Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the sandwich I'm eating.

A/N: OK, so I've never written a sex scene before this. Ever. So they aren't very detailed, but you'll all have to survive :)

YumYum Pansy and Ginny, and angsty goodness.

Also, this hasn't really been checked over too thoroughly, so if anyone sees any mistakes or whatnot, then please tell me.

Enjoy!

i.

"I just... what I'm... er, trying to say is that... IthinkIloveyou!" the words came out all in a rush and he grimaced as he noticed her confused look and realised that she'd not been able to understand him and that he would have to say it again. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he started again.

"What I meant to say is that... I think I love you," he repeated, voice softer, capturing her gaze with his green eyes to see how she reacted. He had expected smiles and hugs, or at the very least, an apologetic look and a pat on the arm. But he wasn't expecting what happened next.

She looked up at him like a startled deer, fear etched onto her face. She said nothing, just took a step backwards, and another, and another. And then, she turned and fled, long, red hair billowing behind her in the wind.

She ran across the grounds, across grass and gravel and quidditch pitch, out of breath by the time she reached the castle, though she paid no attention to how her body was holding up. Taking the steps three at a time, she was in the entrance hall in minutes, her panicked gaze darting around, racking her brains to think of somewhere safe she could go next. When she could think of nothing, she simply ran, following her instincts and her feet, knowing that she would find somewhere eventually and that even if she didn't, running was still her only option. Besides, anywhere was better than where she had come from, who she had come from.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, sweat was dripping from her forehead, and her breath was coming in short pants, as she fled through the corridors, but still she ran. Past teachers and students, enemies and friends, ignoring all who called out to her. Her thoughts weren't clear, half formed ideas about where she was going slipped from her head, discarded before even being considered. She just ran on automatic, allowing her subconscious to take her anywhere it wanted, simply trying to put as much space between herself and... him as she possibly could. Reaching a door, and deciding in a split second that this was the door she had been looking for, she mumbled the password (trying to ignore the fact that he had been the one to tell her it) and shot through the door, slamming it closed behind her.

Once inside, she allowed herself to fall apart, sliding down the inside of the door, holding her head in her hands, though no tears fell from her eyes. Tiny whimpers left her mouth as she sat there, rocking slightly, trying with all her might to block out Harry's loving look, and soft words.

"What's wrong, Weasley?" a familiar drawling voice reached Ginny's ears through the haze of confusion surrounding her mind; though through her breakdown, she paid no attention to the words.

"Pansy," she muttered, burying her heads deeper into her hands in the vain hope that she would not have to deal with this right now.

"Yes, Weasley, my name is Pansy. Care to explain why exactly you decided to burst in on me in the bath?" This time, some of the words penetrated the panic surrounding Ginny's mind, and she snapped her head up at the word 'bath'. A slight pink tinge appeared on her pale cheeks as she took in the room she had barged into.

It was the prefect's bathroom, and her eyes were immediately drawn to the swimming-pool sized bath which dominated the room. Mounds of white bubbles floated gently across the surface, looking for all the world like icebergs. And in the centre of this iceberg filled expanse of water was a very naked Pansy Parkinson, arms resting on the edge of the bath, with a predatory smirk on her face which sent a thrill down Ginny's spine.

Realising that she was staring, Ginny hurriedly looked away from the bath, only for her eyes to land on the small mound of clothing off to one side, on top of which were a few garments which were obviously Pansy's underwear. Cheeks reddening slightly again, she stood, unsure what to do. She didn't want to leave, to run again, but she couldn't stay here.

"Leaving already, are you Weasley?" Pansy drawled from across the room. And it was in that instant that Ginny snapped. She had had enough, she thought angrily. Enough of bloody people thinking they could make fun of her all the time. Enough of older brother's dictating who she could or could not date. Enough of wars that ripped her family apart. Enough of Harry and his soft, gentle, love. Enough of the strange desperation that gripped her. Enough.

"Why, do you want me to stay?" she asked the naked girl boldly, imitating the vicious smirk Pansy was still displaying, waiting for the insults that would surely follow her statement. She was disappointed, however, when Pansy laughed. And not just a small laugh, but a deep throated, hysterical laugh; a laugh of somebody who had not laughed in a long time, who was not used to it, and perhaps wasn't sure anymore what it was supposed to sound like. Ginny merely stared confusedly, waiting for the older girl to stop laughing, until eventually, the laughs simmered down to giggles, and the giggles faded away to nothing but a lingering smile.

"Thanks for that, Weasley, I needed a laugh," she said, in an oddly serious voice, though the smirk was back on her face. Pansy swam idly to the side of the pool and climbed out, uncaring that she was naked in front of her supposed enemy. She walked calmly over to the pile of clothes and dressed, drying her dark hair with her wand, leaving it to hang in curtains either side of her face. Pulling on her black heels, she looked up, to find that Ginny was still staring at her. Smirk widening, she walked towards the younger girl, stopping just in front of her, their bodies inches apart.

She lowered her head and pressed her lips to Ginny's, gently slipping her tongue into the other girl's mouth. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but Ginny had already found herself losing herself in it. Pansy had made her forget her worries, her pain and her panic, if only for a few seconds. But then the lips were gone from hers and it all came rushing back in.

Oblivious to what was going on inside Ginny's head, Pansy walked around her and opened the door, pausing for a second and looking back.

"See you around, Weasley," she drawled, before slipping out into the corridor and closing the door gently behind her.

Ginny stood where Pansy had left her, the events of the last few minutes racing through her head. Groaning slightly as she remembered why she had run into the room in the first place, she slipped her clothes off and dove into the bath, allowing the water to wash away her pain, at least for a moment or two.

ii.

Ginny sat in the great hall, toying with the food on her plate (though she hadn't eaten in days). She stared straight ahead with blank eyes, her mind strangely empty of thoughts. The seats around her were unoccupied, her classmates having long ago given up on trying to keep her company, knowing that she didn't listen to a word they said to her, and made slightly uneasy by her blank, empty demeanour. But she didn't mind, without her friends beside her, it was easier to keep any thoughts from entering her mind, which in turn made it easier to ignore reality, and easier to ignore the emptiness inside her.

Her bubble was burst, however, when Harry came and sat next to her, putting his hand on her shoulder and shaking her slightly, determined to get her attention.

"Ginny, Ginny baby, listen to me!" he exclaimed impatiently, shaking her a little harder.

"I'm not your baby," she muttered back, a shadow of the former rage that would have leapt out at him using the term of endearment before, when she had still been whole, when she had still been his. Even still, Harry looked slightly taken aback, though this could have been partly because of the lack of enthusiasm she had shown for talking to him. He could also, she mused, still be upset over her abrupt exit earlier in the week.

"Ok," he murmured, visibly forcing himself to calm his impatience and his frustration, knowing that it would get him nowhere fast, "but Ginny, tell me what's wrong, please."

"Nothing's wrong," she told him, forcing a smile onto her face (though had she seen the smile-grimace she managed, she may not have bothered).

"Gin... I'm sorry about what I said the other day, I didn't mean to... to... scare you, I guess. But I did mean it, and I can't help th-" Harry got no further in his speech (which, yes, he had practiced ahead of time), as Ginny simply stood up and walked away. She didn't look back, and she didn't run, not until she left the great hall and was away from the watchful eyes of the other students. But when she was through the doors, she fled.

Red strands of hair whipped around her face as she ran through corridors and classrooms, ripped tapestries aside to expose the secret passages they hid, following her feet to the safest place she knew. She almost screamed the password this time when she was still ten feet from the door, slamming her way into the room blindly. A deep, drawling chuckle alerted her to the fact that Pansy was in the room, but Ginny didn't bother waiting this time, didn't bother allowing herself to break down.

She kicked off her shoes roughly, the black flats hitting the wall opposite, though Ginny didn't notice, too busy ridding herself of her other clothes. In seconds, she was down to her underwear, and she felt a strange flash of relief that she had worn nice pants that day, the feeling a stark contrast to the other, darker, more confusing emotions running through her head and her heart. Ignoring the thoughts racing around her brain, she dived straight into the bath, revelling in the way the rush of water cleared her mind of everything.

But then she surfaced, and that deep, drawling chuckle was back, forcing thoughts and ideas into her overcrowded mind.

"Fancy seeing you here, Weasley," Pansy was straight ahead of her, lounging in the water, with that predatory smirk she had set firmly on her face, sending thrills up Ginny's spine.

"Fancy," Ginny murmured, unable to come up with a better response, drowning as she was in the panic and fear that she thought had been washed away only moments before.

"And looking just as fucked up as the last time. Odd," Pansy seemed to be talking to herself now, so Ginny tuned out of her words, and focused instead on the girl in front of her. Her hair was dark, almost black, and would have reminded her painfully of Harry's had it not possessed a sleekness that his could never have hoped to achieve. It hung to her shoulders, parted down the middle; the ends were dripping water onto her bare shoulders which were visible above the sea of bubbles. The older girl's eyes were dark and wide and surrounded by smudged eyeliner, the polar opposite of Ginny's childish, make-up free, amber orbs. The longer Ginny focused on the girl in front of her, the dimmer the fear and desperation which had previously been overwhelming her became, until it was reduced to a quiet hum at the back of her mind. Determined to rid herself of it completely, the red head swam forwards, stopping inches from Pansy.

The older girl finally stopped talking, blinking in vague shock at the sudden appearance in front of her. Before Ginny had a chance to talk herself out of it, she dove forward, crushing her lips against Pansy's. For a second, nothing happened, but then Pansy moaned slightly into Ginny's lips and began kissing the younger girl back roughly, winding her hands into her long locks of red hair, yanking the younger girl closer to her.

Ginny gasped in shock and pain and pleasure when Pansy dragged her nails down her back, and Pansy moaned in lust and need when Ginny's teeth found her nipples. And they fought for dominance, both vying for control (control of sex, control of life, to the two girls, the ideas seemed interchangeable) and neither willing to give up.

Hair was torn out and skin was broken, blood mixed with sweat and bathwater, forming a pinkish haze around them. It wasn't so much sex as it was a battle, each girl punishing the other for all the wrongs in the world. A scream ripped from Pansy's throat as her orgasm slammed into her, and Ginny bit down hard on the other girl's shoulder only seconds later, their bodies convulsing together, causing waves to ripple across the surface of the water.

Pansy recovered first, gently licking a trickle of blood from Ginny's cheek before she climbed from the bath. The red head could only watch as her companion dressed and left, throwing a wink in her direction before she was gone completely. As soon as that door silently fell closed, it was as though the block in Ginny's mind disintegrated, and the desperation surrounded her again, all the worse for the brief reprieve.

Ducking her head under the surface, she screamed into the water, delighting in the pain a lungful of water caused her (pain was better than feeling nothing, and drowning in water would always be better than drowning in fear). She rose up again, coughing, and crawled out of the bath, lying curled up on the marble floor, shivering and broken. Blood from the scratches that littered her body seeped out, mingling with the water dripping from her and spreading across the white floor.

iii.

He was kissing her again, but she could barely feel it. His soft lips were moving gently over hers, and if she could not see it happening, then she would have been inclined to ignore the ghost of a touch, thinking it a breeze or some other inconsequential thing. But she could see it happening, and she knew it was real, and she tried her hardest to kiss him back, she honestly did.

He didn't notice her lack of enthusiasm, however, or, if he did then he mistook it for shyness, which only further endeared the red head to him.

"I love you, Gin," he whispered as he caressed her cheek, trailing tiny kisses down her neck. She wanted nothing more at that moment than for him to bite, to bite into her, to make her bleed, to make her feel something, anything. But he would not, even if she asked him to (he was afraid of breaking her, and he didn't know that the pain would fix her back together again), and so she endured his ghostly touches as best she could.

A tear came to her eye as she stared at the ceiling, Harry thrusting gently into her, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear. And she didn't feel a thing. She felt numb (though the wave of panic was always at back of her mind, threatening to crash down on her), and nothing Harry could do would make it better.

Which was why she had taken to sneaking to the prefect's bathroom at night, to meet Pansy.

Now, Pansy made it better. With every pinch and claw and thrust and bite and lick, Pansy made it all better. Pansy was something she couldn't ignore, something that fought it's way into her consciousness until she had no choice but to acknowledge what was happening to her. Love could be forgotten, but pain would stay forever, and Pansy always caused her such exquisite pain. In the months they had been seeing each other, Ginny had become an expert at healing charms, which, she supposed, could only be a bonus in this time of war.

Nobody ever saw her sneak off; sleeping in Harry's room had it's advantages, and she found it easy to steal his invisibility cloak and his map. Of course, she hid both before she saw Pansy, not knowing what the dark- haired girl would make of either object. She may need Pansy, but she trusted Harry more than she trusted her (and for good reason).

"Ginny, darling," Pansy had murmured to her in their last meeting, having stopped calling her 'Weasley' a few days into their tryst, "what do you know of the Order?"

Ginny had frozen inside, though her body kept moving of it's own accord, trailing kisses down Pansy's neck as she dug her nails into the older girl's back. She had known this was coming, but it still hurt her to hear it spoken aloud. Oh, no, it didn't hurt that Pansy was using her for information, Ginny was not (had never been) naive enough to believe that what she had with Pansy was anything real. What hurt was that the Slytherin girl had made her think of the war, of Death Eaters and Order members, and Harry, fighting to his death, a Gryffindor to the end. Or, at least, that was how she imagined it would happen. Ginny had long ago perfected the art of speaking rationally even when your mind is racing (and breaking), though, and was certain that she feigned ignorance well enough that Pansy believed her. The Slytherin girl had never asked about it again, so she assumed the best.

Harry thrust into her gently one final time, shuddering slightly, and moaning her name, cruelly bringing Ginny back to the present, her eyes refocusing on the ceiling above her.

"I love you," Harry told her, his voice too serious and too soft and too... Harry for the words to mean anything to her.

"You too," she murmured, in the most loving voice she could muster, before turning on her side, her back to her boyfriend. But not before she saw the childish grin which attached itself to his face at her words.

iv.

One day, Pansy's left forearm was unblemished, and the next a skull with a snake in it's mouth adorned it, black and ugly, far too sharp a contrast with her creamy white skin to make it beautiful (albeit in a morbid way). Ginny never mentioned it, and neither did Pansy, for once, both too interested in killing each other to care about notions of war and such.

v.

Not long after that, an engagement ring appeared on Ginny's finger; gold with a glinting red stone set into it. Pansy smirked once at the predictability of the Gryffindor colours, before using the sharp stone to scratch a line down Ginny's cheek, leaning in to lick the blood which dripped down before throwing the ring to a far corner of the room.

Ginny had been unable to wait, that night, and had pushed herself on Pansy, forgoing all foreplay, thrusting into the Slytherin viciously with her fingers.

That was the first night that either one of them had won the battle for dominance, though Ginny was unsure whether or not she was pleased about the change in the balance between the two girls.

When Pansy was there the next night, acting as though nothing had happened, however, Ginny decided that she supposed it didn't matter so much after all. It was a small victory, and they were fighting a war, not a battle.

vi.

It was weeks until Pansy managed a victory for herself, and Ginny was drunk. She had never been drunk before (fearing that she was fucked up enough already, and didn't need the help of alcohol to make her more so), but Harry had insisted that she celebrate with him (though what they were celebrating, she couldn't really remember, and didn't much care). She had staggered into the bathroom, barely able to see where she was going through the haze that had descended over her eyes.

"Jesus, how much have you been drinking?" Pansy asked disdainfully, before realising that Ginny was in no state to comprehend anything the dark-haired girl said to her. Thinking a bath could maybe sober the younger girl up a bit, Pansy climbed from the swimming pool sized bath to fetch Ginny. She stripped her quickly of her dress (raising an eyebrow at how tight and revealing it was, hugging every generous curve on the redhead's body- it wasn't Ginny, at least not the Ginny that Pansy knew) and shoes and carried her, fireman style down the steps into the water.

The soothing bubbles seemed to do the trick, and before long, Ginny was pawing at Pansy lustfully.

"Take me," her Gryffindor bravery shone through for once, and the Slytherin needed no more encouragement. She had flipped the younger girl over on the steps, climbing on top of her, ravishing every millimetre of the redhead's body, delighting in the moans (and screams) that she could rip from Ginny's throat.

It was Ginny who left first, that night, still fairly drunk, but sober enough to comprehend what was going on around her. She had paused at the door, looking back at her lover, still lounging in the rapidly disappearing bubbles.

"I guess this makes us even then, huh?" she asked softly, slipping out of the room without waiting for an answer. When she was a few steps down the hall, however, she could have sworn that she heard an echo of Pansy's maniacal laughter.

vii.

They had left school, and Ginny saw far too much of Harry, these days. She spent her days suffocating in his loving gazes and kisses and hugs and smiles, drowning in the nauseating waves of good that rolled off of him.

She joined the Order with him, and she fought in battle after battle after battle. She was magnificent, one of the best fighters the light side had. But it all meant nothing to her; she only did it because of him, because this way it was easier to go along with his happy family charade than it would be if she had refused to fight.

She had ignored the concerned looks her mother sent her way the first time she had killed a Death Eater. She had felt nothing as she slid her blade into his skull (she found it strangely ironic to kill the Death Eaters with muggle methods, and besides, sword fights were more romantic than magic any day), just the same empty desperation that constantly consumed her being.

Secretly, she longed to die in battle, though she was too good a soldier to have her wish granted.

viii.

The next time they met was not in the bathroom, but was instead in a dead end corridor near the dungeons. Ginny was dressed in gold, Pansy in black, and both had white masks covering their faces. They met at wand point, neither moving, though Ginny's left hand hefted the blade in it up, so that she was pointing both weapons at her enemy. The corridor would have been deadly silent had it not been for the faint sounds of the battle still raging above them).

Pansy was the first to realise who she was up against, and she lowered her wand, ripping her mask of with her other hand. Her dark hair was stuck to the sweat which coated her face and neck, and a thin strand of blood trickled from her nose. Her eyes, though. Her eyes were the same, deep, dark windows which Ginny could easily lose herself in. The older girl was exactly as Ginny had remembered her, albeit with slightly more clothing on.

Lowering her own weapons, Ginny paused a second before untying the knot which held her own mask to her face. She looked at the floor, refusing to meet her old lover's eyes, knowing that she had not fared as well in their time apart. And sure enough, a small gasp escaped Pansy's lips as she took in the changed face of the redhead she used to know.

One long scar stretched from her temple to her jaw line, though it was half hidden by the masses of deep red hair that floated messily around Ginny's face. Dozens of smaller scars littered the rest of her face, along with several deep purple bruises and a few small cuts which travelled down her neck. Her lips were stained from a bloody lip, and as Pansy watched, her tongue darted out unconsciously to lap up some of the blood pooling there. The eyes were the most changed though. The childlike amber orbs had disappeared, replaced with an older, less innocent version. Resignation and weariness had replaced the old desperation Pansy had grown to love; this Ginny was not a fighter like her Ginny had been.

She didn't know the girl in front of her, not anymore, not ever, perhaps. And this worried Pansy more than she would ever show. Stepping forward, she kissed Ginny gently on the lips, backing away quickly, extremely aware that the redhead had killed more of Pansy's friends than she could count.

Ginny looked up slightly, frowning, and was met by a concerned look. Her heart balked at the sight; this was not Pansy, not the girl who had made her feel. Shaking her head, tired of pretending, she barged past the Death Eater before her and strode off in search of the fight.

"Goodbye, Pansy," she called over her shoulder as she left.

"Goodbye, Gin," Pansy murmured at her old lover's retreating back, lost in her own thoughts for a minute before shaking her head and following the redhead's footsteps, determined to get back to the battle. Her side needed her. Her friends needed her.

ix.

The last time they saw each other was just a glimpse. Ginny was dressed in red, looking stunning and happy as she held tightly onto her husband's arm (though her eyes betrayed her real feelings, if one were to know how to look) whilst Pansy was a mess, prison robe hanging in tatters from her thin frame. She didn't scream as the dementors started to drag her away, not like some did. She just looked, drinking her fill of her old lover's gaze, seeing the suffocation and panic in those familiar amber orbs.

Even as she was taken away, Pansy found some comfort that her Ginny was back, and a small laugh left her lips at the thought. Her Ginny. Her fucked up Ginny.