A/N: This chapter is 100% focused on Harry & Pansy's first time together; please feel free to skip if their pairing (or the sexual content) isn't to your taste.

Chapter 84 will return to Hermione and Draco's first week teaching at Hogwarts.

Thank you all for reading, and for the lovely reviews.

Drsquirrel, your review yesterday literally made my day. Thank you so much for taking the time to write and share it.

xoxo VJ


Sunday 29 March 2003: PM

Pansy fiddles with the knot of her Obi sash. This is silly… I should run back into my bedroom and put on some proper clothes. Harry might think I'm being an overeager–

No. Remember what Dr Rica said – calling yourself a slut is perpetuating the cycle of low self-esteem you've struggled with. I have every right to express my sexuality as I see fit. I'm in a happy, healthy, safe, consensual relationship with my wonderful boyfriend, and I'm ready to finally explore the intimately physical aspects of our… romance.

All of which is an awfully fancy way of saying I'm dying to jump Harry's oh-so-sexy bones, Pansy grins, flicking another look at the clock. He's not due for another ten minutes, dammit. I need a distraction. Pivoting on her bare heel, she starts for the kitchen to check on the tapas platter she'd earlier arranged. Maybe I should add a few more chopitos…

The activation of the Floo halts her immediately. He's here!

"Pansy? I'm a little early, I hope you don't mind – oof!" Harry staggers for a moment as she energetically hurls herself into his arms, foregoing graceful dignity in favour of showering kisses all over his cheeks and jaw.

"I guess you're OK with it," he chuckles, laying down a single, perfect pink rose on her mantle as he steadies his grip beneath her buttocks, her legs folding around his waist.

"You brought me more flowers? Oh, Harry…!"

"'A' flower, Kreach– I mean, I thought it was more romantic than a huge bunch," Harry hastily amends. "By Godric, I missed you, love… I've thought about you all day – you've no idea how much clock-watching I've done," he gruffly confesses, his viridian eyes darkening. They gaze intently at one another for few silent moments.

"I spent half an hour coordinating every timepiece in the flat, to make sure I would know exactly how many minutes to count until you came over," Pansy divulges, dropping her lashes to cover her eyes and burying her face in Harry's corded neck. Breathing in his clean, fresh scent helps to settle down the monstrous butterflies flittering madly in her stomach.

"Pansy, I'm really nervous," Harry admits. "I'm afraid I'm going to mess up, tonight – by saying or doing the wrong thing, or by making you think I expect anything from you – I don't – I'd be delighted to spend the night simply sitting beside you–"

"Harry. Please, stop." Pansy raises her head, laying her fingers against his clean-shaven cheek. "I'm so nervous, too! Not because I'm afraid… it's because I don't want to disappoint you, Duckie."

"Disappoint me…?! Pansy, that's impossible." Harry rests his forehead against hers, clearing his throat before he quietly says, "I'm constantly worried you're going to realize I'm not fit to lick your boots; you're an absolute bloody miracle, and I can't believe you're my girlfriend… anyway, I just want to make sure you're secure, and comfortable… and ready."

If I were any more ready, I'd freaking combust. Pansy reluctantly slides off him, her feet finding purchase on the floor as she vehemently assures, "Harry – I'm ready. I want this– I want you, I want you so badly I can just about taste it, OK? Um, speaking of which, I made up a light platter, I thought maybe you might want to – eeeee!" She squeals in surprise as Harry sweeps her into a bridal-carry and walks them out of the living room at impressive speed.

"I guess we'll skip supper," she murmurs delightedly, clinging to him like a limpet as he charges down the hallway.

"The only thing I want to taste tonight is you, Pansy," Harry growls. "All of you, love… every square inch." He spares her a swift, covetous glance before he kicks open her bedroom door. "And then… I want to start all over again, until we're both too exhausted to do anything but collapse in each other's arms and snatch enough sleep to revive us for the next round."

His rumbled, avid declaration shifts to familiar diffidence. "Assuming you want that too, of course."

Oh. Oh, hell YES. Pansy shudders in his firm arms as an acute surge of anticipation and greedy desire unfurls inside her, clearing her mind of any lingering nerves. Harry's unexpected display of dominance has pushed her simmering need into the redline in a matter of seconds. Heat blooms in her loins, her breath shortening as she vigorously nods.

"Harry – I want that, too – I want all of that." Her trembling hand traces the outline of his square jaw; he turns his head to nip lightly at her palm. "There are a few things I need you to know… please don't cover my mouth or put your hands around my neck. I know you wouldn't say it, but also, please don't call me that phrase– um–"

To her immense relief, Harry interrupts before she chokes out the hated words. "I know which one – I'll never, ever call you that, sweetheart. Or do any of those things." He stops at the end of her bed, gazing down at her with a look of such earnest goodness that Pansy forgets to breathe. "Would it be alright if I called you, "my Pansy", sometimes? I– I'd really like to."

"Of course – I'd really like that too, Harry… my Harry," she manages to shyly reply, her loose dark hair sliding over his arm as she emphatically nods her accord. "I promise I'll be open and honest with you – not just with the sex stuff, with everything."

"Not 'sex stuff'; we're going to make love tonight, Pansy," Harry gently corrects, laying her down on the bed with such precious care that she feels her eyes sting. "I promise to be honest and open about everything, too – if you'll please excuse me getting a bit embarrassed and awkward sometimes."

Pansy sinuously stretches before propping herself back onto her elbows, loving the way Harry's wide eyes track her every movement. "Harry, I realize this may come as a shock to you; but your occasional goofiness is adorable… and utterly irresistible. Come, sit down with me." She pats the space beside her in invitation.

Harry toes off his leather shoes, sending them flying under her bed. He hops on one foot to tear off his socks, a wry grin suffusing his handsome face as Pansy chuckles.

"Don't laugh at me, love – you literally just told me how cute my ineptness is," he pretends to grumble, sending his leather belt sailing.

Pansy flies upright, wagging her finger as Harry starts to unbutton his navy-blue long-sleeved shirt. "Uh-uh: that's my prerogative, Mr Potter." She plays with the collar of her cream and mint green kimono. "Unless you're not interested in reciprocity? I'll just take this off myself, then," she carelessly shrugs.

"No! I mean to unwrap you like a Christmas present, sweetheart," Harry jumps onto the bed with enough force to make the mattress bounce. "Sorry!" he mutters, as Pansy giggles.

Reaching out to steady herself, she ends up clutching his forearms as Harry hovers above her, his arms braced to hold his weight clear. The air between them seems sluggish… thick with raw need, excitement… and hope.

Moving with exquisite care, Pansy brushes Harry's unruly thick black hair from his brow. It's still a little damp and shows evidence of ruthless comb lines. He must have tried to tame it for me, Pansy realizes, unbearably touched. He was fighting a losing battle, of course… my sweet, sexy darling. She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to regain some composure to offset her vulnerability.

It's OK… I can be vulnerable, with Harry. He won't hurt me… he'd rather cut off his right hand than deliberately cause me pain. Her eyelashes flutter open, colliding with his perturbed gaze.

"Pansy? Should we take a breather… maybe go investigate your yummy supper platter?".

"Absolutely not. Kiss me, Harry. I've yearned for this moment ever since that day you tracked me down to that dusty old archives room and snogged me silly." She lightly yanks at the ends of his beautiful black mop, bringing his lips within a millimetre of her own. "Make me yours… as I intend to make you mine, Harry James Potter."

Something untamed and primal flares in his sea-green eyes. Pansy expects a kiss of savage intensity; instead, Harry kisses her gently, softly, his lips brushing against the corners of her mouth with exquisite tenderness.

"You're so beautiful, Pansy Mallory Parkinson… you're such a strong, powerful, gorgeous woman," he quietly murmurs. "We've all the time in the world, love. Let me worship you, tonight."

Oh, for Salazar's sake – this beautiful man is going to have me blubbing like a baby. Pansy swallows down the giant lump in her throat.

"Only – only if you let me worship you, too," she manages to croak. "Lie down, Harry."

Rolling onto his left side, he draws her leg across his upper thigh, his big hand stroking her hip through the thin crepe of her pretty kimono.

"I was a complete arse to you, that day… I acted like a nasty little schoolboy, lashing out because I couldn't handle my wild attraction to you," Harry's grip tightens and relaxes. "I felt like the lowest of the low when you gave your supremely dignified apology and left my office. I'm sorry, I never should have–"

"Harry. My apology was long-overdue… and you didn't say anything I didn't need to hear." Pansy stills his predictable denial by holding her forefinger to his parted lips. "We're past all that – if anything, I'm glad you challenged me… it led us here, didn't it?".

"You're amazing, Pansy – I'm the luckiest wizard in the world, to call myself your boyfriend." Harry's eyes appear enormous – and soulful – behind his glasses.

"Harry – may I take off your spectacles?". At his nod, she folds them closed and uses wandless magic to slide them safely onto her dresser. Giving him an auspicious smile, she moves her nimble fingers to the buttons of his shirt, quickly flicking them open to expose a very tempting view of pale, hard pecs, and washboard abs.

Damn… he's fit. Such a waste to keep all these muscles hidden under those heavy Auror robes. Pansy isn't aware she's spoken aloud her admiring observation until Harry snickers.

"I'm glad you like what you see, love."

Pansy pinches the taut skin around his belly button. "Cheeky! Yeah, you should be happy your girl appreciates your hot bod, Auror Potter!".

"Believe me – I'm ecstatic to hear it. My turn, love." The only sign that Harry isn't wholly self-assured right now is the minute trembling of his fingers as they work loose her sash, scrupulously pulling apart the lapels of her kimono. His indrawn gasp as his slow reveal finally exposes her pretty lingerie set is music to Pansy's ears.

"Sweet Myrddin Merlinus…" he reverently whispers, easing the kimono down her shoulders. "Look at you, darling… you're a dream come true." Oh-so-carefully, Harry strokes the pads of his fingers along her collarbones, ghosting over the tops of her small, high breasts, alluringly displayed in the blush-pink, sheer, demi-cup, floral lace bra. Three satin ribbons of the same shade band horizontally below the cups, the design echoed on the top of the matching thong.

"I thought about wearing black… but I chose this one, in the end," Pansy witters. Gods, I feel as skittish as a wild horse – settle down, witch. She instinctively arches her back, pushing her breasts into Harry's calloused hands, thrills of pure bliss shivering through her system at his light touch.

He responds immediately to her wordless request, firming his strokes and squeezes, one hand curving down to her waist. Running an experimental finger beneath the beribboned hem of her filmy pink knickers, Harry gruffly asks, "Tell me, love – did you buy these with me in mind? Did you imagine me touching you… kissing you… stroking you? Rubbing my fingers through your sweet, soft, lips…" he unerringly matches his words to his actions, watching her hungrily as she writhes beneath him.

Holy Hoo-hoos, my boy's a talker. Pansy whimpers as Harry rests two fingers just above her sensitive nubbin, skimming across her special bundle of nerves in an unpredictable rhythm. I had a whole seduction scene mapped out – guess that'll have to wait…

"My beautiful, sensuous witch… you're so wet for me, aren't you, love? You tell me what you want, and I'll do it," Harry croons. "I want to do everything with you, Pansy."

"Kiss me– please, kiss me– and put your fingers inside me, Harry, hurry–" Pansy's gasp of rapture is smothered by his warm mouth, his tongue seeking and twining with hers in a primitive dance. She clutches fistfuls of his open shirt as he obeys her command, his fingers expertly gliding inside her, his measured pace at odds with his rapid respiration.

Why the fuck did we wait this long?! Pansy thinks, astonished (and not a little bewildered) by the insane chemistry they're generating. I've never, ever felt like this before… I've thoroughly lost my much-touted self-control, and I bloody well love it…

Harry adds another digit, his controlled plunges already skyrocketing her arousal to crazy heights. Pansy breaks their blazing kiss to cry out her pleasure.

"Ohhhhh – Harry – pleasepleaseplease… wait, wait, I want us to come skin-to-skin, with nothing between us," she seizes his shirt, snarling as it resists her clumsy attempts to wrench it down his sinewy arms.

"Pansy, it's OK– we've got all night–" he tries to reason, withdrawing his hand from her panties and laughing huskily as she whips her head in negation, abandoning the recalcitrant shirt to attack the zipper of his snug jeans.

"Stop arguing and help me strip you nude, Harry. I cast my contraceptive charm before you arrived, have you done yours?" she briskly demands, cheered by his instant nod. "Excellent – now, help me out by lifting those sexy hips of yours, please."

Hooking her thumbs beneath the waistband of his jeans and briefs, Pansy kneels up to drag both garments down his legs in one violent motion, tossing them to the floor.

Oh, my. Her left incisor sinks into her bottom lip as she takes in the spectacular – really, there's no other word for it – picture Harry presents, lying recumbent on her lilac and cream quilt… now clothed only in a tangled navy shirt, the cuffs caught on his wrists. His eyes glitter as he watches her without a shred of self-consciousness, his heavy cock hard and proud against his muscled belly, legs splayed and tensed.

"Your turn, Pansy. Strip for me. Please." The rough, throaty order makes her whine through her clamped teeth, further slicking her already damp core. Keeping their eyes locked, Pansy shucks off the dangling kimono, before reaching behind her back to unhook her see-through bra. She pushes off the ruffled cups one at a time, noting Harry's pupils dilate as the undergarment completely falls off her perky globes. Pushing the bra off the bed, she risks a few quick fondles of her beaded nipples, playing a naughty game of peek-a-boo with her flared fingers.

"Do that– do that again," Harry rasps, twisting to impatiently unfasten the confining cuffs and free himself of his shirt. "Show me what you like, sweetheart. I'm going to worship those perky beauties tonight, mark my words."

"I like feather-soft touches, at first… little circles, but not on my areolae, not just yet," Pansy happily demonstrates, shuffling forward until her bent knees touch the inside of Harry's spread thighs. "Then firm squeezes, like this… put your hands on me, Harry," she pleads.

"Take off those pretty panties first, Pansy." His inexorable tone is marvellously stimulating. Pansy pops up to stand on the bed, wobbling a bit as she snakes the knickers down her long legs. She is about to kick them in the direction of Harry's discarded clothing when he holds out his palm.

"Give them to me."

Dropping them into his hand without a moment's hesitation, Pansy returns to her earlier position, leaning back on her haunches. Harry delicately turns over the scrap of lace and elastic, a wolfish grin on his face as he breathes, "They're soaked… I can smell you on them, Pansy. Strawberries and honey… I can't wait to taste you. Let me lick your sweet pussy, love," he beckons, pushing back until his head is resting just below the wooden headboard of her antique four poster bed. He tucks her knickers to the side of the plump pillow. "Straddle me."

Rendered speechless, Pansy gapes as Harry smirks wickedly at her. "My French might need a lot of work, but I assure you, Pansy; I'm still quite a cunning linguist."

"Harry Potter – you filthy little biscuit!" Pansy shrieks, before her helpless sniggers get the better of her. He's so much fun, switching effortlessly between maddeningly sexy and humorously silly… I'm more turned on than I've ever been in my life, and yet I'm laughing fit to kill. I'm so lucky.

"Have I gone too far, love?" Harry soberly asks, once their shared mirth has abated. "I mean, I'd love to do that – hell, I can't think of much at all I don't want to do with you – but all I really want is for you to feel comfortable, and safe."

Pansy decides actions speak louder than words, in this instance. She grazes her hand over his throbbing manhood, delighting in his deep groan and little hip bump, before crawling up beside his raised head. Carefully lowering herself to rest just above his shoulders, she places her knees beside his head, her shins on his chest. Looking down, Pansy bestows a wicked smile of her own as she grips the serpentine-decorated headboard for support, gasping as Harry takes the hint and parts her wet folds with one deft hand, the other reaching around to cup her bum.

"Let's see if you really can speak in tongues, Duckie – oh!" His mouth avidly sweeps up and around, latching onto her sensitive tissues in an open-mouthed kiss… Pansy struggles not to buck too violently as sensation after sensation whirls her into a panting maelstrom. Harry easily keeps her in place, though his strength never makes her feel threatened or trapped. We really should have tumbled each other into bed a hell of a lot sooner…!

Every limb quaking, she chants his name and his praises in a stream-of-consciousness babble, alternating between shutting her eyes and sneaking quick looks at his animated, focused face. Pansy's initial concerns about accidentally squashing him are forgotten as Harry firmly encourages her full weight to settle on his upper torso. He shifts between kitten licks, nibbles, sucks, and plunging strokes of his tongue, occasionally mumbling against her soft inner thighs as he gently bites them too.

"I want to eat you out like this every day, love – I've dreamed of tasting you, suckling you – your rich honey dripping onto my tongue, claiming your sweet pussy as mine, you're all mine–" His hoarse, rumbling musings pause as he returns to his busy oral endeavours.

That's it, he's going to actually kill me with pleasure… but oh, what a way to go – Pansy dazedly obeys when Harry tells her to grab onto the headboard again, her hands having slipped to claw at his wildly ruffled hair. Another few minutes of passionate torment, before she breaks.

"Harry – I can't take much more – I'm going to come, I want to come with you!" she yowls, finding just enough resolve to 'dismount'. She slides down his chest, batting away his hands to sit back between his thighs.

"My turn." Pansy bobs her head to his thick, straining rod, licking delicately at the reddened bell-end. Harry's whole body seizes, his head slamming into the pillow.

"Pansy– ohmigod– your hot mouth– darling, I won't last–"

Taking in more of his imposing length, she feathers her tongue in a clockwise swirl, feeling wondrously smug as Harry's back bows and his flared legs kick fitfully.

"Please, love – ride me, I'm beyond ready," Harry cries, his hand carefully stroking her cheek as she disengages with a soft pop. "Pansy, I want you so badly… please," his last word is a whisper.

Moving forward again, Pansy waits until Harry's eyes are fixed unblinking upon her. "Harry, sit up against the headboard? I want to be as close to you as possible… I want us to ride each other," she murmurs. Once he's braced against the heavy wood, Pansy sits over his lap, guiding his weeping tip to her wet centre, holding him just inside her for a few heartbeats.

My Harry… my gorgeous, sexy, loving boyfriend… you make me so happy. Despite their fervid coupling, a feeling of intense tranquillity settles around her; Pansy bears down, enveloping his velvety, rigid staff in her silken heat.

"Pansy… my glorious Pansy… you feel incredible, love," Harry purrs, easily matching her slow cadence; they rock together, unhurried surges and retreats. Establishing a blissful rhythm, their arms wrap around each other, their soughing breaths syncing.

On every other exhale, their mouths meet in a torrid caress. Pansy concentrates on setting every moment of this singular experience into her memory, staving off her impending climax. Her hands meander over every inch of Harry's gleaming, sleek skin that she can reach, her breasts chafing deliciously against his lightly-furred pecs, as his rugged fingers explore her own dewy skin. The faint noises of the street outside have long since faded out; all she can hear is the thump of her own heartbeat, the slide of their bodies, and their soft moans.

They climax together, cresting a wave of utter, joyful ecstasy, their bodies flexing and releasing. Pansy loses all sense of time as Harry's lips crash back onto hers, deep kisses softening to licks and nibbles while orgasmic aftershocks still tingle through her overloaded body and mind.

She doesn't know she is crying until Harry's fingertips delicately trace the silvered tracks on her cheeks. "Did I hurt you, love? I'm so sorry, my darling girl– "

"No! No, Harry, of course you didn't hurt me," Pansy mumbles, her voice still ragged after the intensity of their joining. "You're crying too!". She copies his gesture, dabbing away the teardrops spiking his black lashes.

"Am I? I am!" Harry confirms, roughly scrubbing at his eyes before she can stop him. His hand returns to her back, rubbing wide, soothing circles. "Pansy… that was… I didn't… I haven't…" he clucks in frustration, wedging his head into the hollow of her neck.

"Yeah… that was… something…" Pansy weakly agrees, inundated with a sudden languor. "Harry, can we lie down for just a bit? We're not done here – uh-uh, no way am I finished with you, mister! – but I might need a little breather." Her head sags as she tiredly finishes the sentence.

"Of course, love. I could use a quarter-time break, myself." Harry wriggles them down onto the pillows, wrenching and rolling the quilt across them instead of sliding them beneath it.

"Rest, sweetheart. I'll be right here when you wake," he carefully pulls out of her languid body before lying flat and arranging her to snuggle in beside him, her drowsy head on his shoulder.

"Five minutes… that's all I need… maybe ten…" she mutters.

Pansy vaguely wonders at the annoying pale green light at the periphery of her vision, as she capitulates to the insistent need to slumber. That bulb might need replacing… meh, it can wait.


"Harry, I can feed myself, you know," Pansy observes, as he pops another marinated olive into her mouth. "Just as I'm capable of walking, rather than being hauled about in your arms," she references his insistence on carrying her to the kitchen to retrieve the tapas platter, which they are now enjoying in the middle of her messy bed.

"Well, yeah – but it's more fun when I help you like this, hmmm?" Harry grins. "Here, have some more choppy-peters."

"'Chopitas', you gosling," Pansy corrects, laughing around the mouthful of small fried squid. "I suspect you're messing with me now, Harry Potter." She nudges his bare upper arm, the casually-tied silk kimono falling off her shoulder to expose the proud curve of her breast. Harry's eyes widen, despite his intent to leave off notifying the witch of the accidental wardrobe slip for as long as possible. There's a view I'll never tire of.

"Hey! You could have said something," she grumbles, adjusting the robe, while Harry groans his disappointment. Pansy slaps playfully at his stretching hand. "You had your fingers – and your mouth – on my boobs not twenty minutes ago, Harry," she reminds. "Have you already forgotten what they look like?".

Oh, darling – I could certainly sketch your magnificent mammaries from memory, Harry thinks, but wisely doesn't repeat aloud. "I'm a firm believer in practical, hands-on learning techniques, Pansy," he sagely nods. "Don't they say that in order to form a habit, you have to repeat a pattern at least six times? I'm a better scholar than many give me credit for, love."

"Who says? I bet that's something you've nicked from Hermione, you shameless tit-grabber," Pansy sceptically responds. She smirks as he pretends outrage. "Don't play coy with me, Harry; today's been quite the revelation… who would have thought The Chosen One was so wonderfully… vocal, and inventive, in the bedroom? And possessed of such a long, thick… tongue?" she teases, cackling as he crankily huffs.

"I don't like that stupid term, I wasn't 'chosen' so much as 'cursed'," Harry sharply states, regretting his bitter words as soon as they leave his silly mouth. Pansy averts her eyes, carefully wiping her hands on the paper serviette.

"I apologize, I didn't mean anything by it. I won't say it again."

"No – I'm being a jerk – it's fine, Pansy. Please, come here." Harry gathers her into his arms, flicking his wrist to magically move their half-eaten platter over to the dresser. "That phrase… I guess it's a trigger for me. That's what the Department therapist told me, when I had my first session with him on Friday. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so touchy and dour." He is greatly relieved when Pansy relaxes into his tender hold, her fingers lacing through his and holding them to her stomach.

"My grumpy little Gryffindor… it's OK, I understand." She hesitates for a moment. "I… I really enjoyed being intimate with you, Harry. I mean… I've never felt like that, with anyone else. Just… you."

She lifts her eyes; Harry forgets to breathe as he sees her sincerity shining in them. Memories of their passionate lovemaking session bombard his brain.

He'd awoken before Pansy, tickled awake by two tiny green pinpricks of light dancing above their sleeping forms. "Turn off that damned lamp," Pansy had grouched, still draped across his chest.

Chuckling softly, Harry had run his hand down her silky hair until she'd fallen deeper into sleep, dreamily watching the pair of radiant little dots repeatedly merging, breaking apart, and re-forming. Must be some residual inadvertent magic, after our splendid sex, he'd finally determined, dismissing the nagging idea that the funny phosphorescence looked uncannily like that weird light show of Draco and Hermione's, in the dungeon. Nope, their – what did Draco call it? – 'supernatural manifestation of pure power and love' had appeared in a swarming mass, and been coloured in bright golds and silvers, anyway. Nothing like this funny lone speckling.

Just as he'd closed his eyes again, Pansy's soft hand had crept to his groin, petting and stroking him to full tumescence in a matter of seconds. He'd voiced a token protest that she'd not achieved enough rest, his half-hearted objection easily overruled by her enthusiastic kisses.

Trading heady caresses and fiery smooches, it hadn't taken long before Harry had again slipped between her slender legs, driving forcefully into her willing warmth as she'd writhed beneath him, her manicured nails graunching down his back as she'd screamed out his name and her ferocious exaltation. A few minutes' refractory period, before Pansy had languidly stretched, flipping onto her elbows and wiggling her pert bum in flagrant, saucy invitation. Mounting her from behind, Harry had strummed his fingers to her swollen bud until she'd clenched and shuddered, sparking his own apex.

He'd taken significantly longer to recover from that third bout of strenuously magnificent intercourse, spurred on to round four by Pansy's seductive voice whispering raunchy suggestions in his ear ('the Seashell': she'd laid on her back again, raising her legs all the way up until they'd crossed behind her head, Harry thrusting deeply as her right hand had expertly worked her clit to completion).

Every insanely vivid orgasm had simultaneously felt like a 'little death' and a rebirth… he'd thought of nothing but Pansy, and the unique nirvana they'd achieved together, all his usual worries and stressors securely locked outside their cherished, sensual bubble.

Now, Harry's mouth works soundlessly a few times, overcome as he is by his profound sentiments for this astounding, complicated, brave, beautiful, extraordinary witch… my Pansy.

"It's never been like that for me either, love… no, not even with Ginny," he solemnly answers the unspoken question he sees swimming in her stunning jasper eyes. "We've something special; and I don't mean the sex – don't get me wrong, the sex is phenomenal – no, this… us… this is rare. You're an exceptional jewel, my Pansy… and I want you to know that I treasure you."

Harry raises her hand to his cheek, placing his other to hers. "Look at me, please. Thank you, for trusting me… for sharing yourself with me. Body," he turns his face to kiss her palm, "and soul." Bending his neck, he imparts the softest of amatory kisses to her mouth, pushing all his fierce emotion into the embrace.

A moment of minor panic, as Pansy's mouth remains unmoving under his; Harry sighs as she finally reacts, her hand moving to tunnel through his hair and draw him closer. They kiss until they are both breathless, passion eventually gentling to affection… little tongue-tip laves on each other's puffy lips.

"Harry… you're the sweetest, sexiest, most surprising man I've ever met," Pansy declares. "You've definitely cornered the market on romantic avowals, tonight… but thank you, too. You helped give me back a part of myself I was worried had been stolen from me… perhaps permanently. You made me feel safe, and free to reclaim my sexuality, again.'

Wiping at her moist eyes, she concludes, "Thank you for sharing yourself with me… my Harry."

Scooping her onto his lap and hugging her tightly, Harry buries his face into her lustrous jet locks as he rocks her in his arms.

He bites his tongue to stop the words from leaking out.

I'm ready to say them… but my gorgeous girl isn't quite ready to hear them.

Soon, my love… I promise.