Fic: Bodice Ripping
Jun. 16th, 2017 01:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: Bodice Ripping
Author:
alisanne
Rating: PG
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson
Summary: Hermione has to revise some assumptions.
Word Count: 365 x 2 (730)
Warnings: None.
A/N: Written for
hogwarts365/
hogwarts365's prompt # 196: “She saw something awful in the very simplicity she failed to understand.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, Dirty, Obscurus Books.
Beta(s):
sevfan and
emynn.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
~
Bodice Ripping
~
Obscurus, with its books and nooks, had become Hermione’s sacred place, the place where no one thought to look for her. It was her refuge.
So when Hermione picked up several books and walked towards what she considered ‘her’ corner, she froze when she saw Pansy Parkinson ensconced in ‘her’ seat, her legs crossed and revealing what seemed like miles of creamy thigh.
Averting her eyes from temptation, Hermione cleared her throat.
Parkinson looked up and slowly smirked. “Granger. Fancy running into you here.”
“Parkinson. What are you doing here?”
Parkinson raised an eyebrow. “This may come as a surprise, but Slytherins do read.”
“That wasn’t what I meant—” Hermione huffed. “I’ve just never seen you here before, that’s all.”
“It’s not my usual hang-out spot,” Parkinson agreed. “But I’m not above intellectual pursuits.”
“Ah.” Hermione backed away. “I’ll leave you to it, then—”
“Care to join me?” Parkinson uncrossed and crossed her legs, and her short skirt made it impossible for Hermione not to look.
“I—”
“Sit down, Granger. Please?”
The hint of pleading in her voice sent shivers up Hermione’s spine. Nodding, she sat.
Parkinson leaned back in her chair. “What are you reading?”
“Several things.” Hermione displayed her books. “Practical Arithmancy, Manipulating Charms, and…one other.”
“Oh?” Parkinson sat forward. “What other?”
“An American novel.”
“A novel?” Parkinson chuckled. “Why, Granger, how frivolous!”
“It’s F. Scott Fitzgerald,” Hermione said, feeling defensive. “It’s hardly a bodice ripper!”
Parkinson inclined her head. “There’s nothing wrong with a good bodice ripper.” Her eyes dipped to Hermione’s chest. “I’ve been known to rip the occasional bodice myself.”
Hermione gaped at her. “Are you…flirting?”
Parkinson tossed her head. “And if I am?”
“Is this some sort of joke?” Hermione demanded. “Because if it is—”
“Forget it.” Parkinson frowned. “I saw the article about you where you said there’s nothing wrong with same-sex relationships and I assumed you were—” She swallowed. “Apologies if i was wrong.”
“Oh. OH!” Hermione smiled tentatively. “Sorry. I…yes, I like…women. If that’s what you’re asking.”
Colour bloomed over Parkinson’s cheeks. “It was, yes. Anyway, I’d hoped…Have you ever—?” She paused, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
“Ever what?” Hermione asked, watching her carefully. Just then, Parkinson looked almost…shy.
Parkinson sighed. “Ever realised something so simple as liking women more than men can seem so awful that you deliberately refuse to acknowledge it to yourself or anyone else—” She licked her lips, looking as if she was choosing her words carefully.
Hermione nodded. “Yes.”
“Yes?” Parkinson made a face. “You understood that? How? I barely understood that.”
Hermione laughed. “Sometimes being gay can feel terrible but it’s simple. Other times it feels wonderful and complicated.”
Parkinson nodded. “You do understand.”
“As I said.” Hermione pursed her lips. “So you came here to flirt with me? How did you know I’d be here?”
“I didn’t,” Parkinson said. “I spotted you coming in, remembered the article, and followed you. While you were browsing, I looked around for the best reading spot, and figured you'd show up sooner or later.”
“So now what?” Hermione asked, oddly flattered. “You…rip off my bodice?”
Parkinson raised an eyebrow. “Do lesbians do that before a first date?”
Hermione laughed. “Not in my experience.”
“We could start with lunch.” Parkinson smirked. “The pub across the street serves a lovely ladies’ lunch, if that’s your cup of tea.”
“Lobster salad and cucumber sandwiches?” Hermione made a face.
Parkinson grinned. “I hate them, too. But their steak and chips is to die for. And they make great martinis.”
“Sold,” said Hermione. “Just let me pay for these books.”
“Of course.” Parkinson stood when Hermione did, and moving closer, she plucked the Fitzgerald book from her hand. “Although I should purchase this one since ripped bodices are involved.”
Hermione laughed. “That’s not necessary.”
“Lesbians aren’t gallant?” Parkinson murmured, her voice low, suggestive.
“Some are,” Hermione replied breathlessly.
“Then won’t you allow me to be?” Parkinson’s smile was filthy. Reaching out, she tucked one of Hermione’s curls behind her ear.
Hermione almost moaned. “By all means. I’ll never say no to a book.”
“Excellent.” Leaning in, Parkinson kissed her cheek. “I can’t wait to read the dirty bits to you later.”
Hermione snorted, but a she followed Parkinson to the check-out counter, she studied her long legs and shapely arse. Honestly? She couldn’t wait either.
~
Author:
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson
Summary: Hermione has to revise some assumptions.
Word Count: 365 x 2 (730)
Warnings: None.
A/N: Written for
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Beta(s):
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
~
Bodice Ripping
~
Obscurus, with its books and nooks, had become Hermione’s sacred place, the place where no one thought to look for her. It was her refuge.
So when Hermione picked up several books and walked towards what she considered ‘her’ corner, she froze when she saw Pansy Parkinson ensconced in ‘her’ seat, her legs crossed and revealing what seemed like miles of creamy thigh.
Averting her eyes from temptation, Hermione cleared her throat.
Parkinson looked up and slowly smirked. “Granger. Fancy running into you here.”
“Parkinson. What are you doing here?”
Parkinson raised an eyebrow. “This may come as a surprise, but Slytherins do read.”
“That wasn’t what I meant—” Hermione huffed. “I’ve just never seen you here before, that’s all.”
“It’s not my usual hang-out spot,” Parkinson agreed. “But I’m not above intellectual pursuits.”
“Ah.” Hermione backed away. “I’ll leave you to it, then—”
“Care to join me?” Parkinson uncrossed and crossed her legs, and her short skirt made it impossible for Hermione not to look.
“I—”
“Sit down, Granger. Please?”
The hint of pleading in her voice sent shivers up Hermione’s spine. Nodding, she sat.
Parkinson leaned back in her chair. “What are you reading?”
“Several things.” Hermione displayed her books. “Practical Arithmancy, Manipulating Charms, and…one other.”
“Oh?” Parkinson sat forward. “What other?”
“An American novel.”
“A novel?” Parkinson chuckled. “Why, Granger, how frivolous!”
“It’s F. Scott Fitzgerald,” Hermione said, feeling defensive. “It’s hardly a bodice ripper!”
Parkinson inclined her head. “There’s nothing wrong with a good bodice ripper.” Her eyes dipped to Hermione’s chest. “I’ve been known to rip the occasional bodice myself.”
Hermione gaped at her. “Are you…flirting?”
Parkinson tossed her head. “And if I am?”
“Is this some sort of joke?” Hermione demanded. “Because if it is—”
“Forget it.” Parkinson frowned. “I saw the article about you where you said there’s nothing wrong with same-sex relationships and I assumed you were—” She swallowed. “Apologies if i was wrong.”
“Oh. OH!” Hermione smiled tentatively. “Sorry. I…yes, I like…women. If that’s what you’re asking.”
Colour bloomed over Parkinson’s cheeks. “It was, yes. Anyway, I’d hoped…Have you ever—?” She paused, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
“Ever what?” Hermione asked, watching her carefully. Just then, Parkinson looked almost…shy.
Parkinson sighed. “Ever realised something so simple as liking women more than men can seem so awful that you deliberately refuse to acknowledge it to yourself or anyone else—” She licked her lips, looking as if she was choosing her words carefully.
Hermione nodded. “Yes.”
“Yes?” Parkinson made a face. “You understood that? How? I barely understood that.”
Hermione laughed. “Sometimes being gay can feel terrible but it’s simple. Other times it feels wonderful and complicated.”
Parkinson nodded. “You do understand.”
“As I said.” Hermione pursed her lips. “So you came here to flirt with me? How did you know I’d be here?”
“I didn’t,” Parkinson said. “I spotted you coming in, remembered the article, and followed you. While you were browsing, I looked around for the best reading spot, and figured you'd show up sooner or later.”
“So now what?” Hermione asked, oddly flattered. “You…rip off my bodice?”
Parkinson raised an eyebrow. “Do lesbians do that before a first date?”
Hermione laughed. “Not in my experience.”
“We could start with lunch.” Parkinson smirked. “The pub across the street serves a lovely ladies’ lunch, if that’s your cup of tea.”
“Lobster salad and cucumber sandwiches?” Hermione made a face.
Parkinson grinned. “I hate them, too. But their steak and chips is to die for. And they make great martinis.”
“Sold,” said Hermione. “Just let me pay for these books.”
“Of course.” Parkinson stood when Hermione did, and moving closer, she plucked the Fitzgerald book from her hand. “Although I should purchase this one since ripped bodices are involved.”
Hermione laughed. “That’s not necessary.”
“Lesbians aren’t gallant?” Parkinson murmured, her voice low, suggestive.
“Some are,” Hermione replied breathlessly.
“Then won’t you allow me to be?” Parkinson’s smile was filthy. Reaching out, she tucked one of Hermione’s curls behind her ear.
Hermione almost moaned. “By all means. I’ll never say no to a book.”
“Excellent.” Leaning in, Parkinson kissed her cheek. “I can’t wait to read the dirty bits to you later.”
Hermione snorted, but a she followed Parkinson to the check-out counter, she studied her long legs and shapely arse. Honestly? She couldn’t wait either.
~
no subject
Date: 2017-06-16 09:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-06-17 11:25 pm (UTC)Yes, Pansy seems the brash sort to me, ready to go for it, even if she's not sure what she's doing. *g*
no subject
Date: 2017-06-16 10:31 pm (UTC)Sounds like later is going to be lovely!
no subject
Date: 2017-06-17 11:26 pm (UTC)*nods* I can't see Hermione going for anyone who's not moderately smart. :)
xoxo
no subject
Date: 2017-06-17 01:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-06-17 11:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-06-17 02:10 am (UTC)♥
no subject
Date: 2017-06-17 11:27 pm (UTC)Thanks so much. :)
no subject
Date: 2017-06-17 11:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-06-17 11:28 pm (UTC)Thank you, hon!
no subject
Date: 2017-06-19 11:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-06-19 07:22 pm (UTC)*nods* I'm starting to love these two as well. *g*
Yay that you liked it. <3