Title: Sometimes
Pairing: Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: R
Prompt: "Yo la quise, y a veces ella tambien me quiso. (I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too)." -Pablo Neruda, Puedo Escribir los Versos mas Tristes Esta Noche (Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines).
Words: 379
Beta: tania_sings
Warnings: First time trying this style. Hope it's not too bad.
Summary: Sometimes, the past hunts us down with memories of a brighter moment in the dark.
A/N: Originally written for Week #43 on sortinghatdrabs.


Sometimes, when the sun is setting, I mentally travel through time to that last day we watched sunset together and lose myself in the memory of how intensely her hazel eyes shone with emotions I was too young to understand.

Sometimes I miss the heat of your skin, always so smooth and silky, against mine as our frantic hands battled against clothes that were soon to be shoved to the ground. A ground that was always the only witness of our lusty reconciliations.

Sometimes I laugh at myself while digging into our past, trying to recall every single word of our long conversations and fights. And just then I wonder what would have been of us given different circumstances, rather than the ones that brought us together in the first place, even if I want to deny so myself.

Sometimes I lay down in my bed as the dark surrounds me and remember how her hair blinded my eyes as I gasped against her shoulder while thrusting into her. Inevitably, the memory of that sensation leaves me craving to feel her wet, tight walls around my member, which instantly becomes hard; leaving me with no option but touching myself. Pretending I'm not thinking of her is harder when my release comes. The gasp calling her name escapes from my lips, and I just close my eyes tightly, expecting some sign of Hannah having heard me. As soon as the sound of her even breath reaches my ears I let myself relax again, prohibiting myself another slip like this. Prohibition that's always broken as the yarning from those days rushes through every cell of my body some nights.

Sometimes I like to play with the idea that she loved me. Perhaps just like I loved her. But I'm not as clueless as I was then. Now I know my feelings were stronger than hers because of the fact that she took all my firsts. Firsts I never got back. Firsts I can't think of a better person to have. For I loved Pansy and how alive and strong she made me feel during the dark, desperate times of a War.

Sometimes I look back to those months and I come to the conclusion that she loved me too.

Just sometimes.