based on kurtis’ cringey imagine 3. someone in the comment pointed out that kurtis’ version of bully is Draco Malfoy and i think that part fits perfectly if draco is trying to mock hermione but he has a massive crush on her lol.
i also made the video with the sound. it’s under the keep reading if anyone wanna see
summary ✰ it’s the night of the slytherin bash, and, intoxicated, you almost blurt out all your relationship troubles to pansy and the boys of slytherin.
content ✰ alcohol,weed, rip. mill’s hairbrush, a big party, drunk/high people and reader, mentions of sex, mild(but just as serious) sexual assault, boyfriend being pushy, arguments, gaslighting,guilt-tripping, pansy lowkey admiring the reader and vice versa, pansy taking off your makeup for you.
a/n ✰ yes we’re having a lil party moment right on shedyool <3i think i made draco too hot in this like have i forgotten this is a pansy fic ?? and i’ve been listening to the playlist on repeat for some inspiration but now all the songs are stuck in my head yikes… anyway, happy reading :))
letting out a short yell, you bolt out the way of millicent bulstrode being chased by her own hairbrush in your dorm room, falling backwards onto your bed, then leaning up on your forearms to watch in amusement as she squeals.
“stop it, stop it!”
pansy crosses her arms, leaning in the doorway for a moment before speaking calmly despite the urgent situation, “mill, i already told you not to try any beautification spells for tonight. they take a certain finesse that you clearly…” she eyes the hairbrush, which has somehow grown teeth, “lack.”
daphne fervently attempts to throw millicent’s wand to her, having lost her own somewhere in the room, ducking whenever the hairbrush swings too low by her head and yelling encouragement to her as she wails.
“it’s gonna bloody eat me!”
you glance over to pansy, your lips quirked but still fighting the brighter grin that tries to force its way upon your mouth, one brow raised. she looks back with a smirk, raising her brows lazily, then pulls out her wand at last.
sure, you have yours, but come on! this is quality entertainment.
muttering a spell under her breath, the hairbrush rises, letting out a sharp, plasticky sound, teeth gnashing at the unknown force which has suddenly halted its rampage. then, thin, dark cracks begin to show upon its surface as it travels higher and higher into the air, finally letting out one last high-pitched sound before exploding into hot pink shards of plastic onto the wooden floor of the room.
millicent makes a lacklustre attempt of trying to catch certain pieces that are still falling, whining about how it was her favourite hairbrush. daphne drops the wand and falls back onto her duvet, exasperated, and you watch ahead in shock.
“blimey, pansy, couldn’t you have just done ‘finite’?” you ask, eyes wide.
“’s not nearly as much fun,” she grins, bounding over to the large, dark oak wardrobe in the corner of the room, “now, ladies. what are we going to wear for the slytherin bash?”
“i bagsy y/n’s black dress!” daphne pipes up, bouncing to sit cross-legged on her bed.
“no, you bloody well don’t!”
you look in the mirror of the vanity, tucking back a few strands of hair out of your face and looking down at your silky emerald dress, the neckline dipping a little at your chest, the straps thin.
“whatever, i actually might look better in the green, anyway.”
slinking out from the bathroom, daphne fixes the button on the back of the dress she’s wearing, the black fabric clinging to her skin, “you definitely do.”
“you’re just saying that to keep my dress, aren’t you?”
“maybe so. but you’re still very pretty.” she pecks your cheek and sits on her bed, fixing her curled hair in a compact mirror and swaying slightly to the thumping music already playing downstairs.
pansy pulls at her dress, leaning onto the vanity and applying a thin coat of red lipstick over her lips, looking at you through the glass “she’s not wrong. you look nice.”
you swallow, blinking at your reflection. you’ve brushed your brows, applied some blush, and a little smokey eyeliner, but nothing much. you don’t mind letting your skin breathe a little, anyway.
“thanks, pansy.” you eye her loose, sparkling, red dress, neckline dipping so low on her chest that you feel the sudden need to look away, instead focusing on her light-green eyes which never actually ceased intensely tracking the movements of your iris. “so do you.”
“right. thank you.”
millicent finishes tying her hair up, avoiding using any muggle products and therefore resorting to something simple, clipping it back with a claw accessory, “okay,” she starts, and you and pansy quickly look away from each other, “so, are we going or not? can’t be too late, they’re still missing the life of the party!”
“mill, you pass out after three hours during almost every single party.” daphne blinks.
“what’s that saying, here for a good time but not a long time?” pansy snickers, zipping up her black boots.
millicent rolls her eyes playfully, crossing her arms. “shut your gobs, the two of you! now let’s go!”
locking the door quickly on your way out so you won’t have to deal with any arseholes doing it in your bed like last time (well, at least they were having a whale of a time), you bid goodbye to your dormmates who all part ways, immediately grabbing a bottle of firewhiskey from a large table in the corner, looking over at the youthful atmosphere suddenly claiming such a place as the slytherin common room.
pouring yourself a shot, although you’re awful at doing those, you hold your nose (as if that’s going to help) and gulp down the alcohol, finishing by setting the little glass down and placing your hands on the table full of drinks in front of you, hair falling down into your face.
feeling a hand on your waist, you tense and stand up straight, not relaxing much when your boyfriend kisses your cheek and whispers a ’hello’ into your ear.
“ben!” you exclaim, turning around and smiling at him, though not genuinely, “i didn’t know you were coming.”
“some guys in the year above invited me, unlike my own girlfriend.” he teases, gripping you by the waist and pulling you closer, and your nose scrunches at the sharp stench of beer on his breath. putting two and two together, considering how he’s slurring his words, you realise he’s already tipsy.
“right, sorry!” you genuinely are, though if he hadn’t showed up, you wouldn’t mind much, “i didn’t really find out until the lesson before my free hour, and, well, you wanted us to go to your room, so —”
“oh, yeah. how could i forget?” he leans in, almost stumbling over his own two feet as he gets even closer to you, pulling you to him by your waist and kissing your neck, making you push your head down a little. the party having only just started, people are still piling in and the lights aren’t turned off just yet.
you push him by the chest, gently, “it’s still early, benny. not now.”
ignoring your wishes, he nibbles at your neck, and you bring your shoulder up in discomfort, “but don’t you want a repeat?” no, you really don’t.
“ben, just, back off, please.” you push a little more firmly now, shaking him off, and going to grab the bottle again to pour yourself another shot of firewhiskey as an excuse to not stay so close to him. but clearly that tactic isn’t great, because he pushes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly.
“come on, this party’ll be lame anyway. your room’s empty, right?” you freeze as his lips meet your throat once more, swallowing before finding it in yourself to stretch your shoulders back, and push his arms from your waist, quickly pouring the shot and keeping it in your hand, just in case you need to spill it on him as a distraction.
if he’s gonna be pushy, he could at least be decent in bed.
well, at least, that’s your cynical view on it.
“ben. no. my — my friends are here, and i… i don’t want to leave them all alone.” you fiddle with the shot glass in your hand, brows furrowed, and he exhales loudly before shrugging his shoulders.
“if you don’t want me then you could’ve just said so.”
your eyes widen, “no, i didn’t mean it like that, just that… just not tonight.”
“well, it kinda seems like you’re not interested. but whatever, y/n, it’s fine.” as you try to reach out to him, he walks over to his friends, and you lean against the table, gulping down the firewhiskey and wincing at the burn in your throat.
shit.
“come on, y/n! they’re dimming the lights now, i wanna dance!” daphne bounds over to you, dragging you by the arm before you can protest.
and you oblige.
two hours in, you’re tipsy, worn-out from all the dancing, yet still going back between the many students for more adrenaline. grinning as a song you love comes on, you regroup your dormmates in the crowd, grabbing them by their hands and all winding your hips to the beat, millicent giggling and falling over her feet, daphne tearing away from her boyfriend to join with a smile on her face. pansy isn’t very giggly when drinking, you’ve noticed. in close settings, sure, but in big parties like this, everyone so close, air hot, green lights strobing across the common room… she just dances. raising her hands above her head, swaying her hips, twirling her friends around by their fingers — it’s almost sensual. well, to anyone else. not to you.
pansy eyes you as you spin — the exhilarated grin on your face from being able to shrug off everything burdening you, everything weighing atop your shoulders. and she realises that she likes the shine of the strobing lights against your skin, your nose and cheeks gleaming, eyes a little bloodshot and chest glistening from all the alcohol in your system, and all the dancing. and when you and pansy finally get off the dancefloor to join the slytherin boys on the sofas, she likes the way your eyes tear up a little after taking a long drag from the joint that’s being passed around.
“this isn’t laced with anything, right?” you clear your throat to speak over the music, passing it back to theo, head dizzy. you watch the lights entangle themselves between little clouds of smoke, and wonder which cloud is yours.
“what do you think i am, a drug lord? no, it is not laced with anything.” he rolls his eyes, leaning back on the sofa.
blaise elbows him, looking at you and pansy who are both sitting next to each other, “don’t mind him — you know he gets bitchy when he smokes.”
“do not.” theo huffs.
“yes, you do.” draco deadpans, snatching the joint from his hands and inhaling the smoke, blowing it upwards from his bottom lip.
you chuckle, stretching to settle comfortably into the sofa and tapping pansy’s bare thigh subconsciously, to which she tenses, “i feel like nott’s always a bitch, regardless.”
“not wrong there.” theo winks at you, rubbing at his eyes. your head feels like it’s spinning, and you giggle again, leading blaise to do the same.
“what’s so funny, y/l/n?” pansy raises her brows nonchalantly, crossing her legs and studying you at her right. she’s taken the joint between her plump lips now, inhaling deeply for a second, then blowing it up into the air.
“think it’s the weed.” you giggle once more, eyelids heavy, leaning your head onto her shoulder — you two are much more friendly when a little bit intoxicated and high. more so you, than her.
draco leans back into the armchair he’s sitting in, looking over to the corner of the room and spotting your ravenclaw boyfriend drinking with his friends in the corner. and, being significantly less of an arsehole with something in his system, draco decided to be polite.
“how’s the boyfriend, y/n?” you chuckle at this, smiling softly and lifting your head up from pansy’s shoulder.
“myboyfriend is an absolute, grade O, cockhead.”
the whole group is still for a short moment, exchanging varying levels of shock and amusement, before turning back to you. draco speaks again, “is that so?”
“mhmm.” you nod lazily, as if your head is too heavy to hold up, pointing over at him from the other side of the room, “ben sucks. he’s awful. if i could, i would — well, i mean, i could, but if i really could, i’d —”
“right, i think that’s enough of that for tonight.” pansy takes the joint from between your index and middle finger, interrupting you and attempting to change the subject considering your tipsy and high state. she’s been through enough non-sober confessions in her lifetime to know best.
“no, i mean it. and it would be worth it if he would actually fuck m—”
“i said, enough.” pansy presses, trying to save you any embarrassment. being good enough friends with the slytherin boys of your year since you all first arrived, you know there’ll be no judgement or rumours spread around. but, still. better not to air out all of your dirty laundry, or whatever the americans say. well, that’s what ’sober you’ would say. and right now, you’re completely ready to confess how shitty your boyfriend is, to reveal the dialogue that usually only stays in your head.
“come on, pansy, the people wanna know.” blaise raises his finger to her, grinning. the boy loved drama; he wasn’t a sharer, but certainly a listener.
“i, the people, do not care.” draco raises his finger as well, slouched in his seat.
“and i, the people, say you’re not gonna let y/n humiliate herself. if she really wants to say this, she’ll do it when she’s sober.” pansy frowns, standing up and gripping your arm, passing the joint over to theo who was watching the scene casually.
“usually you love this stuff!” theo raises his arms lazily for emphasis.
“well, she’s my friend.” pansy gives him a blink stare.
”blah, blah, blah, parkinson.“ you slur you words a little, and she scowls, ”i’m ready to say it. ben rowen is shite in and out of the be—“
she muffles your voice with her hand, forcing you to get up and follow her to the dormitory calmly, as you attempt to yell through her fingers, instead practically humming. it’s not a messy, nor embarrassing scene – you’re at least sober enough to know better, and no one’s paying attention anyway, not with the beat of the music thrumming through the room, vibrating the floor beneath your feet. but you’re not sober enough to control your urge to break down and admit that you desperately want to break up with your boyfriend, even though you think you still love (the old, fake) him, even though you’re scared to break his heart.
seeing the scene from across the common room, ben strides over with a purpose, and the boys on the sofa snort at his actions. ”what happened?“ he tears pansy’s hand from your mouth (thankfully, you’re not wearing lipstick), to which she scrunches up her nose, clenching her jaw and glancing to the side impatiently.
”yourgirlfriend had a little too much to drink and smoke. she’s going to bed.“
”she can just stay with me.“ he seems over his annoyance from before. shame his annoying personality continues to linger, you think.
pansy eyes him up and down rapidly, grip still firm on your arm. there’s something about your boyfriend, especially considering your change in behaviour around him, that pisses her off. you’re looking between the two of them with wide eyes, considerably amused. ”no.“
”what do you mean,no?“ you notice now that he’s much, much drunker than before. the boys are still watching, leaning forward to hear over the music. well, theo and blaise are – draco gives the ’altercation’ a glance before setting his focus on the almost-finished joint between his fingers.
”i thought ravenclaws were meant to have an IQ of at least more than ten — no, means, i will not let her stay with you, she’s going to sleep it off.“ you look over to the sofas and give a look the boys, half-grimacing, half-grinning.
”listen, i’m the boyfriend here —“
”are you? because i don’t recall you ever being present the entire party.“
”what the fuck is that supposed to mean, i was just over —“
”with her, i mean. why don’t you go drown yourself in some more of that beer you obviously like so much,“ ’ouch’, blaise mouths, ”and i’ll take care of your girlfriend, who… y/n?“ you stop making frantic pointing gestures to the boys to ‘translate’ what they were saying since the boys couldn’t lip read, turning your attention to the people in front of you.
”yup?“ you shrug, tilting your head up at her, being just an inch or two shorter.
pansy closes her eyes, sighing, then shakes her head, feeling a little wobbly herself, ”nevermind. let’s get you to bed, huh?“ she shoots daggers at ben, whose nostrils flare as you’re guided to the girls dormitory. he goes after you two again, but is quickly halted when draco’s voice raises over the music.
”perhaps you should let them leave, rowen. just head elsewhere — don’t be an arse.“
ben sighs in exasperation, making his way to the group, but draco sticks his leg out through the gap between the armchair and the sofa on which you were just sitting, making your boyfriend stumble back.
”that wasn’t an invitation.“ draco deadpans, although the corner of his lip quirks up as he takes a sip of firewhisky and raises his brows.
instead of casting a quick makeup removal spell, pansy opts to lean you against the bathroom sink at a safe distance, using a cotton pad and cleaning off your eyeliner and any sweat or blush left on your skin. you know, just in case the spell doesn’t go well, and you end up being eaten by a magic cotton pad.
you close your eyes, gripping the cold sink behind you loosely as pansy wipes warm water over your skin.
”done.“ she nods, expressionless, as your eyes flutter open, easily casting ’incendio’ on the cotton and not bothering to watch as it crumbles into ash on the floor. she certainly has a flair for the dramatics, and you can’t help but think she’s picked it up from draco malfoy.
you look into the mirror to smooth down your hair, eyes bloodshot, lips swollen from the firewhiskey (and a little from when pansy pressed her palm into them). she tosses pyjamas at you, and you wobble a bit when they hit your side.
”change.“
”okay, sergeant.“ you snort as she shuts the door, clumsily picking up the shorts and sweater she’d thrown.
shrugging off your dress, you call out from inside the bathroom. ”why did you get mad at ben?“
for a beat, there was silence, until she called back. ”because he was being a 'cockhead’.“ pansy mocked.
”and why did you make me leave?“ you pull up your pyjama shorts, squinting down and trying to tie a little bow at the front, rather unsuccessfully, ”i was having fun.“
”well, you were gonna embarrass yourself, y/n. i only helped you out.“
after slipping on your large sweater, you peek your head out the door, seeing her tie her raven hair back into a tiny ponytail, most strands falling out due to the length of it (or lack thereof). she’d done a makeup removal spell on herself.
”you’re going to bed, too?“ you murmur, furrowing your brows.
”yeah, tired.“ she lies, sorting out her bed covers.
you bite the inside of your cheek before deciding to ‘confront’ her, “and, pansy?” her movements still, “i didn’t need help. they’re my friends, and i wanted to tell them —”
she turns around, cutting you off with a challenging look that makes you step fully into the doorway, “tell them what?”
you swallow. nevermind. maybe she was right to drag you out of the party. maybe she was right to have cut you off, instead of letting you indulge into your history and your barely-there sex life.
feeling like you’re being frowned upon by authority, you duck your head sheepishly and clamber into bed, glancing over to millicent who has seemingly collapsed onto her bed and blacked out.
“is… everything okay with you and — you and ben, though?”
“yeah. i don’t know what i was saying. he just pissed me off earlier and i started… talking shit.” you lie through your teeth.
“right.” she flicks off the lights with her wand, back turned to you as she sits on her bed, pulling off her dress and slipping into a big shirt. the lamp on your bedside table that she turned on beforehand faintly casts the room in a warm glow, and through the darkness you can see the pale skin of her back as she pulls it down. your eyes dart away, deciding to focus on the ceiling, instead, “and you’re really okay?” she turns now, and relief washes over you — relief that she didn’t turn sooner.
you eye her as she gets under her covers, propping her head up with her hand. you bury yours sideways into the pillow, wrapping the duvet tightly around your frame. “yeah. you?”
“yes, y/n. now, sleep off all that shit in your system. and lie on yourside, not your back.” you listen to what she’s told you plenty of time before, and lean over to switch off the lamp, the entire room pitch black.
because my brain decided this scene apparently needed to be drarrified before I could move on with my day (T, 350 words) I apologize in advance.
A box sits threateningly on the coffee table, wrapped in shiny red “Happy Christmas” paper. It’s June.
“Pansy? What’s this?”
Pansy licks a fingertip, turning the page of Witch Weekly without looking at Draco. “It appears to be a gift.”
Draco sucks in a breath. “No. No, Pansy.” Whatever is in this box, he just knows it can’t be good.
“There’s a note.” Pansy smirks at him, one perfect eyebrow arched.
Draco,
Happy three-week anniversary! I have something special planned for tonight. Wear comfortable clothes…and this!
Yours,
Harry
Draco’s stomach can’t decide whether to sink or float. On one hand, it’s very sweet. On the other… “Three-week anniversary?”
Pansy snorts. “Gryffindors,” she mumbles derisively, as if she hasn’t been fucking Ginny for months.
Maybe if he just leaves it; but no, opening it in frontof Harry would surely be worse. “Pansy,” he whines.
“Just open it, Draco.”
He huffs, flicking a spell at the box. They both lean in to see what’s inside. His eyes snap to hers, which are filled with delight. “A helmet!” she squeals.
“Pansy, no. No,” Draco insists, as if she has any control over the situation. He pats his perfectly-coiffed hair absentmindedly.
There’s a knock at the door. Draco glares daggers at Pansy before plastering on a smile and opening the door.
“Did you open it?” Harry’s enthusiasm is bursting out of him as he enters their flat; he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“The helmet?” Draco’s gaze slides to Pansy briefly and then back. “I did!”
“Do you like it? I picked it out just for you, your favourite colour!”
“Ilove it,” Draco lies.
“I thought we could take a ride on my motorcycle; I brought a picnic and everything.”
“A picnic!” Pansy chimes in. “That’s so romantic.” Draco wishes he had mastered non-verbal hexes.
Harry beams. Draco melts, kissing Harry to remind himself that he’s in love and that he needs to stop being a brat.
“Let me get changed.”
“Something comfortable!” Harry calls after him.
Draco sighs. He’ll ruin his hair, but only for this gorgeous, thoughtful man of his.
