A/N Written as a Secret Santa gift for lyre_flowers for the Smutty Claus Gift Exchange 2012 at LiveJournal.
Ron didn't like to admit it, but Pansy Parkinson was his dream girl…literally. Every night, like clockwork, he would close his eyes and she would appear. It was never the same dream twice. It was always a new location, she was always wearing some new scintillating get-up, she'd give him the eye-fucking of his life, and then they'd actually shag. Every morning he would wake up with in a cold sweat, with, more often than not, a giant wet spot in his bed where he had had and unfortunate accident. He thanked Merlin every day that the elves were discreet. He was almost eighteen, practically a man, there was no reason he should having prepubescent accidents. It's not like he was inexperienced; Lavender had been a regularly visitor to his bed last year, much to Hermione's dismay.
As dawn approached, Ron resigned himself to not getting any more sleep, opting instead to get ready for the day. Glancing at the calendar on his way to the bathroom he realized it was Thursday. He loved and loathed Thursdays in equal measure and for one dark-haired, fair-skinned, blue-eyed reason.
Pansy Parkinson.
Every Thursday, the Gryffindors spent all day with the Slytherins in lesson after lesson. First was Double Potions, then Double Care of Magical Creatures. They would break for lunch then would reconvene for Double History of Magic and end with Double Astronomy. Most of the Gryffindors would say that Thursdays were their own personal hell but Ron wasn't most Gryffindors. The part of him that loved the day could not get enough of Pansy Parkinson. Her snarky wit, cultured grace and aristocratic elegance just drew him in like a moth to a flame and he was powerless to fight it.
He remembered the first time he really noticed Pansy Parkinson as something more than just a Slytherin Pureblood supremacist. It was the week before the Samhain Feast and Hogwarts was enjoying another Hogsmeade weekend. Ron was walking through the village alone because Harry and Hermione had elected to have an official date, having declared that they were madly in love the week before. He was just passing Madam Flitter's shop when he spied Pansy sitting on a pouf flipping through a pattern book.
Ordinarily he would not have paid much attention to the brunette girl but in this instance clad in nothing but a dark blue, silk dressing gown, he was transfixed. The way the fabric rested on her body was nothing short of exquisite. Instantly he felt his body react pleasantly to the sight before him. He chalked it up to hormones until Pansy removed the robe revealing a very skimpy Honey Bee costume, clearly the costume she intended to wear to the fancy dress feast. It was just shy of being obscene but Ron could not find it in himself to care. All Ron cared about was that Pansy Parkinson was a goddess. He spent the rest of his Hogsmeade outing discreetly trailing the Slytherin girl before returning to the castle. He had his first naughty dream about her that night.
The current snowy December morning was no exception. After almost two months of having these salacious dreams, Ron was growing quite accustomed to his reactions and had even settled into a morning-after routine. Waking up early, generally first, for a quick (usually cold) shower, he would sometimes have a quick wank to the images of Dream-Pansy from the night before. He would dress and wait in the Common Room until his dorm mates were awake, then they would all walk down to breakfast together. With Harry and Hermione having a blissful romance, he was generally left on his own with only Neville and sometimes Seamus for company.
Walking into the bathroom this morning, Ron tried to remember the dream from the night before. At first, the recollection was a little difficult but as the hot water pounded onto his back, and the room got steamy, his subconscious took him back into his dreams. Last night his dream had begun with Pansy lying spread eagle across a bed draped in green silk bedding. Her arms were tethered in place with satin scarves and she wore another scarf as a blindfold. She wore a jet black corset, cinched so tightly that her bosom was pushed almost into her throat as he saw her in a reclining position. Her legs were covered in black sheer stockings that ended at her mid-thighs, crowned in a small line of lace. The stockings connected to the tiniest pair of knickers he had ever seen by two thin suspenders. All in all, Ron thought she looked like the best sort of sin. At first glance, it appeared that she was being held against her will but as he got closer to the bed he heard her speak.
"You've kept me waiting an awfully long time. Do you not want me?" The pout was evidenced in her voice and the striking red lipstick did nothing to hide it; her full bottom lip pushing out ever so slightly.
"Of course I want you, Pans," he stated, matter-of-factly, before continuing in a whisper. "I'd have to be mad not to want you."
"Then why are you so far away? Don't you want to touch me? To run your fingers along my neck, caress my thighs, delve into the treasures within?" Her voice held the slight signs of a whine beneath the throaty, seductive surface. A sound Ron had never heard in real life so it was strange that his subconscious would produce one in his dreams.
Rather than respond with words, Ron moved towards the bed and reached for Pansy's restraints. As dreams are wont to do, the delicate fabric fell away as his calloused hands touched them and the scene changed. He found that he was the person now tethered to the same ornately gothic bed. The damsel now acting as his captor, straddling his waist, dressed in the same miniscule lace ensemble as the previous scene. Only this time, the elegant lace lingerie had changed colours. Instead of sultry black, her skimpy outfit changed to a lustrous emerald green. The bedding changed to a deep, rich burgundy.
In their current positions, Pansy didn't hesitate to remove the few garments of Ron's that separated them, leaving him completely nude and proceeded to grind her core against him – his erection springing to life as a result.
"Pansy, you need to stop doing that or this will end before it even begins," Ron groaned.
Moving her lips to the spot right below his ear, Pansy whispered, "Relax, Ron. I intend to taste every…single…freckle." Her last three words were punctuated with a kiss to the pulse point below his ear.
In short order, Pansy had moved from his neck down his prone body; her kisses leaving a shiver in its wake. When she reached his cock she wasted no time in taking him completely into her mouth; the groan from Ron and the sharp thrust of his hips giving the clear indication of his enjoyment. It didn't take long for Pansy's ministrations to have Ron squirming and moaning in a way that would have been completely embarrassing under any other circumstance. Soon enough, he was gripping the sheets and thrusting his hips, his grunt of, I'm coming, was barely perceptible before he shot his load into Pansy's mouth. With one last, languid lick, Pansy crawled back up Ron's body. The smirk on her lips and the twinkle in her eyes letting him know, through the haze of his intense orgasm, that she was very proud of her efforts. Placing a chaste kiss on his lips, she whispered, "You can wake up now, Ron."
And he did.
That's usually how the dreams ended - with one or both of them being sated and him waking up to a mess in his bed. On a few occasions, he woke up prematurely, at Harry's insistence, due to his loud moaning and writhing. On those days, he was unfulfilled and rather grumpy, getting into more altercations with the Slytherins and some more outspoken Ravenclaws.
Stepping out of the shower, Ron got dressed and made his way to the Common Room to wait for his dorm mates. Somewhere around eight o' clock the rest of Gryffindor Tower burst into life with students of all ages hustling to breakfast and lessons. On his approach to the Great Hall Ron was greeted to the sight of Pansy Parkinson pressed against a banister in conversation with a very pretty Ravenclaw brunette girl. He froze in place, but his action had not gone unnoticed. As the other students proceeded to the Great Hall, Pansy turned to him and spoke.
"Something the matter, Weasley?" She only had a hint of a sneer in her voice.
"Uh…oh…ummm," he stuttered, unable to formulate a response. He hadn't expected to see her so soon. Usually he had more time before lessons to pull himself together after his lascivious dreams the night before.
Seeing his blush beginning, Pansy turned to face him head on and continued.
"See something you like, Weasley?" At the sight of his burning red ears her smirk grew into one of triumph. "You know what Weasley?" She said, as she walked towards him, "That will never happen." Then she placed one delicate hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "But you can keep dreaming."
With a final wink, the brunette turned and sashayed away, leaving and utterly gobsmacked Ron fixed firmly in place. Swallowing with an audible gulp, Ron wondered how he was ever going to survive the rest of the day.
September 1st – Hogwarts Express (Four Months Earlier)
"Draco, you're the best at Potions. You have to help me! I helped you snag your little redhead; you are honour-bound to return the favour." Pansy was determined; arms folded across her chest as she stared down her best mate.
"But why does it have to be the Weasel-King? Couldn't you fancy anyone else? Draco Malfoy was fast approaching his spoiled-brat-tantrum level but could not deny the truth in her words. He was honour-bound to help her as she had helped him the year before, no matter how much the idea irked him.
With a huff, the blond continued, "Fine, but after this we don't ever mention it again. One Dream Inducing Potion coming up."
"Oh buck up, Draco, you can't be the only one with a penchant for red hair and freckles."
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