"Truths and Dares," for capeofstorm
Dec. 28th, 2011 06:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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capeofstorm
Title: Truths and Dares
Pairing: Tracey/Daphne, Pansy/Ginny
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 2,096
Summary: The September following Voldemort’s defeat, Hogwarts welcomes back any of the Seventh Year students who wish to repeat the year due to the awful circumstances during the war. Pansy has returned and discovered that she is tired of the old rivalries…but not all of the Slytherins feel the same.
Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy this! It was a challenge for me to write, but I learned a lot through it, so I do hope you like it and it’s at least somewhat what you were looking for…Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Huzzah! :) Warnings to others: this is definitely femmeslash!
Any of last year’s Seventh Year students who wish to return to Hogwarts or repeat the year due to the unfortunate circumstances regarding last year are welcomed back. Please send your response back by owl.
Three Slytherins return. Pansy, Daphne and Tracey meet on the platform for one last time-an eighth year at Hogwarts, and it appears to Pansy that very few of their classmates had chosen the option of attending.
Pansy had nothing lined up, nowhere to go, and a family in shambles. Hogwarts was as good a place as any. Moments ago she had looked around to find just her two friends, and as bare a smattering from the other houses.
No Harry and company. Certainly, no Draco.
She feels that stepping on the train is somehow lighter than it has been since her first year.
----
“Pansy is acting odd,” Daphne says suddenly one night.
“What do you mean?” Tracey asks, threading her fingers through Daphne’s dark hair.
“She’s never in the room anymore,” Daphne answers, shivering as one of Tracey’s nails rakes lightly over her scalp.
“I’m strangely ok with that,” Tracey says, “After all…”
She moves to brush her mouth against Daphne’s and Daphne gets lost in the deepening kiss and the circle of her arms. So lost that she doesn’t have time to finish her sentence-after all, it is easier to hide this way and we must hide, we must, it’s not alright for two pureblood girls to be as we are--
The door squeaks open and they freeze, wide eyes locked tight on each other’s. Daphne feels the air still to a silence as they hold their breaths. Tracey, quiet as the stone walls of the dungeon, leans up and kisses Daphne, strong and forceful and the pit of Daphne’s stomach drops to her knees. Any thoughts crossing her mind about where Pansy has been are drowned in the adrenaline of their secret.
Before this year, she was never so happy that the beds had curtains.
----
“This is wrong,” her voice whispers.
“Wrong can be right,” Pansy whispers back, blindly reaching out through the darkness for her hand.
She takes a step back. “You would say that,” she says.
Pansy looks down, away from her burning eyes and thinks of the dungeons, of blood ties and the tattoo she caught of glimpse of on Draco’s arm last year. She bites her lip.
The girl turns around and walks away, her red hair whipping around her far too prettily for it’s own good.
Be brave, Pansy thinks at her retreating back, be the things your house embodies.
She doesn’t say a word.
----
Tracey sends her a wink and Daphne glances down at her cauldron, twitching her head to send her hair in a swinging curtain to cover her blush. Through the strands Daphne fixates her eyes on Tracey’s hand, so perfect, unlike her own. Skinny fingers, pretty manicured nails, soft skin. As if it’s decided to do so on its own, Daphne’s hand begins walking finger by finger over to Tracey’s until she could practically feel her heat radiating-
A cough from behind them causes them both to jump, Daphne’s hand springing away and hitting a small closed jar of bowtruckle bark, knocking it off the desk-
In the rush of being almost caught, she forgets about the jar until that night. She makes her way back to the classroom, but to her surprise, she doesn’t find it abandoned.
Pansy is there, and the girl who shares her table. There is a sudden familiar movement that goes through the two of them. Daphne doesn’t quite register it because she is too busy sneering at the partner.
She grabs the jar and Pansy says she’ll be back at the room late; she’s just working on their project. Daphne nods a goodnight to Pansy and ignores the Gryffindor bitch sitting beside her.
It is after she has left the room and is halfway back to the Slytherin common room when her mind replays it.
That jump. Pansy had jumped like she had this afternoon
Almost like-
----
“I don’t understand,” she whispers to Pansy. They are sitting facing each other. If Pansy leans in a breath their knees will knock together. “You hate me.”
“I did,” Pansy says, “but not anymore.”
“What happened?” she asks.
“Everything is different,” Pansy says, “I came back-and Hogwarts was a different place. It’s almost like all the hostility left with them at the end of the war. I’m just-“ She pauses, looking for the right words. “I’m tired,” she says, finally, “I’m so sick and tired of hating you all.”
Her eyes grow wide. “You gave him up,” she snarls, her voice as chill as ice “You didn’t stay and fight. You ran away. You wanted to turn him in.”
“I did,” Pansy says, “And I was wrong. And I want forgiveness.”
Her eyes met Pansy’s and softened. Pansy reaches for her hand, and she hesitates before pulling it back. “It’s the way you move,” she says hurriedly, softly, as if she is scared someone will come in and overhear, “Quick. Sprite-like. Like you aren’t of this world. I can’t take my eyes off of you. You’re so strong and you-“
She is cut off by the door opening and the rest of her sentence “You make me want to be a better person” is swallowed down, left unsaid as they jump apart and turn to the potion brewing in front of them.
Pansy could kill Daphne. It is a short encounter, but she knows that the glare plastered on Daphne’s face has been noticed, and whatever progress she made tonight has just been undone.
When the door closes again, she doesn’t turn back.
“I hate you,” she says.
“I don’t believe that for an instant,” Pansy answers fiercely, “If you did, you wouldn’t keep meeting me like this.”
She says nothing back, and does not look at Pansy. Still, she cannot help but feel like she had won a small victory.
----
They are hunched together beneath the blankets and Tracey tilts her head to the side.
“You’re distracted,” she says, “What’s wrong?”
Daphne is not sure how to begin, but somehow, she manages to explain who she saw, and what she thinks she saw.
Tracey is aghast. “She’d never,” Tracey says, her voice disbelieving.
“We’d never,” Daphne reminds her gently, “If anyone asked about us…that’s what people would say.”
“It’s completely different!” Tracey exclaims, “We’re Slytherins, the both of us! She’s a Gryffindor. Worse yet, she’s a—“
Tracey stops, as if she cannot bear to let the name cross her pretty candy colored mouth. Her eyes narrow coldly.
“She’ll confess,” Tracey says, “We’ll know for sure.”
Daphne shakes her head. She doesn’t understand.
If possible, Tracey’s eyes grow colder and more calculating.
“We’re going to play Truth or Dare,” she says.
Daphne shivers, despite herself.
----
Final year Charms class got to decorate the Great Hall for Christmas. Pansy had stationed herself near her, around a corner in the back of the hall, where no one could see them.
Hidden by a Christmas tree, Pansy’s eyes devour her-how she holds her wand with a graceful arch of her wrist. Pansy can practically feel the fabric of her untucked shirt between her fingers. She can only imagine how the creamy skin of her stomach would look and feel. She is confident that one day she will find out.
She is looking everywhere but at Pansy and Pansy knows it doesn’t take that much concentration to raise a garland-especially not like that, quite jerky, with all of the grace of a first year. Which means, Pansy realizes with a sly half grin, that her mind is elsewhere and she’s not concentrating at all.
“Hold, Ginny!” Professor Flitwick calls.
She keeps her hand still and Pansy seizes her opportunity.
“You know,” she says, coming up behind her and whispering into her right ear, “Grammar is a tricky thing. Take commas. You can’t speak a comma. And from over here with that inflection it’s hard to tell if that was a direct address-Hold, comma, Ginny. Ginny, comma, stop. Or-if it was a command. Hold Ginny.”
Pansy puts her arms around her waist and pulls her against her. She feels her relax and her pulse quickens.
“Hold Ginny,” she whispers, “Pansy, comma, begin.”
The room is quiet and her breathing deepens. Pansy watches as slowly, so slowly, Ginny’s left hand reaches up to cover her own.
----
“Where are you off to?” Tracey asks, as Pansy walks towards the door.
“Studying,” Pansy answers, and Daphne notices that Pansy doesn’t quite meet either of their eyes.
“It’s a Saturday night!” Tracey exclaims, “And you’re always studying nowadays. You never hang out with us anymore. I thought that when we all came back we’d have one more year together, and you keep swanning off! You never cared about schoolwork before this year. What changed?”
Pansy’s hand falters on the doorknob. Daphne knows she has been neatly caught.
“Alright,” Pansy says, “What shall we do then?”
“Let’s play Truth or Dare,” Tracey says, “For old time’s sake! Like we’re third years again!”
Daphne watches Pansy turn slightly paler, but she cannot say no. To say no would mean that she was definitely keeping a secret. She turns back to the room and Tracey smiles.
“Truth or Dare, Pansy,” Tracey says, and the game begins.
It started out innocently, as if they were third years. For a brief time, Daphne feels like she did back then-like they were all friends and kept no secrets, despite the cold look in Pansy’s eye. It is Pansy that turns the tables upon them, and Daphne is sure it is her revenge upon being trapped into a game.
Tracey asks for a truth.
“Would you ever kiss a girl?” Pansy asks, her eyes flashing.
She knows, Daphne thinks with a sinking heart, and if Pansy knows, everyone will know. And that means-
Tracey narrows her eyes.
“Perhaps,” Tracey answers coldly, “If one was dared to kiss me.”
It is turned right around, however, when Tracey directs the same question at Pansy and Pansy requests a truth.
“Would you ever kiss a Gryffindor?” Tracey asks shrewdly.
Pansy’s mouth twists in a smirk that Daphne cannot help but think that Draco would be proud of.
“Maybe,” she answers smoothly, “If one were dared to kiss me.”
----
The Potions classroom is always chilly, but Ginny has lit a fire in the grate under the cauldron and that is killing it somewhat. Her cloak is off and Pansy can see her entire outline, haloed by the warm glow.
“Sorry,” she says, walking in, “Tracey and Daphne cornered me. I couldn’t-“
“It’s ok,” Ginny replies.
“They made me play Truth or Dare. But I think I managed to evade them.”
Ginny’s eyebrows rise. “I’ve never played Truth or Dare,” she says.
Pansy shakes her head. “Gryffindors,” she says, “What do you lot get up to in that tower, anyway? Moral debates?”
Ginny shakes her head. “What do you Slytherins get up to?” she retorts, “Orgies?”
Pansy grins. “They asked me if I’d ever kiss a Gryffindor,” she says, leaning in and placing her hand over Ginny’s.
“Oh?” Ginny says, sounding stricken, as if she is struggling to hold her composure, “And what did you say?”
Pansy shrugged. “I said is someone dared one to. Maybe.”
Ginny smiled, adjusting her skirt so that it fell closer to her knees.
“Truth or Dare,” she says quietly.
Pansy feels her grin grow. “Truth,” she says.
“What are we doing?” Ginny asks.
“We’re sitting knee to knee in the Potions dungeon,” Pansy answers, “Most specifically, skiving off our Potions project.”
Ginny looks at her, scrutinizing. “You know what I mean,” she says.
Pansy’s face falters a little. “Truth,” she says, “Truth is-we’re…what is it? Promoting inter-house relations? We’re sneaking around. We’re daring. We’re flirting, and maybe going somewhere with it.” She looks up and meets Ginny’s eyes. “And I think I like it,” she adds.
Slowly, Ginny grins. Pansy’s eyes travel to Ginny’s mouth, sweet and bright red. She could feel the kiss that was resting there. She could feel the press of her lips, the tangle of her hands in that silky hair, the brush of their knees against each other.
It was Ginny’s turn now. Truth or Dare. If only Ginny would say it. She felt her blood coagulate in her veins as time stopped and Ginny opened her mouth.
A breath. A wicked grin. And then.
She says, “Dare.”
Recipient:
capeofstormTitle: Truths and Dares
Pairing: Tracey/Daphne, Pansy/Ginny
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 2,096
Summary: The September following Voldemort’s defeat, Hogwarts welcomes back any of the Seventh Year students who wish to repeat the year due to the awful circumstances during the war. Pansy has returned and discovered that she is tired of the old rivalries…but not all of the Slytherins feel the same.
Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy this! It was a challenge for me to write, but I learned a lot through it, so I do hope you like it and it’s at least somewhat what you were looking for…Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Huzzah! :) Warnings to others: this is definitely femmeslash!
Any of last year’s Seventh Year students who wish to return to Hogwarts or repeat the year due to the unfortunate circumstances regarding last year are welcomed back. Please send your response back by owl.
Three Slytherins return. Pansy, Daphne and Tracey meet on the platform for one last time-an eighth year at Hogwarts, and it appears to Pansy that very few of their classmates had chosen the option of attending.
Pansy had nothing lined up, nowhere to go, and a family in shambles. Hogwarts was as good a place as any. Moments ago she had looked around to find just her two friends, and as bare a smattering from the other houses.
No Harry and company. Certainly, no Draco.
She feels that stepping on the train is somehow lighter than it has been since her first year.
----
“Pansy is acting odd,” Daphne says suddenly one night.
“What do you mean?” Tracey asks, threading her fingers through Daphne’s dark hair.
“She’s never in the room anymore,” Daphne answers, shivering as one of Tracey’s nails rakes lightly over her scalp.
“I’m strangely ok with that,” Tracey says, “After all…”
She moves to brush her mouth against Daphne’s and Daphne gets lost in the deepening kiss and the circle of her arms. So lost that she doesn’t have time to finish her sentence-after all, it is easier to hide this way and we must hide, we must, it’s not alright for two pureblood girls to be as we are--
The door squeaks open and they freeze, wide eyes locked tight on each other’s. Daphne feels the air still to a silence as they hold their breaths. Tracey, quiet as the stone walls of the dungeon, leans up and kisses Daphne, strong and forceful and the pit of Daphne’s stomach drops to her knees. Any thoughts crossing her mind about where Pansy has been are drowned in the adrenaline of their secret.
Before this year, she was never so happy that the beds had curtains.
----
“This is wrong,” her voice whispers.
“Wrong can be right,” Pansy whispers back, blindly reaching out through the darkness for her hand.
She takes a step back. “You would say that,” she says.
Pansy looks down, away from her burning eyes and thinks of the dungeons, of blood ties and the tattoo she caught of glimpse of on Draco’s arm last year. She bites her lip.
The girl turns around and walks away, her red hair whipping around her far too prettily for it’s own good.
Be brave, Pansy thinks at her retreating back, be the things your house embodies.
She doesn’t say a word.
----
Tracey sends her a wink and Daphne glances down at her cauldron, twitching her head to send her hair in a swinging curtain to cover her blush. Through the strands Daphne fixates her eyes on Tracey’s hand, so perfect, unlike her own. Skinny fingers, pretty manicured nails, soft skin. As if it’s decided to do so on its own, Daphne’s hand begins walking finger by finger over to Tracey’s until she could practically feel her heat radiating-
A cough from behind them causes them both to jump, Daphne’s hand springing away and hitting a small closed jar of bowtruckle bark, knocking it off the desk-
In the rush of being almost caught, she forgets about the jar until that night. She makes her way back to the classroom, but to her surprise, she doesn’t find it abandoned.
Pansy is there, and the girl who shares her table. There is a sudden familiar movement that goes through the two of them. Daphne doesn’t quite register it because she is too busy sneering at the partner.
She grabs the jar and Pansy says she’ll be back at the room late; she’s just working on their project. Daphne nods a goodnight to Pansy and ignores the Gryffindor bitch sitting beside her.
It is after she has left the room and is halfway back to the Slytherin common room when her mind replays it.
That jump. Pansy had jumped like she had this afternoon
Almost like-
----
“I don’t understand,” she whispers to Pansy. They are sitting facing each other. If Pansy leans in a breath their knees will knock together. “You hate me.”
“I did,” Pansy says, “but not anymore.”
“What happened?” she asks.
“Everything is different,” Pansy says, “I came back-and Hogwarts was a different place. It’s almost like all the hostility left with them at the end of the war. I’m just-“ She pauses, looking for the right words. “I’m tired,” she says, finally, “I’m so sick and tired of hating you all.”
Her eyes grow wide. “You gave him up,” she snarls, her voice as chill as ice “You didn’t stay and fight. You ran away. You wanted to turn him in.”
“I did,” Pansy says, “And I was wrong. And I want forgiveness.”
Her eyes met Pansy’s and softened. Pansy reaches for her hand, and she hesitates before pulling it back. “It’s the way you move,” she says hurriedly, softly, as if she is scared someone will come in and overhear, “Quick. Sprite-like. Like you aren’t of this world. I can’t take my eyes off of you. You’re so strong and you-“
She is cut off by the door opening and the rest of her sentence “You make me want to be a better person” is swallowed down, left unsaid as they jump apart and turn to the potion brewing in front of them.
Pansy could kill Daphne. It is a short encounter, but she knows that the glare plastered on Daphne’s face has been noticed, and whatever progress she made tonight has just been undone.
When the door closes again, she doesn’t turn back.
“I hate you,” she says.
“I don’t believe that for an instant,” Pansy answers fiercely, “If you did, you wouldn’t keep meeting me like this.”
She says nothing back, and does not look at Pansy. Still, she cannot help but feel like she had won a small victory.
----
They are hunched together beneath the blankets and Tracey tilts her head to the side.
“You’re distracted,” she says, “What’s wrong?”
Daphne is not sure how to begin, but somehow, she manages to explain who she saw, and what she thinks she saw.
Tracey is aghast. “She’d never,” Tracey says, her voice disbelieving.
“We’d never,” Daphne reminds her gently, “If anyone asked about us…that’s what people would say.”
“It’s completely different!” Tracey exclaims, “We’re Slytherins, the both of us! She’s a Gryffindor. Worse yet, she’s a—“
Tracey stops, as if she cannot bear to let the name cross her pretty candy colored mouth. Her eyes narrow coldly.
“She’ll confess,” Tracey says, “We’ll know for sure.”
Daphne shakes her head. She doesn’t understand.
If possible, Tracey’s eyes grow colder and more calculating.
“We’re going to play Truth or Dare,” she says.
Daphne shivers, despite herself.
----
Final year Charms class got to decorate the Great Hall for Christmas. Pansy had stationed herself near her, around a corner in the back of the hall, where no one could see them.
Hidden by a Christmas tree, Pansy’s eyes devour her-how she holds her wand with a graceful arch of her wrist. Pansy can practically feel the fabric of her untucked shirt between her fingers. She can only imagine how the creamy skin of her stomach would look and feel. She is confident that one day she will find out.
She is looking everywhere but at Pansy and Pansy knows it doesn’t take that much concentration to raise a garland-especially not like that, quite jerky, with all of the grace of a first year. Which means, Pansy realizes with a sly half grin, that her mind is elsewhere and she’s not concentrating at all.
“Hold, Ginny!” Professor Flitwick calls.
She keeps her hand still and Pansy seizes her opportunity.
“You know,” she says, coming up behind her and whispering into her right ear, “Grammar is a tricky thing. Take commas. You can’t speak a comma. And from over here with that inflection it’s hard to tell if that was a direct address-Hold, comma, Ginny. Ginny, comma, stop. Or-if it was a command. Hold Ginny.”
Pansy puts her arms around her waist and pulls her against her. She feels her relax and her pulse quickens.
“Hold Ginny,” she whispers, “Pansy, comma, begin.”
The room is quiet and her breathing deepens. Pansy watches as slowly, so slowly, Ginny’s left hand reaches up to cover her own.
----
“Where are you off to?” Tracey asks, as Pansy walks towards the door.
“Studying,” Pansy answers, and Daphne notices that Pansy doesn’t quite meet either of their eyes.
“It’s a Saturday night!” Tracey exclaims, “And you’re always studying nowadays. You never hang out with us anymore. I thought that when we all came back we’d have one more year together, and you keep swanning off! You never cared about schoolwork before this year. What changed?”
Pansy’s hand falters on the doorknob. Daphne knows she has been neatly caught.
“Alright,” Pansy says, “What shall we do then?”
“Let’s play Truth or Dare,” Tracey says, “For old time’s sake! Like we’re third years again!”
Daphne watches Pansy turn slightly paler, but she cannot say no. To say no would mean that she was definitely keeping a secret. She turns back to the room and Tracey smiles.
“Truth or Dare, Pansy,” Tracey says, and the game begins.
It started out innocently, as if they were third years. For a brief time, Daphne feels like she did back then-like they were all friends and kept no secrets, despite the cold look in Pansy’s eye. It is Pansy that turns the tables upon them, and Daphne is sure it is her revenge upon being trapped into a game.
Tracey asks for a truth.
“Would you ever kiss a girl?” Pansy asks, her eyes flashing.
She knows, Daphne thinks with a sinking heart, and if Pansy knows, everyone will know. And that means-
Tracey narrows her eyes.
“Perhaps,” Tracey answers coldly, “If one was dared to kiss me.”
It is turned right around, however, when Tracey directs the same question at Pansy and Pansy requests a truth.
“Would you ever kiss a Gryffindor?” Tracey asks shrewdly.
Pansy’s mouth twists in a smirk that Daphne cannot help but think that Draco would be proud of.
“Maybe,” she answers smoothly, “If one were dared to kiss me.”
----
The Potions classroom is always chilly, but Ginny has lit a fire in the grate under the cauldron and that is killing it somewhat. Her cloak is off and Pansy can see her entire outline, haloed by the warm glow.
“Sorry,” she says, walking in, “Tracey and Daphne cornered me. I couldn’t-“
“It’s ok,” Ginny replies.
“They made me play Truth or Dare. But I think I managed to evade them.”
Ginny’s eyebrows rise. “I’ve never played Truth or Dare,” she says.
Pansy shakes her head. “Gryffindors,” she says, “What do you lot get up to in that tower, anyway? Moral debates?”
Ginny shakes her head. “What do you Slytherins get up to?” she retorts, “Orgies?”
Pansy grins. “They asked me if I’d ever kiss a Gryffindor,” she says, leaning in and placing her hand over Ginny’s.
“Oh?” Ginny says, sounding stricken, as if she is struggling to hold her composure, “And what did you say?”
Pansy shrugged. “I said is someone dared one to. Maybe.”
Ginny smiled, adjusting her skirt so that it fell closer to her knees.
“Truth or Dare,” she says quietly.
Pansy feels her grin grow. “Truth,” she says.
“What are we doing?” Ginny asks.
“We’re sitting knee to knee in the Potions dungeon,” Pansy answers, “Most specifically, skiving off our Potions project.”
Ginny looks at her, scrutinizing. “You know what I mean,” she says.
Pansy’s face falters a little. “Truth,” she says, “Truth is-we’re…what is it? Promoting inter-house relations? We’re sneaking around. We’re daring. We’re flirting, and maybe going somewhere with it.” She looks up and meets Ginny’s eyes. “And I think I like it,” she adds.
Slowly, Ginny grins. Pansy’s eyes travel to Ginny’s mouth, sweet and bright red. She could feel the kiss that was resting there. She could feel the press of her lips, the tangle of her hands in that silky hair, the brush of their knees against each other.
It was Ginny’s turn now. Truth or Dare. If only Ginny would say it. She felt her blood coagulate in her veins as time stopped and Ginny opened her mouth.
A breath. A wicked grin. And then.
She says, “Dare.”
