’s it like knowing you’re going to die a virgin? I’ve always wanted to know."
The barb lands directly where she intended and Pansy’s face turns the same dark red as a crate of beets.
"At least I don’t have a reputation for giving it away," Pansy sneers, obviously hoping to score points with her snide remark concerning Ginny’s sex life.
"You can insinuate all you want, Pansy," Ginny says as she fakes a yawn and showing her total disinterest. "I’ve never felt any need to apologize for my sex life and I’m certainly not going to start now. Harry knows what he did was wrong, he’s apologized for his poor behavior and we’ve both agreed to move on."
"How very evolved, Weasley," Pansy growls. "But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re damaged goods."
"Damaged goods don’t get laid on a regular basis, Pansy," Ginny observes as she pretends to inspect her fingernails as if considering getting a manicure. "You on the other hand, what’s it like knowing you can’t even give it away? I’m surprised your parents haven’t signed you up for a convent, although wearing a habit with those legs, what an utterly atrocious fashion choice."
It’s all Pansy can do to keep from committing an act of violence as she starts become apoplectic with rage. It’s at this point that she ferociously mutters something under her breath.
"I’m sorry, Pansy, I didn’t quite catch that," Ginny remarks with the calm of someone totally disinterested.
"I said," Pansy says through gritted teeth so forcefully clenched together it’s amazing she’s able to speak at all, "that I don’t want to die a virgin."
"Oh, you don’t want to die a virgin," Ginny observes, her eyes dancing with mirth. "You make sure to let me know that turns out. Maybe you could hire a house-elf to give you a hand job. Or hire a muggle to give you a pity shag."
It’s at this point that Pansy loses any semblance of calm and tackles Ginny out of her beach chair and onto the ground. "You’ll pay for that, Weasley!"
"Like hell, Parkinson," Ginny shouts back as she struggles to get out from underneath Pansy’s primeval grip. She almost manages to shake loose of the Slytherin before Pansy leans in to…
Several hours later...
As she lies in bed, Pansy can’t help but comment on her current situation, "You really are a bitch, you do know that don’t you?"
"Why," Ginny asks as she applies some Weasley Bruise Remover to the black eye she received earlier in the day, "because you finally lost your virginity or because I’m the one who took it from you."
"Both," Pansy mutters, "or either. Is it always like that, or is it just you?"
"Is what like that," Ginny asks as she finishes applying the paste to her face and puts the container on the end table next to the bed. "Sex? Or losing your virginity?"
"You aren’t going to make this easy for me, are you," Pansy remarks as she turns over onto her stomach so she can look directly at Ginny.
"No, I’m not," Ginny remarks, perfectly content with her current situation and how she arrived there. "It’s always a little unnerving your first time. At least it was for Harry and me our first time."
"I’m surprised you didn’t wait until your wedding night," Pansy remarks. "Saint Potter, always so virtuous, so noble, so magnificent he makes women swoon when he enters the room.."
"You can leave anytime you want, Pansy," Ginny snaps. "Don’t think I did you any favors today, I simply didn’t have anything better to do with my time."
"It’s all a game to you, isn’t it Weasley," Pansy says with a pout. Despite her scathing nature, she’s always been insecure inside and having this Gryffindor bitch be so indifferent to her situation is cutting closer to the bone then she’d care to admit.
"Yes, Pansy, it is," Ginny admits. She knows she’s got the other woman on the proverbial ropes and plans on keeping her there a little while longer at least. She knows she isn’t cruel by nature but Pansy has always been difficult and never utters a kind word about anyone when she isn’t working an angle. So letting her temper shows tells Ginny she might just be, if not sincere, then at least honest in how her emotions are revealing themselves.
"I hate you, you know that," Pansy spits, her expression moderating between rage and fear. Despite the hatred and self-loathing running through her brain, she can’t bring herself to leave.
"I’m not surprised," Ginny remarks as she stretches out her legs. There’s a cool breeze coming through the bedroom window and it’s helping cool her off from the remnants of physical ardor still covering her body. Regardless of her feelings for Pansy, when she has sex she puts everything she has into the encounter, meaning Pansy got the very best of what she has to offer.
"Is there any reason you’re being such a bitch," Pansy asks with a sniff. "I know I’m not always easy to get along with but you could be a little kinder you know."
"Pansy, I’m not a bitch and I’m not cruel," Ginny tells her, "but you make it all but impossible for anyone to like you. Now here you are, in a comfortable bed in a nice room having just lost your virginity and instead of showing any appreciation, you’re behaving like a spoiled princess who got served the wrong flavor ice cream at her birthday party. Now you tell me, are you all that surprised I’m being a bitch to you?"
It’s this observation that destroys the last of Pansy’s inner strength and the tears start streaming down her face. She isn’t bawling like a baby but it’s clear she’s at the end of her emotional rope.
"Oh lord," Ginny mutters as she takes in Pansy’s act of emotional self-destruction and comes to the realization that perhaps Pansy has finally hit rock bottom, here in her bedroom after giving her what the redhead considers to be the best night of her life. "This really is all there is to you, isn’t it, Pansy? You have no clue how to communicate with people. Boy did your parents screw you up."
"What parents," Pansy sobs. "They died when I was three. I was brought up by my grandmother who has the emotional fortitude of a mountain troll. She makes Professor Snape look like a Hufflepuff by comparison."
"Don’t play me, Pansy, I’m not in the mood," Ginny rumbles.
"I’m not playing you, Ginny," Pansy nearly spits through her fits of sobbing, using the redhead’s name for the first time. "I honestly have no idea how to relate to people. My grandmother never taught me anything beyond the proper etiquette and behavior any proper witch is supposed to know. And as for emotions go, you know Slytherins aren’t big on displaying their emotions for the world to see."
"Maybe you should try it," Ginny suggests, "you might find that you like it."
"Try what," Pansy asks with a blank look on her face, not understanding what Ginny is suggesting.
"Ok, give me a second," Ginny answers as she gets out of bed and walks to the closet and grabs a shirt off the rack before returning to bed and grabbing her wand off the end table. "It’ll kill me to give this up but if it keeps you from being an emotional trainwreck for five minutes, I can live with that. Put the shirt on."
The shirt is nothing special, just something she picked up in a muggle shop.
Holding up the shirt, Pansy asks, "Who’s this on the shirt?"
"Gisele Bundchen," Ginny answers. "She’s a muggle fashion model, but that’s not important."
"I didn’t think you went in for muggles, Weasley," Pansy observes as she pulls the shirt over head.
"I’m trying to help you here, Pansy," Ginny observes. "I can do without the sarcasm."
"Sorry," Pansy replies, her apology sounding almost heartfelt. "Now what?"
Picking up her wand, Ginny points it at Pansy and utters the incantation, "Motus Vero"
"I’m sad, I don’t like feeling sad," a voice out of nowhere announces. "I want to be happy. I want to be loved."
"Who said that," Pansy says with a start which only deepens when she sees Ginny start to grin.
"It’s the shirt, Pansy," Ginny informs her. "I cast an Emotional Truth spell on it. Whenever you’re feeling a strong emotion, the shirt will announce it to everyone in earshot."
"Oh god," Pansy says in terror as she tries to take the shirt off.
"Wait, Pansy," Ginny says in a firm voice that tells Pansy she knows what she’s doing. "Trust me, it’ll help. I was going through the same thing when Harry broke up with me. I was actually feeling low at the time and had to talk to a Healer at Saint Mungo’s before things started getting better. She’s the one who taught me the spell I cast on the shirt."
"This actually helped?" Pansy asks now with what seems to be genuine curiosity.
"You’re a very confusing woman and I don’t know what to think of you," the shirt announces.
"Yeah," Ginny laughs. "It’s stupid and embarrassing and everything you’re thinking right now, but it does help. It made me feel good about myself and it also helped me come out to my family."
"About being queer," Pansy asks.
"Yeah," Ginny acknowledges. "I mean, they already knew but it helped for me to be able to actually say the words out loud."
"So you think this will help me," Pansy asks with a newfound respect for the freckle faced Gryffindor.
"Well you tell me, Pansy," Ginny says with the straightest face she’s ever worn, "do you honestly think you could feel any worse about yourself?"
"No," Pansy says with what seems to be total honesty.
"I feel better about myself," the shirt announces and it’s this simple statement that causes the faintest of smiles to creep onto Pansy’s face.
"See," Ginny observes, "that wasn’t so hard."
"I still feel like an idiot," Pansy remarks, scowling more at Ginny’s perky optimism then her own situation.
"But I still feel better about myself," the shirt remarks.
"I’m so going to get you for this," Pansy laughs as the absurdity of the situation washes over her.
"Only if you’re lucky, Pansy," Ginny tells her as she leans in to give Pansy a kiss. "Only if you’re lucky."
"I already am," the shirt booms as their lips collide, their bodies slowly merging into one.