Work Header


Work Text:

Pansy approached the door to the break room in something of a snit.

She’d been rejected. Again. Every quarter she filled out a fresh application to join the Aurors, and every quarter she received a polite ‘fuck you very much’ back with the snobby weasel’s signature at the bottom.

Being an administrative assistant was not cutting it. She wanted to get out there. Out where the action was. She wanted to go undercover in clubs. She wanted to lecture Weasleys about parental responsibility after arresting their spawn for public drunkenness. She wanted to... hex things.

Whose cock did a reformed Dark Lord sympathizer have to suck to get ahead around here?

“You know you’re interested. Deep down,” a low voice purred just inside the room.

“No. No, I can assure you that I’m not,” squeaked another voice. Whoever it was sounded afraid. And male.

Pansy smiled to herself. This should be entertaining. She peered around the corner.

“Has anyone ever told you that you smell fantastic? So...musky and raw.”

Draco Malfoy had a very terrified and uncomfortable looking Harry Potter pinned against the coffee counter.

“I’m very flattered, really, but I’m not gay.”

Draco nuzzled against Potter, who grimaced as his neck was licked.

“It’s not gay if you beat me up after.”

“Please don’t make me hit you.”

“Or I can beat you up. Whichever.”

Pansy had seen enough. She had no idea what had gotten into Draco, but he was going to get himself into a lot of trouble if he didn’t stop now.

“Draco, there you are. Kingsley needs to see you in his office immediately,” she lied. Draco whipped around and glared at her.

“I’m in the middle of something here, Pansy.” Drastic measures were clearly called for.

“There was a complaint of some kind? Something to do with your prior suspension, I think.”

Draco blanched. “Fuck! It’s been a bloody year already, why can’t they just let it go?” he spat, racing from the room.

Potter glanced up at her as he brushed a hand down his robes.

“Was that true?”

“No. I just didn’t fancy seeing my only friend here get punched and lose his job.”

“Oh.” Potter blinked, straightening his glasses. “It’s not his fault, actually. Ron slipped a Wheeze’s test potion into my coffee this morning and it’s been happening ever since.”

Pansy looked him up and down, smiling gleefully.

“You mean to say that you’ve been getting molested all morning?” She clapped her hands together. “You don’t have to try so hard to please me, Potter. It’s enough to know you care.”

“Fuck off,” he replied, blushing.


“No, I mean it. It’s been getting worse as the day goes on!” He paused suddenly and stared at her. “Are you a lesbian?”

“Not much for subtlety, are you, Potter?” Pansy replied, rolling her eyes. “And no. Well, only just the once, not that it’s any of your business.”

“But... then how come you aren’t over here humping my leg?” he asked in genuine confusion.

“Because I hate you. Obviously.” She walked up and grabbed a mug from behind him. “The thought of touching you physically repulses me. Just imagining it makes me– oh!” She raised a hand to her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, startled.

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.”


“Please, just a coffee,” Padma entreated. “I won’t even touch you! Simply looking at you is enough for me, really!”

“I’m sorry, Padma. I appreciate the offer, but you don’t know what you’re saying. I was given a– ”

“I’ve been in love with you since Hogwarts!” she gibbered. She looked as though she was about to cry. If there was one thing Pansy couldn’t stand, it was watching her fellow women turn on the water-works over their feelings. Besides, she didn’t have a camera or a pensieve, so...

“Padma?” she broke in, approaching the lifts. “Potter’s been dosed with a love potion, that’s enough now.”

“But I’ve written a poem!” She reached into her robes and pulled out a piece of folded, old and very battered parchment. “I watch you from afar, my raven haired love. I see the sadness in your eyes. Only I can take the pain away. Your light, it glows effulgent–”

“Merlin, I said that’s enough!” Pansy snapped. “Now come with me!”

“I’ve always, always loved him,” Padma sobbed as she was led away. Pansy looked back over her shoulder to see Potter standing bewildered by the open lift. He gave her a small nod of thanks. She rolled her eyes.


“Dennis, it’s not that you’re not a lovely person, and I’m sure you’ll make some bloke very happy someday, but I’m just not–”

“You’re afraid, I know. Shh,” Dennis soothed.

“To be quite honest, yes, I am, a little. You pulled me into a broom cupboard, Dennis! That’s not quite the same thing as giving me chocolates!”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. You just put it in your mouth and do what comes naturally.”

Pansy put a fist in her mouth to stifle her laughter.

“That’s it. I’m suffocating in here. Let me out, I’m going to fall and pass out,” Harry insisted, flatly.

“You can’t fall if you’re already on your knees, Harry. Come on. I’ll let you put yours in me, after. Now suck it.”



Pansy surveyed the scene. Potter was trying to shrink into the wall, while little Dennis had his surprisingly large cock displayed on his palm in presentation. Potter did not look impressed.


“Parkinson,” he nodded, smiling. She looked at Potter, who was completely pale, his eyes studiously avoiding Dennis’s offering. “We were just going to have it off. Could you give us a few?”

“Creevey,” she repeated, monotone. “No you weren’t. Besides, were you aware that Draco Malfoy fancies you something rotten?”

“What? But he hates me.” Dennis looked utterly perplexed.

“It’s called pulling pigtails, Creevey. He should be having his coffee in the break room right about now. I suggest that you go show him that,” she nodded at his erection, “and he will give up the act before you can say ‘fellatio.’”

Dennis’s eyes darted back and forth between Potter and Pansy, torn. “’re definitely, one hundred percent, never, ever going to suck my cock?” he asked Potter, eyes wide and earnest.

Potter replied with a grunt and jerky shake of the head.

“Right.” Dennis zipped up and hurried away down the hall toward his destiny. Pansy looked at Potter, who was still frozen, pasty-faced in the cupboard.

“Not that I care, but you look as though you’re about to retch all over the floor, and I really can’t let that happen because Winky will be up here and she always spits on me. She’ll apologise and say it was an accident, but I know the little bitch hates me. She’s been brainwashed by the rest of the Ministry elves.” Potter simply stood there gaping like a fish.


“Oh. Right.” Pansy conjured a glass and filled it with water from her wand. He gulped it down quickly and she refilled it again. Once he seemed to have gotten himself together, he began to open and close his mouth in what appeared to be an attempt at speech.

“Why do you keep helping me?”

Pansy glared.

“I’m not doing it on purpose. I just keep finding you like this on the verge of being violated. At least I got a laugh out of the last one. And possibly a toy for Draco. We’ll see.”

“I didn’t even know that Malfoy was into blokes before this morning. I thought that you two were an item.”

“On and off over the years, but I think he’s a man’s man deep down.”


“So what does Kingsley have to say about all of this? Has the weasel been strung up by his balls yet?”

“Not yet, but that will come,” a booming voice interrupted. “Both of you in my office. Now.”


“Will Weasley be getting sacked, sir?” asked Pansy in a hopeful tone.

“Oi! You’re not getting my job, Parkinson!” shouted Weasley.

“Give it a rest, both of you,” commanded Kingsley. “Now, Ron. Explain to me what this potion was that you gave Harry.” The weasel fidgeted in his chair. He looked really nervous and absolutely would not look at Potter. Pansy smiled.

“I was testing it for George. It’s supposed to draw the person you’re most compatible with to you. But so far it’s been acting more like a...magnet for lust? To, uh, those who are so inclined.” He coughed a bit. “And George thought that we’d get more accurate results on the latest batch by giving it to Harry because people are intimidated by him. Also because he’s, um, a speccy git.”

“Hey!” Potter scowled at the weasel.

“His words, not mine,” Ron replied, then suddenly flushed and turned back to face Kingsley.


“You fancy blokes just a bit, don’t you, Weasley?” Pansy posited.

“Do not.”

“Granger doesn’t know, does she?” she smiled.

“I do not!” The weasel was simply fuming, now.

“Then why are you afraid to look at him?” He blanched.

Weasley stood up, testily, strode over to Potter’s chair and to everyone’s shock and surprise, pulled him up and gave him a fast, fierce, deep kiss. With tongues and everything. He let Potter fall back to his chair, breathlessly, and raced for the door. He turned back, hand on the knob.

“That. Will never happen again.” He turned to Kingsley. “It should wear off within a couple of days. Do you mind if I take some time off?”

Kingsley, still stunned, nodded quickly and Weasley left with a slam.

“Sir,” Potter asked, his face etched with worry, “you’re not going to sack him, are you?”

“No. No, I think he’s suffered enough.”

“Most definitely,” Pansy agreed.

“Shut it!” Harry retorted. “And just because you’re a lesbian doesn’t make you my protector, so you can stop following me.”

“I am not a lesbian, we’ve been over this. I hate you. That’s why I’m not climbing into your lap and telling you to shove your–”

“YES! Alright. We’re getting a little off track, aren’t we?” interrupted Kingsley. “Now. Parkinson, you seem to be immune to Potter’s charms, for some reason.”

“That’s because he doesn’t have any sir,” she explained, nodding.

“You think you’re so bloody funny,” Potter shot back.

“And Potter seems to be in constant danger of being violated,” Kingsley continued. “So I am assigning you to be his personal escort until this thing wears off.”

“What?” Potter gasped.

“Sir!” Pansy cried in astonishment. “That is not in my job description. There is no force on earth that could possibly compel me to–”

“Do it and I’ll let you into the Auror program.” Her protestations died on her lips.

“Except that.”

“You keep disaster from happening and keep the Muggles from tearing him apart like the maenads and you start the program next month with the rest of the new recruits.”

“Sir,” Potter interrupted. “I think I can handle things on my own, thanks very much.”

“Who’s your flatmate again?”

“Seamus Finnigan, why...oh fuck.”

“So. You either stay at the Leaky Cauldron -around even more people- or you play nice and let Parkinson stick around for a couple of days. And lest you forget, Muggles have a much stronger reaction to love potions and spells. I daresay that random passers by would be more likely to give you a miss if they think that she’s your girlfriend.”

“Pfft. No one would think for a minute that Pugface is my girlfriend,” he snorted.

“What did you just call me?” If he was going to make an arse of himself, she may as well make it good and act offended.

“I– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–” he stuttered helplessly. Pansy rose from her chair and stared down at him.

“There’s nothing I’d enjoy more than to stay and watch you squirm for a while longer, but it’s my lunch and I’m starved.” She turned to Kingsley. “I’ll do this, but he,” she pointed at Potter, “stays civil and keeps his hands to himself. And the Ministry pays for my meals,” she added as an afterthought.

Kingsley nodded.

“Well then. Parkinson, Potter, enjoy your lunch.”


“Where in bloody hell are you taking me?” Potter trotted after Pansy as she wove through the London pedestrian traffic.

“Didn’t you hear?” she called back. “The Ministry is paying for my meals. We’re going someplace nice. Someplace expensive.”

“Taking advantage already?”

“Nonsense. This is exactly what Kingsley expected and he agreed to it. He’s not stupid, you know.”

“Of course he’s not stupid. I just- it seems wrong somehow.”

“Look, Potter. I’m going to take what I can get from the Ministry. Ever since the war I have been trying to get into the Aurors, and every time I get rejected without any real explanation. Do you know why that is?”

Potter screwed up his face in thought.

“Because you were a sympathizer who tortured half of Hogwarts?”

“Have you heard the expression water under the bridge?”

“Of course I have, what’s it got to do with you?”

“How come everyone forgave Draco ages ago, and me -the one who wasn’t even actually a Death Eater- I’m still spurned? Why is there a dam in front of my bridge, Potter?”

He sighed.

“It’s because I put in a good word for him.”

Pansy stopped.

“You what?”

“During the war... he lied for me. I can’t give the details without his permission, but I knew that he was scared and coerced. Not to say he wasn’t an opportunistic bastard, but he was genuinely afraid for his family.”

“Well so the fuck was I!” she shrieked.

It was amazing how quiet an entire London block could become at 1 o’clock in the afternoon. Potter glanced around, embarrassed.

“Do you like sushi?”


“Perhaps we should continue this conversation inside,” he suggested, nodding to a restaurant behind her. Pansy turned and sniffed.

It looked expensive enough.


The waitress forced Pansy to actually work for her eel, salmon and prawns. The lusty glances drove her to grab Potter’s hand and order three rounds of Sapporo.

“Give me some warning if you have to visit the lav.”

“You are absolutely not coming into the toilet with me.”

“No, you idiot. But I do need to walk to the door with you or else that waitress will have her knickers around her ankles and you against the wall faster than you can say ‘cheque please.’”

“Do you really think so?” he asked, perking up.


“Well, it’s not as though there would be any strings...”

“Please. Did you see her tits? Hard as rocks with those muggle implants in them, I guarantee you.”

“I’m not sure I’d care. She could still be nice.”

“You really don’t have any standards, do you?”

“You’re quite the cat.”

“Pointing out other people’s faults is perfectly acceptable if they’re being vetted. You don’t even seem to have a process.”

“Did you do something to your nose?”


“I’m not judging you, or anything. My friend had her teeth fixed at school. Besides, I’ve got plenty of other things to judge you for. But it looks different than it did at Hogwarts. We called you...well...but you’re not anymore.”

“Yes,” she replied primly. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

“Oh.” He drained his glass. “Looks good.”

Pansy felt her cheeks heat and then quickly gave herself a mental slap. She was not going to be pleased when Potter gave her a compliment. After all, a compliment from someone with no taste was hardly a compliment at all. He motioned to the waitress from across the room.

“Good lord, you’re not ordering another round, are you?”

“No,” he replied. “Just settling up. Though...I really don’t feel like going back to work today. I’m a bit sloshed.”



“So this is the Chosen One’s flat.” Pansy ran a finger across the small table next to the door.

“Not quite as filthy as I expected.”

“Seamus lives here, too. Which, I’ll remind you, is the only reason you’re even here. He’ll shag anything, so I’m going to be in constant danger.”

“I can handle Finnigan,” she said, popping the tops off of two beers from the fridge and handing him one. “You buy shitty beer.”

“Er...sorry? I think.”

“It’s better than nothing, I suppose. Where’s your wireless?”

“The shelf by the couch. Why?”

“The Bats are playing today. If we’re going to be holed up in here all afternoon, we’re damn well going to listen to the game.”

“I don’t support the Bats. Who’re they playing?”

“The Harpies.”

“Oh. Bats it is, then.”

Pansy smirked.

“The Weaselette screw you over that badly, eh?”

“Go Bats!” He shook a little fist in the air.


She woke up many hours later to darkness, in desperate need of water. She was stretched out on the couch.

So was Potter. Shirtless.

Her eyes took in his pale chest. He was sinewy and chiseled, but not overly skinny. His dark lashes were surprisingly long, and actually cast shadows across his cheeks.

They were arranged head to foot, and he had a death grip around Pansy’s left leg. She tried to extricate herself without waking him, but he seemed to think that her bare foot was, in fact, a face, because he began to place feathery little kisses along her arch.

It felt...good. And his lips were soft and pillowy. And that was an enticing hardness pressed against the back of her thigh. And this was Potter.

And she had to get up. Right. Now.



“Potter, let go of my leg,” she whispered. “I’m serious, if you’re awake your balls are mine! Fuck, I mean, I’ll hex your...aughh!”

She tore her leg from his grip.

“Gausheydanna howdie nose. Nice. Smell good.” Pansy stared as he continued to mutter in his sleep. Once he’d settled, she crept to Finnigan’s room and checked that he was still asleep inside it. All was well.

She collected the beer bottles that littered the floor, cast a cleansing charm on her teeth, then poured herself a glass of water and made herself comfortable in the armchair.

Pansy studied Potter’s form by the light of the street lamp as she sat waiting for sunrise.


“You’re still here?”

“Of course I am.” Pansy handed him a vial of hangover potion. “We got pretty hammered yesterday. I don’t know when you lost your shirt, but you were already asleep when Finnigan came home. Also, you tried to snog my foot.”

“I tried to what?”

“Well, you did snog it, I should say. Thank Merlin I woke up when I did, you kinky bastard.” Potter looked appropriately horrified. “I can’t find my work robes, either.”

“Where’d you leave them?” he asked, rubbing his face.

“On that chair by the corridor.”

“Did you check Seamus’s room?” Pansy was puzzled.

“Why would he have my robes?”


“Please don’t tell me any more.”

“I say we take the morning off. Do you need to go back to your flat?”

“The very fact that you should have to ask makes me despair of your personal grooming.”


A hot shower in her own home with her own shampoo and soap was heaven. After she was dressed and presentable she came out to find Potter sitting on the couch looking at something on the coffee table.

He was smiling.

It was unsettling.

She crept up behind him and peered over his shoulder. It was the photo album of the summer after she’d turned 21. She, Draco and the Greengrass sisters in Cannes. This particular photograph was taken during the evening: Draco surprising her with a birthday cake as Queenie sat alongside. That was a good day.

He flipped to the next page, featuring shots of her in a bikini. He studied one in particular for about 20 seconds.

“I’ve always found my navel fascinating, as well.”

“Shit!” He startled so badly that he dropped the album. “I wasn’t…I was just…Merlin, you’ll ace stealth and tracking, that’s for certain.”

“Hadn’t we better get to work?”

“Right. Work. Just…”


“Don’t let Creevey anywhere near me.”

“Darling, Creevey is the last of your problems. This afternoon is the inter-departmental staff meeting.”


They didn’t even make it to the staff meeting. As Harry stepped out of the lav he was accosted.

“Gosh, that’s a gorgeous set of robes, Harry. Did you have them specially made?”

“Uh, no.”

“The fabric is so soft. Have you been working out?”


“Step away from the man, Susan.”

“Leave us alone, Parkinson, we were just chatting,” Susan snapped, never taking her eyes off Potter. “So, Harry. Do you fancy dinner later? I make a mean risotto.”

“Susan Bones, step away or I have the authority to make you.”

But Susan had him cornered.

“You know, it’s been a while since I’ve really fancied anyone the way I fancy you.”

“Don’t lie to him, Susan, you’ve fucked half the Ministry.”

She opened her robes to reveal a blue bra and panties.

“Come on, Harry,” she breathed. “Let’s go somewhere private. I wanna ride you like a horsey.”

Pansy’s stunning spell hit just before Susan’s hand reached his crotch. Harry grabbed Pansy’s arm and clutched for dear life. She could practically feel his heart hammering.

“Can we go home now?” he begged.

“My place or yours?”

He looked at her strangely for a moment before answering.

“I’d rather not deal with Seamus. Uh…yours?”

“Fine, but we’re flooing for the most expensive take-out there is.”

“Okay.” They both looked at Susan lying on the floor.

“I wanna ride you like a horsey?” Pansy repeated.

“I knew there was a reason I never hung out with her at Hogwarts.”


Harry made himself comfortable on Pansy’s couch while she crouched in front of the fireplace.

“I insist on Indian,” she stated firmly. “The priciest is a muggle place. Here’s the menu. What’ll you have?”

“Let’s see. The...chicken apricot curry, please.” Pansy looked up, surprised.

“That’s what I’m having.”


“I’m picking out the beer, though. You’re taste in this is atrocious.”

“A beer’s a beer, I thought.”

“Watered down piss lager.”

“Seamus bought it.”

“Nice try. I’ll show you lager.”

“Get plenty of naan.”

“Of course, plenty of naan. Do I look like a rustic? Merlin.”


She flooed Tom’s Wizarding Delivery service and placed their order. Fifteen minutes later they had their meal, though Pansy had to give the what-for to the delivery man for the naan arriving cold. They sat on the floor and ate off of the coffee table.

“Having to charm food warm affects the flavor. They know this and yet they still refuse to use muggle insulating jackets. I will complain fervently until they cave.”

“They’ll never cave,” he predicted, gathering curry and rice onto his naan.

“Oh, they’ll cave.”

“You’re such a bitch,” he observed, though for some reason he was smiling.

“And you’re a deformed protist.”

“How am I deformed?” he asked, incredulously. “A what now?”

“You wear glasses,” she replied, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. Which it was.

“Why does everyone always go for the glasses?”

She shrugged.

“Aren’t there plenty of other things about me that could be considered deformities?” he asked, swigging his beer.

Pansy snorted.

“What?” he prodded.

“Are you blind or something? You must know you’re fit. However, that can’t erase the fact that you’re a righteous Gryffindor prick.”

“You think I’m fit?” Pansy sighed.

“Harry, of course you’re fit. You had people all over you before you got dosed with a potion. I can’t stand you and I’m telling you that you are. You can’t really be that thick,” she said pityingly.

He looked a bit sad, suddenly.

“No one ever said that was for being fit. People would be that way anyway.”

“You’re more cynical than I ever would have predicted,” she observed.

“I have good reason to be.”


“You called me Harry,” he said, staring at her.

“I did?” she asked, surprised.

“Yeah. I mean, that’s fine. I don’t mind.”


“Another beer?”



“Did you…did you really hate me at school?”

“Did you really think I had a pug nose?”

“I’m serious, I want to know! And yes, a little. Er, sorry,” he added sheepishly.

“With a fiery passion.”

“That much?”

“I tried to turn you over to the Dark Lord. You do the maths.”

“Yes, but you were scared. You told me that.”



“Harry. At an important moment, I did the wrong thing. I was convinced that he was going to win, and I couldn’t care less about Muggles getting killed in some new world order,” she explained, waving her arms. “When it came down to the wire, I chose the wrong side. The only reason I even stayed in the castle was to find Draco. Who doesn’t hate you anymore, by the way, and now I understand why. A little. Vaguely. I could rip him to pieces for not telling me everything.”

“Look. I’m not trying to excuse your actions,” he said softly. There was a careful expression on his face. “I just want you to know…well. I’ve already forgiven you.” Somehow he’d gotten so close, his eyes intense and earnest. “For what it’s worth.”

Pansy had no idea what to say to this. Her head was swimming with the alcohol and unexpected revelations and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

“I need to...powder my nose or something.”

She raced to her room and closed the door behind her. She tried to swallow back her tears, but a few spilled over onto her cheeks anyway.

There was a soft knock at the door.


“I never asked for your forgiveness,” she answered. The door opened and he followed her inside.

“I know you didn’t.”

“Good. Fine.” She crossed her arms and stood next to the wall.

“I like you, Pansy.”

“Perfectly understandable. I’m very charming.”

“Shut up. I mean it. I fancy you.”

“You’re completely off your nut, do you know that? We’ve been chummy for what, a day?”


“Plus, the there’s the fact that I can’t stand you.”

“I think we get along okay,” he replied, approaching her.

“In fact,” she continued, “I believe I mentioned that I hate you?”

He backed her up against the wall and touched his forehead to hers. His hands were wandering dangerously close to her arse. And there they were, pulling her flush against the hardness in his trousers.

“You may have mentioned that, yes,” he said huskily, kissing her neck.

“And that…that I hate you?” She couldn’t help but shiver as his breath tickled her ear.

“You hate me, yes.” He sealed his lips over hers, his fingers unbuttoning her shirt before moving down to undo her zip. He pushed her denims and knickers down to her knees as he fell to his own.

“And I…”

“Can I just banish these and be done with it?” Pansy nodded in a lust addled haze. He did so and began running his bloody gorgeous callused hands up her thighs, parting her legs. “You were saying?” he prompted.


He nibbled his way up her thighs, and she tried to catch her breath, catch everything that threatened to escape, but all she managed to do was bang the back of her head against the wall. It just felt so fucking good.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he breathed. “So smooth.” She felt his lips and tongue running back and forth between her legs. He tongued her clit with little sucking kisses over and over again until she was almost at the edge, then pulled away to lick and nibble the lips of her pussy.

“Fu...fuck...fuckmewithyourtongue!” She shuddered as he hardened it to a point , spreading her knees apart as far as she could and still stand. She couldn’t even really tell if she was holding herself up anymore. Then suddenly she definitely wasn’t, because he’d slung one of her legs over his shoulder and was eating her out so deeply that her legs were shaking. So

“Oh fuck me I hate you so much,” she panted.

He pulled back and looked up at her, his mouth and chin wet with saliva and her, and she’d never seen anything so fucking incredible in her life.


“I mean it, get up here and fuck me,” she commanded.

The thunk of his belt and trousers hitting the floor came swiftly. He pushed her against the wall and pressed into her hard and warm and she could feel the back of her shirt rubbing against her back. Burning. She didn’t care as long as he didn’t stop.

He pulled out.

“Bend over the bed.”

“But–” He couldn’t be asking...

“Bend. Over.”

“If you think that you’re putting that–” Her heart thudded in her chest, and her pussy felt like it hadn’t even been touched yet.

“What,” he murmured. “Fuck your arse?” He leaned down closer to her ear. “I bet I could make you beg me for it.” His voice was raspy and low, and he was right there and not fucking her and it was driving her absolutely mad. “I could lick you. You like being fucked with your tongue so much, maybe you’d like it somewhere else.”

“Sweet Merlin fuck,” she gasped as he finally slid back inside. He held her hips so hard she could feel where the bruises would bloom across her skin. He fucked her roughly, his fingers reaching around to slide against her clit, driving her closer all over again.

"I’m gonna come," he gasped. She felt him erupt inside her, the pressure sweet and intense.

He collapsed on top of her, and she couldn’t help herself.

“Please…down…lick me…I’m almost there.” He flipped her back over swiftly, and ducked down to suck her clit between his lips. Gentle, tiny licks with the tip of his tongue until she fell apart all over again.

“You have a glorious mouth.”

“I try,” he said, panting. He looked exhausted. She didn’t feel like letting him rest yet.

“Kiss me.”


“So the potion wore off, then?” asked Draco. Pansy gave him a small smile. “And now you get to be an Auror.”

“That’s right!”

“Big news.”

“Speaking of big. How’s Dennis?” she asked, raising her coffee cup to her lips. Draco blushed profusely. “Thought so,” she smirked.

“I was talking to The Prig at the staff meeting yesterday.”

“Weasley the Elder?”

“Yes, and I told him about your assignment. He let slip why you keep getting rejected.”

“Oh really.”

“He said that you made a ‘significant error in form syntax that cannot in good conscience be overlooked.’"

“What the bloody fuck?”

“You sign your name on the wrong line. Every time.”

“That little bastard!” she cried, astonished.

“Don’t worry, Pansy. You’ll get your revenge, I’m sure.”

“Yes,” she replied, narrowing her eyes. “Just wait until he has children.”

“Were you aware that Potter has been staring at you all day?”

“Of course he has,” she smiled to herself. “I’m bloody gorgeous.”


“Are you kidding? She thought it was fantastic! She tossed me onto the bed and ravished me after I told her what happened,” Ron enthused.

“Don’t...don’t tell me any more, okay? Like a sister, remember?”

“Whatever you say, mate,” Ron snorted. “I’m sorry the potion was a bust, though.”

“A bust, yeah. Right,” Harry said distractedly. Pansy was across the room stirring a cup of coffee and she was smiling. He grinned.

“So was Pansy impossible or what?”


“Parkinson. Awful?”

“Oh yeah. Complete bitch. Hates the pants off me, mmm.”