A/N: Not the most original concept, I am aware, but I fancied making my own interpretation of it.
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She was late. She thought herself quite the temptress, making him wait like this. As if it added to the suspense and anticipation of being with her, or something like that. She hadn't caught on yet that he didn't find her in the slightest bit attractive, and neither did the rest of the castle. He wondered if she would be wearing her black lace stockings tonight. Draco's ears picked up a tapping sound against the dead quiet of the night; it was coming closer.
Finally, he thought.
As the footsteps passed his hiding place in the alcove, he reached out and grabbed her arm, dragging her after him, and pushing her unceremoniously up against the wall. His hands automatically went to that soft spot on her neck, the one that made her powerless to resist him. Irritatingly, he was thwarted in his plan by a stiff collar and a tie.
No matter, he thought, I don't have time for pleasuring her, tonight. Has Pansy always worn ties?
Instead, he cupped her strong jaw, and attacked her with his lips and tongue, making her moan in pleasure.
--
As Harry Potter wandered down the dungeon corridors, he mulled bitterly over this last Legilimency 'lesson' he had had with Snape. His brain was still fuzzy and reeling from the attacks that Snape had used on him. Oh, how he hated that man. Always patronising him, telling him to 'clear his mind', and smirking when Harry failed yet again. How could he clear his mind when he knew that Snape was about to bloody attack him? What a waste of time. And now he would have to stay up late trying to finish that 3-foot long essay for Professor Flitwick on the Disillusionment Charm.
All of a sudden, a hand reached out from nowhere, dragging him into a nearby alcove. Harry barely registered the hands fumbling at his throat, being slightly stunned from the impact of hitting the cold, stone wall. However the warm, moist lips that attacked his own very much woke him up. Startled, he tried to jerk away, but was thwarted by an arm that snaked itself around his waist, and fingers that cupped his jawline softly, and firmly.
Her tongue stroked his lips provocatively, and he parted them slowly, teasingly, feeling her impatience. When she entered his mouth, he was there to meet her, and match her. Her fiery, deft movements made him feel weak at the knees, and grateful that he was so firmly pressed up against the stone. As her tongue meandered along the roof of his mouth, Harry could not hold back a low moan that left him requiring air.
--
That moan, Draco thought, his brain whirling, that was low, even for Pansy.
Pulling away, as if for breath, Draco risked a look at Pansy's face, just to check. Moonlight, filtering in from further up the corridor, left most of their environment dark around them, but lit up the jade green eyes in front of him. His breath caught in his throat.
Potter?
Draco felt numb, and sick.
Pansy does not wear ties. I kissed Potter.
For lack of a better, more logical response, Draco turned tail and fled.
--
Almost obligingly, Harry's mysterious assailant pulled away for a second to catch her breath. Curious of the identity of this confident, downright sexy, persona that was detaining him, Harry squinted into the moonlight to try and make out her face. Unfortunately she was swathed in shadow, as she stood with her back to the source of the light. She did seem quite tall, though.
The pause for breath extended into seconds that felt like minutes. Confused, and craving more, Harry craned forward slightly to see if he could read her face better.
His assailant turned swiftly, silently, and strode briskly out of the alcove, eating up the corridor with her long stride. Stunned for a moment, Harry did not follow, and instead slid down the wall to squat on the floor, with his head in his hands. He was sure for a second there that he had caught a glimpse of white-blond hair.
--
Pansy tapped down the corridor in her heels, on her way to rendez-vous with Draco…