Disclaimer: Nothing's mine but the plot!
Summary: Pansy's put the past behind her, but Astoria's there to remind her that it's not that simple. Sequel to Pansy Parkinson Does Not Do Cuddling.
A/N: I decided to at least do one more chapter, and this time I ACTUALLY had to look up british insults xP *sighs* So much effort to have a mind like a Slytherin's...anyway, review and there might be more!
"Are you bloody serious right now?”
Astoria’s pursed lips and folded arms answered her question before she’d even asked it. “Yes, I’m perfectly ‘bloody serious’,” she stated coolly, eyeing Draco, whose head was currently laying in Pansy’s lap, with the utmost disdain.
“Don’t be a twat,” Pansy retorted dismissively, brushing her raven-black hair out of the way with an elegant flick of the wrist. “That’s your sister’s job.”
From across the room, Daphne lifted her wand to hex Pansy, but the prefect got to hers first and sent a rather competent bat bogey hex her way. “What the hell, Parkinson??!” Daphne shrieked, covering her face in her hands as the green blobs attacked her.
“Maybe next time you won’t be stupid enough to try and hex me first,” Pansy said coolly before returning her attention to Astoria. “You are being completely ridiculous.”
“Am I?” Astoria retorted with one eyebrow raised. “Just because I don’t want this prat all over my girlfriend?” She nodded to Draco, eyes burning with unconcealed jealousy.
Pansy groaned and thrust her head back. “For the love of Merlin,” she growled, jumping up and pulling Astoria up towards the prefect’s dorm, sending an apologetic look towards Draco. Once the door closed behind them, Astoria turned to face her, arms still folded over her chest. “I’m not your bloody girlfriend,” Pansy hissed, stepping well into Astoria’s personal space. “You’re a nice shag and everything but that’s it, got it?”
“I don’t do hookups,” Astoria stated primly, her gaze never leaving Pansy’s agitated eyes.
Pansy gave Astoria what most would refer to as an ‘are you bloody kidding me’ look. “You don’t do…,” she began, shaking her head in disbelief. If she’d known this part of Astoria from the start, she never would have taken Daphne up on that assing bet. “We’re bloody Slytherins,” she half-yelled, “that’s all we bloody do!”
Astoria held her ground against Pansy, her lips still pursed. “Maybe that’s what you did before, but I won’t have you flinging yourself all over that wanker after that brilliant shag,” she stated.
Pansy brought a hand up to her temples and massaged them with two (still) green and silver fingertips. “Yes, it was brilliant,” she admitted, “but it was a one-time thing! I did it for a bloody bet!”
Astoria’s mouth opened slightly and both her eyebrows seemed to disappear beneath her stylish blonde bangs. She leaned back against the door, meeting Pansy’s eyes with a disbelieving look of her own. “A bet?”
“Yes, a bloody bet,” Pansy hissed. “Your bloody sister thought it would be a right good laugh to set me up as revenge or whatever.” She waved her hand dismissively at the mention of Daphne, but her eyes were still burning with frustration.
The slap was, in Pansy’s opinion, completely unexpected, and she held her hand to her stinging cheek, open-mouthed. “You’re a bloody trollop,” Astoria snapped before storming out of the room.
“Well you kind of are, you know.”
“Bugger off, Daph,” Pansy growled. They were sitting in Potions, Daphne working on the actual assignment, a cure for acne, while Pansy was focusing on flicking little bits of paper into the Granger mudblood’s cauldron. “Doesn’t mean she gets to call me one,” she added as an afterthought.
Daphne raised an eyebrow. “You mean you let her?”
“I did not.”
“But did you do anything about it? Like hex her or something?” Daphne asked, inwardly cringing at the thought of what would happen if she had dared to call Parkinson anything remotely similar. “Bloody hell, you didn’t, did you?” she asked as Pansy remained stoically silent. “You actually fancy her, don’t you, Pans?”
“Why in the hell would I do that?” Pansy sneered as she waved sweetly at a glaring Hermione, whose potion had just turned a rather unappealing shade of green. “If I fancied anyone, it would be someone who adored me, no matter what I did, not slap me across the face for looking at someone wrong.”
“You mean a complete nutter, then?” Daphne quipped, dodging the halfhearted punch Pansy sent her way. “And she does, you know. Adore you. She has for a while, it’s just now she’s grown a pair because that’s the only way she’ll ever catch your attention, isn’t it? Don’t notice anyone unless they treat you like absolute shite, do you, Pans? I mean, look at Draco.”
“Bugger off,” Pansy muttered for the second time that hour. One of the reasons she absolutely couldn’t stand Daphne was that she was completely daft right up until it came to emotions, and no one tells Pansy Parkinson how she’s really feeling. “That’s none of your bloody business.”
“When it affects my sister, it bloody well is,” Daphne shot back.
Pansy slammed her hand down on the stone table, causing Daphne to jump about a foot in the air. “If it wasn’t for you, your bloody sister wouldn’t even be involved right now, would she?” she snapped. “Start something without giving a shite about what’ll happen and then leave me to pick up the pieces, will you, you stupid twat? I didn’t even look at your bloody sister before you came up with that assing bet!”
Daphne was trembling by now, but she wouldn’t stand down to Pansy Parkinson again. “But now you give a damn, don’t you, Pans?” she retorted hotly. “Now you actually give a damn and you’re blaming me because you can’t hold down a bloody girl without cocking it up! What’s it going to take for you to realize that Draco doesn’t bloody want you? He’s a bloody fruit cocktail and you keep throwing yourself at him, like a trollop. You’re just afraid to actually try to be with someone who might actually fancy you, aren’t you, Pans? Afraid to cock up a real relationship, are you?” She was treading dangerous waters by this point, judging by the increasing fire in Pansy’s eyes, but hopefully she’d push her just enough so that…
Pansy sneered. “Not on your bloody life, Greengrass,” she growled. “I’ll show you who’s bloody scared.”
At dinner, Daphne entered the Great Hall and walked over to her usual seat, unable to keep the triumphant smirk off her face when she saw Pansy sitting a good distance away from Draco, one arm draped lazily around Astoria’s waist.
“I’m glad you two worked it out,” Daphne said sweetly as she took a seat opposite Pansy. “You’re just too cute together.” Astoria beamed and snuggled closer into Pansy’s embrace while the prefect fixed Daphne with a poisonous glare.
“I bleeding hate you,” Pansy growled when Astoria got up to go greet some girls in her year. “You stupid bint.”
Daphne only smirked and scooted closer to Draco, who was now, by all standards, free to be converted if he’d just stop staring at the Potter prat. “At least you finally grew a pair, Parkinson,” she retorted with a sneer. “I was beginning to think Longbottom had more balls than you.”
Pansy growled as Astoria flounced back over and settled into her lap, leaning heavily against her chest and pressing a kiss to her cheek. She felt herself soften involuntarily and hated herself for it, but wrapped her arms around Astoria’s waist anyway. Set on reclaiming her ‘Slytherin-ness’, she buried her face in Astoria’s hair, licking up the column of her neck and grinning like a lion when the younger girl shivered in her arms.
“Longbottom wishes he had skills like these,” she purred, grinning even wider when Astoria blushed redder than a Weasley and Daphne rolled her eyes with a look of disgust plainly written across her features.
“That’s just grotty, Parkinson.”