A/N: All previous warnings still, and will continue, to apply. Not for children or the faint of heart, or anyone sexually conservative. You've been warned.
Thanks as always to my amazing Beta, Hrymeigh, for going back and editing everything I've already posted before digging into new content.
Enjoy!
Chap. 11: Crawling into the Snake Pit
With nothing better to do for the time being, Harry followed the Hufflepuffs, a few minutes later to the Library to get in some studying. He passed the table where the two girls had joined their friends, each flushing as he walked past though neither giggled or whispered that he could hear, and slowly walked past the door he'd left Alicia in.
He smiled when he heard Neville's voice speaking in hushed tones. As long as they remembered to lock the door...
He had just sat down at one of the tables with a school copy of The Potioneer's Path, a book recommended by Healer Tonks in their last class, at the tiny unused corner of the table Ernie Macmillan, Zacharias Smith, and a few other Hufflepuffs were claiming. They did not look up when he greeted them, only Ernie made a noncommittal, "Hmm," sound, before re-focusing on his study.
Opening the book, Harry looked at the introduction, when the page itself was obscured by a scrap of yellow parchment. The handwriting on it was neat and crisp, right-slanted, and if he were any judge, feminine.
Meet me by the statue outside the Great Hall from before. 5 minutes.
Harry faked a sigh, just in case Ernie or the others really had registered his presence, and closed the book on the parchment. "I'm... this is too loud. I'll go read in my room."
Indeed, Madam Pince seemed to have given up on keeping the library quiet for the moment, as there were more than thirty students inside the room, most crammed onto the study tables.
Again, Ernie made a soft grunting noise, but did not look up.
He smiled, unsure where the parchment had come from. He had not felt anyone walk by, but had seen the scrap falling before it landed. Of course, magic was a mysterious and powerful thing, and every first year learned the levitation charm.
The possibility of the whole thing being a trap was there, of course, but with the second half of the Ancient Runes exam going on, he wouldn't pick the location, since any shouting would certainly alert not just teachers, but the proctors and examiners, as well.
He had to fight his way through a small crowd of students once again, though there were many fewer for the elective than there had been for Defense Against the Dark Arts, the last time he'd spoken to anyone by the statue.
Of course, Harry grinned at the memory. Daphne Greengrass was, he felt, entirely too much fun to needle while talking, if only for her haughty attitude.
Indeed, it was the statuesque blonde, standing behind the statue rather than sitting on the base, when he arrived, adjusting his tie since a stray arm had caught him on the way through the crowd and pulled it out of alignment. "Greengrass," he said quietly, leaning on the wall next to her but a few feet away, lest anyone assume they were actually talking to each other.
"Potter," she murmured, lips barely moving, both their eyes scanning the crowd of slowly-milling or chatting students, "I don't have long- my name'll be called soon for the practical. There's a problem in the Slytherin dorms."
He blinked, "And... okay, what do you want me to do about it?"
From the corner of her eyes, he saw Daphne send him a quick glare, then leave the wall to spin around in the little alcove and sit back on the statue so she could face him directly. Whether it was for that purpose alone, or to hide her lips from anyone trying to read them, he couldn't say, but he didn't mind- she was quite pretty when she was talking. Or otherwise.
And watching her while she spoke was only polite, right? As long as he didn't stare?
"It's Pansy," Daphne hissed, "She won't shut up about how she's ruined her life, and it's distracting all of us. Since I blame you for whatever she did- or whoever she did- you get to fix it."
"And how do you propose that I do that, if I even caused the problem in the first place? Seems to me you're making a lot of assumptions."
"I'm not," Daphne said firmly, "You basically admitted it, remember? I'm not an idiot, Potter. Spare me having to explain how I figured it out, it's obvious, at least to me. You created the problem, you fix it."
"Fine, say I did," he said a little angrily, "What do you want me to do about it? I can't get into the Slytherin's common room, for one, and I doubt I can get into the girls' dorms."
"Tracey can get you in. I'll send her a message. The- the dorms aren't a problem. I don't know how they do things in Gryffindor Tower, but fifth-year and up are allowed to- to socialize across gender lines in our dorms, as long as we're discrete. Just don't go into a younger year's dorm, that will get you in a lot of trouble, even with Snape gone."
Harry frowned. "What? You can- that's not fair."
She shrugged, "It's part of Slytherin culture, Potter. Sex is a commodity to many Slytherins. Favors, too. No, until you, I hadn't with any boy- and I haven't after, either. Look, this isn't the point. We need you- all us fifth year girls- to do something, anything, about Pansy. She's driving us batty. Just... talk to her, or something. Hell, shag her again. I don't care, just don't make us keep listening to her constant whinging!"
"This is so not how I thought my day would go," he muttered, half-amused by Daphne's very undignified snort.
"So? You'll do it?"
Reluctantly, he nodded, trusting in his Cloak and his own skills to get him out of trouble if this did, in fact, turn out to be a trap. "Yeah, fine... when?"
"She doesn't have Runes, so she's probably in her dorm, weeping again. Tracey can get you in and show you the one. Once you're in there with her, I'd silence her first, so she doesn't scream, then... do whatever you have to do. Um... maybe don't kill her. If she keeps this up until tomorrow, I'll contemplate that."
Harry rolled his eyes, "Yeah. Um... when?"
"Now," Daphne said urgently, "They just called Goldstein, in Ravenclaw. I'm next." She reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out a small parchment airplane in a light rose color, which quickly unfolded itself into her hand, then took flight.
"That's the message to Tracey. She'll be ready. Go, Potter. And- and I'll owe you one."
Then she was gone, leaving him slightly dumbfounded.
Girls were so confusing- first Hannah, now Daphne. What was going on?
With only a small bit of reluctance, Harry headed down toward the Slytherin common room entrance, which he and Ron had discovered (or been shown by Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw Prefect at the time, while they had been disguised as Crabbe and Goyle through the use of Polyjuice Potion) in their second year.
He waited outside the same empty stretch of corridor, devoid of portrait or door, where he and Ron had gained entrance three years previously.
Nothing.
A few students occasionally passed the distant doorway up the long flight of stairs that led up to the Entrance Hall, making the dim light in the corridor almost blink out occasionally, but nothing was happening in the chamber he knew to be hidden within the wall opposite where he leaned.
Harry frowned, glancing back and forth again, then pushed himself off the wall and started heading back toward the stairs.
Just as the light winked out above him.
A pair of footsteps were jogging at a speed only brought about by long familiarity, down the steep, narrow stone steps. He backed up at once into the corner past the stairs and made sure the Invisibility Cloak covered him completely.
The pale-skinned, petite girl Harry most often saw eating meals with Daphne, long, wavy dark hair swishing behind her as she turned her head side to side, having paused just past the bottom of the stairs. She was less than a foot from him.
"Potter?" she hissed after a moment, voice low and soft, almost musical, but so quiet he barely heard it. "Potter, are you there? I'm Tracey Davis. Are- are you there? This is really weird... talking to someone I'm not even sure is..."
Unable to resist the temptation, Harry prodded her shoulder with one finger, then whispered from right next to her ear, "I'm here."
The resulting scream was cut off quickly by both of the girl's hands, but her jump, landing in a wide-legged stance, caused her to stamp on one of his feet. "Ow," he hissed, yanking his foot from beneath hers, "I guess that's payback, though I wasn't really trying to scare you- you just didn't know I was that close when you stopped."
Suddenly breathing heavily, the tiny girl whirled to face the apparently empty corner where he still stood, one accusing finger pointing vaguely in his direction, "P- Please do not do that again, Potter," she hissed, "Or it'll be the last thing you do. I've half a mind to-"
She cut off as the jabbing finger made contact with his chest. Then, looking at her hand in the dim light for a moment, she prodded again. "You... you have an invisibility cloak?"
He nodded, then, remembering she couldn't have seen, whispered, "Yeah, and?"
"Nothing," she whispered, "Nothing. Are you here to help us with Pansy?"
"Apparently," he said nonchalantly, fighting down the sudden urge to lean forward and press his lips- or the Cloak- against hers. He wasn't even sure why, really, though he did find the girl attractive.
The smell, he determined after fighting the urge down a bit, It's the smell. She smells almost like Hermione, but mixed with... jasmine, maybe, and lilacs. Yeah, that's it.
With a shake of his head, Harry slipped between the still-pointing girl and the wall, "We going in? I'll need directions to the dorm, too."
"Right," she murmured, following him, the once-pointing finger now extended before her to make sure she wouldn't walk into him, "The arch that leads into the girls' dorms is on the far right, so as soon as we get inside, you make the hardest right you can and follow the wall. Don't walk into anyone."
"I've been using the Cloak for a while, Miss Davis," he whispered as they reached the particular blank spot, the floor marred, now that he actually looked, by thousands and thousands of steps walking into what appeared to be solid stone kind of giving it away.
"Very well," she continued hissing, "The password is changing tonight at midnight, that's why Daphne and I chose tonight for you to come in, so you're going to be barred after tonight, obviously. Once you get through the arch- which arch?"
"Farthest right."
"Yes. Once there, you'll go to the fifth hall on the right, and turn in. Me and Daphne- you know what, no. Pansy got the lucky room, she has the room at the end of the hall on the right. You'll be out by midnight, right?"
"Long before," Harry grumbled, "I'm hoping I don't have to do more than talk to her for a few minutes. We aren't exactly friends."
"You too, huh?"
It was the most normal, least-tense thing he'd heard Davis say.
Even saying the password, "Prima Sui," was given with a certain amount of tension in her voice. "I'm going in, ignore what I say and do."
Then she stepped in, following just a moment behind, slipping in before the door closed.
Distantly, he was aware of Davis being called by one of the male Slytherins at a study table on the far side of the long, low, dark-walled room, near the massive window that looked out into the mid-depths of the lake, and her heading in that direction.
Somehow, though, he felt safer now, inside the snake-pit, as Gryffindors called it, than he had out in the hall. Though if this were a trap or an ambush, this would be a better place.
Something about Tracey and Daphne's tones, even their word choices, suggested to the young man that this was, in fact, exactly what they said it was: a plea for help.
So he did as Tracey had instructed, slowly moving through the crowd of students, many just out of the day's study or during a free period, and skirting the unlit, smaller fireplace that graced the middle of the longer wall beneath several medieval portraits of Slytherins, many of them so famous even Harry recognized them at a glance without looking at the plaques or name-plates beneath each.
Through the arch, the noise and bustle of more than two dozen chattering, arguing, playing, or otherwise engaged students cut off suddenly, as if there had been a barrier of silence that he'd walked through.
The corridor was deathly quiet, aside from Harry's own sound, tense, controlled breaths, and the rustle of the Cloak against his clothes, the tentative rap as his first footfall hit the solid marble floor.
Walking as quietly as possible, rolling his feet to hide the sound further, Harry walked along, sending a quick glance down each hallway as he went, careful to avoid the edges of the carpet that lined each off-shoot, since placards on the walls he passed designated, "First-years, Wing A," and so on, all the way up to...
"Fifth year, Wing B. This should be it," Harry whispered to himself, glancing down at the carpet.
Instead of the deep, emerald green the last four hallways on each side had, this one was bright silver, almost white in the dim, faintly green light of the magically-burning torches. Tentatively, he took a single step onto the carpet.
Nothing happened.
Slowly exhaling in relief, Harry paced, just as carefully as before, down to the very last door on the right. There, an elegant script, almost calligraphy, really, read, "Pansy's Room," in silver writing on some kind of dark wood, which appeared to have been hung by Pansy herself with a sticking charm- there was no visible fastening, and no other room had a designator like it.
He knocked tentatively with the back of his hand.
No response.
Glancing down the hall, seeing and hearing it just as empty as it had been since he'd entered the dorms, Harry, hand covered by the Cloak, gripped the knob and turned.
Of course, it was locked. Harry frowned, then pushed the end of his wand, just the very tip, past the cloak and whispered, "Alohomora."
It clicked, and the door swung open three inches.
No reaction that he could hear from inside.
Carefully, wand out and pointing forward from inside his father's Cloak, Harry pushed it open slowly, prepared to jump out of the way of any incoming spell.
Again, nothing.
The dorm itself, he was surprised to see, was thoroughly normal.
Two beds, one clearly in use- it was unmade- and one piled high with books, one in each of the farther corners, two wardrobes in the nearer ones, a dresser and a desk between them, and an empty space between them in the middle of the room. The only other feature, aside from a few posters, some Quidditch, and one of the Weird Sisters Harry had been introduced to at the Yule Ball the previous year, and one of... "Florence Nightingale"?
Every Brit, so far as he knew, knew that woman's portrait. Harry had even seen this particular one before, because it graced a history book he'd had in primary school, discussing famous British women throughout history.
But why would Pansy Parkinson, of all people, have a picture of her on the wall?
The only other feature he could see, aside from the standard school trunk at the foot of Pansy's bed, was a partially-ajar door between the two beds, opposite the one he'd entered from.
He slid the door behind him closed quietly, knob turned so it wouldn't click, then crept inward.
There was a... slight hissing, almost like a fan was blowing air, coming from beyond, and the faintest of breezes.
And crying, he could definitely hear that, too, though it was faint and almost muffled completely.
Slowly, he pushed the door open a bit more, stepping inside.
What he saw made him stop in his tracks.
Pansy Parkinson, yes.
But naked, covered only by thin mist and steam from a hot shower, obscured a tiny bit further by glazed glass around the shower.
She was not cleaning herself, though, Harry could plainly see, and in fact had no clothes with her, which meant she had walked in here nude and planned to leave that way. It made sense, with just her in the room and a dedicated shower, but...
The stirring in his loins as he watched the girl stand beneath the water, letting it run over her shoulders and neck, told Harry to go sit on the nearby toilet seat, which he started to do, then thought better of it. She might just hear him sitting, or the seat clacking if he stood up. Better to stand, just in case.
Besides, there was more steam down on the lower half of the glass barriers.
A quick glance around the bathroom showed him it was a combined shower and WC, the toilet and sink nearest the door, with a shower opposite those, and a separate bath set into a recess opposite the door. Not large enough for two, unfortunately, he thought, then glanced about again. A single portrait, though no personage was present, of a farm on a hillside graced the wall above the bath.
Slowly, he let the door shut again, back to the same just-cracked state, and turned his attention back to the girl in the shower.
Her dark hair hung almost limp under the spray, framing her pale olive face, water dripping from the tips and running down her slender neck, across her collarbone, and down between and around her medium-sized, but full and firm breasts, just a shade lighter than her face due to a little less sun, from there down a mostly-flat tummy and down into the thick marsh of curly hair, then further down her legs.
Okay, I'll admit it, she's really pretty, he muttered in his own head, and a pretty damned good shag, but... she's still such a cow.
Though, he was forced to admit further, Even if she hasn't been as bad lately.
The form behind the glass shuddered once.
He, too, started, hand tightening around his wand. She was still after that one jerking movement, so... Then, again, she convulsed slightly, then both of her hands came up to her face, covering it, as her head bowed and he heard, for the first time, a real sob.
Oh, shit. I forgot she was upset. Shit... I can't deal with crying girls. Why did I say I'd do this, again...?
His own mind, unfortunately, supplied the answer in Ron's voice, Because you want to shag Greengrass again, you wanker. Get in there!
Harry, though, was not so far gone as to be that stupid. At least, not without taking precautions. A few quick spells later, some through the still-cracked doorway, before, underneath the Cloak, he stripped off his own clothes down to nothing, then Disillusioned himself again, before shrugging off the Cloak, too, letting it pool on the floor, and sat his wand down.
She did not notice when he stepped, naked, into the shower stall.
Though she did when he reached out and pulled her into a tense hug.
She screamed, and loudly, but Harry was not concerned, because he'd silenced the whole room, and locked the door, besides, and not just with one charm as she had. At once, her fists, trapped as they were to some extent, started beating and clawing at him, but she had no leverage, so he ignored it as best he could.
The knee she brought up between his legs was a larger threat.
His reflexes, though, luckily caught her just in time between his thighs, though it still hurt. "Ssh, Pansy," he said, "I'm not going to hurt you. Ssh."
She froze, going statue-still for a moment, then finally looked up, eyes red-rimmed, to see who had grabbed her in the shower. Then she blinked, frowning, "Potter? What in Merlin's name...?"
"Ssh, let it out," he murmured, putting a hand at the back of her head to pull her back into his arms.
"Fuck you!" she suddenly screamed, somehow getting enough of a grip to push him away, "Fuck you, Potter! Just because- you ruined my whole life! Fuck you, get out! I never want to see you again! I never want to hear your name again!"
He blinked, backing away so that he was in the door of the shower, but he did not retreat completely. He'd promised to help, if he could, and that was what he intended to do. This was just the beginning. "Look, I'm sorry. I know that doesn't-"
"Fuck your sorry!" she screamed, reaching back to hurl a shampoo bottle- glass, not plastic, as was more common in the Wizarding world- at him. He ducked, and it shattered against the wall above the sink.
But she didn't throw anything else. Instead, she went back to crying, covering her face. "I really am sorry," he said quietly, "I didn't... think it would be this bad. I didn't even really want to hurt you, at all. Draco was..."
"Draco," she scoffed, shooting him a furious glare between her fingers, "You were right! He was fucking Umbridge, the little shit! I'm glad I didn't end up marrying that little prick!"
Harry almost hurled, right there in the shower, and all over Pansy.
That was a truly revolting thought.
Only... it didn't add up. Something was off about it, but what...?
"Okay, so- I'm confused," he said as calmly as he could, "What- or in what way- did I ruin your life, then?"
She hiccupped, didn't say anything for a moment, then whispered accusingly, "Like you don't know."
"I don't, though," Harry said exasperatedly, patience already wearing thin, "Seriously. I fingered you, I licked you, I sh- using your language, I fucked you, then... what? Gave you some damned good advice?"
"Yes!" she screamed, throwing a sudden slap, which connected with his cheek but didn't do more than sting mightily, "You gave me some advice! Advice I took! And now- now-"
She devolved into sobbing again.
Thoroughly confused, Harry stood there for a minute or longer while she sobbed. Before he could figure out what he wanted to ask, or say, or... whatever, she pointed weakly with her right hand back toward the door, "There, on my- on the spare bed, the open letter. Fucking read it, Potter, if you really don't know!"
He frowned, then stepped back and down out of the elevated shower and back into the bedroom, dripping slightly but not caring overmuch. The carpet would be dried by air or house-elves within the hour, he was sure. And if not... he still didn't really care.
There were more pressing things to worry about.
He cast his eyes over the books and notes, before finding something scrawled in a different, more firm, hand.
My daughter Pansy,
I am disappointed in your tone, young lady. I am more disappointed in your words. Your disrespect of me is one thing. Disrespect of my instructions is another.
Disrespect of our entire family is something else entirely, and something I will not tolerate.
Your intended nuptials with the Malfoy heir have already been cancelled, at your wish.
Yet, you dare to presume to still tell me, to dictate to me, how you will live? You are fifteen, young lady, and in no position to give me demands.
In light of this disrespect, let me make a few things clear.
Your affair with your cousin ends now. You will not see him again. If you attempt to contact him in any way, I will inform his father- my brother, Perseus, if you have forgotten- exactly what you have been up to in what you thought were safe times and places.
You will wed the person I have painstakingly contracted you to, in haste. You will begin to attempt courtship of this person the moment you learn his name. You will be a good 'girlfriend', and a good spouse. You will do as you are told.
You will never disrespect him, his House, me, or Mine, ever again. If you do, you will come to regret it as a Houseless.
We, the Parkinsons, are one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. We are a family old and strong. You... you are one- one- mis-step from being nothing.
Think about what you have to lose, my daughter.
Your Father (for the time being),
Proximus Parkinson.
Post-script: I had forgotten. You will wed Theodore Nott. This is not up for debate. The date will be the summer following your graduation.
Harry swallowed, lowering the parchment.
There... there was a lot to process, there, not least of which was that Nott was the same girl that Daphne was supposedly contracted to.
He swallowed, then set the parchment back where he'd found it, returning, stone-faced and apparently wooden-legged, for his knees and ankles did not seem to respond to his commands very well.
"Er..," he began as he stepped in, then stopped. Pansy had his own wand an inch from his nose.
Stupid, stupid, he cursed himself.
She was still backed into the shower, though his wand extended out of it, and she now had a towel covering most of her front, held across her chest with her left hand. "Well?" she hissed, "Did you enjoy learning all that, Potter? That the one who took my virginity was my own cousin? That my father's about to disown me? That I have to marry Nott of all people, if I want to keep my own family? That I'd be a second wife to Greengrass?
He staggered back. He already knew, of course. He could read. But hearing it all thrown at him... Still, he shook his head, "I still- I still don't understand. What did you do? What did you say?"
The wand lowered half-way, but he didn't dash forward to claim it. He didn't know where hers was in the bedroom, either. "I... I told him I'd decide... who I married. That I was old enough to think..." she hiccupped, "Th- Think for... myself."
The wand lowered further as she started to cry anew.
Carefully, one hand slightly outstretched to catch the thin piece of wood if it came up again, Harry stepped forward, back into the shower, and pulled her into a hug again.
This time, Pansy melted against him, the wood clattering to the floor. Carefully, he nudged it up onto a dryer section, away from the drain, then focused on the sobbing girl in his arms.
Why do I always make girls cry?
After several minutes of holding the crying teen, his legs were starting to get sore. He pushed her away slightly, just enough to look down at the girl. She continued to cry, but had begun to quiet, the great, wracking sobs decreasing to meager hiccups. "I... I don't get it, P-Potter."
Almost afraid to do so, Harry hesitated before asking, "Get what?"
"Anything! Draco and I, we- we were raised believing everything the Dark Lord said was true. That Pure-Bloods were just somehow better. At magic, at being witches and wizards, at following our customs, knowing how and why magic and our world work- everything."
She hiccupped again, pulling away herself to glare up at him, though not so far as to pull her slender arms from around his waist, "Then, out of nowhere, you- you and your friends- show up out of the blue, like you were born to disprove everything I've ever believed.
"Granger, a muggle-born of all things, probably smarter and stronger, magically, than any witch in fifty years."
Harry was astounded to hear Pansy Parkinson, of all people, say out loud or even think such things, but Pansy, it seemed, was just beginning her low-key diatribe.
"Even Weasley, the one who should be the strongest of the lot based on what we were taught, is the weakest of you three by far! A mud- a muggle-born, a half-blood, and a pure-blood, and he's the weakest!"
"Ron's not weak," Harry said quietly, watching her pert lips quiver with barely-contained fury.
"I know he's not!" she shouted suddenly, then quieted, "I know... he's just the weakest of you three. Don't try and deny it. Maybe it's because he's lazy, I don't know, but you and Granger are both stronger, magically. And... and Draco..."
"I don't think Draco's weak, for what it's worth," Harry said quietly, "I just find him..."
"An ineffectual man, an ineffectual bully?"
He snorted, then nodded.
She grimaced, "I used to think he was so cool... handsome, pretty, even, and nicer to me than almost anyone... his father and mine had a tentative agreement for us to marry. I wanted to, then... but when he started pushing me into... things..."
"He pressured you for sex?" Harry asked quietly, ashamed that he'd basically manipulated her into the same, all-but raped her outright, not even two full weeks previously.
"Sort of," she grimaced, tucking her head back into his chest beneath the spray, still warm due to the magic of Hogwarts' plumbing, "He... kept asking, and once in a while I'd let him try a bit. That night, on the- the Tower..."
He swallowed.
Her voice grew softer, almost inaudible behind the thrumming and splash of the shower, "It was the most I let him do, because he kept telling me he just wasn't as far as he wanted to be. That... that it'd get better. The thing is, even then, I knew..."
She sniffed, hiccupped, then asked, "If I tell you... my secret? You won't... tell anyone? You... your friends think you're nice. A lot of students trust you. Can- can I?"
"If you have a secret, Pansy, you don't need to tell me. But if you want to, then yes, I'll keep it as long as you want me to."
He meant it, every word. He'd already done too much to this girl, bitch that she could be. She had not deserved what he'd done, even if she'd begged for it, at the time... She hadn't known the whole story. How could he betray a trust and hurt her further?
She, if anything, was a victim, and the short conversation they'd had in her shower, after he'd broken into her room, proved she was still a victim, of her upbringing, of Draco's, and in more ways than he'd considered, himself.
"I... my cousin? The one... in the letter?"
He nodded, "Yeah."
"His name's Piers. He's... well, a nice guy. I... might actually love him. I know, it's weird, even for 'Pure-Bloods', but... he was handsome, and sweet, and he was... my first. Then my second, and third. That summer was the only time we... and I don't know how my father knew. Piers wouldn't have said, and I never did, but... he knew. He knows. But that whole time, I only had two orgasms, all three times we- we did it. I didn't, the first time. But I like him, a lot, and... I want to see him again."
She was rambling, now, the words spilling out into his chest as if they would never stop, as endless as the water from the shower-head, "But at the same time, I don't, because of fucking you, and fucking you, and it... Circe, Potter, I don't know how you did it. I don't know what was going on. How you made the others..."
She shuddered against him, "Goyle, and Crabbe, and Warrington, and Montague... I mean, sure, Goyle's got a decent... but eww. I don't know how you got them to shag like that. I don't want to know. Milly- she says it was great, but she regrets it. Doesn't... I asked her. She said... she doesn't hate that it happened, but... she wishes it was with other people. She's a bit of a cow, or she can be, and I know she hates Granger, but look at it from her point of view. Granger pinched her, for nothing! Just out-and-out pinched her shoulder while they were in the library. And no apology, nothing. Just walked away like it was nothing, looking at her fingers, the very same ones she'd have used."
Harry flushed. Second year... the cat-hair. Shit... he'd never once thought about how things they'd done, their 'adventures' might really, truly look to the rest of the school. Even the simple act of nabbing a hair from someone's robe might have actually hurt a twelve-year-old girl.
"But Draco," she continued breathlessly, "Can't even get it up, and then I found out he was shagging Umbridge. Ugh! No amount of political pull is worth that! You have half the inquisitorial squad shagging like rabbits on the top of the tower under the open sky, and Draco can't even get up, when I'm hornier than I've ever been in my life... and... and you come up behind me. I don't know who you are. You're a stranger, for all I know. Maybe a teacher. I know you stunned me, and bound me... did you do other spells? Because I know the others were shagging before I got stunned."
He shook his head, whispering, "I only hit you with the ropes and the stunner, and then the ennervate to remove it. Draco got hit with more, but nothing painful, I swear. Sticking charms, disillusionment, and those."
"Would've deserved it if you had," she spat briefly, then sighed, the movement of her shoulders sliding her slick chest against his, "A-Anyway... I'm tied up, very- very aroused, and this person wakes me up from being stunned, and then starts talking to me in this husky voice... touching me... I wanted it to be Piers, so bad. I knew it couldn't be- he goes to Beauxbatons, and he couldn't even make it to the shortlist last year because he wasn't old enough- but I wanted it to be.
"Only... when you started touching me, you were better. Teasing me, yes, but making me want even more. Then... I knew, when you- when you put your mouth on me, even disillusioned, I knew it wasn't him. But you were bigger, harder... and I wanted it so much, I..." she sniffled again, then continued, "I came so hard. Then again, and again... I hate your guts, Potter, for everything you've done to me and my friends. I meant it when I said you ruined my life with that advice... but I don't... I don't regret it. Is that strange?"
"Probably," he said with a little shrug, "I mean, it sounds strange to me, at least. But I don't think it was bad advice. Maybe you didn't follow it in the most tactful way, but... it's your life. The only person you should worry about taking care of is you. Other people are responsible for taking care of themselves. Sure, let your parents and the adults in your life teach you, guide you, and so on. It's what they're for, or so I've been told. But, in the end, it's your life. You are in charge. You make the final call, to do what they say, or do what you think you need to."
"That sounds like anarchy," she whispered, stepping fully back into his embrace.
"It's not," he shook his head, "It's not even enlightened self-interest. That, to me, just sounds selfish. But it's true that you can't take care of others if you don't take care of yourself. We're all better off if we have our needs met, including emotional ones. A miserable person has a hard time making others happy. But a happy person can spread that around pretty easily."
"So you're saying I'm doomed to be miserable, because everyone around is miserable, is that it?"
"No," he chuckled, tightening his grip slightly, "I'm saying look around a little more closely. How do you think I got in here? How do you think I found your room- on the first try?"
She swallowed, pulling away to stare up into his face.
"You have friends who care that you're upset," he whispered quietly, "And they sent me. Yes, knowing it would break rules, maybe get me tossed out. Maybe you. But they still sent me to help. I didn't- I would have come, had I known, but I didn't know and couldn't have, until they said something. Don't be mad at them. If you have to be mad, be mad at me, because their intentions were good."
She swallowed, "Davis and Greengrass?"
He nodded.
"Cows," she said, a little sadly, but with a strange, gentle sort of smile he'd never seen before on her normally rather hard, angular face. "I... suppose I'll let them off, this time. Since the password changes tonight, anyway. But what about you, Potter?"
"Hmm?"
"What are... your intentions? You snuck into my room, into my shower."
He swallowed. "Well... I just wanted to help, and didn't want my clothes to get wet."
Her hands suddenly separated from their grip to firmly squeeze his arse with her left, while her right slipped to the front and between them, down his stomach, to cup his genitals. "And... if I questioned those intentions?" she whispered, looking up at him with dark eyes.
"I," he said just as quietly, his own hands slipping down to cup both of her rear cheeks, lifting her off her heels just a bit, "would ask which intentions you preferred. If... if you think to get me off guard, you will have to find a different venue. And maybe a small army."
She smiled a bit coyly, looking away, then blushed, "I... was actually just thinking of fucking you, Potter. Look... I won't lie. You're definitely better than Piers. And... we aren't actually together, you know? I'm not even sure I love him. I just... might. Draco... fuck him, and not in the way he might enjoy."
Harry nodded, "Okay... so you want a shag. I have a different question for you, then, Pansy."
"What's that?" she asked, almost challengingly as she raised her chin and narrowed her lips.
This time, when he spoke, his voice was firm, "Did you want a quick one-and-done shag, which might take me an hour, or... a bit longer?"
"I'm not asking for a relationship, if that's what you mean," she scoffed.
He grinned, shaking his head, "No... not at all. I mean, I think it'll take more than an hour for you to make me orgasm, and you'll be quite happy by then. You get that choice... or we can go for a few times."
She snorted, "I have a hard time believing that. I've heard some stories about teenagers in broom closets."
"I," Harry said with a smile, "Am not a normal teenager. Choose. I have no particular plans until tomorrow."
"You aren't staying the night," she said firmly, "But, if you have time... I've finished all the reviewing I care to for the day. We can...prolong things, I suppose."
Harry smiled. "Brilliant. So... one more question. You ever sucked off Piers, or Draco, or anyone else?"
"No," she murmured, then looked down at the erection growing beneath her hand. "Er... never- never really wanted to. Um... until..."
"Now?"
She nodded, eyes fixed downward.
"You can do it," he said quietly, "I want you to try."
She glanced up, "You- you promise me you can recover before too long, if you finish... soon?"
"I won't," he assured her, "But yes, I'll be fine to continue- and I don't need my dick to make you happy, remember?"
She got a far-away look for a while as a little grin graced her lips, before she, dragging her hands down his chest, then the outside of his legs, sank to her knees in the shower.
Harry watched Pansy consider him for a moment, hands on either side of his thighs, then, with a glance he thought might have been intended to ask if he really wanted her to proceed, slid her right hand in. The first finger and her thumb slid around the base of his cock, giving it a little, light squeeze, then slid up half-way and let go.
She watched as he bounced back up into his chest, then his scrotum, loose from the hot water, swinging back and forth.
Pansy repeated the motion twice, then pulled him gently down, just past horizontal, so she could examine the back side, letting him spring back up to slap at his chest again. She almost smiled at the sound it made, the corner of her dark lips, a shade browner than her olive skin, quirking upward.
Then she pulled it down again with the same finger and thumb, moving up and down the shaft at the same half-way point with it aimed more or less at her face, watching his expression as Harry gave a little groan.
His eyes drifted closed while he fought to cement this moment in his world-view. The Astronomy Tower, coerced in some form by the Fog of Lust Lilith had dosed Pansy and the other Slytherins with that night, was one thing...
But in her own shower, in the Slytherin dormitories? No way, in his wildest dreams, would Harry Potter have considered Pansy's hand on his erection with the hot water cascading down his chest, over her head and back, licking her lips to wet them further as she leaned in. The lips parting...
His eyes opened at the new sensation, but she had not taken him in her mouth. Instead, he looked down to see her tongue, as dark as her lips, sliding, wide and dripping with both saliva and water, up the underside of his shaft, from the bottom to the top.
"You taste like shower water," she giggled after passing beyond his tip.
"Can't imagine why," he said good-naturedly. It was hard to hate someone in this situation, he was finding.
Pansy's grin became full-blown, before she leaned down to lick again, this time from tip to base. Then, accompanied by his groan, she leaned in a little more to lick at the hollow of his scrotum, just above his testicles, then down to the bottom, behind them, and back up, even pulling one into her mouth gently with a bit of suction, then letting it go with a little pop that made him shudder.
He'd never, even Lilith had not really done that, and certainly not when his testicles were so loosely hanging, and the feeling was... not even really pleasurable, if he had to describe it, but unique. "Do that again," he murmured.
She blinked, then complied with the other one, taking it in a little more fully into her mouth and sucking, laving her tongue across it for a few seconds before letting go. "Fuck," he gasped, one hand flying to the safety bar, the other to the top of the girl's head.
That was intense, and Harry didn't know even after the second time how he really felt about it. "Now," he instructed gently, "you know what to do?"
She nodded, flushing a bit, making her skin go a bit darker, "I... yes. I know what to do, I just..."
She stopped talking, then, without looking up at him and most definitely without the blush fading, opened her lips, licked them again with her tongue, then parted them just slightly as she pushed his head inside.
Pansy stayed like that while he stayed mostly still, just enjoying her learning curve, while she licked and laved, putting a surprisingly agile tongue to use in exploring the thick cap of his penis, before she started bobbing just past the head, about a third of the way down.
Harry, a week or two ago, might have complained that she was not going far enough, but he'd already learned that Pansy did not have much control over her gag reflex, and...
He might just be bigger.
Lilith had said something about his becoming larger, hadn't she? From her Runes, or something?
He blinked, wondering if it was just an illusion, but then decided that, at the moment, it didn't really matter. Pansy was still blowing him in her shower, and that was fine.
Then her right hand started pumping the rest, while her other left his thigh to cup and caress his balls.
He groaned again, letting her go to work, not saying anything, not guiding her actions, nothing.
Pansy continued bobbing, occasionally stopping to lick at his balls, too, or run her tongue up his length or down the sides of his cock for several minutes, her actions growing more and more fervent as they went.
Eventually, she pulled off completely and, hand still pumping at him along the whole length, looked up to ask, "Are you even close?"
Harry grinned, "I can be... but no, I said I can go an hour and I meant it. It's been about ten minutes. Don't worry, you're doing fine. Feels great."
"My mouth is getting tired, and my knees hurt," she complained, frowning at Harry's dick.
"Stand up then," he instructed, reaching down to offer her a hand, which she reluctantly accepted, struggling a little to rise in the somewhat crowded space.
Once she was up, he guided her beneath the spray, since the shower-head was several inches above even his taller body, then past it to the wall beneath the faucet, her legs just on either side of the handle, her rear just above it. "Wh- what are you doing?" she asked.
He shrugged, grinning, pushing his body against hers so that his erection was squished between them. His hips twitched a few times without his conscious consent, making her gasp, but he leaned in close and whispered, "I never thought I'd say this, Pansy, but I kind of want to kiss you right now. Can I?"
She gulped and swallowed, suddenly looking quite panicked, and started to shake her head, but what came from her mouth was, "Yes."
He smiled, then closed the distance.
Her eyes, he saw as his own closed, fluttered, then shut.
Her body moved, breasts pressed into his ribs, her arms circled his waist again, pulling him tighter.
Her lips burned with heat against his, and when his tongue brushed across them, they parted to allow him entry. She was a little less sure of what to do, so for the first time ever, really, Harry took the lead in the 'French kiss', running his tongue along the inside of her lips, against her own tongue, while her chest continued to squirm against him, and one of her legs came up between his, while his went between hers.
As soon as his thigh hit her groin, Pansy started humping his leg, as if she couldn't help herself. Moreso, she didn't even seem to notice, though her breathing into his mouth quickened at once. Slowly, gently so he didn't spook the girl, Harry gathered both her hands in his, then brought them over both their heads, leading her up and up until they touched over the pipe leading from the wall to the shower head. Confused, she grabbed hold.
Harry smiled, "Stay," then let his fingernails trail down her glistening, wet skin on the undersides of her arms. She shivered as he grazed over her shaved, much lighter armpits, then down her ribs to her hips, and back up the front of her stomach to rest, fingers on outside and thumbs on the inside, against the bottom of her full, round breasts.
She shivered again as he came to rest. Harry, though, grinned, pressing his forehead against hers, "Tell me, Pansy... do you want me to make you scream again?"
The girl nodded.
"Tell me."
"Make- I want to climax, Potter. Make me... make me climax, so many times."
"Why? Why should I?"
She moaned, groin still sliding on his thigh, hands still holding onto the pipe as if they were chained there, just the tips of her hard nipples sliding against his, "B- Because... I'm so randy! I need- I need to. I need you to do it, you're so- so much b-b-etter th- than P-Piers..."
"Good," he murmured, kissing her again, then pulling away with her lower lip caught between his for a moment, "That's good, Pansy. It's good to admit the truth, right? It feels... nice?"
She nodded again.
"Then, because you admitted the truth- a lot today, actually- I'll make you feel good, like you wanted. Okay?"
There was another nod, along with a faint whimper.
When he had been with her before, Harry had really only seen Pansy from the back until the last few moments when he'd spurted into her mouth, and at that time, he'd been more above her than anything.
She had surprisingly flawless skin, he already knew, and the time he took to examine her front, laden with droplets of water stuck to the fine, invisible hairs on her light brown skin along with the glistening currents where it still ran down despite most of the spray being on Harry's back and head, obscured nothing.
In fact, he thought they enhanced the view considerably.
Trailing along her skin with his fingertips idly, not even consciously directing them, most of his focus was on his eyes as he tried to burn the erotic image of Slytherin's resident 'queen bitch', all but hanging from the shower-head, and whimpering for him to touch her, into his mind.
It was, again, not something Harry had ever imagined happening, and yet...
I need to thank Lilith very personally for helping this happen.
Pansy's face, he knew, was not what some would call traditionally beautiful, though he found it pretty all the same, with its strong, angular, almost boyish cheeks and jawline, the firm set of her mouth and darker brown lips.
Yet, the sight of her short dark hair framing it made him want to lean in and claim her lips again. He had to refrain, though... there were more important tasks to prioritize.
Her neck, slender and supple, like most of her body, would be unable to stand up to almost anyone he knew in a fist fight, but she was not at all flabby. In fact, there was an undercurrent of muscle tone that he had just the barest glimpses of on the Astronomy Tower that showed she clearly exercised at least a little, though her ribs were still slightly visible.
His hands traced down the edges of her torso again, then back up to where they had been at her breasts, cupping the bottom edge. This time, though, they did not stop, and slid up and over each mound from the bottom up, up over her collarbones, coming together to slide up the slim neck, and cup again around her jaw.
Only then did he lean it for another kiss, brief and sensual, lips just grazing against hers. When Pansy leaned in for more, he pulled away with his own mouth quirking into a tiny grin. "Ah, ah... Patience, Pansy..."
His hands came down again, to test the feel and heft of her round tits from below, then the elasticity as he pushed into each side at once with the palms of his hands, adoring the way they bounced together and separately. "I said you had nice baps, right? On the Tower?"
She nodded, whimpering again, lips slightly parted as she watched his hands move over her.
"You do," he said quietly, "Amazing, really, some of the best I've seen- and I've seen a few, lately. Good size, good shape, color, firmness... It really would be a shame if you got fat and they started to sag."
"I don't intend to," she replied.
He bent at the waist, mostly, watching her face carefully as he leaned forward and in, licking the left nipple straight upward, watching as the skin, darker even than her lips, flicked up from the wide areolae, then moved to suckle for just a moment at the right, pulling it out from her chest as he had with her lip earlier.
"Mm, again," Pansy whispered.
He complied, smiling, glad that, for his own part, he seemed to enjoy the feeling of doing as his lover (temporary as it might be) wished quite as much as dominating her and making her beg. This time, though, he sucked it outward once, then moved in immediately to pull as much of the two-inch areola into his wide mouth as he could, suckling more as a babe might, washing over it with both the under and overside of his tongue, before letting go and moving to the other side, repeating the process.
"Piers liked my tits, too," Pansy whispered.
"Any straight man would," Harry assured her, "Though I think it's impolite to talk about an ex-lover or whatever while someone else is doing this... I don't mind, though. Just something to keep in mind for the future. He might not want to hear about this evening, for example."
"Don't- don't think I'd want to tell him," she gasped as he squished her breasts together and pulled both nipples into his mouth at once for a moment, "I- I think he'd be j-jealous of how fucking amazing you're making me feel, Potter."
He grinned around her tits, then pulled away and stood up to make use of his hands, kneading upward and in, mostly, and occasionally pinching or lightly twisting at her nipples, "I had a good teacher, that's all."
"Who?" she asked, "I need- need to thank them."
"You don't know her," he assured his partner, dropping one hand from her chest to lead his head downward while he sank to his knees, coming out from under the lower spray. "You might meet her one day, though, if you... want to continue."
"C- Continue?" she gasped as he leaned in, immediately pulling her hooded clit into his mouth like he had done earlier, sucking on it, too, before letting it out with a pop.
"Mm. You're beautiful, I don't want to stop. But I won't force you. I won't manipulate you like that, either, not again. If you want me, if you want a shag, you have to tell me."
"Don't get full of yourself, Potter," Pansy gasped while his tongue started flicking in and out between his kisses, which moved in and down her right thigh, then up the left, from the knee. "You're good, but I can stop. I didn't ask for this one."
"Suit yourself," he shrugged.
She was silent until he reached her furry groin again, then asked quietly, "That's it? You aren't going to argue, try to convince me?"
Harry looked up sharply, "Why would I?"
"I... someone else is putting out for you, aren't they? Someone you actually like?"
He grinned, "I'll tell you... next time. If you want me to."
Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing, only groaned and fell back against the tiled wall, her hips thrusting forward into his mouth as he dove against her in earnest. She felt like his tongue was practically apparating back and forth around her labia, then darting deep inside her vagina, only to come back out and circling the whole mound, then return yet again to her folds.
Within moments, she had her first orgasm, immediately followed by another.
He didn't let up until she'd climaxed around his tongue three times, frantically pushing his head away, "St- Stop, Stop, Potter... I... I need a break! Morgana's dripping cunt!"
He smiled, then obeyed, rising to stand before her again, though his hand flipped palm-out and cupped her sex, one finger idly working just a single knuckle inside, "I think it's your cunt that's dripping, Pansy."
Defiantly, she lifted her chin, "And if it is?"
"You want more?"
She held the pose for a few seconds, then dropped it, whispering contritely, "Yes, please."
To her surprise, he reached up to pull her hands from the pipe and use them to turn her to the right, placing them on the safety bar, then moved behind her, the spray mostly falling on her rear and back.
"You- you like it from behind," she asked, looking over her shoulder.
"Love it," he said, "But I love it from the front- and sides- too. Just seems like a convenient position for the shower, that's all."
He didn't let her respond at once, carefully thrusting his cock, guiding with one hand, between her legs, ripping up the valley of her pussy to bump past her clit.
She gasped, "F- Fuck... You m-missed."
"No, I didn't," Harry said with a grin, "Just teasing. Ask me for it."
"Wh- what?"
"Ask me," he clarified, "For my cock. Ask me to put it in you, Pansy. Ask me to shag you."
"No," she scoffed again, calling his bluff.
But, the moment he started to pull out and pulled his hands away from her hips, she relented, "F- fine! Fine! Please, Potter, put your big, fat, steaming cock in my dripping pussy, and shag me rotten, okay? Is that what you want to hear?"
He stopped pulling out, the head of his penis just nudging her clit, when he leaned far over her to whisper, "I want you to do me a quick favor, then I will. It's really easy."
"What?" she groaned, grinding her arse back against him.
He pushed back in, and, as far as he could tell, her clit rubbed somewhere around the mid-way point of his cock. "I want you to look down, see my tip, and tell me where, exactly, it rests on your body."
"My- my stomach," Pansy said, confused, "What's the... Merlin... I can't see my navel. I can't..."
Harry smiled, pulled back, re-aligned, and then slid back into the girl's sopping, smooth, piping-hot channel in one smooth motion, bottoming out against her arse.
She bit her lip, he could tell, to keep from screaming out, though he hadn't pushed in hard.
He stayed still, her walls fluttering around him. "A fourth?" he asked.
After a moment, she nodded, looking down at the floor of the shower.
"I- I feel you... all the way in," she whimpered, "It almost hurts, but..."
"I feel your cervix, too," he replied. "Fucking deep... or deep fucking. I guess either works."
"You... you weren't that big... I don't think."
"Maybe I just didn't push in all the way," Harry grinned while saying it, "Or maybe your memory isn't perfect. You were... a bit out of it, if I recall."
"Whatever," Pansy eventually gasped, "Are you going to move?"
With another smile, Harry pulled maybe a quarter of the way out, achingly slowly, and slid back in. Like on the Tower, Pansy was smooth, and very, very wet, so it didn't generate much friction in that way, but her hole, despite Harry not being her first lover, was extremely tight, providing a sensation no one but Lilith had given him so far, and the Succubus had the unfair advantage of being at least somewhat malleable, body-wise.
He moved in and out slowly to the half-way point several times, then gradually, every five or six pumps, getting just a little bit faster. It took the wizard perhaps ten minutes to work all the way up to what he considered a 'normal' speed, by which point Pansy's body had moved closer to the wall until her cheek rested on the tile, her tits occasionally slapping against it with his thrusts.
Then he slowed down again, pulling her by the hips back until the girl was, once again, nearly horizontal. Then he leaned down again to reach around her and began mauling her breasts, rough and hard, even while continuing to slowly move in and out, more and more gentle.
Then, abruptly and without warning as Pansy started to climax again, he switched to gently cupping her breasts, which more than filled his hands, swollen as they were with arousal, while slamming into her from behind so hard that she squealed with every thrust, unable to prevent the air from being forced from her lungs.
Forced to correct her feet's positions again and again, it only took a few seconds until she was completely up against the wall, hanging on to the bar for dear life while Harry continued to slam into her, now moving more up than forward, until only the tips of her toes were on the floor.
She screamed again, louder, her head falling back onto his shoulder helplessly, hands going limp, as another outrageously powerful orgasm tore through her.
Harry pulled out at once, because the spike in pleasure the vibrating pink walls of her cunt gave him almost made him lose control.
He held her, cock straining up between her legs, forcing himself to remain still and hold the majority of her weight while Pansy recovered.
When she had, he gently set the girl down, making sure she was stable on wobbly legs, then reached back to turn off the water in the shower, before scooping her up in a bridal carry, thankful yet again for Lilith's body-enhancing Runes, and taking the half-dazed, thoroughly confused creature into her bedroom.
There, he gently lay her on the bed, not caring about how the water would affect her bed, to let her breathe for a few seconds. "Be right back," he assured.
Her eyes, alone, tracked him when he returned, and Pansy had one hand on her chest as if to still her breathing, the other cupping her sex, though it did not move, nesting between her raised thighs, her feet now up on the bedspread.
Her expression, though it had been only twenty or so seconds while he gathered his clothes and wand, was guarded and neutral.
"What?" he asked.
"You... you said an hour. It's only been maybe forty-five minutes."
Harry grinned, setting the clothing on the floor next to her bed, and pointed at his reddish, raging hard-on. "And I'm still ready to go."
Her blue eyes widened, "You- you didn't... I thought you finished."
He shook his head, stepping across the room to stand between where he'd left her knees, "Not yet."
She shuddered faintly. "I'm... not sure I..."
"Not up for it?"
She quivered, but nodded. "I... that was... very, um... in- intense."
"Good," he murmured with a proud little grin, "Then we can take a break, if you want. I wouldn't mind just... talking for a bit."
She nodded, then started to sit up.
At once, he reached over and down, putting his hand over hers on the girl's chest, "No, stay... no one will come in. I locked the door in several ways. Stay like that."
"But..."
His eyebrows raised, "You want our arrangement to be unfair...?"
"No," she protested, "It's just... I'm naked. So are you."
"And," he clarified, laying next to her on his side to let one hand rest on her flat stomach, "I fully intend to get at least one orgasm out of you tonight, Pansy. I also fully intend to give you at least a couple more. But you wanted a rest, right? So let's talk... and we can enjoy each other quietly in the meantime."
"Er... al- alright," she agreed tentatively, "Though I'm not sure what we can talk about."
He shrugged with one shoulder, letting his hand trail the fingertips across her stomach in slow circles for a bit, then brushing his knuckles along her side, exploring in a less sexual and more sensual way than before, "Any number of things. Let's start with... the Pure-Blood ideology."
He quickly set the hand of the arm he was leaning on over her lips to stop any protest, the other never ceasing its own movements, which had just started to explore the closer arm, too, "An- acquaintance of mine already explained a lot of it, from the typical Slytherin viewpoint. I get that blood purity is actually a thing, and why it's valued. What I don't understand is your viewpoint on it."
She shrugged idly, moving the hand over her heart to give him free reign of her chest as the trailing fingertips worked their way back up her arm, the hand now beginning to slide over his own chest as their skin continued to drip and dry, "I'm... not sure, not anymore. I meant what- what I said, before. It's all... backwards, I suppose. D'you think I'd ever consent to... this, if... I wasn't already questioning?"
"I suppose not," Harry agreed, twisting a nipple a quarter-turn, enjoying the hitch of her breath before he went back to just trailing, "So what's so bad about muggle-borns, then?"
Another shrug, making his nails prod into her breast on the opposite side as it came back down her torso, "I... there's a word for it, I don't know it. It's... that. Judging someone before you know them, but not prejudice, or at least, that's not the word. Look, Potter... I already know... it's wrong. I just don't know what... to replace it with, I suppose."
He nodded, "Alright. Well... I don't suppose it would be good if some sort of muggle literature found its way into your possessions, right? If it got seen by your family?"
She shook her head firmly.
His hand moved up her body to gently caress her neck, then ears, and even up into the short, black hair, tangling and twisting in it even while he rubbed at her scalp.
Pansy sighed, humming in contentment at the feeling, and actually closed her eyes. "And... you wouldn't be interested in talking to Hermione about it? I'm sure she's much better at explaining it than me."
"No, definitely not. I... again, I hate- hated- Granger for a long time. I don't know why, anymore- it just seems so stupid- but I'm not ready for..."
"I understand," and he really did. Reconciliation, if it ever happened, was not easy. Could he, Harry, ever forgive the Dursleys for how he'd been raised? Probably not.
True, there were many differences, but he understood grudges and old hatreds far better than most.
Maybe they never would reconcile. That was on them, though.
"Alright, well... here's my take, my personal one, on what most 'muggle-borns', or muggles, think- it could be way off base, it's just my opinion."
She nodded, his fingers still curling in her silky hair.
He used the opportunity of her eyes being closed to lean in and, not sure even why he did it, press a light kiss to the tip of her nose. When he pulled away, she was glaring at him, but said nothing, prompting him to grin, then drag his fingers down her face, closing her eyes again with them, then down over her lips. The lower caught for a moment on his middle finger, making her seem to pout. Then down her neck, where she swallowed reflexively, between her breasts, which leaned to the side while on her back, and down, down, all the way to the hand over her groin, which she did not move.
He stayed there, and said quietly, "My take is that everyone- man, woman, child, whether British, Irish, Polish, German, Russian, American, Mexican, Spanish, African, Indian, or any other country or culture, whether magical or not, pure-blood, half-blood, muggle-born, or not, has a soul. That soul is who and what we really are, not these bodies- fascinating and amazing as these bodies are."
He flicked her nipple out of the blue, eliciting a squeak, then went back to lightly massaging her, doubling or tripling the pressure from the grazing he'd done before, and specifically avoiding the major erogenous zones for the moment. "That soul, regardless of the factors I listed or any other, is 'worth' the same amount as any other soul. You and me, me and Hermione, you and Hermione, any of us and, say, Padma Patil in Ravenclaw, or Dumbledore, or- ick- Dolores Umbridge."
She frowned, but didn't open her eyes, only sighing in pleasure as he continued to work and smooth several tense muscles from her sides and shoulders, then moving down to her legs which he worked with the same hand while they remained elevated at the knee. "What a person does with their life affects, maybe, the value of their soul. I would prefer to keep alive a friend, someone I trusted, than, say, Fenrir Greyback, if I ever had the choice to save one and doom the other. Does that make sense?"
"Yes," she answered just as quietly, "But that's a subjective value judgment."
"It is," he acknowledged, "And I am a subjective person. The werewolf might think he's in the right to do what he does- what he's famous for- and probably thinks himself justified. But the rest of us- even Voldemort's followers-"
He paused while she shuddered at the name, but didn't otherwise respond, "-react as if he's a monster. Because he acts like one. His choices show him to be one- not his nature. You know Professor Lupin?"
She nodded, frowning again, "He- he was a werewolf too."
"And one of my father's best friends," Harry whispered, then raised the volume to just a low rumble again, "And, subjectively speaking, he was a very good Defense teacher, right?"
It took Pansy a moment, but eventually she nodded, "One of the best we've had. Maybe the best."
"Exactly," Harry said, "Being a werewolf doesn't make you evil- it's what you do that can make you evil. Sure, many of them are vicious killers, or the stereotype wouldn't exist. But not all of them are. My policy is to judge people by their actions. Each one, individually."
"That... sounds like a lot of work."
He grinned, moving his hand from the right thigh to the girl's chest, where he finally started to focus on pleasing and teasing them again, to Pansy's expressed pleasure, "And it is. Work, I mean. It takes a certain kind of work to maintain the mindset of, 'I'll get to know this person before I decide if I like them or if they're mean or whatever'. It takes another kind of work to keep doing that. And, when you make a mistake, it's hard to acknowledge it and apologize. When someone else makes a mistake and harms you in some way, it's a different kind of work- sometimes even harder- to accept an apology, or even to understand that what they did probably wasn't intended to hurt you, even if it did."
"I'm- huh? That doesn't make sense."
Harry thought for several seconds for an analogy, and the only one he could come up with was this, though he was a bit reluctant, "Okay, so you remember in our second year, in Potions, when Malfoy tossed that tuber into my cauldron? You laughed, so I'm sure you saw it...?"
She nodded, frowning.
"Well, Malfoy might have intended to hurt me in some way. Melt my cauldron, burn me or Ron or both, get us docked points from Snape, something. But what he didn't probably intend, was what actually happened."
The hand cupping her groin lifted to rub at the lower arm on the other side for a moment.
"Yeah," he whispered, reaching over her body to lift that arm, pressing a kiss to where he thought the burn had been, though of course, Madame Pomfrey had left no scar. "Unintended injury. It was just a splash, but I remember you crying. It probably hurt."
She said nothing, this time, only continued frowning.
"Millicent doesn't like Hermione in particular because she pinched her, right?"
Pansy nodded quietly.
"Well, that was unintentional. I happen to know that what Hermione was trying to do was lift a piece of hair from her robes. She must've just missed and gotten more than she intended.
"That kind of injury happens all the time, without most people ever realizing they're doing it. I try not to, but I'm sure I do. I... I probably hurt you very badly on the Tower. I am very sorry. Like I said, it won't happen again. To anyone."
Pansy, though, shook her head, opening her eyes for the first time in ten minutes, "No, I... I didn't like it at first, when I found out, but... your... what you said. I couldn't get it out of my head, and I... this thing, with my family? It..."
She sighed, taking his hand from her chest and moving it down between her legs, "It needed to happen. You're right. I feel it. We... can we talk later? I want you back inside me."
"Sure," Harry grinned, finally allowing himself to notice the aching, throbbing pain in his scrotum and cock as he sat, then stood, hitching his arms at the elbow below Pansy's raised knees and turning her bodily length-wise on the bed, then leaning down over her.
"I am on the Potion, now," she whispered from just inches below him.
He swallowed. "I... Pansy, I'm not saying no, not outright. But... this thing, whatever it is? I can't... sorry, hold on. Let me say it right."
It was a good thing, because the sudden tightness of her beneath him suggested to Harry that the next thing he said would either get him a great shag or a swift knee between the legs.
"I... I want to. I do. But you said you might love Piers, and I respect that. I'm not saying we're together, or that we should be- it'd be incredibly dangerous for you if we were, for one thing- but you need to know more before I can do that. Can you accept that?"
She frowned more, but nodded, "Fine, but if we ever- do this- shag- again, you are telling me. If I don't cut you off forever. And then you're going to do it inside."
"You have my word," Harry replied solemnly, then pushed in and down.
Again, she moaned around him, but with less intense foreplay, did not climax immediately as she had the last two times he'd done the same with this girl. At once, though, her arms lifted around his neck and back, while both legs rose to curl around his thighs, pulling and holding him toward her, though not tightly enough he could not move.
And move he started to do, slowly, as he had before, but with increasing speed.
This time, in under a minute, Pansy was squeaking again, eyes rolling back in her head slightly, one arm now fisting into the bedspread above her head while she gasped and fought for breath against his pounding thrusts, each peak brushing her cervix against his overly-sensitive cock-head.
"Fuck," he moaned, "That was... quick. An hour and a half, Pansy..."
Then he, with monumental force of will, pulled out and stood up. Without consciously deciding to, he painted white strips over her body, which glistened like pearls against the dusky olive flesh, while Pansy moaned.
She panted there, while his penis moved to three-quarters mast and then back up the moment he resumed watching her, covered and slick with sweat and his seed. Then, grinning almost maliciously with a technique he'd learned from Lilith, flattened both hands and began working the sticky fluid into her skin.
At first, she hesitated, but as it continued to absorb, she relaxed once more under his ministrations.
"That's gross, Potter," she said, voice husky and rough, "But sexy, I guess. Feels pretty- pretty good, actually. Still gross."
"I get it," he acknowledged, then leaned down, whispering into her mouth as he peppered her with kisses again, "I have at least one more go in me, if you're up for it."
She groaned, "I- okay. Gently? And- and I want you to finish in my mouth. Like... like the Tower."
"Your wish," he began with a smile, though he didn't finish the phrase. Instead, he moved down her body quickly with kiss after kiss, licking at her clit once and then laving up the copious amounts of cream-cheese flavored juice, before pushing back in.
As she had requested, Harry moved slowly and languidly, his hands continuing to roam, while she had another orgasm some twenty minutes later.
He then rolled her over and slipped in from behind, only able to get half as deep with her arse in the way, but using the change in position to massage her back, hips, side, the arse itself, and even her thighs a bit, while he moved.
As she came again, though, Pansy had another idea. "You- you getting close, Potter?"
"I can be," he said again, "Just taking my time. Why?"
A quick glance at the clock showed him the time: a little after ten. That might be it, but Pansy didn't seem the type to be worried about curfew, especially for him, and the next day was Saturday. Only reviewing was likely on either student's agenda... aside from Harry's extracurricular activities.
"My mouth isn't tired anymore."
He grinned, pulling away and out at once, then helping the girl to her feet while they switched positions, this time with his legs hanging off the side of the bed. "You don't have to," he reminded her.
"I want to."
He didn't even particularly care if she went for his wand, at that point, which must have been inches from her knee. But instead, Pansy was true to her word, and climbed up onto the bed, then knelt low over his cock and guided it into her mouth with one hand, the other holding her hair back to give him a good view.
"Fuck," he groaned, unable to help himself from pumping up into her waiting mouth an inch or so.
She gagged, coughing slightly, then glanced at him in reproach.
"Sorry."
She rolled her eyes, then started bobbing on him once again.
It was... different. Lilith, too, had sucked him off from the side more than once, though no one else had. But Pansy was more hesitant, definitely less sure, and could only get a quarter of him in her mouth without coughing.
So why did it feel so good?
In the end, Harry decided to chalk it up to one of life's great mysteries. Maybe it was because, so far as he could tell, all blow-jobs felt good? Maybe it was the naughtiness of who was doing it, for every reason?
He didn't really care.
Not really.
He just enjoyed Pansy Parkinson pleasuring him, for a change, with little thought for her own reward.
Though he did make a point to reach one hand out, caress her round hind end, then slip two fingers up and down her still-dripping slit, occasionally pushing against the bottom of her clit while she bobbed on him.
After what, according to the girl's bedside clock, was about ten minutes, he whispered, "Okay... now I'm close."
Pansy did not pull away. Instead, she scrunched her eyes shut and dove down, forcing a full half of him into her throat.
He protested weakly, but the sudden increase in pressure kept him from being able to hold back, and he grunted, dropping a hand onto her head, while the one at her cunt squeezed hard, pulling one side wide open against the cheek of her rear, feeling like his dick was swelling a quarter-inch with every pulse of semen it shot into Pansy's throat.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Nine in all, each powerful shots.
With her lips sealed around him, Pansy slowly pulled back, letting him fall out, still half-erect, with a more-than-light popping sound, then audibly gulped and swallowed the lot.
Then, without a word, she plopped down beside him on her back. "That was... interesting."
"It was amazing from where I am," he suggested.
She shrugged, "I... wouldn't mind doing it again. Maybe for Piers. You take too long to get there, though, without a shag first. You must be getting a lot. Fame helping you out?"
At first, Harry was about to protest, but she didn't seem accusatory. In fact, the only emotion Harry could detect in Pansy's voice was... satisfied exhaustion. "Erm, no, not really. At least, not that I can tell."
"Whatever... I'm going to close my eyes for a minute."
"Okay," he agreed, "Let me catch my breath, and I'll..."
Then he, too, was unconscious.
Harry woke up briefly in the night, glasses askew, curled around a feminine form a little larger than he was used to. Fumbling around a bit for the night-stand, he eventually found it- he must have turned around in the night because it was on the opposite side from where he'd thought- and put the spectacles down, then curled back up around the warm, slender form.
She purred a little, or at least that's what it sounded like to Harry in his sleep-addled state, then shifted back against him. Slowly, his arm slipped around her waist. She immediately took it up without appearing to wake herself, pulling it up so his wrist nested between full, round breasts.
Slowly, but very contentedly, Harry drifted back to sleep.
A/N2: Review, folks! New chapters posted monthly, but I will post early when I hit 10 reviews per chapter!
We didn't quite hit the 10 again, but the late isn't 'cause of that. My great Beta, Hrymeigh, had some personal stuff to do that pushed back things. No big deal. Next chapter up in a bit less than a month... unless we get our 10 reviews.
Glossary: