"Wait. You've got to understand. I don't usually do this sort of thing," he panted.
She laughed.
"Okay, darling. It's a one-off, I know that much. Although why you'd even think I wouldn't realize that is beyond me."
She proceeded to unbutton his shirt and run her fingers along his chest. She raked her nails across his skin, nibbled at the junction of his neck and shoulders and even tried to ravage his mouth. He responded in kind. His large hands had found perch on her still clad breasts, fingers tweaking nipples through the fabric.
His cock was hardening from their ministrations and his blood was beginning to boil with desire.
It was early afternoon on a Sunday, and they were in a Muggle hotel. She had him pinned to a wall with strength well-hidden by her slight frame. He had purposely missed lunch at the Burrow for this, this thing, with Pansy and her smeared lipstick and her half-undone blouse. Not that he would have wanted to go to the Burrow in the first place. Hermione would be there, for sure, and he wouldn't want to be present when she announced to the whole family what she'd told him four days ago.
She was leaving in a week. For two years. Hermione was leaving him.
Pansy's hand unbuckling his belt snapped his thoughts back to the present. He looked at her smirking face. She really was lovely. The pug-nosed girl from school had grown into a self-assured woman who made heads turn left and right. There were a lot of similarities between Pansy and Hermione, Ron thought. They were both nice to look at, Hermione with her deep brown eyes and sweet smile, and Pansy with her alabaster skin and blood red pout. They're also both strong and confident, he thought to himself, although it's unlikely Pansy's confident about how much she knows. Not like Hermione who knows practically everything, even everything about me.
"Fuck!" Ron grunted. Pansy had stuck her hands in Ron's pants and was stroking his cock firmly.
"I'm glad you're getting the general idea of things," Pansy said, smirking. She then proceeded to lower Ron's pants. And without much preamble, she knelt down and took him in her mouth.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Ron was at a loss for words.
He felt her smile around his cock. Was there anything else to think of when he had those full lips around him, and a marvelous tongue swirling around his shaft? Hermione could go to hell, for all he cared, he was getting the best fucking blow of his life. And she should take her career with her, that, that, uptight bookworm.
Why did she have to leave England? Stupid, sodding Ministry, taking my witch away from me. Why couldn't she stay here with him? Like Pansy who'd been right there at the Leaky when he needed someone to drown his sorrows with? Why did she have to choose a promotion and a foreign designation over a desperate offer of marriage from her best friend and the love of her life?
Ron clutched at Pansy's head. "Stupid whore. Pain in the arse with a hot, tight cunt," he mumbled, just as he felt the familiar tightening of his balls that signaled impending release.
And then he was shooting into her mouth, and she was swallowing it all down, his come and his pain and his anger and his heartbreak. It felt vaguely familiar to Ron. Except, the hair he was clutching was black and sleek instead of the usual curly brown.
Pansy looked up at him with a bemused expression. She raised an eyebrow before getting up and turning to head to the bed. A cold feeling swept over him. Had he screamed Hermione's name in ecstasy?
"Come on Weasley. It's my turn. Let's see you put that dirty mouth to good use."