Just a little ficlet I wrote! I am Aquila, and I've been around lj awhile, (more involved with LOTR) but this is the first fic in the HP fandom I have wrote, darn bunny grabbed my ear and wouldn't let go. So now you get to share it with me. Hope you like. :D
xposted a bit, hope you don't mind.
She had no idea how it had happened.
She didn't like him. Not at all. He was an obnoxious, childish, inconsiderate git. And that was on his good days.
So how did she end up here, backed up against the wall behind the One-Eyed Witch statue, her feet pinned to the floor with no other touch than his lips on hers. Her heart was pounding so fast she couldn't have counted the beats if she tried. Her brain was muddled, confused, trying to remember how this came about. She had to stop it. Had to. She couldn't stand him.
She had been denying him so long it had become a ritual, rebuff after rebuff marking the years that had passed, her life winding from one proposition to another, some careless and crude, some polite, some more forceful, some almost filled with gentleless, all filled with an obstinate hope, all blending into each other, joined together in the end with the same answer. It was all about the chase anyway. His interest would fade if she let him catch her, the novelty worn off, the thrill faded. Yet he was remarkably oblivious to her dislike of him, annoyingly persistent and, if she allowed herself to admit it, surprisingly brilliant and just a little attractive.
Not that she cared.
And no, she didn't think about giving in, not once. She most certainly did not think about him at night, in the quiet of the dorm, when the chill of night had settled on the room and his lopsided smile hung before her eyes, looking into her, through her, and beyond her to the future he insisted they would share. He was seriously delusional.
She didn't wonder how it would be if she said yes. She didn't catch her breath, didn't breath harder, didn't break out into a rash of goosepimples everytime he touched her accidentally on purpose. She didn't shiver alone in her bed, thinking about the way his eyes followed her, the way a fire sparked to life in her belly and her heart when she turned to look at him, the way he looked at her as if she alone existed, as if he would ravish her on the spot should she let him in even a little. She didn't, didn't, didn't, DIDN'T.
His lips were soft against hers, his body close enough to warm her without actually touching, the stone of the wall cool against her back, her hands. She needed to stop this now. She was only encouraging him, and that wasn't fair. It was wrong. It was...
Then her thoughts fled, as his tongue reached out and brushed against her bottom lip. She moaned softly, knowing it was pointless to deny, to push him away, to pretend she was unmoved. She opened a little, felt the crack in her heart split wider, the crack he had been pounding away at for the last four years. She held on for a moment more, desperate to hold it together. She couldn't hang on. No more. It came crashing down as he pressed her back against the stone wall, his body lining up with hers from shoulder to knees. In a split second it all flew away, and she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting him in, opening to him, allowing herself for once to believe that it might be right, this thing between them.