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Deflowering Potter

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Deflowering Potter

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“He can’t be!”

Pansy smirks. “I’m telling you he is. My source is impeccable.”

Astoria rolls her eyes. “There is no way Harry Potter’s still a virgin. He dated Ginny Weasley in school, and Merlin knows she’s no saint.”

“They broke up, though.” Pansy taps her fingers on her desk. “Maybe that’s why. Maybe she was too slutty for him. Maybe he wanted to save himself for the right woman.”

“Why?” Astoria sniggers. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Who knows why Gryffindors do anything?”

Astoria shakes her head. “Nutters. Anyone would sleep with him! I’d even have slept with him before he got famous.” She narrows her eyes. “Wait, is he bent?”

Pansy shrugs. “Not according to Draco. And he has the best gaydar of anyone I know.”

“True.” Astoria hums. “Well, that’s a situation that simply can’t be allowed to stand. That poor man obviously needs help.”

Pansy snorts. “And I suppose you’re just the one to help him?”

Astoria tosses her long hair back over her shoulder. “Maybe.”

“What if I want to do it?”

“Then you should have done it already!”

“Oh, for Salazar’s sake. Make it a competition,” Daphne says, looking up from her book. “Witch versus witch. Let’s see who can deflower Harry Potter first.”

“Fine with me.” Pansy licks her lips. “I could do with a good fuck. Even if he’s inexperienced, he’s bound to be enthusiastic.”

“Tired of shagging every bloke in the Ministry?” Astoria asks sweetly.

“I haven’t shagged every bloke,” Pansy sneers. “Just the ones worth having.”

“Apparently not, since Potter hasn't succumbed yet.”

Daphne closes her book with a snap. “Right, I’m tired of the two of you whinging about your sex lives. You have one day to seduce Potter. Whoever is the first to have him in that time wins.”

“Wins what?” Pansy asks.

“Wins the services of the other.” Astoria’s grin is feral. “You’ll have to do whatever I want for the rest of the month.” She stretches. “I could do with a decent shoulder massage.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Pansy shoots back. “You’re the one who’ll be doing my bidding, and my flat could use a good cleaning.”

“And if neither of us win?” Pansy asks.

“Then you both do my bidding the rest of the month,” Daphne says dryly. “Seems only fair since I’m the one who has to listen to you whinge all day.”

“Whatever,” Pansy huffs. “Not all of us are content with being celibate like you.”

“How do we prove we’ve had him?” Astoria asks. “We can say anything we want, after all.”

“I don’t need to lie about my conquests,” Pansy sneers.

“I don’t either!” Astoria glares at her.

“You show me the memories,” Daphne says. “I’ll be the judge.”

“You’re her sister,” Pansy scoffs. “You’re hardly impartial.”

“I know!” says Astoria. “We also have to bring back an item of Potter’s, something that’s provably his.”

Pansy purses her lips. “Like?”

“Like one of those ghastly homemade jumpers he always wears.” Astoria shudders. “No one else wears one.”

“Except Weasley.”

Astoria makes a face. “Well, I’m not going after him.”

“Too scared?” Pansy asks sweetly.

“Of Granger? Salazar, yes,” Astoria says. “And nothing you say is going to persuade me you’ve shagged him.”

Pansy huffed, pointing her nose in the air. “As if I’d want to?”

“Right, terms accepted,” says Daphne, holding up her wand. A gold light settles briefly over Pansy and Astoria. “There, it’s now a magically binding contract.”

“Fine,” snaps Pansy, glaring at Astoria.

“Fine with me, too,” replies Astoria, glaring back.

“Lovely.” Daphne pockets her wand. “Now, why are you two standing here wasting time arguing?” she says, reopening her book. “Shouldn’t you be out seducing Potter?”

Sitting straight up, Pansy undoes the top three buttons of her blouse. “Yes, I suppose I should get on with it.” Standing, she picks up some parchments. “See you two later. I’m off to staff the morning meeting.”

“Meeting? Since when do you even attend meetings? Aren’t you the one who said you only joined the Ministry’s secretarial pool so you could finally find a husband?” Astoria sneers. 

Pansy smirks. “That was before I decided to seduce Potter. He’s always at the morning meeting, so now I will be, too.” She turned away, starting for the door. “Shame you’re not a senior secretary like I am. Now that I’m gong to meetings, I’ll be exposed to him all the time.”

Astoria sniffs. “I’ll have my chance, don’t worry.”

“Oh, trust me,” Pansy says just before sailing out of the room, “I’m not worried at all.”

~

Pansy gets to the meeting room early, making sure to seat herself right by where Potter usually sits. She gets some strange looks from people as they trickle in, but no one says a word.

Potter arrives with Weasley and barely spares her a glance before sitting down.

Making sure her cleavage is displayed to best advantage, Pansy takes copious notes, and at the end of the meeting, she leans in to Potter. “I’ll just review these and bring them to you later so we can discuss them, then, shall I?”

Potter, clearly startled, coughs. “Um, sure, Parkinson.”

And, ignoring the suspicious eyes of Weasley, and Potter’s bemused expression, she stands up and sashays out of the room.

Collating the comments from the meeting takes no time at all, and, after spelling her skirt a tad shorter, she’s knocking on Potter’s door in about an hour.

“Come!”

Pansy smirks. “Oh, I plan on it,” she murmurs to herself before opening the door.

Potter is alone, a pile of parchments spread across his desk. Pansy discreetly spells the door locked before approaching the desk.

“I brought the report of the meeting,” she says, walking around his desk before leaning over to place it in front of him.

He looks up, his eyes stopping on her cleavage. His clears his throat, dragging his eyes up to hers with obvious difficulty. “Um, thanks, Parkinson.”

Pansy hums. “You know, Potter, we’ve been working together here at the Ministry for a while. And we were in school together. Shouldn’t we be able to call each other by our first names?”

“I…suppose?”

Pansy’s smile is all teeth. “Lovely.” Perching on his desk, she licks her lips. “So, Harry, do you fancy anyone right now?”

Potter sputters. “I don’t see how that’s your business!”

Pansy shrugs. “I suppose not.” She leans in again. “And really, I can’t honestly say I care,” she murmurs before pressing her mouth over his.

Potter freezes, and for a moment Pansy thinks he’s going to resist, pull away. Until he moans into her mouth and hauls her into his lap.

Adjusting immediately, Pansy straddles him, rocking against him as he slides his hands up and down her thighs. For a virgin, he seems to know his way around a woman’s body, and in no time his fingers are probing at her wet folds.

“No knickers?” he murmurs against her mouth. “Why am I not surprised?”

“No idea,” Pansy breathes back, undoing his flies with deft hands. His cock is lovely and thick, and after stroking it a few times, she shifts up, guiding it inside herself.

They both gasp as she takes him deep and then he’s ripping at her blouse, his hands squeezing her breasts even as he thrusts up.

Pansy leans in, arching her back as she moves up and down on his cock, and when Potter sucks a nipple into his mouth, she shivers, her cunt clamping down on him in reaction.

He manages to last longer than she thought he would before, finally, he chokes something out and comes, his hands clasping her hips, his head thrown back in pleasure.

Pansy grinds herself against him, her fingers slipping between them to touch her clit. But somehow, his hand’s there already, and as his thumb starts circling and he slips a finger into her alongside his cock, she screams, coming hard.

By the time she’s caught her breath, she’s draped over him, his breath gusting against her pebbled nipple. And his fingers are still inside her.

Sitting up, Pansy hums. “That wasn’t at all bad, Potter. Well done.”

“Er…thanks, I think.” Removing his fingers, Potter cocks his head. “Should I even ask why you—”

“Consider it my contribution to womankind,” Pansy says, sliding off his lap and readjusting her clothes. She huffs. “You ripped my blouse!”

“Sorry about that.” Expression still bemused, Potter shrugs off his jacket. “Here, you can wear this until you can repair it.”

“I’m not wearing that,” Pansy sniffs. She looks around, spotting the jumper. “I’ll have that. You’ll get it back later.”

“Er—” Potter’s opening and closing his mouth like a fish as Pansy slips the monstrosity on. “Okay….”

“Brilliant.” Starting for the door, Pansy pauses. “Oh, and for a virgin, you’re a decent fuck.”

She can hear Potter choking behind her as she slips out. Checking her watch, she smirks. “Four hours. That must be some sort of record.”

Starting for her office, she turns a corner almost bumping into someone. “Watch where— Oh, it’s you.” Pansy smirks, pointing at the jumper. “As you can see I was successful—” When the hex hits her, it’s a surprise, and as she sags against the wall, she whispers, “You bitch.”

~

“So your story is that you tried, but you don’t recall anything, but you think it worked?” Astoria looks disbelieving. “You have no memories, no jumper, hence, no proof! And if you don’t remember what happened, why do you think it worked?”

“Because I’m sore!”

Astoria snorted. “That just proves you fucked someone, not necessarily Potter”

Pansy glares at her. “If I tried to fuck Potter, it worked.”

Astoria smirks. “Or not.”

“I bet someone hexed me.” Pansy rubs her temple. “That’s the only possible explanation.”

“Or you failed, and decided to try to sell us this lame story,” Daphne says, looking bored. “Without proof, however, we have to assume you failed.”

“I’m going to try again!”

“Not before me, you’re not.” Astoria stands up. “I managed to talk my way onto Potter’s pick-up Quidditch team. We have a match this afternoon. I’ll have shagged him by this evening.”

“We’ll see,” mutters Pansy.

“Yes we will. I’ll be wearing that horrid jumper to work tomorrow, see if I’m not.”

Pansy huffs, glaring after her as she sails out the door.

~

Astoria studies herself in the mirror and smiles in satisfaction. Turning to the side, she checks her rear end, smirking at the way her curves are hugged by the Quiditch trousers. Then, she starts for the pitch.

Several people are already there, including Potter. Astoria sidles closer to him. “Where do you want me?” she asks when he looks at her.

Potter looks her up and down. “You were a Seeker in school?”

“Um hm.” Astoria smiles. “Although I think you’ll find I’m quite flexible when it comes to…positions.”

Potter goes bright red, stammers something, then turns away. Astoria hums. “This should be fun,” she declares.

The game is enjoyable, and afterwards, as they all return to the changing rooms, Astoria lags behind. “Potter?” she calls as he walks past her. “A word?”

Potter stops. “Yes? What is it, Greengrass?”

“I couldn’t help but notice that you use an odd grip for beating. I sometimes play Beater when with some other friends, and I was wondering if it’s something I could adapt?”

Potter smiles. “Oh. Well, it’s grip I came up with after watching Johnson and Wood play. You know how they grip with their hands low on the handle? Well, I thought it could work better if—”

They chat as they slowly meander back to the changing rooms, and, as Astoria planned, there’s no one there by the time they arrive.

“Well, I guess we should head out,” Potter says.

Astoria smiles, moving closer. “Or we could have a post-game celebration,” she suggests.

Potter inhales sharply. “Um, Greengrass? You should know, I’m—”

“Don’t worry about it, Potter,” Astoria whispers, sliding her arms around his neck. “I know all about it, and I’m here to make it all better.”

She kisses him and Potter stiffens at first, then relaxes against her, his hands cupping her arse.

They shuffle over towards the showers, shedding clothes along the way, and by the time Potter steps out of his pants, Astoria’s dripping wet.

Hands everywhere, they enter the shower, the warm water sluicing over them. Astoria shoves him up against the tile wall and drops to her knees. Taking him in her mouth, she sucks him down, opening her throat and humming as she teases groans from him.

Potter’s gasping, thrusting his cock into her mouth, his hands clutching her hair. “Fuck, you’re good,” he moans.

Astoria smiles around her mouthful. Pulling off, she stands, kissing him slowly, deeply, sharing his own taste with him.

Potter goes wild, moaning into her mouth, his hand pushing her thighs apart and lift her up. In moments he’s thrusting inside her, pinning her to the wall.

She wraps her legs around his waist and arches her back, crying out as he buries his face in her breasts and nibbles and sucks at her sensitive nipples, even as he pounds into her rhythmically. He’s big, stretching her beautifully, and Astoria sees stars as he slides over and over that special spot inside her.

When he comes, Astoria is on the brink herself, and she moans with disappointment as he pulls out. When he lowers her to her feet, kneels, places one of her legs over his shoulder, and then proceeds to lick her clit, however, she shouts, grinding herself into his face in an attempt to get closer.

His tongue is wicked, flicking at her even as he slides a couple fingers in and out of her quim. It’s not long before she’s shaking, crying out, coming, her orgasm overwhelming her.

When she comes back to herself, they’re both on the floor of the shower, and the water’s cooling. “There is no way you’re a virgin,” Astoria groans.

Potter turns his head to look at her. “I never claimed to be,” he says, eyebrow raised.

Astoria inclines her head. “True. That’s the rumour, though.”

“Hm.” Potter shakes his head. “That explains this day, I guess. I had wondered.” Getting to his feet, he helps her up. “You should know, though, I have a girlfriend.”

“I should hope so,” Astoria replies. “Otherwise it’d be a waste.”

“Was that compliment?”

Astoria laughs. “To whomever your girlfriend is. She does seem to have taught you your way around a fanny.”

Potter grins. “Can I rely on you to spread the rumour that I’m not a virgin?”

“If you like.” Astoria smirks. “I’d have thought you’d like the attention, though.” And as she saunters away, she thinks he laughs softly.

Back in the changing room, she gathers her clothes, and once dressed, starts for the exit. Walking past Potter’s clothes, she spots the jumper, and, smirking, picks it up. “Even if you’re not a virgin, at least I have proof I’ve shagged you.”

Astoria steps outside, closing the door behind her. When she turns, however, she almost runs into someone. She blinks, then smiles as she recognises them. “Here to check on me?” She holds up the jumper. “I won!”

There’s a flash, and Astoria blinks. She’s alone, it’s evening and… “What in Salazar’s name am I doing out here?” she mutters, starting for her office.

As she walks, she winces, her cunt sore. Frowning, she tried to recall why.

~

“…must have fucked, otherwise why am I so sore?”

“Flying, maybe? It’s the first time you’ve flown in a while,” says Daphne.

“It’s not been that long,” Astoria whines. “And this is soreness from sex, not from Quidditch! I know the difference!”

Pansy hums. “And yet you don’t remember it either?” She turns to Daphne. “Still think I’m making this up?”

Daphne throws up her hands. “I have no idea what to believe at this point. All I know is the day’s over and neither of you has proof you shagged Potter.”

Pansy growls. “Which means you win.”

Daphne smirks. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?”

Astoria huffs. “Fine, what do you want us to do?”

Daphne smiles. “You can start by finishing my reports.”

Astoria pouts. “And what are you going to do?”

“I’m going home to relax.” Picking up her bag, Daphne stands up. “It’ll be a nice change from all the whinging around here.” And head held high, she sails out of the room, ignoring her office mates’ frustrated complaints.

~

Harry opens the door, smiling when he sees who it is. “I thought you were working late today.”

Daphne smirks as she walks past him. “My office mates are handling things.”

“Brilliant. That means we can have dinner together.”

“Yes. Eventually.” Daphne reaches into her bag, pulling out his jumper and a Cloak made of shimmery fabric. “By the way, you really need to keep a closer eye on your things,” she says, tossing them both onto the sofa. “Do you know how much trouble I had to go to to get that jumper back?”

“I have an idea, yes.” Shaking his head, Harry pulls her close, kissing her. “I presume you’re the reason I had women tripping over themselves to ‘deflower’ me today?” he asks once they separate.

Daphne laughs. “Are you complaining?”

“Fuck, no. By the way, your sister’s very good with her mouth.”

“Is she?” Daphne raises an eyebrow. “Better than me?”

“Definitely not.” Grinning, Harry pulls her over to the sofa. “I presume you used my Cloak to watch?”

“I did,” she confirms. Slowly unbuttoning his shirt, she pushes it off his shoulders. “It was pretty hot.”

“Glad we could give you a good show,” Harry murmurs, his hand sliding up under her skirt. “What’s the next game you want to play?”

Daphne tilts her head back as Harry sucks kisses into her neck. “I haven’t decided yet. How would you feel if I spread it around that you’re bisexual and trying to decide on which you like better?”

Harry’s breath hitches. “That could be fun,” he whispers against her skin.

“Yes,” Daphne says, closing her eyes and smiling as she contemplates the possibilities. “I think so, too.”

~