summer romance - Panville, SFW
The disaster began with: “I have a Muggle game for us to play.”
After spending the last few hours settling in and re-accommodating themselves in their dormitories, Daphne Greengrass’s burgeoning penchant for Muggles didn’t shock Pansy nearly as much as it did the other girls. The blonde witch had spent her summer vacation gallivanting the globe, spending more time with the non-magical folk on her stops in places like Milan, Santorini, and Ibiza than not.
“It’s super easy,” she articulated, flicking her shimmering blonde hair over her shoulder, “Even you’ll like it, Pansy.”
Famous last words.
Daphne beckoned everyone to sit on the plush emerald-green rug with her, forcing the three other girls to abandon their various stages of unpacking before they all settled on the floor.
A sly twinkle gleamed in Daphne’s eyes. “It’s called Never Have I Ever.”
“Why would we play a game over something we’ve never done?” Millicent Bulstrode asked with an airy tilt of her head.
Amused, Pansy watched Daphne visibly bristle.
“If you would listen, Millicent,” the blonde witch hissed, scowling at her roommate. “Each person shares something they’ve never done before, and if you’ve done that thing before, you put a finger down. The last person with their fingers up is the winner. I’ll go first.”
Daphne displayed five fingers on one hand, then slowly inspected each of her fellow serpents, the ghost of her sanguine smile triggering countless alarms inside Pansy’s head. “Never have I ever… Failed a Transfiguration exam.”
Frowning, Pansy folded one finger down—nine to go.
“See? Just like that,” Daphne said, then looked at Tracey to go next.
“Oh—erm—never have I ever,” Tracey stammered, “Never have I ever…been in the boys’ dormitories.”
Another finger down for Pansy.
“With boys there or without?” Daphne probed, seemingly increasingly proud as Tracey’s cheeks flushed bright red.
“Okay, okay, I have one,” Millicent excitedly declared. “Never have I ever kissed someone in another house!”
Both Daphne and Pansy put another finger down. Millicent’s mouth hung shocked in a small ‘o’.
“I mean, really, Millicent?” The blonde witch giggled. “Such a prude.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Oh, come off it, Daph. We’re not all slags.”
Daphne’s well-groomed eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappeared in her hairline. “Really, Pansy? You’re calling me the slag?”
Blistering heat crept into Pansy’s throat, threatening to overtake her narrowingly coached features. Spurned into retaliation without careful deliberation, she wasted no time before asserting, “Never have I ever blown someone on the school train.”
Tracey broke into uncontrollable giggles as Daphne again folded a finger down, her icy glare as sharp as a blade as she stared down the adjacent black-haired witch.
“If that’s how you want to play, Pansy,” Daphne hissed, diminishing any opportunity for either witch to backtrack before saying, “Never have I ever spent the summer fucking the laughing stock of Gryffindor.”
Even the fire previously crackling in the hearth appeared to quiet down at the blonde’s targeted revelation. It seemed like even the castle was waiting for Pansy’s next move with bated breath—for her to shrug off the ludicrous accusation with nothing more than a laugh.
So, Pansy brought her last finger down—simultaneously losing the game and answering one of the most pressing questions since they’d arrived back at Hogwarts: who had given no other than Neville Longbottom the blooming, purple hickey just under his ear?
With a shy grin, all Pansy confirmed was: “He called it a summer romance.”