An; My first attempt at a Pansy/Hermione. Quite odd considering its one of my favourite pairings. Hope you enjoy. This is M rated so there is sex in this story, a lot of it actually, so be warned.
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Post-war was easily the best times of Hermione's life. All of them could say the same, and Harry deservedly was the most appreciative. He was leagues away from the miserable and borderline depressed Boy-Who-Lived; he had more joy these days than Ron...if Ron was having a bad day that is.
Away from Hogwarts and out of the darkness, everyday was a discovery of peace. Every happy moment was a well-cherished reward. They were living the dreams they had fought so hard for, with the people they fought and nearly died for. It couldn't make them any more grateful.
Hermione especially had it good. A steady position in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, as part of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. Not exactly glamorous but Hermione would take it over the Auror department any day. It was also a means to an end, for many accidental magic incidents are caused by Muggle-borns unknowingly tapping into their magic before they are made aware of it. Hermione regularly documents these incidents, her experiences going towards Hermione's future goal of stamping out pure-blood elitism once and for all.
Besides her job she had two loving parents living contently back in their homeland, memories and their lives restored. The Grangers, instead of being ripped apart or dysfunctional as Hermione feared, couldn't be closer as a family. Her parents keep reminding her of their pride and gratitude in their daughter; putting their lives before her own wasn't an ideal demonstration of Hermione's love, but it certainly proved how strong that love was. That incredible feat of love was the best gift her parents could receive.
Hermione had also finally succumbed to Ron's invitation into his apartment in Fulham. Well his and Harry's apartment, but Hermione sharing his bed. Hermione hadn't really been too against it, delaying her decision out of playfulness. She heeded Ginny's advice to make Ron wait a bit, enough so that he'd be more passionate and affectionate once she did agree. It worked a treat.
So she had a home, a good job with promising prospects for the future, a family, great friends and a devoted boyfriend. With her twenty-first birthday around the corner, she really would call this the golden age.
Soon the day was upon her and at such a significant age it had to be celebrated to the maximum. Presents galore, a wonderful three course meal consisting of her favourite food (courtesy of Molly) and a night-out in London to go anywhere and do anything she wanted, regardless of expense.
Hermione thought fondly of the day so far, her belly full and a permanent smile on her face.
Ron approached her lying form on the chaise lounge, stooping to kiss her cheek. "Good day?"
Hermione squeezed his hand. "The best."
"Enjoy the meal?"
Hermione giggled "I'm still not fully over how wonderful it was, my belly is eternally grateful."
"Good."
Hermione acknowledged his brief comments and questions as nervousness. Rubbing his hand now with hers, she asked "everything alright?"
Ron defiantly replied "yeah, obviously. Why wouldn't I be?"
Hermione never bought into his nonchalance, and with a look she reminded him of this. "Ok fine. There's one more thing I need to give you."
Hermione's surprise was almost comical. "Another one. Oh Ron you shouldn't have, I have two gifts from you already, that's sweet enough."
"A multi-coloured inkpot and a Bathilda Bagshot biography; hardly even counts."
Hermione took on a stern tone "what isn't sweet about that? You know I love to read and write, and you got me things accordingly."
"The bloody gnomes know you like to read and write Mione. Those were appetizers for what I have for you now."
Hermione felt like lecturing him on how he doesn't give himself enough credit, but her curiosity won out. "What is it?"
He had an unusual sad look on his face. "Remember before Fred's funeral, where I was miserable the whole time, you and Harry tried multiple times to get me to cheer up? Remember the one time that it worked?"
Equally sad, Hermione replied "of course I do."
"Well, Harry recently told me he captured that moment on camera, and I asked if I could see it. I knew instantly when I saw it I wanted you to as well." Ron then drew a picture frame out from somewhere behind him.
Hermione sat up and her eyes never left his as she took the frame into her hands. Then she broke the gaze to look down at the photo. The surprised, cheek-splitting smile Hermione had, made Ron himself grin.
Hermione remembered the moment as she observed it here. She sung the Chudley Cannon song, badly and incorrectly, which only made the sight more heartwarming for Ron. She was perched on his lap with an arm around his neck, waving the other about as she sang. Ron loved every second, and kept pulling her close to nuzzle her neck or squeeze her shoulders in his arms momentarily.
Back in the present, Hermione said through happy tears "it's perfect Ron. I love it. And I love you."
"Love you too Mione."
They sweetly kissed, and Hermione looked to deepen it but Ron surprisingly stopped her to say "aren't you seeing your parents soon?"
"Seven o'clock yeah."
"Shouldn't you be getting ready for that?"
Hermione rolled her eyes "I should, but that doesn't mean I want to quite yet."
"Oh, the Grangers aren't going to like this. The daughter they adore so much making them wait til she's done snogging." Rons playfulness was well and truly back.
"Is that your way of saying I should get going?"
"Sort of. But I'm not opposed to the snogging thing."
Hermione nudged him "too late, you've convinced me. Up you get."
Ron did so and Hermione cupped the photo to her chest. "I'm putting this straight on the bedside table."
"Don't go breaking it when you turn over at nights, your hands are dangerous when you're asleep."
Hermione didn't bother replying, rushing upstairs to place the photo in its rightful place, before getting ready to see her parents on her birthday. With her later plans she could only stay an hour, but her parents dismissed any fuss and were glad they were able to see her on her birthday.
The visit was short and sweet. Enough time for receiving more presents, a detailed report of the days events so far and the evening to come, finished up with a cheeky glass of wine. Towards the end Hermione promised her next non-working day to be a whole day with her parents; a post-birthday celebration just for them three.
When Hermione got back to the Burrow she immediately headed upstairs and had her room off-limits to anyone not a girl, for a solid hour of night-out preparation.
Ginny decided they'd all dress-up to look as if they were back in school. Which wasn't too hard to do with Hermione, having not really changed much in three years. A black hairband, white shirt and plimsolls was all she needed without over-doing it.
Ginny had slightly more trouble, having cut her hair down to her chin since graduating. She technically cheated with the magicked-on pigtails, but it worked with the red skirt and knee length socks.
Harry and Ron just wore what they wanted, completely uninterested in the dress code. And Luna simply wore her Ravenclaw uniform, and nothing else needed to be done. Neville smarted up but didn't particularly have a schoolboy look despite his efforts.
Their night officially began at nine o'clock, and they started it off with a bit of a pubcrawl. From The Three Broomsticks they went to a muggle bar for a change of scenery, but when they got bored of the less-than-lively atmosphere they decided the clubs were the places to be tonight. So by ten o'clock they finally settled at the nation's best wizarding club in London. The Siren's Call.
Then the party really started.
You couldn't remove Hermione or Ginny from the dance floor, without a glass of gin in your hand. Ron didn't even dance when drunk, and it was a good thing because Ron couldn't dance to save his life. But drunk he did get, and rather quickly. Harry followed him rapidly, but he was a drunk dancer, and his coordination was uncannily impressive for a guy who had none whatsoever sober. Neville was a real comedian once he got a few vodkas down his gullet. And you really couldn't tell with Luna, except for her eyes that squinted ever so slightly. And occasionally a curse word.
There was no judgement going on here that's for sure, and absolutely nothing was held back.
When Ginny and Hermione's feet got too sore to continue, they all sat around a table and a game of 'I've never' began.
"I've never..." Neville tapped his chin in thought, and a cheeky smile preceded his next thought "...had a sexual fantasy involving or about a Hogwart's Professor."
Ginny and Hermione were the only ones to drink. Ron waved a wobbly finger at Ginny "Lockhart doesn't c-count."
"It wasn't Lockhart. I didn't even n-know what sex was the-then" Ginny countered.
"Same here." Hermione raised her glass at Ginny.
"Who was it then?" Neville asked.
Ginny flushed red, but remembering the stipulation for someone who didn't explain their answer, she hesitantly indulged. "It was o-only once. And it wasn't v-very nice. I dreamt that I...g-gave head to...S-Snape."
Every mouth simultaneously blurted out a disgusted noise. "I threw up the moment I woke" Ginny continued, shuddering.
"I should bloody 'ope so" Ron commented with disdain.
"And you 'Ermione?" Harry slurred.
It was Hermione's turn to flush red. "I 'ad two. Diff'rent professors that is. Both u'related to each other. The firs' like Ginny, was a dream. I kissed 'Agrid, an' 'e groped me a little. Tha' was it. The second was gen...gen-you... genuine fant'sy. An' it was with Professor Vector."
"She was a woman!" Ron cried out, completely oblivious to the tautology he used.
"I couldn' 'elp it. 'Er 'air was too nice. It did'n las' long though."
"You never said you were into girls Hermione?" Luna quizzed perfectly coherently.
"Do I look like a girl?" Ron's rhetorical question was asking for someone to answer in jest. Neville obliged "well, you certainly know how to throw a strop."
"Hey" exclaimed Ron's girlfriend, sister and himself simultaneously.
"An' for the record, no sod asked" Hermione continued in answering Luna's query. "Anyway I've only really been attrac'ed to two guys, so 'ow were you's suppos' to know I fin' girls attrac'ive."
"Well Ron, l-looks like you 'ave compition on two paying fields" Harry teased.
"Is like she said, she's attrac'ed to me so it don' change nuttin'"
Hermione enveloped him in a one-armed hug "of cors I am." Then she kissed him sloppily.
When she pulled away the sudden heaviness of her bladder made her groan uncomfortably. "Excuse me, loo break."
"Do you know the way?" Neville asked teasingly.
"Is a noo in a ligh'club, 'ow 'ard could it be to find?" she responded. A sober Hermione would tell her that drunk Hermione would find a way to get lost, or end up somewhere she shouldn't be.
But her luck was in today. She just had to go to the flashing pink torches spelling out 'Witches', very adjacent to another set of blue torches spelling 'Wizards'. The doors beneath each gave confirmation to anyone too slow or drunk to understand the lights (although there were surely cases of extra slowness and intoxication that still fail to make the correct choice).
Once she stepped onto the other side of the door, the coolness of the room seemed to restore some bodily control. Hermione recognised sounds of sexual activity in one of the cubicles, so chose the farthest one from that. 'Honestly, couldn't they save it for the bedroom, if only for hygiene's sake'.
Hermione tried not to listen but there were clearly soundproof wards on the toilet facilities, because the room was silent besides the couples activities. There were particular sounds of sucking, groaning and the evident sound of a continuous up and down motion. Hermione could only cringe and endure until she finished her perfectly appropriate functions.
She flushed (the chain, not the facial colouring) and escaped the cubicle. After briefly debating if she should sacrifice her hygiene, she decided against it and began washing her hands.
The guy in the cubicle groaned as if in pain, but the truth was quite the opposite, then released a large breath that evolved into smaller deep breaths. Hermione paused, waiting to hear any signs of the activities continuing, or worse intensifying.
The guy mumbled a simple "thanks for that", before the shuffling of his clothes. The door unlocked and the guy stepped out. Hermione was pretending to be correcting her eye shadow. On his way out the guy lustfully gave Hermione's rear an ogling.
Hermione felt sickened by him. Did he really think she'd be interested after hearing what he was involved in only seconds beforehand, not to mention her much more satisfactory boyfriend wsiting just outside.
Hermione quickly finished up, at the same time that the second person exited the cubicle. There was a pause in the air, like she had halted this person in their tracks by simply being here. Yet before Hermione could look through the mirror to observe this person, the cubicle door slammed shut.
It startled and confused Hermione. The person had returned to the cubicle so suddenly. She found herself asking "is ev'rything 'kay in there". Well, she was still quite drunk evidently.
Not receiving a response, she persisted "Hello".
Nothing. So Hermione commented on what she thought this was about. "Look, you don' 'ave to be 'shamed. Is jus' sex, I'm no' judging. I'm drunk, you've 'ad sex. Who's the better person?"
Hermione didn't even know if she was being listened to, but for some reason she kept babbling on. "Is my birthday you know. I'm twen'y one. Ron says I 'ave to ge' drunk. I tol' him I wouldn'. Look at me now. Oh yeah, you can't."
"Please go away"
That voice was familiar to Hermione. "D-do I know you?"
"No. You're drunk. Just...go back to your friends and forget about me."
Hermione only continued. "You're a girl. 'ow many girls do I know 'gain? Luna and Ginny are out there. You're no' Fleur, she's french. An' married. Angelina? No, she's dating George." Hermione used her fingers "les see. Cho, Patil twins, Lavender, Hannah, Ali-"
"Oh Granger, just shut up!"
Hermione looked appalled. "'ow dare you, I'm jus' being frenly...an' you called me Granger"
Hermione heard a mumbled curse of frustration. Towards her or the yet-unknown girl, Hermione wasn't sure.
"Fine. Suit you'self. I'll no' bother nex- PARKINSON!" It was more an exclamation of sudden realisation than an angry outburst. But the other girl became suddenly vocal in apology. "I'm sorry I called you Granger. It's just I didn't want to call you the M-word and it came out as habit more than anything."
Even drunk Hermione was speechless at this feeble response unbecoming of this girl.
"Look...Hermione. It's your birthday. Leave me and go enjoy it. I'm fine."
Hermione realised she should probably go, she had been an awfully long time for a simple bladder release. But something still concerned her. "Why did you 'ide?"
"I...I'm not hiding."
"You are. I know is you. You can come out now."
Pansy didn't respond this time, and she certainly wasn't making any attempt to leave the cubicle.
"It was jus' sex P...Par...Pan...it was jus' sex."
"It wasn't sex, Hermione. I sucked the guy off, it wasn't 'sex'" Pansy defensively replied.
"An' he was an arsehole. Wha' do you see in 'im?" Hermione asked, screwing her face up.
"I don't see anything in him. He was trollish ugly."
Hermione had to agree there. "Bu' why do that if you're not attrac'ed to 'im?"
"You've never been to this club before Hermione have you?"
Hermione shook her head, realising too late that Pansy couldn't see her. Pansy didn't need an answer though. "This is a bad choice for your birthday night-out Hermione."
"Is the mos' pop...poplular...poplar...nigh'club in En'land." Hermione stumbled.
"Yeah because it's in Sleazeball London where the majority of perverted wizards live."
"Why come 'ere if you don' like it?" Hermione was beginning to get frustrated with Pansy.
"I work here."
"Thas even worse. You can choos' where you work you know?"
Pansy's response was heavy in anger. "Not for an enemy of Harry Potter."
The way she said 'enemy' made it seem like a label. Like she was referring to someone calling her that, rather than referring to herself generally.
As if Pansy could sense Hermione's difficulty in understanding, the Slytherin added "the Ministry is making us work in bullshit jobs nobody wants to do. Because apparently I 'fought for the wrong cause'".
Hermione understood that 'us' meant the people who sympathised with Voldemort, as his followers were all quickly being rounded up and imprisoned. Whilst Hermione agreed repercussions should come to those who actively supported the Dark Lord, punishing those who merely only shared some of his beliefs was something completely different. If they didn't kill, torture, raid, terrorise or incriminate in his name or for blood supremacy, then they were not to be victimised like Pansy just claimed. Her future plans were against the ideals some pure-bloods shared, not some anti-pureblood movement.
However her past self was reminding her who she was talking to. Should she listen to the person who opted to hand over Harry to Voldemort three years prior. And just an untrustworthy person in general.
There was something about this Pansy that was different to the old one. Much of that was to be discovered along the way, but one thing was clear. This wasn't the Pansy of three years ago.
The lack of alcohol in the past fifteen minutes, plus the cool air in the room, had started bringing Hermione back to her normal self.
Five minutes passed since either of them had spoke but Hermione soon broke it. "So, wha' work have the Min'stry enforced on you?"
"You just caught me doing it." Pansy answered, trying to spell it out to her.
Hermione was shocked back into silence. 'She didn't mean...no, this is a nightclub, completely different place to... those places. She probably meant...cleaning, yes cleaning. The guy must've disturbed her and Pansy obliged him with fellatio for some reason. But why did he come in the women's loo anyway? Surely Pansy wouldn't have obliged some perverted peeping tom, would she? Maybe she thought I was going to grass her to the owner or boss. And the Ministry got her cleaning toilets, nobody voluntarily wants to do that. But a jobs a job, and Pansy was definitely the type to make a drama out of very little. Complete sense.'
"Really Granger?" Pansy resorted back to her old habits, understanding that the usually quick girl was struggling with this seemingly simple conundrum that was Pansy's job. "Am I gonna have to spit it out? This nightclub earns most of its customers through my...service. People pay me and I'm at their beck and call for as long as the price rates allow. The charming guy from five minutes paid me seven sickles earning him five minutes. The only thing I saw in him was those sickles. Heck, it's called the Sirens Call for a reason."
Hermione could not try to deny the blatantly obvious job description Pansy was explaining to her. "You're a..." but Hermione couldn't finish.
The unlocking of the door made Hermione jump, and then it swung open and what she saw made her freeze.
She was staring at the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. In the most skimpiest and eye-catching outfit she'd ever seen on a person. Curves a mile long, but a bit of flesh and firmness to her body. Pale skin cloaked by jet black hair that blended into the shadows. Midnight blue around the eyes, making the green of her irises impossible not to be noticed. And Hermione only got round to registering that this was Pansy Parkinson when the Slytherin girl spoke.
"I'm a prostitute Granger. Prostitute."
An; Good start I hope.
Would you guys prefer me to do full chapter sex scenes focused on being as graphic as possible? Or should I do segments that slow the chapter down a bit but will focus more on the storyline than the sex? Both have their benefits of course, the former is easier to write and are skippable without missing out too much of the story. But the latter will give you more to read, and a bit of context besides the sex. It's entirely up to you guys, let me know where you stand.
Tbc...