I leaned my shoulder against a column in the shadow of an overhang, my arms crossed over my chest. All around me was the buzz of students heading this way and that, to meet teachers or meet friends. The time that stretched between the end of classes and the beginning of dinner was full of, in my personal experience, the greatest potential for whatever dirty deeds need to be done. Couples stole away to the boys' dormitory, which I'd discovered ran on a very complex, impressive system that allowed everyone to take care of business without worrying about stray dorm-mates. Of course, my line of work could be handled entirely without ever stepping foot in the boy's dorms, so I'd never had a hands-on lesson in the procedure. Still, I managed to conduct a three-ring circus of debauchery without any information falling into the wrong hands. But today, I wasn't stealing away to disbehave in any way what-so-ever. I was actually captivated by an enforcer, namely the sweetest ass to bear a prefect badge in living memory.

I watched her at a distance with a half-smile at the corner of my mouth. Cute as can be, she was up to her skirt in a thick spellbook, studious as she was oblivious to the relative evils of her fellows. She sat in the grass near the lake, in the shelter of a weeping willow that had lost its leaves and looked skeletal without them. As the long limbs of the tree shook and swayed in the late September breeze, she danced in and out of my sight. From what I could see between, she sat primly upright against the trunk of the tree, her legs tucked under her and her skirt pulled down over her knees. Dark curls hung like a curtain in front of her face as she bent her head to read the volume propped in her lap. She was as still as a statue. I ran a hand through my hair as I straightened, spurred by a desire to insert a little chaos into that pretty picture. I made my way across the student-scattered lawn towards the lakeshore.

She looked up when I brushed the curtain of spindly branches aside and stepped into her quiet circle. A slow smile split my face at her suspicious expression.

"Pansy?" she prompted shortly, looking up at me with a slightly furrowed brow. I dropped down beside her in the grass, stretching out and leaning back on my elbows.

"Granger."

"I'm trying to get in some studying in before dinner, Pansy, I really don't have time--"

"What're you reading?" I interrupted, peering down at the pages of the book she was clutching. She glanced down as well and then frowed at me. I nearly laughed outloud, sitting up and propping my arms on my bent knees. I looked like a slouch in my slacks and sloppily-buttoned white collar shirt, sleeves rolled up and untidy hair to boot sitting next to her creased plaid skirt and sweater vest. Even her tie was still carefully knotted and her socks rolled all the way up to her knees after classes had dismissed. I smirked, studying her for a long, delicious moment and then turning my attention back to her spellbook. "Potions?"

"Yes, Potions. I'm brushing up," she said stiffly. I grinned.

"You know, Granger--if you ever need any special help with potions, I'm something of a whiz." She tossed a rather unsportsmanlike look in my direction; we attended the same NEWT level Potions class and much to her unpleasant surprise, I'd bested her in the first four practical lessons. What she, without a rule-breaking bone in sight about her, couldn't grasp was that I'd discovered a more rewarding reason that good marks for mastering the art of potion-brewing. I kept a steady income and a steady cheerfulness by bottling up euphoria, oblivion--I could whip up any vice your heart might desire, and Muggle 'drugs' were no compare. It was a black market at Hogwarts, mostly operated under Slytherin cloaks, and mostly kept in circulation by me. NEWT Potions was a slice of pie in comparison. I cleared my throat and looked at her seriously.

"You have a tragic flaw." Her lips seemed to get thinner at the mere suggestion of imperfection. A bark of laughter escaped me at the look on her face. Then I shook my head. "You refuse to settle for second best. It's the over-achievers that get cancer and Alzheimers, you know. You'll just wear yourself right out trying to always come out on top."

"Second best to you? I doubt it," she spat and I raised my eyebrows.

"Don't get testy, Granger. I'm trying to help," I said and she glared at me.

"I don't need your help, Pansy, and I certainly don't want your company."

I caught her small chin in my hand and looked into her eyes. She shifted and looked down, her eyelashes dropping delicate shadows across her cheeks. She went to pull away and I tightened my grip until she looked back up in surprise. Then I clicked my tongue and shook my head.

"It's a shame, Granger, 'cause your Potions work is really pretty shoddy. I'm surprised you scraped a NEWT at all, but then you are the school-appointed apple polisher so what would we do without you?" I let her go and she leaned back against the tree-trunk, watching me like an angry cat.

I grinned coldly and stood, brushing a spot of dirt from the elbow of my shirt.

"If you need that extra help, don't hesitate to ask," I said and with one last look at those long, gorgeous legs I turned and left.

Storming back across the lawn towards the entrance hall, I stuffed both fists in my pockets and frowned at my feet. I could feel her under my skin, but I couldn't figure out how she'd gotten there.

A cluster of first years stood on the stairs and I snarled at them as they moved out of my way and I ducked into the cool castle, heading immediantly for the dungeons.

x

I stared into the leaping fire, watching eerie shadows dance across the stone floor in the flickering light. Dinner had been a blur of colors and my brain had settled into a pool of brewed indifference, soggy with outside influence. I was, in essence and totally stoned. The noise in the common room had slowly died, and there were only a few of us left sprawled across the furniture closest to the fireplace. I was vaguely aware of my surroundings, such as the fact that it had gotten pretty late and that there was some sort of dragon-related debate being tossed around in slurred, bad english; but for the most part I was furiously focused on her. I mulled over various aspects of her anatomy, grinding my teeth. I couldn't keep her out of my head, and the longer I thought about it, the more pissed off I became. Chemicals were coursing through my blood, sending it boiling and making me feel reckless. I was swimming in a violent delirium and feeling a bit desperate about drowning.

"Hey, Parkinson!" a loud voice hooked my attention and I reluctantly felt myself flying back towards the source of all the noise. I turned my heavy head and blinked drearily into the sickly green light of the dungeon lair. Draco was studying me. "Did you hear me?"

"I wasn't really listening," I said, pushing myself back up into the seat I'd nearly slouched right out of. I yawned widely, stretching my arms out and then pushing my lazy, lanky body from the uncomfortable armchair, suddenly grounded again but still unsteady on my tired feet. The boys fell back to their banter and I slunk off to bed.

Tugging my shirt over my head and tossing it across my footboard, I dragged a worn-out tee by one sleeve from the vicious laundry tangle inside my trunk and slipped into it, throwing myself down onto my bed. I rested my hands behind my head and let my legs dangle over the edge of the mattress, staring up into the folds of the dark green canopy above the bed. I watched the light from my bedside candle bounce and roll over the rich cloth, at times imagining I could see her eyes staring out at me, until the flame began to burn dim. Slowly, the room got dusky and then dark until all of a sudden I was dreaming.

I was rolling over into her, pressing my forehead into her milky, smooth stomach. I could hear her laughing, feel her ringlets brush against my shoulder, taste her sweet skin. Some brilliant sunlight streamed in over everything, blurring the edges and making me feel blind. She whispered my name, clutched at my hair and everything went a little red, a little sweaty, it all got so confused and the world started tossing and turning and I was full of all this heavy breathing...

My eyes snapped open. I stared into the inky darkness for a minute without blinking and then kicked away the covers and shoved the bed curtains aside, sitting up over the edge of the bed and staring out the window at the giant, hazy moon. My hair was wet with sweat and my hands looked emaciated in the milkly light. Gazing absently down at the grounds, I found that I could see the weeping willow on the shore from where I sat. I clenched my jaw and looked hard at the tree, watched it rocking in the wind.

Then I gripped my head roughly in my hands and squeezed my eyes shut. Flinging myself back onto the bed, I ran my hands down over my face and then let them drop to my sides.

I wanted her. It was alive in my veins, it was pulsing in my ears--I wanted to know the taste of her. I wanted my hands to be full of her curves and her curls and her soft, pale face.

I rolled onto my stomach and pushed my face into a pillow. It was like a wildfire inside of me, I'd been swept away without warning. I'd never had a problem finding girls to occupy my time, but usually they were only present when I wanted them to be. She was everywhere, all the time. She was right beside me, she was in my head, even when she was nowhere near me. I'd never felt anything like it, and I wasn't responding well to the change. I felt awkward in my own skin, like I wasn't even alone there. There wasn't another option--I had to have that girl.

I settled back into the haze, my body slowly melting and my mind drifting away into a static buzz. I dropped off into a haunted sleep, another dream, just her voice saying my name again and again...

A/N: First fic in awhile. Did Pansy and Hermione awhile back, really dug the pair. So I'm doing more than one-shot this time. Longer chapters once I get back into the feel of this.