Finally, the last guest had bid them farewell and the last candle had been extinguished,
"Your carriage awaits," Pansy smiled, holding out her arm to Hermione. She held on tight and in a twisting, bone crushing moment they were in what Hermione imagined must be Pansy's bedroom. She shivered involuntarily. The room was dominated by a huge four poster bed, covered in a thick purple quilt.
"What now?" asked Hermione huskily. In truth, she knew what was coming and she was terrified. Not because she thought she would hate it -not even because it was Pansy, not any more - but because she was scared that once she went down this rabbit hole, there would be no going back.
"You know what" Pansy looked almost wolfish in the candlelight, "someone from St Mungo's is coming tomorrow to check we've fucked, so we'd better get on with it,"
"How does that even..."
"Just relax and I'll show you," The dark witch grinned, "now turn"
Hermione could feel Pansy's breath tickling the back of her neck. "Say stop if you want me to," she whispered into her hair but Hermione was frozen to the spot - she didn't think could speak even if she tried - so Pansy continued, her fingers trailing feather light over Hermione's shoulder blades down to the buttons at the back of her dress.
Goosebumps followed her touch. With painstaking slowness, Pansy unbuttoned her dress, down to the very base of her spine. She paused for a moment to take a deep breath that Hermione knew was the last chance Pansy was going to give her to say no. Pansy pushed the straps of her dress off her shoulders and it fell to the floor in a pool around her feet, leaving her in just her thong and heels. Hermione felt the challenge in it, and refused to blush, or cover herself up, as much as she wanted to. She stood straight, her head held high as Pansy ran the palms of her hands flat down her back, across her buttocks and down the outsides of her thighs. Although Hermione tried to tell herself that it could be a man touching her now, that it was no different to Ron, it was. Pansy's touch was at once softer and more sure.
She seemed to be in no hurry, which only added to Hermione's nerves. Her heart seemed to be trying to beat out of her chest and when Pansy finally placed a kiss to the back of her neck, she visibly jumped. Pansy trailed more kisses round the side of her neck before nibbling gently on her ear, causing Hermione to inhale sharply. She felt almost ashamed at how quickly the drum beat at her very core started up again in response to just a few kisses. Pansy's hands trailed up her sides, skirting the soft skin at the edges of her breasts.
She was still moving with almost reverent slowness. The cool air on her bare skin had caused her nipples to pucker and when Pansy brushed the tips of her fingers closer to one of them, Hermione arched her back into her. She took a sharp intake of breath as Pansy stroked her palms up from underneath her breasts, over her already sensitive nipples, taking the whole breasts into her hands. Her touch was still achingly gentle. Hermione reflexively pushed her breasts forwards into her hands, hoping for more, needing more, but Pansy just huffed out a breathy laugh in her ear and moved her hands away.
"Turn back to face me now," Pansy ordered. Hermione obeyed. She didn't think she was able to do anything but obey this beautiful, terrible girl who had magic in her fingertips.
Pansy's hands were in her hair, tilting her head up to her. She met Hermione's gaze for a moment then her eyes flickered to her mouth. Almost as slowly and hesitantly as she had during the ceremony, she lowered her mouth onto Hermione's. This wasn't a chaste, polite kiss though. She kissed her hard, her mouth open and demanding. Their teeth clashed and their tongues fought for dominance. She pushed Hermione back with the force of her kiss until the back of Hermione's knees hit the bed. The rough lace of Pansy's dress pressed against Hermione's hardened nipples, making her breasts ache for attention.
Pansy pushed her backwards onto the bed and surveyed the sight in front of her. Hermione's lips were stained with her lipstick, her cheeks flushed. She was breathing deeply, her eyes dark with desire. Pansy deliberately parted Hermione's legs, earning an almost fearful gasp from her wife, and knelt between them. With one last look at her lust glazed face, she started kissing her leg, starting at her ankle and moving upwards at a tortuously slow pace. By the time, Pansy had reached the inside of her knee, Hermione could feel herself starting to get wet. Her clitoris tingled as it became engorged and she could feel the pulse in her inner walls calling 'want, want want', needing to be filled. The world started to shrink to small points of significance - to pussy and breasts and hands and lips. The thought panicked her - that it was a woman, Pansy Parkinson of all people, who was provoking that kind of reaction in her. However, all coherent thought was removed by Pansy licking a neat line up her inner thigh. Without thinking, Hermione spread her legs wider for her and nearly growled with frustration when Pansy didn't continue with her path.
Instead she moved up the bed to lie next to Hermione, vanishing her own clothes and Hermione's underwear as she did so. She laid next to her, the length of their bodies touching, and kissed her again. This time she was gentle, teasing Hermione's mouth open, their tongues dancing languidly. The softness of Pansy's skin against her own felt heavenly, and Hermione couldn't help herself from letting her hands roam over Pansy's curves. She felt a sharp thrill of pleasure as she ghosted her hand over Pansy's breast and elicited a moan from her. Desperate to hear it again, the sound that told her Pansy was as turned on as she was, she kneaded and stroked the other girl's tender mounds. The velvety smooth blushing skin, the yielding flesh, Pansy's scent in her nostrils. Peaches. Pansy continued her teasing touching, moving from her sternum down to the point where her neatly trimmed hair grew.
Soon Hermione noticed a curious problem - the more they kissed, the closer she wanted to be to the other girl. She turned into her side so she was facing her. Pansy responded, moving her hands to cover Hermione's breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers and pinching them gently until they were rosy and pebble hard, wantonly erect. Only then did she close her mouth over one of them. At this, Hermione couldn't stifle a groan of tortured pleasure, squeezing her legs together and feeling the slipperiness at the apex of them.
Her hands seemed to have a life of their own as they moved to Pansy's hips, pulling her closer still. She was now soaking wet, the aching, throbbing want inside of her becoming urgent. Pansy nudged her thighs apart with her knee and slipped her leg between Hermione's. An animalistic part of Hermione's brain took over at the pleasure the added friction gave her and she rutted shamelessly against Pansy's leg. The rhythmic pressure on her her most sensitive area was almost too much. She gripped Pansy's thigh between hers, slicking it with her wetness.
Pansy flipped her onto her back, battling to maintain control, and spread Hermione's legs wide. With a wicked grin, she moved down the bed and recommenced kissing her way up Hermione's inner thigh. Hermione fisted the cover and babbled thanks to nameless gods as Pansy's tongue sought the place she was wanting her most, where she was swollen and throbbing. Ron had tried doing that to her once and she hadn't enjoyed it - his stubble had been sharp and uncomfortable and he hadn't seemed to be able to find the right spot. But Pansy had no such problems as she flicked her tongue rapidly back and forth over the receptive bundle of nerves. Hermione had never felt an orgasm build so fast. She had a moment of feeling scared and out of control before she teetered then fell into nothingness. Her body shuddered in time with the contractions emanating from her core. Stars flashed in the blackness of her vision and for a long moment she was floating, lost, before the waves of her orgasm subsided.
When she opened her eyes, Pansy was grinning at her. Hermione couldn't help but smile lazily at her. Pansy took Hermione's hand and guided it gently between her legs,
"Please," she whispered.
Hermione felt at once that Pansy was as wet as she was. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations. She tried to imagine it was her own clitoris she was stroking, tried to use the right amount of pressure, and touch Pansy as she herself liked to be touched. Her fingers moved easily against the slick nub. It was like she was touching herself - every pass of her fingertips echoed in her own nerves endings. She guessed she was getting it right by the panting moans that Pansy was letting out and the way her hands were clenching and unclenching in the cover. Pansy's thighs tensed around her hand as she couldn't resist slipping two fingers inside her. It was hot and wet and felt like heaven. Pansy's muscles clenched tightly as she plunged her fingers in and out.
As she saw Pansy nearing orgasm, a fresh wave of arousal washed over her at the power she was exerting over her - that it was her name that Pansy was whispering over and over again. As if sensing it, Pansy's fingers slipped between her legs, urging her towards a second climax.
Pansy's hips rolled upwards, meeting Hermione's thrusts. Hermione felt the delicious tension building again. Her first orgasm had hit her like a hammer but this one was different, building and building until she thought she would die of it, her breaths coming in gasps, her sight stolen away. Pansy twitched and writhed like she had been hit by a cruciatus. She cried out once, twice, before her voice stuttered away. Hermione let go.
They came together, sweat slicked bodies slipping against each other in the darkness, convulsing with pleasure.
Somewhere above, fireworks exploded into light and noise, painting the night sky.