Nobody's Business
Pansy
She trailed behind Harry, shamelessly checking out his arse as they followed Daphne into her bedroom, once again quietly nursing the thought that she'd missed out by not taking advantage of this opportunity sooner. Though she'd nursed a pleasant buzz for most of the evening, she definitely couldn't – not that Pansy Parkinson needs to make excuses, thank you – blame her attraction to him on anything she'd had drink.
In this intermission between the sex and, hopefully, round two, Pansy felt something that wasn't a worry, per se, but wasn't the most confident feeling either. Entering Daphne's bedroom, where she reclined on her large bed – if she painted herself in that pose, it might well be my favourite piece of art, she thought – Pansy took the opportunity to duck into the ensuite loo.
As she cleaned herself up, she cycled through the possible origins of this… feeling. Jealousy? No, she wasn't jealous of Daphne (considering how attracted she was to the blonde), and her and Harry had basically shared the witch between them. Insecurity? Hardly. Regret? Considering that the thought of returning to the pair in bed sent a thrill down her spine, not that either.
Ah. She realized, as she reminisced briefly about the course of the night's activities. It had been Harry who had first made a move on her, then Daphne who had encouraged him to come over and fuck her already. That was the source of this… restlessness. If pressed to answer, Pansy would probably identify herself as a switch, and she certainly had no complaints if the sex had gotten a little rougher, but no matter whether she was the one taking it or dishing it out, she enjoyed control.
Pansy dried her hands, putting an extra sway into her hips as she returned to the bedroom. Harry and Daphne lay entwined on the bed, not actively doing anything, but clearly not that far from starting up again. Well, Pansy thought, this won't do. She tsked as she approached the bed, crawling over top of the pair, quite pleased with the way they looked staring up at her.
"Hm," She said, idly toying with a lock of Daphne's hair. "Why aren't you two fucking?"
"Er," Harry replied, clearly not expecting her bluntness, "you were in the other room…"
"Mm," Pansy didn't wait for him to continue, gripping his cock as she met Daphne's gaze. The blonde's blue eyes sparkled with interest: she, at least, was picking up on Pansy's overture. Not that Harry was exactly unresponsive, as she felt his cock beginning to stiffen in her grasp. With her free hand, she grabbed Daphne behind the knee, pulling to direct her on top of Harry.
Momentarily releasing him, Pansy licked her palm lasciviously, moistening her hand, then beginning to jerk his cock in earnest. Harry moaned, a sound quickly cut off by Daphne's lips, as Pansy appreciated the sight of the two pressed together chest-to-chest, Daphne's legs spread over Harry's hips. She slapped one of Daphne's arse cheeks, repaying her for earlier, feeling Harry throb in her hand.
He does have a gorgeous cock, she thought: long enough to stop just short of "intimidating", thick enough that while she could fit one hand around his girth, it was a near thing. Pansy ran her fingertips along Daphne's pussy, finding the other witch to be deliciously wet, which Pansy supposed made sense given her recent, squirting orgasm.
Finding Harry to have reached full stiffness, she pressed his erection alongside Daphne's sex, the remainder of his length nearly enveloped by the blonde's luscious arse. A muffled moan from Daphne was met by a twitch of her hips, which in turn brought a moan from Harry as his cock slid against Daphne, stimulating, but not yet penetrating.
Pansy luxuriated in this sight, thoroughly enjoying the lewd image of her two most recent lovers' most intimate parts pressed against each other, yet not able to fully join together until Pansy decided it was time. A fact not lost on her partners.
"Fuck…" Harry grunted, after a particularly vigorous thrust from Daphne brought them so close that her pussy lips had actually slid over either side of his shaft.
"Oh, not yet," Pansy drawled, "personally, I'm enjoying this."
"Pansy…" Daphne interjected, her voice strained with lust.
"What's that, Greengrass?" Pansy inquired, gripping Harry by the base and slapping his cock against Daphne's wet pussy, delighting in the positively smutty sound that resulted. "Want something?"
"Put him inside me…" Daphne whined. "Please?"
"Well, since you asked nicely…" Pansy responded, pushing Daphne's hips forward with one hand, and slowly, torturously dragging the head of Harry's cock towards her entrance. She noted Daphne shiver as the head passed over her arsehole – intriguing, but not right now – and the blonde outright shuddered when she pressed Harry's member against Daphne's soaked pussy.
Both of her partners moaned as Pansy guided Harry's cock into Daphne, keeping a firm grip on Daphne's hip as Pansy ensured that this penetration took as long as possible to complete. When Harry bottomed out inside the blonde (a process which took a substantial amount of time, given his length), Pansy moved her hand to meet the other one on either side of Daphne's arse, clutching two spectacular handfuls of her cheeks.
Pansy continued to control the pace of their fucking, at times forcing Daphne down against Harry's hips with force, at others dragging her slowly along his member with patience that - judging by her plaintive moans - the blonde witch lacked herself. Pansy shifted her own position, moving behind Daphne, close enough to thrust her own hips against the woman's incredible arse.
This arrangement did not provide much in the way of physical stimulation, but Pansy found the sight absolutely satisfying, as if she were fucking both Daphne and Harry each time she thrusted forwards, driving the blonde against Harry's cock. Definitely have to bring my strap-on next time, she thought.
She moved one of her hands from Daphne's hips to her hair, carefully knotting her fingers into the blonde tresses and pulling Daphne's head back, pulling her upright so that her back was now pressed against Pansy's chest. This angle allowed Pansy even more control over her partners' pace, Daphne's hips nestled neatly into her own. She also enjoyed the clear view of both of their faces, Daphne with a slight blush, unfocused, and Harry's eyes practically glazed over with lust.
"Pansy," Harry moaned. She kissed Daphne instead of replying, pretending as if she hadn't heard him. "C'mere."
"Afraid I've got my hands full right now," Pansy answered, gripping Daphne's tits for emphasis.
"I wanna touch you," Harry argued, his words cut off as Pansy thrust aggressively against Daphne, pushing Harry deep inside her. Well, she supposed that was a fair point. Pansy moved – as gracefully as was possible, given her current position – around Daphne, remaining lip-locked with the other woman as she did so.
Wasting no time, Harry reached between her legs, his fingertips brushing against Pansy's pussy. Okay, she thought, this is better. No longer directly in contact with Pansy, save for their continuing snogging session and mutual groping of each other's breasts, Daphne began to move at her own rhythm, rocking her hips against Harry, who – not bad, Potter – began to thrust his fingers inside Pansy at a matching pace.
The pace of all three began to speed up, Pansy rocking herself against Harry's hand, as Daphne began to bounce up and down in her own gyrations, which had a positively delightful effect on her breasts. Pansy's orgasm came upon her almost by surprise, Harry's fingers pressing against her g-spot as his thumb wrapped around to brush against her clit, her breath escaping her lungs in an unexpected moan.
Her body practically collapsed underneath her as her orgasm abated, her limbs delightfully jelly-like in her blissful daze. She wound up laying beside Harry, watching Daphne squeezing one of her own breasts as she rode his cock.
"You'd better not finish until she does, Potter," Pansy whispered in his ear, extending her tongue for the briefest instant to lick delicately along his earlobe.
Harry grunted a reply, his hands coming down firmly on Daphne's hips, as he began to thrust up into her, taking control of the pace. Daphne seemed quite pleased with this development, falling forwards onto Harry's chest once more, and Pansy idly extended her own hand to join one of Harry's on Daphne's arse.
The blonde didn't last long under this stimulation, crying out as her orgasm took her, though Harry's grasp kept his cock buried within her even as she tensed and spasmed.
"Good boy," Pansy whispered to Harry, pressing a soft kiss under his jawline. "Now, cum for us. Cum."
He did, gloriously, his muscles standing out along his torso as he made one, final, powerful thrust into Daphne. The blonde lay bonelessly atop him, a dreamy, spaced-out look on her face, as all three members of this trio caught their breaths.
"Mmm," Daphne finally spoke, "that was amazing. I'm gonna wash up, then let's get a bit of rest."
Harry made a noise that was something like agreement, as he remained sprawled on her bed while Daphne got up, and Pansy didn't even bother finding a snarky comment to say as she basked in the afterglow, feeling sleep approaching.
Harry
Harry awoke to, of all things, the chiming of an alarm clock. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of Daphne and Pansy cuddled up together, their blonde and black hair mingling together against the pillow they were sharing. He was also conscious of the small jolt this sight sent through his groin, apparently still not quite sated despite the evening's considerable efforts.
"Mmm," Daphne awoke next, stretching. "Good morning, you two."
Pansy's response wasn't quite in English, muttering something and nestling against the pillow.
"That was lovely," Daphne continued, "but I'm supposed to meet my sister for lunch today. I'm afraid I am going to need to kick you two out pretty soon."
Pansy made another grumbling noise, but sat up, blinking her eyes. Harry started to stand from the bed, finding his glasses and putting them on. He made his way back to Daphne's living room, tracking down the various discarded pieces of his outfit from the night before, beginning to dress himself and pointedly ignoring the different thoughts that threatened to become "worries" beginning to pop into his head.
Pansy was next into the living room, followed close behind by Daphne, who now wore a bathing robe. Pansy took a bit longer than Harry had to track down her own discarded garments, evidently not a morning person by any stretch.
"Sorry to be so abrupt about this," Daphne spoke, "but I simply hadn't planned ahead when I told Astoria I'd meet her this afternoon."
"S'all good," Harry answered, finishing the buttons on his shirt. He threw his jacket over his shoulders, but didn't bother with his tie or unrolling the sleves of his shirt.
Pansy groaned something like "Murgh," then became somewhat more eloquent when she asked "Time is it, anyways?"
"Half past nine," Daphne answered, entirely too chipper for how early it was on a Sunday.
"Fuck," Pansy continued, "No way Blaise will be done with his friend yet."
There was a moment of silence, as Daphne glanced towards Harry, quirking an eyebrow.
"Er," Harry started, "I was thinking of making some breakfast, if you want."
"Merlin, yes," Pansy replied, fastening her bra. She hadn't come close to bothering with putting her dress back on.
"Mm," Daphne interjected, "sounds lovely. I wish I could join, but I'm off to the shower."
She stepped between Harry and Pansy, throwing her arms around either one. Daphne kissed Pansy first, then Harry – lips closed, but definitely not chaste – before turning to stride to her bathroom.
"You both have LetterBooks, yes?" Daphne asked, referring to the recently-popular magical creations which allowed Witches and Wizards to exchange written messages with each other. Harry knew that both still lagged far behind the muggle inventions of e-mail or mobile phones, but it was a start. Harry and Pansy both nodded in response.
"Good! These," Daphne continued, passing each a pen, "are bound to my book. Send me a note, yeah? I want to do this again, once you two have sorted out what you're doing with each other, of course."
Harry gawped and was about to protest this unspoken assumption, but Daphne had, in a flurry, whirled around and left him and Pansy to their own devices. Looking at the confused Slytherin, Harry shrugged, extending the crook of his arm towards her. Pansy shrugged in response, accepting his arm, and with a crack, Harry apparated them to 12 Grimmauld Place.
"You live in a fucking mansion?" Pansy nearly shrieked in surprise after catching her bearings.
"Er," Harry began to answer, "kinda? I guess?"
"It's bigger than Malfoy Manor! What the fuck, Harry!"
"It was the Black family manse," He elaborated, shrugging. "Ugh, which reminds me…"
As he spoke, the very figure that he was about to warn Pansy about made his own presence known: "Master!" Shrieked Kreacher, "Kreacher was very confused! It is not like Master to stay out! Oh," the House Elf's rant was interrupted as he finally seemed to notice Pansy standing beside Harry. Right. Harry remembered. She's still in her knickers and not much else. "Master has a guest. What is this one?"
"Pansy Parkinson," Pansy answered, an amused smirk turning her lips.
"Parkinson… Parkinson…" Kreacher muttered, thinking, "Oh! A proper pureblood house! Kreacher is happy, Master! Kreacher approves, much better than the other ones you've brought around!"
"Ah, er," Harry interrupted the ancient creature before he could continue spouting off, "I will be entertaining for breakfast, Kreacher, I trust the kitchen is clean?"
"Oh, yes, Master, of course," Kreacher replied with odious obedience, "Kreacher has run out of things to clean!"
"Very good," Harry grumbled – giving the old elf time to be idle was not in anyone's best interests. "Please await my next commands, Kreacher, but amuse yourself in the mean time."
The elderly elf bowed, then disappeared, presumably to go engage in his usual, not at all unsettling rituals in the attic.
"Didn't figure you for the House Elf type," Pansy observed, her smirk even wider than before, "what with what Granger spews on about and all."
"Kreacher… came with the house," Harry explained, "He's ancient, and half-demented, I suspect. It would be cruel both to him and to everyone else to release him at this point. Anyways, breakfast."
He led Pansy to the kitchen, but kept it to himself that it was Harry himself who had made sure to clean the room before he'd left for the weekend – Kreacher meant well enough and all, but his own grasp of where pots or knives were meant to be stored was "baffling" at best, "terrifying" at worst. Harry cracked the kitchen windows, fishing his ash tray out of the sink. Accio cigarettes he thought, casting a wordless and wandless spell, the pack of Dunhills slapping into his hand.
"How d'you take your eggs?" Harry asked, as he took a pan out from the cupboard. "Coffee? Tea?" He was not babbling.
"Mm," Pansy answered, "I was actually thinking of going for a shower. What, your elf doesn't cook?"
"He wouldn't poison us on purpose," Harry chuckled, "Accidentally? That's another matter."
"Hmm." A thought ran through Pansy's head, but Harry couldn't guess what it was. "Runny, and coffee, please. You don't mind if I shower alone? I could kill for one."
"Help yourself," Harry answered, "Upstairs, to the right. There should be a spare towel."
Pansy made a pleased sound, and turned to follow Harry's directions. He did not stare at her arse as she climbed the stairs, his sustained glance in that direction was surely just to make sure she had the correct room in mind.
Okay, he thought, maybe I'm a bit rattled. Daphne's parting comment echoed in his mind, and Harry – as he so frequently did – began to worry. Was Pansy expecting something… more? He wondered, or was it just a shag? Fuck me, he realized, we're going to have to talk about it.
Daphne
"So," Astoria said, leaning over her cup of tea conspiratorially, "Did you have a chance to talk to Harry?"
"Stori!" Daphne cried, purposefully banishing the events of the previous night from her thoughts, "I should have known that Ronald wouldn't have brought it up without asking you first!"
"Oh, you can't blame me," Astoria replied, "you know I always want what's best for you. I just happen to think you'd make a good pair."
"And why's that," Daphne inquired, "because he's rich, and the head of at least two noble houses?"
"Daph!" Astoria rebuked, "I'm not always political. If you must know, it's not, it's because he's a kind man, he's smart, and most importantly, he's a strong man."
Daphne quirked an eyebrow, sipping her tea and letting Astoria continue.
"I know you can be temperamental – no, don't try and argue it – and from everything Ron has shared with me I know that Harry can be the same way. Despite this, he's come to find some kind of peace, and I find that admirable." Astoria sipped her own tea. "If you were being… dramatic, and you needed help to calm down? I think he'd be good at that. If you were angry with cause? Merlin, I think that people might be more afraid of him than they would be of me."
"You do have a fearsome reputation," Daphne agreed.
"That's really what I'm getting at, Daph," Astoria kept going, apparently full of praise for Harry. "I love you, and I will always support you, but Ron and I are about to begin our own family, and there are going to be times where I simply can't be there for you. I'm not asking you to promise anything, I'm just putting my own opinion out there. I'd approve, is all."
"No doubt that our parents would, as well," Daphne bitterly opined.
"Do you know why I married Ron?" Astoria asked. Daphne found this question surprisingly difficult to answer, while she'd always liked the Weasley man well enough, she'd never quite grasped why Astoria had fallen so quickly and deeply in love with him. "He's funny. He's got a wit that he keeps well-hidden. He's kind and passionate, and he's a family man." Astoria dropped her voice, leaning across the table. "He's got a considerable todger." Daphne could have spat her tea out. "Those are some of the reasons I love him. But, yes, I must be honest with you: the fact that he's from a good house, but is far enough down the line that our own children will be Greengrass heirs who won't challenge for any Weasley inheritance does make it easier."
"But it wasn't about his house, was it?" Daphne inquired.
"Of course not." Astoria leaned back into her seat, Daphne noticing how she moved more cautiously than was typical of her. "But we do have to consider these matters, as this is what drives an unsettling amount of the politics in our world. The fact that there weren't any problems was the most important thing, because while Love is a fantastic and wonderful thing, it is not itself in enough to build a life around: you need shared goals, a common cause, and if you decide to overlook any roadblocks that might occur?" She slapped her hands together, miming a collision. "It gets a lot harder."
"So of course," Daphne snarked, "the Lord Potter-Black…"
"All I'm saying, Daph," Astoria cut her off, "I want to see my sister happy, with a good partner, one who can take care of her and support her, I want the best for you. The fact that he's probably the most powerful individual wizard in our society means that he might very well be the best. I'm not going to leave that unspoken."
"Mm," Daphne answered, noncommittal. "I see your point, I suppose."
"So, when I sit you and him together at our next dinner," Astoria raised her cup to her mouth, "where Ron and I are announcing our child… you won't kick up a fuss?"
Any remaining snark disappeared as Daphne was instead filled with a thrill for her sister, she'd long known how important a family was to Astoria.
"Anyways, if it turns out you just want to shag him," Astoria smirked, "then I don't think that's a problem either."
"Stori!" Daphne chastised, "I don't just shag anyone who's fit and I run across!"
"Oh, you think he's fit?" Astoria's smirk was infuriating. "I've heard he's a good lay, at that." Daphne could have gasped. "What? Witches talk." Astoria sipped her tea, seemingly tranquil despite having thoroughly flustered Daphne. Well, Daphne thought, she doesn't know that he is one half of a hell of a duo, at least.
"To be political," Astoria continued, "did you speak to Pansy Parkinson?"
What. Daphne prayed that her reaction wasn't obvious. "A little, why?"
"She isn't yet," Astoria began to explain, "But she's due for quite the resurgence in our circles. She's having a party in two weeks, at her store, and I think you should go. It'll be good if you can get your art displayed at what is due to become the place for fashionable young witches to shop."
Hmm, Daphne thought, that depends on what her and Harry are doing. Still, Potter and Parkinson as the allies Astoria wants me to build, if only she knew.
Pansy
Harry's fucking mansion was decorated in a style that would have considered "spartan" décor to be frivolously luxurious, but she still detected hints here and there of Harry's personal touch; it was not simply that he had decided not to decorate, but had clearly made a conscious decision to strip his (again, fucking huge) mansion down to the bare essentials.
His master bathroom, at least, had more elements of luxury than what she'd seen of the rest of the house: a standing shower with a tiled bench built into the wall, and a separate claw-foot tub. While Pansy could easily have performed a quick cleaning charm, she found a certain appeal in rinsing what remained of her makeup off under the flowing water.
Drying, she grabbed the bathrobe that was hanging from the back of the door, pleasantly surprised to find it plush and soft, not at all threadbare or "barely sufficient". She drew it over her shoulders, it was substantially too long for her, but considering she hadn't put on anything else, it would do.
She returned to the kitchen just as Harry was plating their breakfast, wordlessly accepting the cup of coffee her offered to her, taking a seat at the central table as he sat across from her. They ate in silence, and she had to admit he certainly wasn't a bad cook – not that eggs and toast were a particular culinary accomplishment, but he hadn't made a burned mess out of the eggs as she was prone to doing.
"Hair of the dog?" Harry was the first to speak, standing from the table and retrieving a bottle of whisky from his counter.
"Please," Pansy answered, extending her coffee mug towards him. He poured a generous helping, taking her empty plate away without needing to be asked.
"Think I'm gonna shower too," He spoke again, less wordy than he'd been the night before. "You can smoke by the window, if you want."
"Ta," Pansy's reply was equally brief, walking towards the window as she took advantage of his offer. As Harry disappeared upstairs, Pansy was left with her thoughts.
She'd had one-night stands before, of course, and she'd had a couple ongoing arrangements that still remained within the boundaries of "casual", but she was concerned that this didn't seem quite like that.
It wasn't even that she was actively avoiding a relationship or anything, it just didn't rank among her priorities at this point. Even if she were looking for one, she didn't know if Harry fucking Potter was the person who might provide this kind of fit.
Daphne, too, provided an additional complication. She'd thoroughly enjoyed shagging the witch, and Harry's participation had been excellent as well, but the blonde had left her and Harry on a strange, confusing statement. Fucking Slytherins, she thought.
All too quickly, Harry returned downstairs, and Pansy absolutely did not feel a surge of arousal at the way his t-shirt clung to his frame. His hair was still a bit damp, and he'd taken the opportunity to change into lounge pants and out of his somewhat-disheveled suit, but Pansy found that this look worked just as well.
"So." Harry said, letting the words hang in the air.
"So." Pansy replied, unwilling to budge.
"Daphne seems to think we need to talk about something."
"We shagged," Pansy stubbed out her cigarrete, "it doesn't seem overly complicated."
"Mm," Harry replied, a grunt that didn't elaborate anything.
"It's sex, Potter," Pansy continued. "I'm really not the kind of woman you want to get overly attached to. If you want to call it there, I understand."
Harry quirked an eyebrow at her. "Do you really think I've never had casual sex, Parkinson?"
"Well, I… I don't know, really." Pansy bit down on her lip, frustrated at herself for showing this uncertainty. "I thought you might get strange about it."
Harry chuckled, which only slightly frustrated her and slightly aroused her to realize that he was maintaining the edge that their conversations took.
"I won't get strange if you don't," He said, "if it happens again, you know."
"Oh?" Pansy questioned, "you think it will happen again, do you?"
"Well," Harry leaned against the counter, "I'm not doing anything the rest of the day."
If pressed, she'd admit that she was the first one to move towards him, but he reacted immediately as well, their bodies crushing together in the middle of his kitchen. She immediately wrapped her legs around him as they kissed, pleasantly surprised with the ease at which he carried her over his hips.
As he turned to walk up the stairs towards his bedroom, she felt his cock hardening underneath her, beginning to press against her pussy through his robe she wore. Well, she thought, this will have to come off. Wouldn't want to get his robes all wet as a guest, after all.
Harry
They'd fucked hard, and fast. As he crashed into his bed, Pansy beneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist, she divested herself immediately from his bathrobe, more quickly than he was able to pull his own t-shirt off. Her hands flew to his waistband, pushing his pants down, not even allowing him the time to kick them entirely free of his legs before she'd urged him forwards, sliding into her in one smooth, quick motion.
Harry usually enjoyed some level of foreplay, but he was not going to complain about this turn of events. He immediately began to thrust hard, substantially enjoying the effect this had on her tits, as she lay half-propped against one of his pillows.
"Harry," She moaned, running one of her hands into his hair. Her fingers tightened, pulling his hair just short of it being painful. "Harder."
Well, since she asked nicely… he began to throw more of his weight into his thrusts, their hips slapping together in an audibly erotic way. Pansy pulled his head down, but not to kiss – Harry felt a sting across his cheek as she had slapped him, again not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a surge of fire through his blood.
"I said harder," she snapped, the hitch in the middle of her words apparent, "fuck me like you hate me."
Harry didn't answer, instead returning her slap: measuring his strength, making sure that he wouldn't hurt her or even mark her skin, but making sure she knew that he was not going to be submissive to her right now.
He felt the briefest worry that this may have been wrong, having never actually slapped a woman across the face before, but the way her eyes dilated and her mouth hung open erased his fears. He imitated her, running his fingers into her hair, then pulling her head back by the roots of her hair.
"Fuck you, Parkinson," He spat, putting as much venom into the words as he could, at the same time pounding himself into her harder than he'd done yet.
"Fuck yes, Potter," She sneered back, her hips beginning to rise to meet his own thrusts, her tits bouncing wildly beneath him.
It didn't last much longer – not that it needed to, as mere seconds later Pansy stiffened, her neck going red in the way that Harry now knew meant she was reaching her orgasm. He continued as if he were unaffected, fucking her as hard as he was able to. His own peak rapidly approached, and when Pansy cried "onmytits Harry cumonmytits" in a desperate voice, it was the last stimulus he needed, pulling out to obey her request and cumming substantially across her breasts with a load groan.
They collapsed together, Harry catching his breath, Pansy laying on her back, her hands tracing little patterns over her own skin. She nudged herself against him as she turned to her side, snuggling her arse against his hips (where his sensitive cock gave a little jump in response – apparently, he still wasn't tapped out).
"Harry?" She spoke, her voice dreamy, distant, "I don't cuddle, okay?"
He began to move his arm from its place around her, somewhat confused as she instead grabbed it to drape it more tightly over herself.
"This is just too comfortable."
"Mm." He grunted his response, sleep returning to him.
Daphne
It was just before dinner when Daphne's LetterBook vibrated against her tabletop, its way of indicating that someone had written to her.
Harry Potter, the words at the top read, then continued: "Hey, Daph. It's Harry. Talked it out with Pansy, it sounds like 'Friends with Benefits', yeah?"
"Harry!" Daphne wrote, "Good to hear! I like the sounds of that, too, if you're interested?"
"Obviously," came the immediate response. Daphne smiled. While she wasn't sure exactly what situation the three of them were beginning to navigate, this seemed like a nice, easy starting point.
"So, is Pansy still there?" Daphne asked.
"No, she's left," was the response.
"And you shagged her again, right?" Daphne was hoping the bluntness surprised Harry a little.
"Yeah," he answered, "twice. Once in the bed, once in the shower."
"I want details, Harry," Daphne wrote, "tell me all of it, and I'll tell you what I'm doing right now." Not one to create false impressions, she proceeded to slide her hand down the front of her panties, lightly toying with herself as Harry began to write about his morning, then afternoon with Pansy.
Yes, she thought, this arrangement works.