InsaneJournal

Current mood:	embarrassed
Entry tags:	fic, stuff

So, my posts thus far on the mirror journals have been a little lacking in substance, just as much as my posts on LJ tend to be. I'm not really cross-posting anything from journal to journal, but I guarantee you are not missing much. I hope no one minds... I suspect that people with multiple journals will be relieved to not see the same lackluster one sentence entry from me repeatedly. :))

I just missed the merry_smutmas lottery sign-ups! :( But I suppose it's for the best. I've been trying to think of good requests all week and have come up with nothing. Also, I've been having trouble writing smut lately, and I don't know if it has to do with LJ or me, but it's really annoying. I was trying to write an AU piece for daily_deviant, and I just.. I don't know exactly. It was a Romilda Vane/Ginny Weasley bodyswitch fic, and after about 8 pages of weird Romilda/Blaise library smut and a Ginny/Romilda nearly non-con shower scene, I realized the fic was going to be about 30 pages long and that it wasn't going to be hot in the least bit. And then I suddenly just couldn't write any more.

It's sort of embarrassing, but I feel like I spent too much time writing it to just let it sit on my computer. So here, have a little weird library smut for your troubles. I'm cutting out the shower scene out because it almost squicked me and that's pretty hard to do. :/



Romilda knows what must be done from the moment she sees them kissing. She has to become her. She has to become Ginny Weasley.

Her first thought is, of course, potions. She knows about the Polyjuice Potion, and that seems like a quick, easy fix. There are a few ingredients that will be difficult, a bit of tricky, lengthy brewing, but she knows she won't have trouble getting hold of Ginny's hair.

Polyjuice does have its drawbacks, however, and one of those is the temporary nature of the potion. Romilda decides to dig deeper.

It's already been a full week of research, of burying herself in books on charms and transfigurations, learning about useless beauty charms and glossing over spells on how to turn one's hair red or transfigure one's nose. It's at this point that another problem occurs to her—the real Ginny Weasley will, of course, interfere. It's not enough to simply make herself look like Ginny Weasley. She needs to become her.

Romilda catches a lucky break one afternoon in the library. Pansy Parkinson has just stormed in, angry about something Hermione Granger has said to her, and Romilda seizes the opportunity to chat up a Slytherin about the Dark Arts. Quietly, she stands, padding easily across the library, books in hand, until she reaches Pansy's table. She drops her quill just as she's passing the older girl, and she stops short, squatting beside Pansy and pausing as she takes hold of the quill.

"Want to get even with Hermione Granger?" she asks quietly. Pansy looks up, angry and shocked, though there is a definite note of curiosity in her gaze.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Romilda sighs, standing up and pulling out the chair across from Pansy. She sits without bothering to ask if Pansy minds, and she sets her books on the table, eyeing Pansy curiously. "I'm Romilda Vane, and I have a favour to ask of you."

She knows almost immediately that she has said the wrong thing. Pansy looks beyond irritated, and she shoves away from the table, snatching up her books and parchment and glaring haughtily at Romilda. "You self-righteous Gryffindors, thinking the world should drop everything to help you out. Why don't you do yourself a favour, for once?"

Pansy storms out of the library at that, and Romilda sighs. She supposes she is back to square one.

"What do you need Pansy's help with?" a soft voice asks. Pansy turns, and she's surprised to find Blaise Zabini watching her from between the stacks, an open book in his hands and a calculating look in his eyes. She wonders how long he's been watching her.

"I… um… needed some help," she begins uneasily. She doesn't know much about Zabini, but she's heard the older Gryffindor girls talking about him in the showers—about how good he is with his fingers and tongue—and Romilda has often thought he might be another worthy candidate for love potion.

"Help with what?" he asks, casually pulling out the chair Pansy vacated only moments ago and dropping his book on the table. Romilda's eyes skip over the title, printed in gold block letters over black leather—Daverly's Guide to the Dark Arts.

Romilda blinks and looks up, her mind swimming with a horrible mixture of questions and gossip and fear. Zabini raises an eyebrow, and smiles.

"Just a bit of light reading."

"I…oh…" Romilda finds herself flabbergasted and she looks everywhere but at the book. "I wasn't—"

"Actually," Zabini interrupts, "I don't care. What were you bothering Pansy about?"

Romilda feels herself blush under the weight of Zabini's stare. She can't help but meet his gaze, and when she does, she finds the wildest ideas running through her head—the thought of being fucked against the stacks right here in the library, the thought of crawling under the table and sucking him off while he pretends to study, the thought of slamming him down on the table and having her way with him. As the last thought crosses her mind, Zabini laughs, and it serves to jerk her out of her reverie.

"I…need help with a spell," she says shakily, now feeling distinctly awkward about looking him in the eye.

"What kind of spell?"

Romilda pauses, and risks a glance at Zabini, who looks, if anything, amused. "I want to switch bodies with someone."

Zabini's smile falters. He doesn't answer her right away, only stares, and just when Romilda is starting to feel distinctly awkward, he speaks. "Interesting."

"Do you know how to do it or not?!" she sputters, feeling embarrassed and stupid for confiding such a thing to a Slytherin she really knows nothing about.

"Meet me at midnight, and we'll see," he says with a smile, and he's standing up to leave before Romilda thinks to ask him where.

"Think about it," he says, meeting her gaze steadily. Romilda's cheeks burn with embarrassment as she starts imagining sexy scenarios again, and Zabini laughs as he strolls out of the library, tucking his book deep within the pockets of his robes.


**

The library is creepy at night, and Romilda's half-sure she won't be able to get in. She's also not entirely sure that Zabini is even here, but she can't imagine where else he could be. All she could think about all afternoon, squirming in her seat in classes, was getting fucked by him right in the middle of the library, and she's sure he has something to do with it.

"You're early," he says with a laugh, and she turns to find him strolling towards her, looking completely casual about meeting some Gryffindor girl in the library well after curfew. He meets her gaze, and Romilda blushes hot red, knowing suddenly that he has had very much to do with her thoughts and squirming all day.

He moves past her, barely brushing her arm with his cloak as he undoes the wards surrounding the library entrance, and just as he steps aside to let her in, Romilda becomes certain she won't be able to move. Her knees feel like jelly and her mouth's gone all dry, and Blaise Zabini is watching her like he expects her to do something.

"Ladies first," he says, and Romilda finds herself stumbling forward, into the darkened library. She turns as she bumps into one of the large studying tables, and pulls herself up onto it, swinging her feet as she watches him re-cast the wards.

"Did you bring the book?" she asks as he turns his attention back towards her. Zabini presses a finger to his lips and she scowls in protest.

"You want me," he tells her calmly, stepping up to the table she's perched on, and maneuvering his hips between her thighs. She can feel his breath on her neck, and it's all she can do to keep from looking him in the eye as he rests a hand on her bare knee. "I've been seeing it… all day."

Romilda lets out a small squeak, and Blaise leans in, pressing his lips against hers in what is possibly the smoothest kiss Romilda's ever had. His fingers dance over her thigh, under her skirt as he breaks it, but he doesn't pull away. It takes every ounce of Romilda's willpower to focus on the task at hand.

"The… book," she whispers. Zabini laughs softly and kisses her again, his fingers dancing across the edge of her knickers, his knuckles brushing her inner thigh.

"Thought you wanted a spell," he whispers calmly, slipping a finger under the edge of her knickers and giving them a tug.

"Thought it was…" she whispers, kissing him blindly as he curls another finger under the elastic of her knickers. "…in the book."

Zabini twists and pushes his fingers until they're slip sliding against her inside her damp cotton knickers. "It is," he says simply, twisting his fingers in light, teasing touches as Romilda grips the desk and tries to keep her head.

"What do you… do you want for it?" She asks breathlessly, and his fingers still against her, one fingertip poised over the aching nub of her clit.

"Who are you switching with?" he asks, his tone anything but idle, his fingers nothing but.

"Ginny Weasley," she says, without thinking.

Zabini laughs again. "Potter's girlfriend?"

He twists his hand, tugging her knickers firmly aside so that she's totally exposed, sliding one finger inside of her slowly. She can feel him watching her, and it makes her dizzy. "Good. She's an obnoxious little bint, isn't she?"

Romilda kisses him, a desperate, nearly-sloppy sort of kiss that she half-expects him to refuse. Instead, he kisses her back as he fucks her with his fingers, twisting them knuckle-deep inside of her as she clings to the table and tries not to fall.

She's wondering if he's going to fuck her right here and now, if he'll just spread her out on the library table and sink his cock in her and fuck her until they both come screaming, but then he twists his hand, and his thumb dances across her clit just as his fingers move inside of her, and it's all she can take. Romilda climaxes with a moan and a shudder, clenching desperately to him and the desk until he pulls his hand free.

She vaguely hears him mutter a cleaning spell, but knows it isn't for her—she can feel how wet she is still, how damp her knickers are and how slick her thighs are against the desk. She chances a look at him and finds that he's pulled out his Dark Arts book and is thumbing through the pages.

He stops after a minute, his finger marking the page as he gives her a careful, considering look. "So what are you giving me in exchange for this information?"

Romilda flushes. She thought that was part of this… this whatever was happening in the library, had happened in the library. "I… I don't know. What do you want?"

Zabini laughs. "Oh, Gryffindors. So brave, but too cocky to admit you've already paid your due."

"And what was my due?" she asks coyly, shifting against the table to cross her legs. Zabini raises an eyebrow and pulls out the chair beside her. She watches as he untucks a small piece of parchment , unfolding it neatly onto the table as he points his wand at a page she can't quite read. He mutters something, and the words spill onto the parchment in neat little rows of duplicate text.

He passes it to her without a word, standing and pocketing his book as she stares down at the scrap of parchment.

"Oh," he hesitates, and Romilda looks up in the pause that should have been her name. "I expect to see you here after you've done the switch, too."

He smiles at her, and Romilda gawks after him as he saunters off into the shadows of the entrance. It's not until he's left that she thinks about the wards that she has no idea how to undo.

With a resigned sigh, she settles down into the chair Zabini has just vacated, placing her head on the table and trying to get comfortable. She'll think about the spell tomorrow. For now, she'll focus on the owl she needs to send her mum, asking to be pulled out of Hogwarts next year.