Fallen; Gift for whisperings!
Recipient: whisperings
Title: Fallen
Author: scarletladyy
Beta: seatbeltdrivein
Pairing/s: Pansy/Hermione
Rating: R
Warning(s): Sexual situations, substance abuse, angst, trauma, character death
Word Count: 5605
Summary: After Ron breaks up with her, Hermione finds herself friendless and homeless, and owing money to someone she used to hate. The only solution Pansy can come up with is that Hermione moves in with her until she's paid off her debt.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction set in the Harry Potter universe - all recognizable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work.
Author's Notes:
Fallen
It was late at night, and Hermione was walking through Diagon Alley. The only sorts of people out at this time were drunks or night workers, and she wasn't particularly keen on meeting any of them. But tonight wasn't an ordinary night. Tonight was the night her long term boyfriend, Ron Weasley, had broken up with her.
Why? She had no idea. He had used the old age excuse 'it's not you, it's me', which had only infuriated her even further. Right now, all she needed was a good drink, and she knew the only place to get it would be at the Leaky Cauldron. At least it would be somewhere she could drink her troubles away without concern from Harry or Ron.
Opening the door, she saw a few people crowded around the bar and several more seated at a few tables. Most were drinking merrily and with friends, and she felt a little awkward about sitting alone at the bar, but that wasn’t about to stop her.
"What can I get for you?" Tom, the bartender, asked, his hands busy cleaning a glass.
"A large Firewhiskey," she said, ignoring the look he gave her.
"Who would have thought it?" Tom said as he grabbed a whiskey glass. "Hermione Granger ordering Firewhiskey. And a large at that."
"Is it your place to judge?" she snapped at him, feeling instantly guilty about it. "Sorry, Tom. Tough night."
"It's no bother," he said kindly, giving her a full glass and walking away.
Hermione was glad for the peace, but she wished she hadn't taken her frustrations and anger out on him. Halfway through her drink, a young woman sat on the empty stool next to her and ordered a bottle of wine. While she waited, the woman poured a white powder on the bar and started cutting it up into lines with a piece of card.
A little shocked but hoping she was merely misunderstanding, Hermione kept watching the woman in the vain hope that she wasn't about to do what she thought. None the less, though, the woman took a note out of her pocket and rolled it up, bending down and snorting whatever it was she had on the counter.
Having never been in this situation before, Hermione reacted as instinct taught her. "What do you think you're doing?" she practically screamed at the woman.
The woman turned around with an angry look on her face. "Do you mind?"
"That's illegal!" Hermione said and was dumbfounded when the woman simply shrugged. ""What is it?"
"Cocaine." The woman went back to what she was doing and started to snort it right in front of Hermione, who was so appalled by this woman's blatantly disgusting and illegal behaviour that she knocked the rest of the drugs onto the floor. "You bitch!" The woman brought her hand up to Hermione's face, slapping her hard across her cheek. "Do you know how much that cost me?"
Not one to be intimidated, Hermione stood her ground. "I don't care. You shouldn't do that."
"Oh my," the woman said as though she had just realised something. "You're Hermione Granger, aren't you?"
Hermione nodded; she didn't recognise the woman one bit. "And you are?"
The stranger held out her hand. "Pansy Parkinson."
"Parkinson?" Hermione almost spat out, remembering the name as one of her enemies from Hogwarts. "You're a..." she spoke in a hushed tone, "a drug user now?"
Pansy rolled her eyes and sighed. "Not anymore, thanks to you. That's all I could afford! Do you know what I'm going to have to do now?"
Hermione shook her head naively.
"Of course you wouldn't." Pansy seemed to be seething with rage, and it frightened her. She'd never quite trusted herself to be around her alone. "What the fuck are you doing in here anyway, golden girl?"
Looking to the floor, she gulped, unsure if she wanted to explain. "It doesn’t matter."
"Oh, no," Pansy said viciously. "You owe me."
Hermione sighed. "Ron and I broke up."
"And...?"
"And I had nowhere else to go."
"He's kicked you out?" Pansy tutted. "Men."
Hermione had to bite back the impulse to rant about how Ron wasn't like other men, that he was kind and sweet, but she wondered what the point of it all was. She didn't need to stick up for him now, not that she'd had many chances before. Everyone seemed to love him, and, to be honest, she could see why.
"What are you going to do then? Where are you going to live?" Pansy asked, grabbing hold of the bottle of wine and shoving it straight into her mouth.
"I don't know."
As though a sudden burst of energy just filled her, Pansy jumped up off her seat, almost frightening Hermione half to death.
"Well, I do," Pansy said, pursing her lips. "You're moving in with me."
"What the--?" Hermione was absolutely stunned. "Are you out of your mind?"
"No," Pansy stated simply while shaking her head, "just practical. You owe me a lot of money after your earlier stunt, and you have nowhere to stay. It makes perfect sense."
"You're insane." Hermione crossed her arms indignantly; she found the whole idea absolutely ludicrous!
"Do you have a few hundred pounds on you, Granger?"
"Of course I don’t!"
"Then unless you want to sleep on the streets and owe me money, you really have no other option, do you?"
Hermione sighed. It would seem Parkinson was right, particularly with Harry out of the country; he'd have been her only ally. "Fine. But I'm only staying as long as I have to."
"Or until you've paid off your debt."
Rolling her eyes, Hermione raised her voice. "Will you stop saying that? I’ll pay rent, but I am not fueling your idiotic drug addiction."
"Idiotic, Granger? Do you have a habit of biting the hand trying to feed you?"
"Where do you live?" Hermione did’t want an argument, not now, not in a public place over illegal activities. By rights, she knew she should report it, but she wasn't sure if she could do that.
Pansy grabbed Hermione by the arm and brought her over to the fireplace in the corner. "Step in with me."
"You have a pub connected to your Floo network?" Hermione asked as she grabbed some Floo powder.
"Shut up, Granger."
Hermione landed on the floor of what she assumed was Parkinson's fireplace and glanced around the room as she picked herself up. It wasn't quite how she and Ron had lived; the sofa was torn and the cushions had holes in them, the coffee table was stained, and the carpet was filthy. To her right was the kitchen, and Hermione wasn't sure she liked the open plan style of Parkinson's flat. From where she was stood, the kitchen looked grimy and half the counters were visibly chipped.
"That's your room." Pansy pointed straight ahead, behind the sofa. "And the bathroom is on your left, next to my room."
"Right." Hermione braced herself, not sure if she wanted to know what sort of state her room would be in. "Night then," she said, receiving no reply as she crossed the living room and opened her bedroom door.
OOO
When Hermione awoke the next morning, there was no sign of Parkinson anywhere, but the flat was a complete mess. Everything seemed to be overturned, and it was obvious to Hermione that Parkinson had been looking for something. Sighing inwardly, she knew exactly what that was: drugs.
Hermione knew that if she was going to do anything while she was here, though she definitely didn't plan on staying that long, she was going to try and end Parkinson's drug addiction. She didn't know much about drugs herself, having very little muggle education on the matter, but one thing Hermione was good at was research. She spent her whole morning at the library, finding and reading as many books as she could do about drugs, though specifically reading about Cocaine.
When she had exhausted the library's resources, she made her way out into the cool, winter air again. The village in which Parkinson lived was lovely, and Hermione had to wonder how she could afford it. Though she hadn't asked Parkinson about work, Hermione couldn't see her doing it either. When they had been at school, Parkinson had shirked off work as often as she possibly could, and with the way she'd ended up, things didn't seem to be any different.
Carefully, she climbed the stairs back into Parkinson's flat, and this time, she wasn't alone. Parkinson was seated on the sofa, completely asleep. As much as Hermione didn't like her, she wasn't that cruel, and decided to gently shake her awake.
"Where were you this morning?" she asked when Parkinson had finally stirred.
"Oh, er," Parkinson rubbed her eyes. "Just went for a walk."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You went for a walk? Do you really expect me to believe that?"
"Keep out of my life, Granger!" Parkinson snapped, standing quickly.
"Sorry," Hermione muttered, realising she'd been a little rude. "I was wondering--"
"Mm?"
"What do you do for work, money wise?"
"I don't work, Granger." Parkinson was smirking now. "Draco provides for me."
Hermione looked at Parkinson with confusion. "But why? You're not together, are you?"
"God, no!" Parkinson shook her head and laughed. "He just...does."
Though baffled, Hermione didn't ask anything else. As much as she wanted to, she knew it would be rude of her to pry. Perhaps she'd find the answer while she was staying there.
"What do you do?" Upon Hermione's confused face from being jerked from her thoughts, Parkinson continued. "For work, for money. What do you do?"
"I work for the Ministry--I'm an Unspeakable, so don't bother asking me what I do." Hermione wouldn't have wanted to talk about her work even if she had been permitted to. She spent enough time and energy there as it was. She hated to admit it, but the lack of time she’d spent with Ron was due to her work.
"Always thought you'd do something pretentious."
"Pretentious?" Hermione almost screamed, her eyes widening in shock. "Look, I'm not going to be here that long, but there's no need for you to act so...so..."
"So what, Granger?" Parkinson prompted, and Hermione knew she was trying to get a rise out of her.
"Forget it." Hermione hated it when she couldn't find the right words. It didn't happen to her often, but there was something about Parkinson--and looking at her face, which now bore a cocky smirk--that made her rethink herself. "What do you do all day then? And how do you get money for your drugs? Does Malfoy pay for that too?"
Parkinson laughed. "He doesn't know about my," she lowered her voice, "habit. You’d better not tell him, either. Besides, I have other ways of making money if I need to."
Hermione didn't even want to think about what that could really mean, so she passed over it. "Today is my one day off during the week - I'm not going to spend it discussing what is probably prostitution and drugs with you." There was no reply from Parkinson, she just turned and stalked off into her room. Hermione decided to have a look at that report she’d been doing the day before. Truth be told, she had nothing else to do even if she had wanted to. Her work was basically her life, and it was the one thing she couldn't talk about.
After spending a couple of hours focusing and not getting very far, Hermione knew she needed to have a break. It was what Ron was always telling her when she spent her days off ignoring him. Too little, too late, she supposed, as she grabbed a coffee and sat down to have a look at the copy of Witch Weekly that had been set down on the sofa.
If Parkinson was still in the flat, she wasn't making any noise. That was good while Hermione was working, but now it was just too quiet. She'd skimmed through the magazine, but it wasn't quite her usual read, so it didn't provide much interest for her. Perhaps, she thought, she'd visit Ginny. Hopefully there wouldn't be any tension between the two of them, and if Ron was still at home she wouldn't have to worry about bumping into him.
Deciding to go and see one of her best friends, she Floo'd to the Burrow. The kitchen was as warm and homely asHermione remembered it, and Mrs. Weasley was standing at the stove. Hermione saw Molly turn around when she entered, but, to her dismay, it didn't look like she was very welcome.
"I'm here to see Ginny," Hermione smiled at Molly, but all she received was a terse response.
"She's in her room."
"Thanks." Hermione left the kitchen and entered the lounge but sat on the sofa stuffing his face was none other than Ron. "Oh, sorry..." she mumbled.
"Don't worry about it." Ron sighed, but he was glaring at her all the same.
Realising she needed to justify herself that she wasn't here to see him, she spoke one more time. "I'm just here to see Ginny." She didn't wait for a response as she made her way up the stairs to Ginny's room, which was on the top floor now.
Hermione rapped quietly on the door before entering. She found Ginny lying on her bed, reading the same copy of Witch Weekly that she herself had scorned only minutes earlier.
"Oh, hi Hermione. Didn't think I'd be seeing you around again."
Hermione was a bit confused; no matter what had happened between her and Ron, surely Ginny would still want to be her friend? "I thought we were...?"
"...friends?" Ginny finished off Hermione's sentence. "I think when you start abusing my brother, our friendship is over."
Hermione's mouth was wide open in shock. "What?! What are you talking about, Ginny?"
"Don't play the innocent, Hermione."
"Play the innocent? I am the innocent one!" She found herself nearly screeching at Ginny--how could one of her best friends think she would do something like that? "Seriously, tell me what you're talking about."
Ginny's eyes were narrowed at Hermione. "You neglected him," she spat. "Now get out."
Blood was coming out of Hermione's tongue she was biting it so hard, and her teeth were gritted to the point of pain. "Fine." Grabbing the door, she slammed it shut behind her and stormed downstairs. Just as she was getting into the fireplace, she heard Mrs. Weasley behind her.
"You're not welcome here."
Hermione was astounded that Ron could ever do such a thing, tell such lies. She hadn't abused him! Possibly been a little neglectful of his needs, sure, but never abused him! It hurt her deeply that a family she had once cared so much for now thought she was a terrible person. She knew it would be no good to try and plead with them.Tthey'd never believe her over their own son, and she knew that.
Sighing, she dropped the Floor powder, ending up at Parkinson's flat. A look out the window told her it was darkening, but it was winter so she wasn't too surprised. There was a little noise coming from Parkinson's room, and as Hermione's curiosity always got the better of her, she made her way over to have a look. Prying the door open gently, she saw Parkinson flat out on her bed, snoring like Hermione had never heard a person snore before.
"What are you doing sleeping during the day?" Hermione exclaimed, causing Parkinson to jump out of her skin in shock before composing herself to speak.
"It's dark."
"It's winter!"
"Where've you been, anyway? I came to ask you something earlier, but you weren't here."
Hermione looked at the floor awkwardly; she didn't really want to think about what had happened over the last few days with Ron and Ginny. She'd lost her boyfriend and her best friend in a single week. Not only that, but she was living with a drug user on the premise that she had nowhere else to stay. "I went to the Weasleys’."
"Why did you do that? Didn't you just break up with one of them?"
"I didn't realise they'd all turn against me. Ron’s told them I abused him," she gritted her teeth as she spoke.
Parkinson's eyebrows raised, and a smirk crossed her face. "Ouch." Hermione watched as Parkinson briskly stood up and put her hands on Hermione's shoulders. "We need to do you some cheering up."
Hermione shook her head and tossed Parkinson's hands away from her. "No, no."
"Oh yes!" It would seem to Hermione that Parkinson just loved any excuse for a 'good time,' as she put it. She could only hope that drugs wouldn't be involved in whatever idea she had. Alcohol she could certainly handle, but drugs, no. Moments later, Parkinson had grabbed her hand and was hauling her into the kitchen, placing her in front of the bar stool next to the counter. "What's your poison?"
"Sorry?"
Parkinson groaned. "What do you drink?"
"Oh," Hermione turned pink, feeling stupid. "White wine, usually."
"Not tonight." Parkinson grabbed a large metal jar. "Tonight you're drinking cocktails."
"But I don't like--" Hermione started to protest, but Parkinson put a finger to her lips.
"Look, make yourself comfortable on the sofa, and I'll be round in a minute. Trust me, you'll love it."
It was still bugging Hermione that Malfoy paid for Parkinson's lifestyle--at the very least she wanted to know why he'd do it. Particularly if they weren't in a relationship. "Why does Malfoy pay for everything, Parkinson?"
Parkinson didn't reply, simply mixed a couple of cocktails with her wand and brought them over to sit next to Hermione. Without speaking, she downed the whole lot in one. Hermione had no idea how anyone could possibly do that. "None of your business," Parkinson finally spoke, a grave look on her face.
"Sorry," Hermione mumbled, taking a sip of the drink. It smelled wonderful, but she was a little worried about trying it.
"Get it down you," Parkinson encouraged, almost shouted, at Hermione. "It won't hurt."
Feeling as though she needed a bit of fun and excitement in her life, even if she had to resort to this, she took as much as she could in one mouthful. It certainly wasn't anywhere near Parkinson's, but it was a lot for her. The taste, she knew, would take a bit of getting used to, but Parkinson was already creating a second and third round for them, lining them up on the table. "It is only about five, you know."
"So?" Parkinson shrugged. "It's never too early."
Hermione inwardly disagreed but didn't dare say anything about it. She expected that this was about as pleasant as she was going to find Parkinson, and she'd better make the most of it for the time she was here. "I suppose," she said. It didn't take Parkinson long until she was drunk off her face, only a couple of hours, and by that time, Hermione was more than a little tipsy. Despite her situation, Parkinson seemed to be coping quite well, and Hermione had the suspicion that she drank often.
Struggling to cope with her blurred vision, Hermione had a small sip of water. It didn't do much, and it wasn't long before Parkinson was complaining that she'd 'hidden herself away'. Hermione had decided she wasn't going to drink anymore as she settled herself back on the sofa. Her head started to pound, and she leaned backwards, looking up blurred ceiling. She could feel herself drifting off to sleep as she turned her head to the left, but then she was feeling another sensation...a feeling she didn't think she'd have again for a very long time. Parkinson was kissing her.
Having never been this drunk before, Hermione was a bit unsure of what to do. She moved her head away and started to mumble "No, no," but either Parkinson didn't hear her or didn't care, as she tried to kiss her again. Using as much strength as she could muster given her state, she pushed Parkinson off, sending the woman tumbling to the floor. "What did you do that for?" she managed to get out, watching Parkinson pull herself up and back onto the sofa again.
Parkinson shrugged, and Hermione felt uncomfortable when she stared into her eyes. "Felt like it," Parkinson said, leaning in for another kiss, and this time, Hermione didn't stop her. She let the tingling in her lips continue, even daring to use her tongue a little, but the kiss ended quickly. They had done something wrong, terribly wrong, and she blamed it on the drink. She'd always been told by her parents that no good can come from being drunk, and now she knew exactly why.
She stumbled off the sofa, finally able to make it into her room, and collapsed on her bed in exhaustion. She hoped what had happened was a dream, but she didn't think she’d be that lucky.
OOO
It had been over a week since her drunken kiss with Parkinson, and Hermione had avoided her like the plague. Every morning she checked the Daily Prophet for a new flat, one she could afford to move into, but there was nothing in her price range. It would seem they were stuck together for the time being, and she'd never found herself so glad to have such little time off. She left so early and came back so late that awkward moments, thankfully, were few and far between.
Today, though, was her one day off again, and she hadn't a clue how she was going to spend it. It wasn't as though there were many people she could hang around with anymore. She supposed she could go to the library, but that wouldn't kill all day. She'd even tried sleeping in, but it had gotten to nine and she just couldn't stay in bed any longer. She had no clue how Parkinson did it.
Hermione found herself thinking about Parkinson a lot more in the days following that drunken night, and in a much different light. When she did see her, however briefly, she always found herself admiring the woman. She tried to tell herself it was just the stress of everything getting to her, but she couldn't stop thinking about her, even at work. The worst thing was when she’d been having some alone time and thoughts of a scantily clad Parkisnon popped into her head. She was horrified, and she didn't much fancy having a sexuality crisis; things were bad enough in her life as it was. She still couldn't deny how it felt when they kissed, or how she’d allowed the kiss the second time, even going so far as to explore Parkinson's mouth with her tongue.
Thinking about it made her shudder--this was a woman she had hated since they were in school, who was now a drug addict. As far as she was concerned, the only thing that could possibly go wrong in her life now was losing her job. Luckily, that wasn’t very likely.
"Morning, Granger," Parkinson said as she waltzed out of her room. To Hermione's dismay, she wasn't wearing much and it was difficult to avert her eyes. "Something the matter?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, no. Can you get dressed, though?"
"Oh," Parkinson sighed, as though she knew what was wrong with Hermione. "You're all paranoid you're a lesbian now, aren't you?!" An evil laugh escaped Parkinson's mouth, and Hermione found herself blushing and looking at the floor. "Don't worry; I was only teasing you."
"Well, don't!" Hermione said haughtily. "I've got enough problems in my life as it is."
"And you think I'd be one more, do you?"
"Of course," Hermione nodded. "I don't even like women like that, in any case."
"There's a first time for everything."
"Not this." Hermione was adamant that she didn't like Parkinson in that way. It had to be all the stress; her brain was just getting confused.
"You're really telling me you didn't enjoy our kiss?" Parkinson was leaning back against the kitchen counter now, smirking.
There was a brief moment of hesitation before Hermione spoke; she was far too unsure of herself. "Yes."
"Pity." Parkinson sighed. "Because I liked it."
"You're gay?" asked Hermione. "Is that why Malfoy pays for you?"
"Give over with Draco, Granger." Parkinson said, rolling her eyes. "And yes, I am gay."
Hermione pursed her lips. "If you're gay, why do you sleep with men?"
"What makes you think I sleep with men?"
"Isn't that how you pay for your drug habit?" Hermione was sure Parkinson had insinuated she was a prostitute, but perhaps she’d been wrong. Feeling embarrassed, she knew she needed to apologise. "Sorry."
"No, I'm not a prossie, Granger." Parkinson winked at her. "Would you like me to be?"
Hermione shook her head quickly. "No, no! I wouldn't wish that on anyone."
"See you later, Granger." Parkinson skipped back into her room, and Hermione was left alone, confused once more. The small nightdress Parkinson had been wearing revealed a lot and it took more than a little effort to stop herself from staring.
OOO
After spending an hour trying to decide what to do, Hermione had finally gone with a visit to the library. She ended up spending the entire day there, getting lost in a mixture of fact and fiction. If she hadn't been asked to leave because they were closing, she was sure she'd have been there all night.
A little put out, she made her way into the brisk, night air and set off home. It wasn't far and she was wrapped up warm, but when she finally got back, Hermione couldn't help but feel glad that Parkinson insisted that they had the heating on at all times.
"Hello, Granger!" Parkinson said with glee in her voice. It was obvious to anyone that she was drunk, and Hermione rolled her eyes as she put her bag down on the counter.
"Evening. Why are you so -"
"- drunk?" interrupted Parkinson, standing up from the sofa and waving around her glass. Hermione nodded. "Because I was lonely. Join me."
Hermione sighed. While drinking the other night did help to take her mind off everything that was happening, she really didn't think it would be a good idea. "I'm not sure."
"Don't be a bore." Parkinson was pouting now. She bumped into the sofa and fell forwards onto it.
Hermione wasn't sure if she'd be able to cope with Parkinson if she didn't at least have one drink in her, so she poured herself a cocktail from the jug already made. "Just the one."
That 'just the one' turned into many, and it wasn't long until she was as drunk as Parkinson was. They were on the sofa laughing about how funny it was when Malfoy had gotten turned into a ferret; Parkinson said she'd never let him forget it. There was a little awkward silence afterwards, and Hermione looked up. Her eyes directly met Parkinson's and she found herself making the first move this time.
She leaned in for a kiss, loving the feeling of Parkinson’s soft lips against her own. The only thing going through her mind was that she couldn't believe she was doing this, but it felt far too good to stop. She placed her hand on Parkinson's thigh, but quickly took it off, realising she couldn't take control.
Hermione felt Parkinson's hand curl around her neck, making the little hairs on her nape stand on end. She couldn't help but feel excited when the hand travelled downwards, stroking her breasts for a moment before finally reaching her thighs. There was no denying that Hermione deeply wanted this to happen, however much she hated to admit it to herself, but she wasn't sure if she could do it.
Hesitant, she pulled back from the kiss, but still didn't stop Parkinson from feeling her thighs. When the strings of her top were jerked down, she started having second thoughts. It felt so good, and she loved the attention after Ron, but it was still too soon after him. The main thing that kept her going was her recent newfound crush for her roommate and the knowledge of how much she wanted this.
Parkinson exposed her breasts and leaned down, suckling on her nipples; the sensation was amazing and she loved the look of in her eyes. But no, there was also that painful expression she remembered from when they were at Hogwarts together. Troubled by this, realising how wrong she thought it was, she quickly pulled her top up. "I can't do this," she said as she ran off into her room.
As she sat listlessly on her bed, she heard a rap on the door. "I thought you liked me?"
"I..." There was a hesitation in Hermione's voice. “I do."
"So, what's the problem?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please, just...can we forget it?"
"Everything?" Parkinson asked.
As much as she wanted it, she was sure she couldn't carry on. "Everything," she said reluctantly, listening to the footsteps carrying Parkinson away from her room. Her head started to hurt, and she felt tears well up in her eyes. The drink, she decided, must have been making her overly emotional.
OOO
It was several sleepless nights later when Hermione found herself walking back into her flat. There was an odd noise coming from outside, which did nothing but pick at her curiosity. As she stepped through the flat, she realised it was coming from Parkinson's bedroom.
Hermione stepped closer. The door was ajar, and she couldn’t help but to look in. There were two naked figures on the bed, having what sounded and looked like rather hot, passionate sex. She couldn't work out who the man was, but there was no mistaking who the woman was. Her stomach sank, and she felt as if she'd been cheated on, despite being the one who had rejected Parkinson. Angry, upset, and confused, Hermione threw the door open. "What is going on in here?" She demanded loudly.
The two figures sprang up, all shocked mouths and blushing faces. "Granger!" Parkinson said, covering herself with the blanket. "How come you're back so early?"
The man dressed quickly and delved his fingers into his pocket, bringing out a few notes and tossing them onto the bed. "It's only half because I didn't finish," he said gruffly, storming past Hermione and out of the flat, slamming the door behind him.
Hermione was fuming, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "I thought you said you weren't a prostitute."
"It's none of your damn business what I do in my spare time."
"Is that money for drugs?" Hermione said, accusation coloring her voice.
Parkinson ignored her, grabbing her wand and dressing herself. She picked up the money and stuffed it into her pocket. Like the man before, she stormed out of the flat, not bothering to say a word.
Hermione had no idea how to think or feel. On the one hand, she had no control over Parkinson's life. She had no say about whether the girl wanted to sleep with men for money or not. It wasn't like they were dating; they'd only had a few drunken fumbles. Even if they were, Parkinson was not hers to control. But still, she cared for her, worried about her, and, though she knew it could never happen, wanted to be with her.
She spent the next few hours restlessly, worried about what Parkinson was doing and when she would be coming back. When the door finally opened, Parkinson was obviously drunk, and there was a plastic bag clutched tight in her hand. Hermione tried to speak to her but was ignored, and when she followed her to her room, the door was slammed in her face. It was plain that Parkinson wanted nothing to do with her at the moment.
Troubled, she lay down on the sofa, tears spilling down her cheeks. She hated how her life had been so great and then suddenly turned into nothing in such a short period of time. Gritting her teeth and clenching her fists, she was overwhelmed with anger at herself for spoiling what could have turned into something amazing. The sad thing was that she knew she'd never get anywhere by moping about. Drying her tears and grabbing her wand, she got up from the couch, determined to have Parkinson hear her out even if she didn't want to.
She stormed into Parkinson's room and started to say her piece, only to have a scream rip from her throat at the sight before her. She clasped her hand to her mouth in horror; Parkinson was shaking and her eyes were bloodshot and wide open. There was an empty see-through bag on the side of the bed, and Hermione grabbed it to read the little note stuck to the side: 1 gram of cocaine. Parkinson had taken all of it.
Rushing into action, Hermione grabbed Parkinson carefully and apparated to the nearest muggle hospital she knew. She wasn't sure if wizards would know how to cope with something like this. Drugs weren't well known in their world. She ran into the Accident and Emergency department, screaming at the nurses. "It's a drug overdose, cocaine; I think she might be...dying..."
The nurse motioned for Hermione to lay Parkinson down on one of the beds, and she wheeled her straight off. When she tried to follow, another nurse held her back. "We need details, Miss. There's nothing more you can do for her."
Over half an hour was spent with Hermione filling in forms and trying to talk to nurses to hear about her friend, but nobody knew what was going on. The waiting was killing her. She was in agony, praying desperately that Parkinson would be okay.
"Miss Granger?" A male doctor approached her, a solemn look on his face. Hermione nodded, and the man hesitated before he spoke again. "I'm so sorry-"
Hermione didn't hear anymore, she tuned out. She didn't want to stay here, not where Parkinson--no, Pansy--had died. Tears streaming down her face, she walked away from the Doctor and out of the hospital. The moment she was out of sight, she apparated to London, and then again to Paris, where she knew Harry lived. Him being so far away was the reason she hadn't thought to see him before now, but she needed someone, and right then, and it had to be him.
She was sobbing loudly as she rapped on the door, and when Harry finally opened, all she said was "Pansy's dead!" before collapsing in his arms.
Title: Fallen
Author: scarletladyy
Beta: seatbeltdrivein
Pairing/s: Pansy/Hermione
Rating: R
Warning(s): Sexual situations, substance abuse, angst, trauma, character death
Word Count: 5605
Summary: After Ron breaks up with her, Hermione finds herself friendless and homeless, and owing money to someone she used to hate. The only solution Pansy can come up with is that Hermione moves in with her until she's paid off her debt.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction set in the Harry Potter universe - all recognizable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work.
Author's Notes:
Fallen
It was late at night, and Hermione was walking through Diagon Alley. The only sorts of people out at this time were drunks or night workers, and she wasn't particularly keen on meeting any of them. But tonight wasn't an ordinary night. Tonight was the night her long term boyfriend, Ron Weasley, had broken up with her.
Why? She had no idea. He had used the old age excuse 'it's not you, it's me', which had only infuriated her even further. Right now, all she needed was a good drink, and she knew the only place to get it would be at the Leaky Cauldron. At least it would be somewhere she could drink her troubles away without concern from Harry or Ron.
Opening the door, she saw a few people crowded around the bar and several more seated at a few tables. Most were drinking merrily and with friends, and she felt a little awkward about sitting alone at the bar, but that wasn’t about to stop her.
"What can I get for you?" Tom, the bartender, asked, his hands busy cleaning a glass.
"A large Firewhiskey," she said, ignoring the look he gave her.
"Who would have thought it?" Tom said as he grabbed a whiskey glass. "Hermione Granger ordering Firewhiskey. And a large at that."
"Is it your place to judge?" she snapped at him, feeling instantly guilty about it. "Sorry, Tom. Tough night."
"It's no bother," he said kindly, giving her a full glass and walking away.
Hermione was glad for the peace, but she wished she hadn't taken her frustrations and anger out on him. Halfway through her drink, a young woman sat on the empty stool next to her and ordered a bottle of wine. While she waited, the woman poured a white powder on the bar and started cutting it up into lines with a piece of card.
A little shocked but hoping she was merely misunderstanding, Hermione kept watching the woman in the vain hope that she wasn't about to do what she thought. None the less, though, the woman took a note out of her pocket and rolled it up, bending down and snorting whatever it was she had on the counter.
Having never been in this situation before, Hermione reacted as instinct taught her. "What do you think you're doing?" she practically screamed at the woman.
The woman turned around with an angry look on her face. "Do you mind?"
"That's illegal!" Hermione said and was dumbfounded when the woman simply shrugged. ""What is it?"
"Cocaine." The woman went back to what she was doing and started to snort it right in front of Hermione, who was so appalled by this woman's blatantly disgusting and illegal behaviour that she knocked the rest of the drugs onto the floor. "You bitch!" The woman brought her hand up to Hermione's face, slapping her hard across her cheek. "Do you know how much that cost me?"
Not one to be intimidated, Hermione stood her ground. "I don't care. You shouldn't do that."
"Oh my," the woman said as though she had just realised something. "You're Hermione Granger, aren't you?"
Hermione nodded; she didn't recognise the woman one bit. "And you are?"
The stranger held out her hand. "Pansy Parkinson."
"Parkinson?" Hermione almost spat out, remembering the name as one of her enemies from Hogwarts. "You're a..." she spoke in a hushed tone, "a drug user now?"
Pansy rolled her eyes and sighed. "Not anymore, thanks to you. That's all I could afford! Do you know what I'm going to have to do now?"
Hermione shook her head naively.
"Of course you wouldn't." Pansy seemed to be seething with rage, and it frightened her. She'd never quite trusted herself to be around her alone. "What the fuck are you doing in here anyway, golden girl?"
Looking to the floor, she gulped, unsure if she wanted to explain. "It doesn’t matter."
"Oh, no," Pansy said viciously. "You owe me."
Hermione sighed. "Ron and I broke up."
"And...?"
"And I had nowhere else to go."
"He's kicked you out?" Pansy tutted. "Men."
Hermione had to bite back the impulse to rant about how Ron wasn't like other men, that he was kind and sweet, but she wondered what the point of it all was. She didn't need to stick up for him now, not that she'd had many chances before. Everyone seemed to love him, and, to be honest, she could see why.
"What are you going to do then? Where are you going to live?" Pansy asked, grabbing hold of the bottle of wine and shoving it straight into her mouth.
"I don't know."
As though a sudden burst of energy just filled her, Pansy jumped up off her seat, almost frightening Hermione half to death.
"Well, I do," Pansy said, pursing her lips. "You're moving in with me."
"What the--?" Hermione was absolutely stunned. "Are you out of your mind?"
"No," Pansy stated simply while shaking her head, "just practical. You owe me a lot of money after your earlier stunt, and you have nowhere to stay. It makes perfect sense."
"You're insane." Hermione crossed her arms indignantly; she found the whole idea absolutely ludicrous!
"Do you have a few hundred pounds on you, Granger?"
"Of course I don’t!"
"Then unless you want to sleep on the streets and owe me money, you really have no other option, do you?"
Hermione sighed. It would seem Parkinson was right, particularly with Harry out of the country; he'd have been her only ally. "Fine. But I'm only staying as long as I have to."
"Or until you've paid off your debt."
Rolling her eyes, Hermione raised her voice. "Will you stop saying that? I’ll pay rent, but I am not fueling your idiotic drug addiction."
"Idiotic, Granger? Do you have a habit of biting the hand trying to feed you?"
"Where do you live?" Hermione did’t want an argument, not now, not in a public place over illegal activities. By rights, she knew she should report it, but she wasn't sure if she could do that.
Pansy grabbed Hermione by the arm and brought her over to the fireplace in the corner. "Step in with me."
"You have a pub connected to your Floo network?" Hermione asked as she grabbed some Floo powder.
"Shut up, Granger."
Hermione landed on the floor of what she assumed was Parkinson's fireplace and glanced around the room as she picked herself up. It wasn't quite how she and Ron had lived; the sofa was torn and the cushions had holes in them, the coffee table was stained, and the carpet was filthy. To her right was the kitchen, and Hermione wasn't sure she liked the open plan style of Parkinson's flat. From where she was stood, the kitchen looked grimy and half the counters were visibly chipped.
"That's your room." Pansy pointed straight ahead, behind the sofa. "And the bathroom is on your left, next to my room."
"Right." Hermione braced herself, not sure if she wanted to know what sort of state her room would be in. "Night then," she said, receiving no reply as she crossed the living room and opened her bedroom door.
OOO
When Hermione awoke the next morning, there was no sign of Parkinson anywhere, but the flat was a complete mess. Everything seemed to be overturned, and it was obvious to Hermione that Parkinson had been looking for something. Sighing inwardly, she knew exactly what that was: drugs.
Hermione knew that if she was going to do anything while she was here, though she definitely didn't plan on staying that long, she was going to try and end Parkinson's drug addiction. She didn't know much about drugs herself, having very little muggle education on the matter, but one thing Hermione was good at was research. She spent her whole morning at the library, finding and reading as many books as she could do about drugs, though specifically reading about Cocaine.
When she had exhausted the library's resources, she made her way out into the cool, winter air again. The village in which Parkinson lived was lovely, and Hermione had to wonder how she could afford it. Though she hadn't asked Parkinson about work, Hermione couldn't see her doing it either. When they had been at school, Parkinson had shirked off work as often as she possibly could, and with the way she'd ended up, things didn't seem to be any different.
Carefully, she climbed the stairs back into Parkinson's flat, and this time, she wasn't alone. Parkinson was seated on the sofa, completely asleep. As much as Hermione didn't like her, she wasn't that cruel, and decided to gently shake her awake.
"Where were you this morning?" she asked when Parkinson had finally stirred.
"Oh, er," Parkinson rubbed her eyes. "Just went for a walk."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You went for a walk? Do you really expect me to believe that?"
"Keep out of my life, Granger!" Parkinson snapped, standing quickly.
"Sorry," Hermione muttered, realising she'd been a little rude. "I was wondering--"
"Mm?"
"What do you do for work, money wise?"
"I don't work, Granger." Parkinson was smirking now. "Draco provides for me."
Hermione looked at Parkinson with confusion. "But why? You're not together, are you?"
"God, no!" Parkinson shook her head and laughed. "He just...does."
Though baffled, Hermione didn't ask anything else. As much as she wanted to, she knew it would be rude of her to pry. Perhaps she'd find the answer while she was staying there.
"What do you do?" Upon Hermione's confused face from being jerked from her thoughts, Parkinson continued. "For work, for money. What do you do?"
"I work for the Ministry--I'm an Unspeakable, so don't bother asking me what I do." Hermione wouldn't have wanted to talk about her work even if she had been permitted to. She spent enough time and energy there as it was. She hated to admit it, but the lack of time she’d spent with Ron was due to her work.
"Always thought you'd do something pretentious."
"Pretentious?" Hermione almost screamed, her eyes widening in shock. "Look, I'm not going to be here that long, but there's no need for you to act so...so..."
"So what, Granger?" Parkinson prompted, and Hermione knew she was trying to get a rise out of her.
"Forget it." Hermione hated it when she couldn't find the right words. It didn't happen to her often, but there was something about Parkinson--and looking at her face, which now bore a cocky smirk--that made her rethink herself. "What do you do all day then? And how do you get money for your drugs? Does Malfoy pay for that too?"
Parkinson laughed. "He doesn't know about my," she lowered her voice, "habit. You’d better not tell him, either. Besides, I have other ways of making money if I need to."
Hermione didn't even want to think about what that could really mean, so she passed over it. "Today is my one day off during the week - I'm not going to spend it discussing what is probably prostitution and drugs with you." There was no reply from Parkinson, she just turned and stalked off into her room. Hermione decided to have a look at that report she’d been doing the day before. Truth be told, she had nothing else to do even if she had wanted to. Her work was basically her life, and it was the one thing she couldn't talk about.
After spending a couple of hours focusing and not getting very far, Hermione knew she needed to have a break. It was what Ron was always telling her when she spent her days off ignoring him. Too little, too late, she supposed, as she grabbed a coffee and sat down to have a look at the copy of Witch Weekly that had been set down on the sofa.
If Parkinson was still in the flat, she wasn't making any noise. That was good while Hermione was working, but now it was just too quiet. She'd skimmed through the magazine, but it wasn't quite her usual read, so it didn't provide much interest for her. Perhaps, she thought, she'd visit Ginny. Hopefully there wouldn't be any tension between the two of them, and if Ron was still at home she wouldn't have to worry about bumping into him.
Deciding to go and see one of her best friends, she Floo'd to the Burrow. The kitchen was as warm and homely asHermione remembered it, and Mrs. Weasley was standing at the stove. Hermione saw Molly turn around when she entered, but, to her dismay, it didn't look like she was very welcome.
"I'm here to see Ginny," Hermione smiled at Molly, but all she received was a terse response.
"She's in her room."
"Thanks." Hermione left the kitchen and entered the lounge but sat on the sofa stuffing his face was none other than Ron. "Oh, sorry..." she mumbled.
"Don't worry about it." Ron sighed, but he was glaring at her all the same.
Realising she needed to justify herself that she wasn't here to see him, she spoke one more time. "I'm just here to see Ginny." She didn't wait for a response as she made her way up the stairs to Ginny's room, which was on the top floor now.
Hermione rapped quietly on the door before entering. She found Ginny lying on her bed, reading the same copy of Witch Weekly that she herself had scorned only minutes earlier.
"Oh, hi Hermione. Didn't think I'd be seeing you around again."
Hermione was a bit confused; no matter what had happened between her and Ron, surely Ginny would still want to be her friend? "I thought we were...?"
"...friends?" Ginny finished off Hermione's sentence. "I think when you start abusing my brother, our friendship is over."
Hermione's mouth was wide open in shock. "What?! What are you talking about, Ginny?"
"Don't play the innocent, Hermione."
"Play the innocent? I am the innocent one!" She found herself nearly screeching at Ginny--how could one of her best friends think she would do something like that? "Seriously, tell me what you're talking about."
Ginny's eyes were narrowed at Hermione. "You neglected him," she spat. "Now get out."
Blood was coming out of Hermione's tongue she was biting it so hard, and her teeth were gritted to the point of pain. "Fine." Grabbing the door, she slammed it shut behind her and stormed downstairs. Just as she was getting into the fireplace, she heard Mrs. Weasley behind her.
"You're not welcome here."
Hermione was astounded that Ron could ever do such a thing, tell such lies. She hadn't abused him! Possibly been a little neglectful of his needs, sure, but never abused him! It hurt her deeply that a family she had once cared so much for now thought she was a terrible person. She knew it would be no good to try and plead with them.Tthey'd never believe her over their own son, and she knew that.
Sighing, she dropped the Floor powder, ending up at Parkinson's flat. A look out the window told her it was darkening, but it was winter so she wasn't too surprised. There was a little noise coming from Parkinson's room, and as Hermione's curiosity always got the better of her, she made her way over to have a look. Prying the door open gently, she saw Parkinson flat out on her bed, snoring like Hermione had never heard a person snore before.
"What are you doing sleeping during the day?" Hermione exclaimed, causing Parkinson to jump out of her skin in shock before composing herself to speak.
"It's dark."
"It's winter!"
"Where've you been, anyway? I came to ask you something earlier, but you weren't here."
Hermione looked at the floor awkwardly; she didn't really want to think about what had happened over the last few days with Ron and Ginny. She'd lost her boyfriend and her best friend in a single week. Not only that, but she was living with a drug user on the premise that she had nowhere else to stay. "I went to the Weasleys’."
"Why did you do that? Didn't you just break up with one of them?"
"I didn't realise they'd all turn against me. Ron’s told them I abused him," she gritted her teeth as she spoke.
Parkinson's eyebrows raised, and a smirk crossed her face. "Ouch." Hermione watched as Parkinson briskly stood up and put her hands on Hermione's shoulders. "We need to do you some cheering up."
Hermione shook her head and tossed Parkinson's hands away from her. "No, no."
"Oh yes!" It would seem to Hermione that Parkinson just loved any excuse for a 'good time,' as she put it. She could only hope that drugs wouldn't be involved in whatever idea she had. Alcohol she could certainly handle, but drugs, no. Moments later, Parkinson had grabbed her hand and was hauling her into the kitchen, placing her in front of the bar stool next to the counter. "What's your poison?"
"Sorry?"
Parkinson groaned. "What do you drink?"
"Oh," Hermione turned pink, feeling stupid. "White wine, usually."
"Not tonight." Parkinson grabbed a large metal jar. "Tonight you're drinking cocktails."
"But I don't like--" Hermione started to protest, but Parkinson put a finger to her lips.
"Look, make yourself comfortable on the sofa, and I'll be round in a minute. Trust me, you'll love it."
It was still bugging Hermione that Malfoy paid for Parkinson's lifestyle--at the very least she wanted to know why he'd do it. Particularly if they weren't in a relationship. "Why does Malfoy pay for everything, Parkinson?"
Parkinson didn't reply, simply mixed a couple of cocktails with her wand and brought them over to sit next to Hermione. Without speaking, she downed the whole lot in one. Hermione had no idea how anyone could possibly do that. "None of your business," Parkinson finally spoke, a grave look on her face.
"Sorry," Hermione mumbled, taking a sip of the drink. It smelled wonderful, but she was a little worried about trying it.
"Get it down you," Parkinson encouraged, almost shouted, at Hermione. "It won't hurt."
Feeling as though she needed a bit of fun and excitement in her life, even if she had to resort to this, she took as much as she could in one mouthful. It certainly wasn't anywhere near Parkinson's, but it was a lot for her. The taste, she knew, would take a bit of getting used to, but Parkinson was already creating a second and third round for them, lining them up on the table. "It is only about five, you know."
"So?" Parkinson shrugged. "It's never too early."
Hermione inwardly disagreed but didn't dare say anything about it. She expected that this was about as pleasant as she was going to find Parkinson, and she'd better make the most of it for the time she was here. "I suppose," she said. It didn't take Parkinson long until she was drunk off her face, only a couple of hours, and by that time, Hermione was more than a little tipsy. Despite her situation, Parkinson seemed to be coping quite well, and Hermione had the suspicion that she drank often.
Struggling to cope with her blurred vision, Hermione had a small sip of water. It didn't do much, and it wasn't long before Parkinson was complaining that she'd 'hidden herself away'. Hermione had decided she wasn't going to drink anymore as she settled herself back on the sofa. Her head started to pound, and she leaned backwards, looking up blurred ceiling. She could feel herself drifting off to sleep as she turned her head to the left, but then she was feeling another sensation...a feeling she didn't think she'd have again for a very long time. Parkinson was kissing her.
Having never been this drunk before, Hermione was a bit unsure of what to do. She moved her head away and started to mumble "No, no," but either Parkinson didn't hear her or didn't care, as she tried to kiss her again. Using as much strength as she could muster given her state, she pushed Parkinson off, sending the woman tumbling to the floor. "What did you do that for?" she managed to get out, watching Parkinson pull herself up and back onto the sofa again.
Parkinson shrugged, and Hermione felt uncomfortable when she stared into her eyes. "Felt like it," Parkinson said, leaning in for another kiss, and this time, Hermione didn't stop her. She let the tingling in her lips continue, even daring to use her tongue a little, but the kiss ended quickly. They had done something wrong, terribly wrong, and she blamed it on the drink. She'd always been told by her parents that no good can come from being drunk, and now she knew exactly why.
She stumbled off the sofa, finally able to make it into her room, and collapsed on her bed in exhaustion. She hoped what had happened was a dream, but she didn't think she’d be that lucky.
OOO
It had been over a week since her drunken kiss with Parkinson, and Hermione had avoided her like the plague. Every morning she checked the Daily Prophet for a new flat, one she could afford to move into, but there was nothing in her price range. It would seem they were stuck together for the time being, and she'd never found herself so glad to have such little time off. She left so early and came back so late that awkward moments, thankfully, were few and far between.
Today, though, was her one day off again, and she hadn't a clue how she was going to spend it. It wasn't as though there were many people she could hang around with anymore. She supposed she could go to the library, but that wouldn't kill all day. She'd even tried sleeping in, but it had gotten to nine and she just couldn't stay in bed any longer. She had no clue how Parkinson did it.
Hermione found herself thinking about Parkinson a lot more in the days following that drunken night, and in a much different light. When she did see her, however briefly, she always found herself admiring the woman. She tried to tell herself it was just the stress of everything getting to her, but she couldn't stop thinking about her, even at work. The worst thing was when she’d been having some alone time and thoughts of a scantily clad Parkisnon popped into her head. She was horrified, and she didn't much fancy having a sexuality crisis; things were bad enough in her life as it was. She still couldn't deny how it felt when they kissed, or how she’d allowed the kiss the second time, even going so far as to explore Parkinson's mouth with her tongue.
Thinking about it made her shudder--this was a woman she had hated since they were in school, who was now a drug addict. As far as she was concerned, the only thing that could possibly go wrong in her life now was losing her job. Luckily, that wasn’t very likely.
"Morning, Granger," Parkinson said as she waltzed out of her room. To Hermione's dismay, she wasn't wearing much and it was difficult to avert her eyes. "Something the matter?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, no. Can you get dressed, though?"
"Oh," Parkinson sighed, as though she knew what was wrong with Hermione. "You're all paranoid you're a lesbian now, aren't you?!" An evil laugh escaped Parkinson's mouth, and Hermione found herself blushing and looking at the floor. "Don't worry; I was only teasing you."
"Well, don't!" Hermione said haughtily. "I've got enough problems in my life as it is."
"And you think I'd be one more, do you?"
"Of course," Hermione nodded. "I don't even like women like that, in any case."
"There's a first time for everything."
"Not this." Hermione was adamant that she didn't like Parkinson in that way. It had to be all the stress; her brain was just getting confused.
"You're really telling me you didn't enjoy our kiss?" Parkinson was leaning back against the kitchen counter now, smirking.
There was a brief moment of hesitation before Hermione spoke; she was far too unsure of herself. "Yes."
"Pity." Parkinson sighed. "Because I liked it."
"You're gay?" asked Hermione. "Is that why Malfoy pays for you?"
"Give over with Draco, Granger." Parkinson said, rolling her eyes. "And yes, I am gay."
Hermione pursed her lips. "If you're gay, why do you sleep with men?"
"What makes you think I sleep with men?"
"Isn't that how you pay for your drug habit?" Hermione was sure Parkinson had insinuated she was a prostitute, but perhaps she’d been wrong. Feeling embarrassed, she knew she needed to apologise. "Sorry."
"No, I'm not a prossie, Granger." Parkinson winked at her. "Would you like me to be?"
Hermione shook her head quickly. "No, no! I wouldn't wish that on anyone."
"See you later, Granger." Parkinson skipped back into her room, and Hermione was left alone, confused once more. The small nightdress Parkinson had been wearing revealed a lot and it took more than a little effort to stop herself from staring.
OOO
After spending an hour trying to decide what to do, Hermione had finally gone with a visit to the library. She ended up spending the entire day there, getting lost in a mixture of fact and fiction. If she hadn't been asked to leave because they were closing, she was sure she'd have been there all night.
A little put out, she made her way into the brisk, night air and set off home. It wasn't far and she was wrapped up warm, but when she finally got back, Hermione couldn't help but feel glad that Parkinson insisted that they had the heating on at all times.
"Hello, Granger!" Parkinson said with glee in her voice. It was obvious to anyone that she was drunk, and Hermione rolled her eyes as she put her bag down on the counter.
"Evening. Why are you so -"
"- drunk?" interrupted Parkinson, standing up from the sofa and waving around her glass. Hermione nodded. "Because I was lonely. Join me."
Hermione sighed. While drinking the other night did help to take her mind off everything that was happening, she really didn't think it would be a good idea. "I'm not sure."
"Don't be a bore." Parkinson was pouting now. She bumped into the sofa and fell forwards onto it.
Hermione wasn't sure if she'd be able to cope with Parkinson if she didn't at least have one drink in her, so she poured herself a cocktail from the jug already made. "Just the one."
That 'just the one' turned into many, and it wasn't long until she was as drunk as Parkinson was. They were on the sofa laughing about how funny it was when Malfoy had gotten turned into a ferret; Parkinson said she'd never let him forget it. There was a little awkward silence afterwards, and Hermione looked up. Her eyes directly met Parkinson's and she found herself making the first move this time.
She leaned in for a kiss, loving the feeling of Parkinson’s soft lips against her own. The only thing going through her mind was that she couldn't believe she was doing this, but it felt far too good to stop. She placed her hand on Parkinson's thigh, but quickly took it off, realising she couldn't take control.
Hermione felt Parkinson's hand curl around her neck, making the little hairs on her nape stand on end. She couldn't help but feel excited when the hand travelled downwards, stroking her breasts for a moment before finally reaching her thighs. There was no denying that Hermione deeply wanted this to happen, however much she hated to admit it to herself, but she wasn't sure if she could do it.
Hesitant, she pulled back from the kiss, but still didn't stop Parkinson from feeling her thighs. When the strings of her top were jerked down, she started having second thoughts. It felt so good, and she loved the attention after Ron, but it was still too soon after him. The main thing that kept her going was her recent newfound crush for her roommate and the knowledge of how much she wanted this.
Parkinson exposed her breasts and leaned down, suckling on her nipples; the sensation was amazing and she loved the look of in her eyes. But no, there was also that painful expression she remembered from when they were at Hogwarts together. Troubled by this, realising how wrong she thought it was, she quickly pulled her top up. "I can't do this," she said as she ran off into her room.
As she sat listlessly on her bed, she heard a rap on the door. "I thought you liked me?"
"I..." There was a hesitation in Hermione's voice. “I do."
"So, what's the problem?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please, just...can we forget it?"
"Everything?" Parkinson asked.
As much as she wanted it, she was sure she couldn't carry on. "Everything," she said reluctantly, listening to the footsteps carrying Parkinson away from her room. Her head started to hurt, and she felt tears well up in her eyes. The drink, she decided, must have been making her overly emotional.
OOO
It was several sleepless nights later when Hermione found herself walking back into her flat. There was an odd noise coming from outside, which did nothing but pick at her curiosity. As she stepped through the flat, she realised it was coming from Parkinson's bedroom.
Hermione stepped closer. The door was ajar, and she couldn’t help but to look in. There were two naked figures on the bed, having what sounded and looked like rather hot, passionate sex. She couldn't work out who the man was, but there was no mistaking who the woman was. Her stomach sank, and she felt as if she'd been cheated on, despite being the one who had rejected Parkinson. Angry, upset, and confused, Hermione threw the door open. "What is going on in here?" She demanded loudly.
The two figures sprang up, all shocked mouths and blushing faces. "Granger!" Parkinson said, covering herself with the blanket. "How come you're back so early?"
The man dressed quickly and delved his fingers into his pocket, bringing out a few notes and tossing them onto the bed. "It's only half because I didn't finish," he said gruffly, storming past Hermione and out of the flat, slamming the door behind him.
Hermione was fuming, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "I thought you said you weren't a prostitute."
"It's none of your damn business what I do in my spare time."
"Is that money for drugs?" Hermione said, accusation coloring her voice.
Parkinson ignored her, grabbing her wand and dressing herself. She picked up the money and stuffed it into her pocket. Like the man before, she stormed out of the flat, not bothering to say a word.
Hermione had no idea how to think or feel. On the one hand, she had no control over Parkinson's life. She had no say about whether the girl wanted to sleep with men for money or not. It wasn't like they were dating; they'd only had a few drunken fumbles. Even if they were, Parkinson was not hers to control. But still, she cared for her, worried about her, and, though she knew it could never happen, wanted to be with her.
She spent the next few hours restlessly, worried about what Parkinson was doing and when she would be coming back. When the door finally opened, Parkinson was obviously drunk, and there was a plastic bag clutched tight in her hand. Hermione tried to speak to her but was ignored, and when she followed her to her room, the door was slammed in her face. It was plain that Parkinson wanted nothing to do with her at the moment.
Troubled, she lay down on the sofa, tears spilling down her cheeks. She hated how her life had been so great and then suddenly turned into nothing in such a short period of time. Gritting her teeth and clenching her fists, she was overwhelmed with anger at herself for spoiling what could have turned into something amazing. The sad thing was that she knew she'd never get anywhere by moping about. Drying her tears and grabbing her wand, she got up from the couch, determined to have Parkinson hear her out even if she didn't want to.
She stormed into Parkinson's room and started to say her piece, only to have a scream rip from her throat at the sight before her. She clasped her hand to her mouth in horror; Parkinson was shaking and her eyes were bloodshot and wide open. There was an empty see-through bag on the side of the bed, and Hermione grabbed it to read the little note stuck to the side: 1 gram of cocaine. Parkinson had taken all of it.
Rushing into action, Hermione grabbed Parkinson carefully and apparated to the nearest muggle hospital she knew. She wasn't sure if wizards would know how to cope with something like this. Drugs weren't well known in their world. She ran into the Accident and Emergency department, screaming at the nurses. "It's a drug overdose, cocaine; I think she might be...dying..."
The nurse motioned for Hermione to lay Parkinson down on one of the beds, and she wheeled her straight off. When she tried to follow, another nurse held her back. "We need details, Miss. There's nothing more you can do for her."
Over half an hour was spent with Hermione filling in forms and trying to talk to nurses to hear about her friend, but nobody knew what was going on. The waiting was killing her. She was in agony, praying desperately that Parkinson would be okay.
"Miss Granger?" A male doctor approached her, a solemn look on his face. Hermione nodded, and the man hesitated before he spoke again. "I'm so sorry-"
Hermione didn't hear anymore, she tuned out. She didn't want to stay here, not where Parkinson--no, Pansy--had died. Tears streaming down her face, she walked away from the Doctor and out of the hospital. The moment she was out of sight, she apparated to London, and then again to Paris, where she knew Harry lived. Him being so far away was the reason she hadn't thought to see him before now, but she needed someone, and right then, and it had to be him.
She was sobbing loudly as she rapped on the door, and when Harry finally opened, all she said was "Pansy's dead!" before collapsing in his arms.