Opening Night - Part Two
Pansy
"I have plans for that night."
Right, Pansy thought, of course her plans were to actually show up here, leaving me thinking she wouldn't. Fucking Slytherin.
"Ladies!" She announced, cheerfully. "Welcome to Serpentine! I'm very pleased to see you could find the shop!"
Not a surprise at all, right.
She exchanged cheek kisses with Astoria, then Ginny… Ginevra, Narcissa, and then, of course, Daphne.
For what it was worth, the blonde looked lethally fashionable – her hair done up in an intricate braid, wearing a black pencil skirt and black camisole under a – shockingly – black dress robe. Pansy felt a brief moment of uncharacteristic insecurity, going over her own outfit in her mind – long lace skirt, leather bustier, with a sheer dress shirt over top and a deepest-green velvet robe over the whole ensemble – before realizing that Daphne was dressed to be an ideal model for clothing.
"It's good to see you made it," Pansy said, with just the vaguest hint of smoke in her voice.
"Of course," Daphne smirked, "you didn't think I'd miss this, did you?"
Fucking Slytherin, Pansy reiterated to herself.
"Narcissa, love, it's so good to see you!" She announced, with genuine admiration. Narcissa had been affected worse than many by the war – well, among those who survived, of course – and by Pansy's reckoning, this may very well have been her first public appearance (other than her son's wedding) in months. The arrival of this quartet of pureblood women was a notable one, which was evidenced by the hushed whispers among the other customers, and if Daphne was responsible, then Pansy supposed that she owed the blonde considerably.
"Ginny, darling," Blaise's smooth voice interjected, "what a pleasure to see you! I hope you didn't have a hard time finding us!"
"Not at all, Blaise," the newest Malfoy replied, "Daph was very helpful getting us here!" She looked over to Pansy with this last statement, nodding slightly, as if to reinforce the reason for her attendance. Draco's been a bad influence, Pansy smirked internally.
She supposed that this shouldn't have been anywhere near as surprising as it was. Pansy already knew that Daphne and her sister spent a lot of time in each others' company, and through Astoria, Daphne undoubtedly had a close acquaintance with Ronald Weasley. With how that particular family conducted themselves, Ginny and Draco must also be frequent guests at family functions, which therefore provided an avenue to Narcissa.
Pansy stopped just short of shaking her head to clear these thoughts – navigating the webs of family alliances and social obligations was a particularly Pureblood pursuit, and she had absolutely no intention of getting herself mixed up in that world again.
The most relevant details to Pansy Parkinson were that she had several Very Important Witches in her shop, and that Daphne had consciously left her to worry about being un-patronized despite clearly having arranged this.
"Miss Parkinson," An unfamiliar voice cut in, "may I make a firecall?"
"Of course," Pansy smoothly answered, turning to face the witch she didn't recognize – a tag-along, most likely – and guiding her to the shop's Floo. The appearance of her most recent customers would undoubtedly ignite the interest in Serpentine's opening, and this witch likely wished to call her friends to inform them about who they could be seen with.
Returning to the aforementioned guests, Pansy wandered over to find Narcissa, who had split off to peruse the selection of dress robes.
"It is good to see you," she spoke, more quietly.
"Likewise, Pansy," Narcissa answered, "You're well, I take it? This is… impressive."
Pansy waved a hand dismissively. "It's just clothes, still to be seen if it works or not."
"Still," Narcissa picked up a pair of lace gloves at the end of the display, turning them over in her hands. "It's good to see a young witch like yourself making something of her own. Merlin knows that I never had the opportunity."
Pansy nodded, understanding the underlying sentiment – though not public knowledge by any means, her time that she spent as Draco's presumed betrothed had allowed her a rare insight into the former Lady Malfoy's life, and the knowledge that Narcissa's previous marriage was a distinctly unhappy one was a secret that Pansy would take to the grave if necessary.
"These are lovely," Narcissa continued, turning the gloves over once again. "How much shall I transfer to you for them?"
Pansy clasped her hand over the back of Narcissa's, briefly. "No charge. It has been too long since I've seen you, we should take tea one of these days."
The older witch smiled, with only the smallest hint of sadness in it. "I'd like that."
"Oh, Pansy," Daphne interrupted, walking over with a dress – not one of the most daring pieces that Pansy stocked, but very close – in her hands. "I'd love to try this on! Where are your change rooms?"
"Right this way, darling," Pansy answered, guiding Daphne behind the counter to the changing room she'd internally designated as the VIP room. Past the black-on-black curtains providing privacy, there was a moment of tension, stretched out until it became unbearable.
Pansy closed the distance between her and Daphne in a heartbeat, pressing into the blonde woman and snaking a hand around her neck.
"You said you had plans," She hissed, though without venom.
"The surprise is half the fun, lover" Daphne gasped, though more out of surprise than due to the pressure on her throat.
Pansy realized several things very clearly in this instant: firstly, even though Daphne was a fair bit taller than her and likely stronger, Pansy had absolute control over her at this moment.
Secondly, by how her eyes had popped open and her breath came in shallow gasps, the blonde was riding a very, very thin edge between genuine fear and arousal.
Thirdly, that Pansy herself had complete authority over how the next several seconds would affect their relationship for the foreseeable future. Were she to tighten her grip and express anger, the other witch would likely be too afraid of her to cross her or mislead her again, but it would spoil whatever the… thing was that they had between them.
Were she instead to approach delicately… well, that led to delicious outcomes.
"Slytherin bitch," Pansy whispered against Daphne's ear, at the same time as she loosened her hand around Daphne's neck, trailing her nails delicately down her throat. Daphne melted under her grasp, pressing more closely into Pansy, the slightest gasp escaping her lips. "You're lucky I like surprises." She took Daphne's earlobe – adorned with a plain silver stud, she noted – between her teeth, releasing her bite to press a soft kiss under Daphne's jaw.
"Pans," Blaise – infuriatingly – interrupted, "Got a customer at the till!"
"Get changed," Pansy murmured to Daphne, spinning to leave the other witch panting.
The customer at the till was merely purchasing one of the off-the-rack robes Pansy had available, which was hardly worthy of her attention when there was a gorgeous and deceitful witch waiting in a changing room. Frustratingly, Daphne strode past the counter – her fingertips barely brushing against Pansy's arse as she went – showing off the dress she had donned to the rest of her party.
Even despite her more carnal reasons she was happy to see Daphne, Pansy could admit that it was nothing but to her benefit for the so-called Ice Queen to strut about wearing an original Serpentine – her long legs piping out from under the dress made it look daring, yet proper, and the way it clung to her torso was simultaneously sinful and professional.
"Daphne, darling," Pansy drawled – in a friendly way, mind – striding past her. "You simply must try this piece," she announced, selecting a green-and-silver skirt and blouse combination that Pansy was particularly proud of.
"Oh, that is delightful," Daphne cheerfully squealed, taking the garments from her hand and striding past her again to the change room.
"Parkinson." Ginny Weasley – no, Malfoy – interjected.
"A pleasure, Ginevra," Pansy replied.
"I'm curious," the redhead continued, "what are these?" Plucking at a pair of fitness trousers (the Muggles called them "yoga pants").
"Those," Pansy explained, "are for physical activity – they are charmed to keep you cool when it's hot, warm when it's cold, and to stretch in every direction."
Looking almost suspicious, Ginny pulled at the seat of the pants – not that the lithe athlete had to worry about room there – before lifting them to inspect more closely. "I've never seen anything like this," she continued, "can I try them on?"
"Of course," Pansy answered, "I have changing rooms back-"
"Pansy," Daphne's voice interrupted, "I need your help styling this."
"-there," Pansy continued. She saw Ginny's eyes flick over her shoulder at – presumably – Daphne sticking her head out of the changing room, before the ginger's gaze returned to Pansy's own, all too knowingly.
"Ah, I see a room opened up," Ginny interjected, "Ta," striding off to the public change room.
Pansy whirled on her heels, returning behind the counter, to enter Daphne's room once again. Inside, the blonde was – disappointingly – fully dressed, though looking delightful in the skirt which was too tight and too short on her frame, and the blouse which she'd left unbuttoned halfway to her navel.
This time, Pansy didn't leave anything about her actions up for interpretation. When she pressed Daphne against the wall a second time, it was with her lips crushed against the blonde's, her thigh pushed in between her legs.
Their tongues danced together, and Pansy suppressed a groan at the vaguest hint of menthol she tasted on Daphne. She pushed more closely between Daphne's legs, feeling heat emanating from her sex despite the layers of clothing in between them.
"You are a minx," Pansy whispered, when they broke from each other.
"Mm," Daphne answered, "I suppose you'll do something about it."
"There you go," Pansy announced loudly, maintaining the ruse, as she grabbed a handful of Daphne's breast and squeezed. "That should fit better, now".
Daphne smirked as she buttoned the blouse, Pansy pressing one more kiss – thankful that her lipstick was charmed to be smudge-proof – against her before she begrudgingly left the changing room.
The next dozens of minutes seemed to take hours to pass, yet they marked the most successful period of Serpentine's brief lifespan, with several customers buying robes, accessories, and – in Ginny's case – Pansy's entire stock of the charmed leggings that had apparently impressed the Quidditch player. "They'll be an absolute hit with my team!", the redhead announced.
Of course, Daphne managed to continue finding pieces to try on, her backlog of outfits growing to the point that, at midnight - closing time - she still had several different looks remaining in her change room.
Popping a bottle of champagne, Blaise made his assessment: "Love, that was fucking killer."
"Oui," Michel agreed excitedly, "The opening night, it was… magnifique."
"Oh, babe," Blaise hurriedly said, after draining his glass suspiciously quickly, "look at the time! We'd best be off!"
"But… ze customer," Michel objected.
"Oh, Daph and Pans are old friends," Blaise waved away the French boy's concern, "I trust you can handle Daphne, can't you?"
Fuck off, Blaise, Pansy thought, as she answered "Oh, certainly! You two have fun!"
In the time it took for the two men to disapparate – presumably, back to the flat she and Blaise shared, which Pansy realized was an unspoken suggestion not to return tonight – Pansy had poured another two glasses of champagne and hurriedly – though not too eagerly – returned to the changing room where Daphne was.
Inside, Daphne was half-undressed, wearing a silvery bra and a flowy, lacy black skirt that was one of Pansy's particular favourites of her own stock.
With the absence of any other guests, Pansy didn't have to maintain any false sense of propriety. For the third time, she crushed into Daphne, their tongues immediately dueling to seek entrance into each others' mouths, Pansy's hand sliding slowly along Daphne's thigh before finding its destination between her legs.
"Drink," she ordered, passing a glass of champagne to Daphne, even as her fingers danced over the blonde's (disappointingly) covered pussy. As Daphne's throat bobbed, draining the goblet, Pansy leaned in to bite gently on the soft spot at the side of her neck, her fingers deftly pushing Daphne's underwear to the side, tracing over the entrance of her slick and heated sex.
"I'm glad you came," Pansy admitted, before pushing two fingers – a bit more roughly than was necessary, though not so harsh as to cause pain – inside Daphne.
"Ah-I'm," Daphne began, her words lost as Pansy nipped at her earlobe, "I haven't come yet, Parkinson,"
Oh. Oh. Pansy felt the heat between her own legs pool, a shiver running up her spine. Now this was an interesting development to their dynamic.
"You will," She growled huskily, aggressively curling her fingers inside Daphne's cunt, pushing her further into the wall, one of Daphne's legs rising to curl behind Pansy. Pansy's ministrations continued, pulling towards herself with her two middle fingers, pressing against Daphne tight enough as to prevent the taller witch from doing anything but squirming around her thrusts.
Pansy pulled her fingers out of Daphne, pushing them into the blonde's mouth without hesitation. Equally without hesitation, Daphne moaned, sucking on Pansy's digits, her tongue tracing patterns around Pansy's carefully-manicured, blunted nails.
"Fuck," Pansy groaned, "you would look brilliant sucking cock."
Huh. She realized, as she said the words. I did have plans with Harry.
The next thought she had was to realize the absurdity of her situation: knuckles deep inside the Slytherin Ice Queen, fantasizing about her and the Chosen Boy of Gryffindor together.
"You know," Pansy continued, regaining control over the brief moment of confusion she felt, "I was going to see Harry tonight."
"Mmmthat so?" Daphne slurred, as Pansy removed her fingers from the blonde's talented mouth. "We shouldn't keep him waiting, then."
"He can wait a bit longer," Pansy drawled, "there's a few things I want you to wear tonight, lover."
Harry
Harry glanced at the clock over his mantle – a little after half past eleven – before looking back to the various portfolios and files spread out over the table in front of him. He grumbled, beginning to sort the papers back into their source folders, sealing the files with a tap of his wand before sliding them into a drawer of his desk.
The Aurors had him looking into something that sure felt like busywork, but Harry supposed that he could see the benefit of it: it seemed that Mundungus ("Dung" was Harry's preferred name for the man) Fletcher was up to his old tricks, dealing in various ill-gotten artifacts and trinkets. Even a few years after the end of the last war, a surprising amount of wealth (both in terms of physical items and galleons) was unaccounted for, among families who had fallen in along both sides of the conflict.
Of course, one of said families included a member whose arrival Harry expected within the hour: the Parkinsons, while not exactly incriminated, seemed to have profited substantially from the Second Wizarding War. Harry had, on finding their names within his files, felt the briefest moment of paranoia that this was why Pansy had suddenly changed the "mutual antagonism with no real malice behind it" nature of their relationship to one with distinctly more intimate contact.
He flicked his eyes to the clock again, before chastising himself with another grumble. He wasn't excited, or nervous, or any of those feelings, he was simply making sure that he was ready for her arrival. In the years after Hogwarts, he would have been extremely hard-pressed to have called Pansy a "friend", but in the last few weeks, he had to admit that he enjoyed her company more than he'd ever anticipated.
More than anything, it was Pansy's surprising vulnerability which had helped Harry get past his own paranoid instincts (as if a ghostly voice screamed "constant vigilance" at him to this day). The message she'd sent earlier in the week wasn't exactly a glimpse into her deepest thoughts or anything like that, but compared to her meticulously self-assured public image, the fact that she'd even considered that her clothing store might not succeed was a glimpse of her inner doubts, and her request to spend time with Harry after opening night (whether it was to celebrate or to drown her sorrows) actually surprised him.
He hadn't heard from her yet tonight, which he assumed was a good thing – not that the thought of a night of undoubtedly rough and frustration-releasing sex was exactly off-putting to him, but he much preferred the idea of a night of celebratory shagging. Harry was briefly struck by how strange this would have seemed to him even a few years ago: waiting up at nearly midnight in order to rendezvous with the queen of Slytherin herself, Pansy Parkinson.
Then again, the idea of having a three-way with the other Slytherin royal lady, the so-called "Ice Queen", was another idea that he'd only entertained on some particularly contentious nights by himself, before it had fallen together and become reality after Draco and Gin's wedding. He wondered why Daphne wasn't intended to be part of the evening's activities – not that he'd complain about being limited to sleeping with one gorgeous witch instead of two, but he would have assumed that Daphne would be a helpful assistant in either celebratory or cathartic sex.
Harry poured himself a tall glass of whiskey, briefly detouring to the upper floors of Grimmauld place, going over his preparations strictly to make sure that he hadn't left a file out or something, and definitely not because he was starting to pace around. His bed was made, his chandelier dimmed to a point that it would be intimate without being romantic, he'd prepared a selection of different liquors in his bar, and he, himself, was dressed nicely enough without seeming like he'd preened for Pansy's sake or anything.
That, he thought, would be ridiculous, of course, checking himself to ensure the cologne he'd sprayed an hour earlier was noticeable without being noticeable.
Running out of excuses, Harry eventually settled into a large chair in his lounge, his drink in hand, and the enchanted notepad that Pansy, Daphne and himself used to talk to each other sitting on the table beside him. Fortunately for Harry's patience, he didn't have to wait long before the notepad made a "ping" sound, indicating a new message.
"Coming over in five," Pansy's writing read. "If that still works?"
"Of course," Harry replied, after counting out a short delay in crafting his response. Waving his hand, he idly dismissed his Floo wards.
Minutes later, as his Floo flared to life, Harry had a brief moment of panic (which was definitely why his heart was beating faster) as a second figure walked out behind Pansy, but he caught himself and stilled his hand from its lurch towards his wand as he recognized Daphne. Guess that explains that particular mystery, he thought.
"Hey," He greeted them, wishing that he'd said something more eloquent, "how was the opening?"
"Howwwddy," Pansy drawled in what seemed like a terrible imitation of an American Southern accent, before she snorted a laugh as Daphne giggled. Fuck, Harry realized, I'm in trouble, as the corner of his mouth quirked into a grin.
"I think," Daphne explained, "Pansy means to say hello. Thank you for having me, Harry! You have quite the home!"
"Oh, yeah," Harry shrugged, "It's alright."
"It's a fucking mansion," Pansy chuckled, walking over to Harry and practically falling into his lap as she joined him in the chair. "The opening was great, in no small part thanks to the schemes of miss Ice Queen over there," as Daphne laughed and mocked a curtsey, "and also thanks to the appearance of one of your friends, Mister Potter."
"Oh?" Harry wasn't sure who Pansy could mean – it would have been very unusual for Hermione to have made an appearance.
"Yes, Auror Tonks decided to show her face," Pansy explained, "well, not her face, her face, but you know what I mean. She was pretending to be some American, just so she could buy a coat."
"Er?" Harry started, interrupted as Pansy leaned up to him and kissed him. She pulled away almost immediately, giggling – Pansy Parkinson, giggling – and turning to face Daphne instead.
"I'm pretty sure that the chosen one here," Pansy accentuated her statement with a wiggle of her arse directly against Harry's lap, "let it slip to his friends that I was opening a store in Knockturn. It worked out, though."
"Or," Daphne interjected, "maybe she heard of one of the dozens of letters you sent?"
"Psh," Pansy rejected this explanation with a wave of her hand, "I'm not blaming him, but saying that perhaps Harry deserves some… thanks."
The surge of blood into both the back of Harry's neck and below his belt was something that Pansy certainly noticed, but instead of resuming the kiss she'd planted on him, she instead chose to start rummaging in her purse, as Harry nervously took a gulp of whiskey.
"Here," she said, passing him a bright blue potion in a tall, thin vial, "stamina potion."
"I don't think I'll need it," Harry began to protest, his pride stung the slightest amount.
"You will," Pansy argued, interrupting him with another kiss, "I don't care how strong and manly you think you are; you're going to have two witches wearing you out tonight. Oh! Wearing! Daph!"
"Mhm," Daphne acknowledged her, and Harry saw that she now stood beside his chair, failing to even notice her approach, he was so overwhelmed by Pansy's immediate presence.
"Let's get changed!" Pansy sprung from Harry's lap excitedly, snatching her purse from the table. Harry couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow in confusion, shrugging and draining the stamina potion before having another pull of his drink, hoping to catch up to the excited – if scattered – energy of the two witches in his home.
"Oh, you'll see," Daphne winked – a gesture so cliché that only someone as attractive as her could make it look as good as she did – before she and Pansy disappeared, giggling, into one of Harry's bathrooms.
Harry fidgeted, scratching the back of his head, getting up to pour himself another drink. When he returned to his chair, he heard occasional voices and sounds of laughter from where the girls were – presumably – getting… changed into new outfits?
He didn't quite understand.
When Pansy walked back into the lounge, he did understand.
While her outfit when she first arrived was one that Harry thought she looked quite good in, it was nothing compared to this. Her legs were balanced on top of what looked like dangerously high stiletto heels, encased in fishnet stockings, leading up to a top that Harry supposed would be called something between a corset and a teddy – though Harry's brain was decidedly less dedicated to terminology as much as openly gawking at Pansy's tits, which were pressed together by the top that barely covered the outside of her breasts, leaving the center of her torso bare from her chin to very nearly her vagina.
"Mm, I'm glad you approve," Pansy said with far too much smoke in her voice. Harry tried to come up with an equally clever response, instead finding his words caught in his throat as she walked past him to his bar, revealing that this wonderful garment (whatever it was called) dipped between her arse cheeks in a thong, over her hips at her waist, and otherwise left her back entirely bare.
"If that's what you're selling at your shop," He answered, when he found words again, "I can see why tonight went well."
"Oh, this?" Pansy asked, coquettishly. "No, I've actually owned these pieces before I started Serpentine." She genuinely sashayed as she made her way to him, perching atop the arm of the chair, swirling a martini glass in her hands. "It's Daphne that's going to be modeling for us tonight, Harry."
Oh. Right. Harry had – not that he'd say it, of course – actually forgotten momentarily that there was a second unreasonably attractive woman preparing to go to bed with him tonight.
"Ah, er," Harry was truly struggling, as Pansy ever-so-gently trailed one of her heels across his thigh. "thatso?"
"There's a few things I wanted to see her wearing," Pansy smirked, "and I think you'll like seeing her in them too."
"What was all that about, anyways?" Harry asked, regaining his senses briefly, "not that I'm complaining, of course, but I didn't think she'd be joining us tonight."
Pansy looked as if she considered frowning, then merely sipped her drink serenely. "Slytherin habits die hard," she admitted, "I may have overreacted to a small disagreement."
Any further questions in Harry's mind lost priority to Daphne's appearance: while Pansy's outfit was aggressively sexual, this one was transgressive – he recognized the style as "bondage straps" that showed up in the world of Punks among the muggles, but past that, Harry's own knowledge of fashion began to hit a wall. What was clear is that, wherever this particular outfit was not festooned with belts and straps, it was very, very tight latex.
Daphne acted the part of the model with expert skill, strutting into the center of the lounge, doing a slow turn around so Harry could take in all the excruciating details of her apparel (including the fact that the way the latex delved between her arse cheeks revealed that she was obviously not wearing knickers), before turning to look over her shoulder at him.
"Well?"
"Its, er," Harry swallowed, "belty. It has a lot of belts."
"A bit impractical, I think," Pansy continued, thoughtfully. Harry caught a smudge of lipstick against the rim of her glass as she lowered it, which kicked off a strange detail in his sometimes-analytical mind: Witches' makeup was almost always charmed to be protected against smudging or smearing, which further implied that Pansy had applied Muggle lipstick for the purpose of smudging it, and oh Merlin..
"Next one, darling!" Pansy announced, smirking. Daphne returned the cat-like expression, and all Harry could do was sip his whiskey as he felt his ears heating up.
"A little too revealing for everyday wear," Pansy explained to him, as she ran a finger along the side of his undoubtedly blushing ear and began to whisper as he repressed a pleasurable shudder, "but it would be a blast at the right kind of club, I think."
"What club is that?" Harry wondered.
"Oh, you know," Pansy took a sip of her drink as she left Harry hanging, "Goth clubs, Industrial, sex clubs."
Daphne's second appearance followed suspiciously quickly after her first – not that Harry objected to this use of magic, though he wondered at what game the two Slytherins were playing with him. While her first outfit was shockingly decadent, this one was almost conventional: a lot of black lace, to be sure, and tantalizing patches of bare skin revealed between her leggings and the bottom of the one-piece ensemble, but otherwise it seemed close to the lingerie that he'd seen her wearing once before.
"Thoughts?" Pansy interrupted his musing.
"It's… nice?" Harry struggled over his words as Daphne cocked her hips at the pair, showing her arse outlined in lace, "hard to complain about lingerie."
"That's about what I expected," Pansy continued, "Daph, love, I think we can move on from this one." Daphne smiled, departing from the lounge once more without further comment. "Not exactly the most daring piece," Pansy explained, "but I want to be able to sell something to those witches who think they're risqué, but aren't ready for the more adventurous options."
"Besides," she whispered huskily into Harry's ear, her lips brushing against him, but pulling away as he turned towards her, "I think Daphne looks better wearing it than most others would, yeah?"
"What about this one?" Daphne announced, her return coming without Harry realizing.
Merlin.
The first outfit had been out there, and the second had been almost normal, but Harry realized at once why Pansy's shop had been an initial success: this piece of clothing was distinctly witchy, Pansy's eye for design clearly evident, but also distractingly sensual. Daphne had somehow found time to put on leather boots that rose to the middle of her thighs, and the body-suit that she wore was an absolute marvel of mesh and satin: a pentagram crossed over her front, obscuring her breasts and between her legs in the satin overlay, but the rest of her torso was clearly visible beneath the mesh. Completing her turn on the imaginary catwalk, Daphne smirked over her shoulder at him, as his eyes locked on to her spectacular arse, the seat of these clothes just barely sufficient to cover her.
"Yes," Harry announced, not really caring to provide more detailed feedback. "I really like this one."
Daphne giggled at that, walking towards him and Pansy, and casually taking Pansy's glass from her hands to drink from it.
"This is my favourite too," Daphne revealed, "and I think that we can all agree that you're not really that interested in fashion, right, Harry?"
"Ah, not right now," He answered, as Pansy snorted beside him.
"I know what will pique your interest," Pansy challenged, "Daphne here has offered to put on a show that isn't entirely about her outfit."
"Oh?" Harry asked, as Daphne ran her hands down the front of his shirt, moving to kneel in front of him.
"Miss Parkinson," Daphne said, as her hands brushed over Harry's lap, "wants to see what I look like sucking cock."
Fuck.
"Well," Harry choked out, "I suppose we shouldn't keep her waiting, then?" Pansy laughed, a high and melodic sound that was – surprisingly – absent of any derision.
"Absolutely not," Pansy drawled.
Daphne just smiled up at him from her placement kneeling between his legs, as he took stock of the fact that she, too, had changed her lipstick, before her hands brushed over his rapidly-stiffening cock and he decided to stop worrying about his place in whatever game was happening – if Daphne wanted to suck his cock for Pansy's benefit, he was, frankly, all for it.
Faster than he could keep track of, Daphne unbuttoned his trousers, leaning in to press a brief kiss against the bottom of his abdomen, before she took the waistband of his pants between her teeth and pulled downwards, revealing his member. Harry groaned before she even touched him, clenching his teeth as Daphne extended her tongue to place a slow, leisurely lick up the underside of his cock, even as she fully divested him of his clothing from the waist down. She locked eyes with him as she first took him into her mouth, which caused Pansy to moan beside him.
"Faster," Pansy breathed, her own voice hitching slightly.
Daphne, apparently, refused to listen, continuing her leisurely pace as she began to bob her head, her hands sliding up Harry's thighs before one trailed to grip the base of his manhood, sliding up and down in time with the motions of her mouth. Harry glanced towards Pansy, who was staring at the display in front of her with rapt attention, before returning his gaze to the definitely erotic sight of Daphne sucking him.
At the apex of one of her bobs, Daphne pulled off his cock with a pop, breathing heavily as she slowly stroked his member.
"And what of you, Mister Potter," she asked, her voice edged with lust, "what do you like to see when a witch is sucking your cock?"
"Fuck," Harry breathed, "this is great."
"This is too slow," Pansy muttered, sliding off the arm of the chair to sidle up beside Daphne, "I wanted a show, Greengrass."
Daphne only smirked in reply, leaning forward to take Harry into her mouth, sliding down his length once more – except where her previous motions had been slow, along the top half of his member, her downward progress this time continued further than before, her lips closing around his cock very nearly at its base.
"Fuck, that's more like it," Pansy breathed, kneeling beside Daphne, as Harry just realized the implications of bedding two women at once. Sure enough, when Daphne withdrew Harry's cock from her mouth, Pansy leaned in to lick along the side, causing Harry to groan in pleasure.
"Fuck," he cried, when Daphne's tongue joined Pansy's – though the physical stimulation was less than her previous deep-throating, the visual stimulation was incredible. Pansy pulled his manhood away from Daphne, immediately closing her lips around his head, before beginning to bob up and down rapidly. Where Daphne's pace had been languid, Pansy's was frantic, and Harry began to understand why she'd insisted he take a stamina potion.
Daphne's hand slid along the base of his cock to match Pansy's motions as best as she could, while she looked up at him again.
"Is this something you like seeing, Harry?" Daphne inquired again, her voice falsely innocent, "two of the most fearsome Slytherin witches of your year between your legs?" Her voice dropped, taking on a distinctly sultry quality, "two Slytherin sluts worshipping your cock?"
Harry groaned and jerked his hips forward slightly at this, the unexpected dirty talking causing an instant reaction, the first hints of a future climax beginning to send sparks up his spine. Pansy, apparently, shared this feeling, as she pulled off his cock, muttered "fuck", and then pushed Daphne's head back towards his member.
Pansy didn't remain idle long, dipping her head lower to draw her tongue excruciatingly slowly over one of his balls, before closing her lips softly over it and gently sucking. Harry moaned – though he was far from inexperienced, this sensation was new to him, and he had the briefest thought that he didn't know why he had managed to go this far in life without experiencing it before.
"Merlin, fuck," He groaned, when Pansy pushed Daphne's head further down his cock, an action that prompted an immediate response from all three parties: Daphne coughed, pulling back, a trail of drool hanging from her lip as she turned a fiery gaze towards Pansy, a quirked smile from the brunette, and an involuntary twitch from Harry.
The two witches in front of him smashed their lips against each other, and Harry began to realize why Pansy had changed her makeup – their lipsticks were smearing and smudging all over each other's faces, the carefully-maintained looks that both had entered his home with giving way to messy, blasé, and desperately horny expressions.
"Miss Parkinson," Daphne gasped, as Pansy nipped at her throat, multitasking to jack Harry's cock without looking, "seems to have her own demands. I wonder if she can even back them up."
Oh, fuck.
Pansy, of course, immediately rose to the challenge, practically throwing her face against Harry's cock, pushing down against his length. Harry watched, amazed, as half of his member disappeared into her mouth almost immediately, then another quarter, before Pansy stopped, her throat squeezing around his cock.
"You don't have to-" he started, not wanting her to feel obligated to push herself past her limits, but of course, she just looked up at him with eyes practically hazy from lust, a deep-throat induced tear trailing from one eye, before she bobbed her head up, then down aggressively, pushing herself even further towards his base.
"Oh, but she does," Daphne drawled, planting a kiss against Pansy's cheek, "we want to be good for you, Harry."
Pansy made a noise that was half a moan, half muffled by the cock down her throat, before pushing herself even further, her nose pressing against Harry's pubic bone.
"Fuck, Pans, fuck, fuck," Harry groaned, incoherently.
"Are you going to reward us, Mister Potter?" Daphne drawled, as Pansy pulled off his cock, moaning. Each of the two witches now had a hand enclosed around his thoroughly slicked member, jacking him off with intent, "are you going to give these Slytherin sluts what they deserve? Are you going to cover us in your cum?"
Daphne's dirty talk was enough to get Harry right to the precipice of his orgasm, but the sight of Daphne and Pansy pushing their faces against each other and opening their mouths, their tongues meeting at the very tip of his manhood, was enough to blast him into a powerful climax.
"Fuck!" He yelled, as his orgasm erupted – as Daphne had requested, shooting ropes of cum over the faces of the two witches before him, landing partly in their mouths, partly over their lips, and – in Daphne's case – over one of her cheeks.
The next most erotic sight of the evening was when Pansy practically attacked Daphne, pinning her against the floor, actually licking her face to clean Harry's cum off her. Still in a post-orgasmic haze, Harry took a moment to react as he saw Daphne and Pansy each reaching between the others' legs, the snaps of buttons audible as each witch pulled the other's outfit open to begin fingering each other aggressively.
The sight sent a surge of blood into his cock, which had begun to deflate, but now seemed to rally.
Good call on that potion, he thought, as he removed his shirt, eager to join the now-rutting witches on the floor of his lounge.
Daphne
Her head spun and her thoughts swam languidly through her mind as she was overwhelmed by the ferocity of Pansy's affections, the brunette claiming Daphne's mouth as her own, plunging her tongue against Daphne's own with wild abandon. Though Daphne knew that she wasn't drunk, in this moment it felt almost like she was, her tongue heavy and her mouth wet after the combination of her attempts to deep-throat Harry and Pansy's subsequent ministrations, the core of heat pooled between her legs threatening to become a literal pool at this rate.
Daphne was granted a brief reprieve as Pansy pulled away from her with a gasp, her own eyes dark with lust, a slight trail of saliva maintaining the connection between hers and Daphne's mouths in a lewd display.
"Patience, you brute," Pansy slurred, apparently just as fuck-drunk as Daphne was.
Harry's response – though Daphne couldn't see what he'd done to provoke Pansy – was a rumbling murmur that sent a whole new thrill shooting up Daphne's spine. She felt one of his hands trail up her side, settling almost absent-mindedly on her breast, as he leaned into Pansy's back, pressing her even more tightly against Daphne.
Daphne smirked as she leaned forward to nip at Pansy's neck, being rewarded for her efforts with a breathy moan coming from above. While she had absolutely no complaints about the first time that the three of them had slept together, this occasion was already proving more promising, absent of the hesitations and moments of uncertainty that had marked their debut threesome.
The dirty talk she'd recently displayed was proof enough of that: if asked, she'd happily admit that it was new to her, but it had felt right after Pansy's opening preludes in the changing room at her shop, and Daphne's gamble had paid off quite well.
She heard the slap of skin on skin, and felt a moan ripple through Pansy's throat under her lips. Pulling back from the woman's neck, she saw Harry instantly move in to take advantage of the opportunity, pulling Pansy's face into his, kissing her roughly. Glancing over Pansy's shoulder, she saw one of Harry's hands planted firmly on the brunette's arse, explaining the slap she'd heard.
Fuck, they look good together, she luxuriated, rubbing her thighs together unconsciously, which also helped to remind Pansy (her hand, after all, was still wedged between Daphne's legs) to resume her briefly-forgotten activities, her fingers questing to find a way under Daphne's outfit and into her.
For all that the clothing Pansy had her wearing looked absolutely sinful, it was – unfortunately – not the most practical, the snap opening hanging half-undone, Pansy's fingers serving more to run along the outside of the material than to find purchase inside, which of course only made Daphne even more desperate to be fulfilled.
Pansy pulled Harry's face away from hers, one of her hands tangled in his hair.
"You had your turn, Potter," she drawled – Daphne was beginning to notice that her two lovers slipped into the habit of calling each other by their last names when things were getting competitive, "it's mine now."
"Mm," Harry grunted, instead of replying. His actions spoke for him, as he pushed even more tightly against the pair underneath him, and Daphne felt a moan escape her own lips as she felt Harry's hard cock press against the inside of her thigh. Thrice-Damned outfit.
Wanting to hurry things along, Daphne shoved one of her hands between herself and Pansy, reaching for her sex. Pansy's outfit, of course, could just be easily pushed to the side, a fact that Daphne took immediate advantage of, sliding two of her fingers along the lips of Pansy's drenched pussy.
"Ah-" Pansy breathed, her voice hitching as Daphne pushed her fingertips inside, "see, Daphne's being good and following directions. Why don't you be a good boy?"
"Never had much taste for following the rules, really," Harry teased, reaching around Pansy to roughly pull the sides of her teddy open, causing her breasts to spill forth and producing another moan from Daphne just from the sight alone. "Besides, I thought you liked the bad boys."
"Right now," Pansy's voice stopped as Harry tweaked both of her nipples, and Daphne felt a shudder pass around her fingers. "I think I prefer good girls," as she leaned down to kiss Daphne once again, thrusting her hips against the blonde's hand.
Harry leaned over both of them, against Daphne's ear.
"Bit of a smart arse, isn't she?" He rasped, and Daphne was sure that gooseflesh had prickled up along her neck where his lips were in such close proximity. Pansy pulled away from her to silence Harry briefly by taking his bottom lip between her teeth, before lowering her head to Daphne's other ear.
"Bit of a cocky prick, isn't he?" she drawled, thrusting against Daphne once more, an action which had surely driven her apparently-smart arse into Harry's groin, if his hissed intake of breath was any indicator.
"Ah, you do have a talented tongue," Harry leaned towards her as if to kiss her, but instead ran his fingers through Pansy's hair and tightened his grip, "I can think of better uses for it."
"I wish I could say the same for yours," Pansy sneered, even as Daphne saw a blush rising over Pansy's chest, a flush of arousal that couldn't be disguised. "Sadly, you're wasting your efforts trying to outwit me, instead of being smart about it."
Pansy stilled, briefly, as Daphne hooked her fingers inwards inside her cunt, loosing a shuddering breath as she recovered.
"After all, if you don't like it, you can kiss my brilliant arse." Pansy continued.
"Kinky," Harry replied, "and why, pray tell, would I do that?"
"Becausssse," Pansy hissed her reply, as Daphne felt a ripple of the witch's pleasure roll over her fingers. "If you do, I'll let you fuck it later."
Daphne moaned loudly at this, surprising herself and the pair above her. She'd never actually explored that particular avenue of sex herself, but apparently the idea of Harry buggering Pansy was something she was quite willing to see.
"Harry," Daphne rasped, "do it."
Harry smirked at her, leaning down to kiss the back of Pansy's neck loudly, but Merlin he continued kissing downwards, as Daphne pushed herself up onto her elbows to watch. As he neared Pansy's arse, he slapped one of her cheeks, leaning in to trail his tongue along the curve of her other arse cheek, his green eyes locked on Daphne's awestruck gaze the entire time.
Pansy and Daphne moaned in concert when Harry leaned forward, with no hesitation, to run his tongue between those very appealing cheeks.
"Fuck, that's so hot," Daphne stuttered, as obscene wet sounds became audible, Harry apparently more than happy to lend himself to this task with gusto.
"Daph," Pansy whined, "keep going."
Oh, right. Daphne idly curled her fingers inside Pansy, before she got an idea. Using her knees to push Pansy's hips upwards (and even more into Harry's face, which he responded to with a muffled moan), Daphne shuffled further under Pansy, placing herself underneath the brunette's hips, gazing up at her dripping pussy.
Without warning, Daphne reached up to grip Pansy's arse, pulling her hips back down onto her own face, while also spreading her wide for Harry to continue his own oral ministrations. She felt a kiss of rough stubble against her chin as she pressed her mouth into Pansy's cunt, Harry's chin bumping into hers at times as each of them dedicated themselves to thoroughly devouring Pansy, front and back.
"Holy… fucking Morgana," Pansy swore, as Daphne felt her legs tremble around her head. "Fuck... don't fucking stop."
Daphne was quite sure that neither her or Harry intended to stop. Harry, bless him, reached between her own legs with a free hand, and with a snap pulled the bottom of her outfit open, his fingers finally giving Daphne's sex the attention that she'd been craving. When she moaned, the sound thoroughly muted by Pansy's pussy, the vibration gave the dominant Slytherin the stimulation she needed to sail over the edge of her climax, as she actually screamed in pleasure as her legs spasmed.
"Fuck… incredible." Pansy groaned, crawling forward and falling onto her side bonelessly. Harry leaned forward, pushing his fingers deeper into Daphne, his hair even more unruly than usual.
"Harryyyy," Daphne whined, as she felt herself twitch, "how does she taste?"
He smirked, leaning his face into hers, pushing his tongue into her mouth. While Daphne knew that Pansy's hygiene was beyond impeccable, the raunchiness of the act was nonetheless driving her absolutely wild.
"You'll have to try for yourself," He whispered, pulling away from her. Fuck, I just might.
Pansy made a sound of mumbled contentment, turning to kneel beside Daphne, leaning down to press a kiss of her own to the blonde's lips.
"Utterly fucking brilliant," She reviewed.
Daphne smirked, reaching down to grab Harry's wrist, putting a brief stop to his ministrations despite how pleasurable it was for her.
"I feel like a drink," She announced, pulling herself up to her knees, "why don't you take a seat, Harry, since you're such a generous host after all."
Whatever protest Harry was beginning to formulate died on his lips as Daphne practically hauled him to his feet, directing him back into the chair where their evening had begun, pushing him into it with perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than was necessary. She made sure to trail her hand over his still-mostly-hard manhood as she turned to Pansy, continuing her announcement. "Miss Parkinson, tonight is your celebration, if I recall, you also sit back, I'll fix us something." Pansy nodded, allowing Daphne to guide her to her feet and to be planted firmly on Harry's lap. Now that's a brilliant sight, Daphne thought, looking at the flustered Pansy collapsed against the smirking Harry, her breasts still heaving under the breaths she was taking, a sight which Harry surely appreciated given the twitch Daphne saw his member make.
As she turned to walk to Harry's bar, she divested herself of the mesh-and-satin number that Pansy had dressed her in (and smiled when she heard matching pleasurable gasps behind her), the night air kissing cool against her skin. She didn't fuss too long when deciding which drink to select for the three of them, reaching for a bottle of cherry-infused firewhiskey and pulling the cork out with her teeth as she sauntered back to the chair.
Unsurprisingly, the seated pair were already getting handsy with each other (heh, she thought, "Hansy" would be a cute name for them), which Daphne didn't quite interrupt, but made a show out of taking a swig from the bottle as she settled herself over Harry's legs, facing Pansy. She allowed some of the liquor to trickle from her lips, down her breasts, and was delighted when Pansy immediately took the hint, leaning forwards to lick and nuzzle at her chest. Passing the bottle to Harry, Daphne pulled Pansy's face to hers, languidly snogging the other witch in a cherry-whiskey flavoured duel of tongues.
Pansy practically purred against her as Daphne felt Harry reach for Pansy's tits, tweaking her pierced nipples, the action also serving to brush his hands over Daphne's breasts. He passed the bottle to Pansy, as he leaned over her shoulder, replacing Pansy's lips with his own in a kiss with Daphne.
We're pretty good at this, she thought, amused. When Pansy placed the bottle of firewhiskey on the table, she didn't take long to join Harry in lavishing Daphne with attention, nipping and sucking at her neck as Harry took care of Daphne's mouth. Daphne moaned into Harry, leaning forward to press Pansy between their bodies, her hands roaming down the brunette's front.
Both her hands trailed down between Pansy's legs, but only one lingered on the witch's pussy, the other traveling further south to snake under her and grasp Harry's member. Daphne gave Harry a couple perfunctory strokes, tilting her hips forwards as she angled him upwards, and releasing a contented moan as she slid him inside herself.
"Why do you get to be first?" Pansy teased, though the lustful twinkle in her eyes clearly showed that she didn't mind.
"Harry," Daphne ordered, ignoring the brunette, "let's not forget about the guest of honour, shall we?"
"Quite," Harry agreed, smirking, as Daphne hooked her fingers up into Pansy's pussy once more, Harry pulling the petite brunette against himself with a tight grip over her breasts. Daphne leaned to snog Pansy again, and she felt Harry's breath beside her as he began to nibble and lick at the outside of Pansy's ear.
She began to roll her hips, thoroughly enjoying how Harry was stretching and filling her, but taking it slow, the pace not fast enough for either of them to climax any time soon. After all, she thought, contentedly, Pansy's the focus, isn't she?
She pulled away from Pansy to give Harry a quick kiss, laying her free hand overtop one of his on Pansy's breast, and once again was pleased that he interpreted her meaning without her needing to explain. His hand slipped out from under hers, trailing down Pansy's body, stopping just above Daphne's fingers to lazily stroke at Pansy's clit.
"Merlin," Pansy groaned.
"No," Daphne smirked, "Harry and Daphne." She began to increase the pace at which she fingered Pansy, rolling the brunette's nipple piercing between her fingers in her other hand.
She was thoroughly unprepared when Harry reached around her, grabbing her arse, and pulling her deeper into the seated position they found themselves in – Daphne didn't think they could have executed this arrangement if Pansy wasn't such a short and svelte woman, but somehow, the three of them fit together perfectly.
As she increased her pace, so too did Harry begin to thrust upwards into her, until before long, both her and Pansy were positively bouncing against Harry's strong chest, the dark-haired wizard managing to piston his hips even with two women on top of him. Crushed chest-to-chest against Pansy, all Daphne could do was draw the other woman into a passionate kiss, pulling her fingers up and down in short thrusts, the witch's legs (splayed open and hanging over the sides of the chair) quivering as Pansy approached her second climax.
In all the fucking, Daphne had failed to remember that Pansy's hands were presently unoccupied, a fact that was sharply apparent when Daphne felt the pleasant sting of Pansy slapping her palms down on her arse, holding Daphne tight as Harry's thrusts somehow became more powerful.
"Bet you'll come first," Pansy smirked, leaning forwards to suck at the side of Daphne's neck, under her jaw.
Clever bitch, Daphne thought, as an orgasm suddenly began to build, it's not a bet if you rig the game.
Sure enough, Pansy was proven correct in short order, as a shaking orgasm appeared suddenly and powerfully in Daphne's core. She cried her ecstasy, leaning her head back, her tits thrust forward into Pansy's face; the way that her fingers suddenly slipped from Pansy's hot, practically liquid sex proof that their brief "contest" was a near thing.
"Fuuuck," Harry groaned, the slap of his hips against hers becoming audible as his thrusts grew erratic, only Pansy's arms holding Daphne tight managing to keep his cock sheathed within her. He kissed Daphne deeply as she felt his cum shoot inside her, Pansy's wet pussy pressed against her abdomen as if both her lovers were marking her.
Fuck, she thought, hazily, we really are good at this.
Moments passed in the afterglow, as Harry continued to show no signs of complaint at the two panting witches draped on top of him.
"Mm, Daph?" Pansy spoke, the first to interrupt the hazy euphoria.
"Mm?" Daphne replied, not quite able to form words yet.
"Have you seen Harry's bedroom yet?" Pansy asked, prompting a chuckle from the wizard underneath her.
"Actually, no."
"Well," Pansy leaned back, luxuriating, stretching her arms over her head (which did very appealing things to her tits) "I think it's about time we take this upstairs."
That, Daphne thought, hazily, is another brilliant idea.
Pansy
Running a hand through her hair, Pansy walked back into Harry's bedroom, spotting the man himself stretched out on his bed, lounging with an arm tucked behind his head. She appreciated the sight briefly – adulthood had gone well for him, transforming him from scrawny to lithe – before retrieving her cigarettes and wand from her purse.
She flopped to a seat next to Harry's legs, as he withdrew an ashtray from somewhere on his bedside table. Lighting her cigarette, she saw Harry wave his hand in a strange pattern, muttering "aerobibus fumos" under his breath. A swirling, translucent sphere appeared above the bedside table, which seemed to pull the smoke from the air and hold it within its boundary.
"That's a neat little trick," Pansy spoke, as she watched another exhaled breath of smoke swirl its way into the orb.
Harry merely smirked, lighting his own cigarette with a tap of his finger. Pansy was almost impressed at the display of magic – clearly the Chosen One had learned a thing or two since Hogwarts that went beyond his talent in sex.
"Came up with it for a minor raid a couple years back," Harry explained, his voice carried on smoke, "an illicit potions vendor had dosed the air around his flat with forgetfulness potion, draught of lethargy, and confusion concoction. That was a neat little trick that helped him operate right under the noses of his muggle neighbours."
"Clever," Pansy admitted, "you could have just taken a memory potion and a draught of bravado to counter those effects, but this," she gestured at the smoky orb suspended in Harry's bedroom, "seems more your style."
"I always was pants at potions," Harry agreed, shrugging.
"So what happened to the potion dealer?"
"He got a fine," Harry frowned briefly, "apparently it's not a big deal to sell disinhibition potions to muggles if you're advertising them as a fun new kind of drug."
Pansy could have rolled her eyes, that was just so… typical of the Ministry. She spent two years on probation, not allowed her wand or any use of magic for some – to be fair, regrettable – actions she'd taken as a child, but other wizards and witches who'd escaped the Ministry's watchful eye were basically allowed to play with muggles' minds as they pleased.
"What's a fun new drug?" Daphne asked, making her reappearance from her turn freshening up in Harry's bathroom. Pansy only leered momentarily as she watched the sway of the blonde's hips, a smirk crossing her lips as Daphne took the cigarette from Pansy's hand, stealing a drag without even asking.
"Oh, just old wannabe-Auror stories," Harry shrugged again, nonchalant, sitting up to take a swig from the bottle of firewhiskey.
As he passed her the bottle, Pansy had one of those little moments of realization, once more noticing the arguable absurdity of her present circumstances: the hero of Hogwarts, the greatest champion of the Light, explaining one of his past actions as a Wizarding private eye to his rapt audience of the Slytherin Ice Queen and The Girl Who Said Grab Him.
She definitely wasn't going to complain about said circumstances, but – damn her Slytherin instincts – she was left with the briefest sense of nervousness, wondering how much longer this casual-but-frequent dynamic was going to remain stable.
In typical Pansy fashion, she found the inspiration for a means of retaking control in the brief gleam she caught in Harry's eyes as she twisted to pass the bottle of firewhiskey to Daphne, his gaze passing over her breasts.
"Not that I don't enjoy those stories," she drawled, before yanking on Harry's legs, pulling him flat onto his back again, "but I've just decided that I want you using your mouth for something else." She crawled forwards, appreciating how Harry ran his tongue over his lips as her meaning became clear, swinging her leg over his head to straddle his face.
Pansy sucked in a breath as Harry slowly traced his tongue along the inside of her thigh, actually gasping when he nipped gently at the sensitive flesh directly where her leg met her hips.
"Mm," Daphne spoke into Pansy's ear, sending shivers down her neck – especially since Harry chose that moment to run his tongue torturously over her lower lips. "He looks good eating pussy, doesn't he?"
He did, Pansy was happy to say – as she glanced down at Harry's emerald eyes, locked up on her own in a challenge. She reached down to run her fingers through his hair, but included just enough of a tug on his messier-than-usual locks that he wouldn't dare think she was going easy on him or anything. Daphne, for her part, started to run her hands up Pansy's sides, cupping her breasts, before Pansy decided on a more direct approach the other witch could take.
"Get in front of me," Pansy commanded, reaching behind her to playfully swat at Daphne's arse.
Clambering, the blonde listened to Pansy's request, positioning herself so that she kneeled behind Harry's head, both women perched overtop of him once again. Pansy didn't waste time in yanking Daphne into herself, claiming her mouth with a searing kiss, her tongue immediately pressing for entrance. With her free hand, she took a firm grip on Daphne's arse, grabbing and squeezing in appreciation as she began to gently rock against Harry's mouth.
After all, she thought, this is my celebration.
Pansy shuddered as Harry licked over her clit, then outright gasped as this action was met by Daphne reaching up to tweak her nipples. Though she didn't exactly want to boost the man's ego, he was good at eating pussy, striking a delicate balance between attention paid to her clit and teasing strokes over the rest of her sex.
When he plunged his tongue inside her, she felt an involuntary spasm trace its way down her legs, and felt Daphne smirk against her lips – which made her realize once more that these two were attempting to seize control from Pansy's hands. Normally, she might be willing to let them try (especially with such pleasurable means being employed), but at this moment, she felt more demanding than usual.
"Your turn," she breathed huskily, as she removed herself – after thrusting her sex against his face, hard – from Harry, backing up down the length of his body. She pulled Daphne along with her, which had the desired effect of pulling the blonde's sex into position over Harry's mouth, as Pansy felt her rear end collide with something hard between Harry's legs.
Teasing him, she slid his length between her lips, gliding up and down over him, before she lost her own patience and angled him upwards, impaling herself on his cock in one smooth motion.
"Fuck," she muttered, in concert with Harry's identical proclamation (though his was muffled by Daphne's legs).
"I think that's the idea," Daphne drawled, entirely too smug for someone who was obviously enjoying herself as much as Pansy was. She decided to silence the smart-arse comments by pulling the blonde forward into another heated snogging session, pawing at Daphne's tits with almost as much urgency as Daphne's own hands were demonstrating on Pansy's breasts.
Harry, for his part, proved the perfect gentleman for the time being: content to let two gorgeous witches ride him at either end.
Not that I'm looking for "gentlemanly", Pansy thought, slamming her hips down into Harry with more force, throwing an arm over Daphne's shoulders to gain the necessary leverage. Without looking, her fingers sought out her wand, finding it beside Harry's legs. After several more moments of intense riding, she slowed, drawing the pace to an agonizingly slow up and down motion, before lifting herself off of Harry entirely.
She took a breath, steeling herself momentarily, before pointing her wand at Harry's throbbing cock and announcing the spell she had in mind: "Lubricatus"
Daphne's eyes widened in excitement, as the witch evidently remembered the offer Pansy had made to Harry earlier in the evening. Pansy smirked, nobody can say I don't follow through on my promises, she thought, giving Harry's member a couple of exploratory strokes, or that anybody fucks as well as I do.
"Oh, I want to watch this," Daphne announced, swinging free of her perch on Harry's face, who in turn looked up at Pansy with a mixture of breathless arousal, confusion, and absolutely disastrously messy hair.
"Lubricio Penetrata," Pansy intoned as she pointed her wand at her arsehole, shivering as the spell took effect. The spell – one of frequent use by Blaise, according to his bragging when he'd taught her the incantation – was apparently an old Roman invention, one that lubricated and applied cleaning and stretching charms to the rear entrance of someone preparing to be penetrated.
Exhaling, and relaxing, she sat herself back down, the thick head of Harry's cock coming to rest against her now-slick arsehole, beginning to stretch her open but not yet sliding inside.
"Pans," Harry choked out, "you don't have to,"
"Shut the fuck up," she hissed, one of her hands snaking out to wrap around his throat, "you aren't the one making decisions right now."
Daphne moaned beside her, repositioning herself behind Pansy, apparently enthralled at this sight. Taking yet another deep breath, Pansy pushed herself down, and Harry's cock entered her back door, causing him to mutter "fuck" at the same time as Daphne whispered "Morgana" in an impressed tone.
While it wasn't something that she wanted to engage in every time she had sex, Pansy had found that she appreciated a bit of buggery on those occasions when she was feeling particularly kinky – and this night as definitely one of them. She actually surprised herself as a moan escaped her lips while she allowed Harry to sink more deeply inside of her, luxuriating in the not-quite-painful stretch, the taboo pressure within the deepest parts of her insides.
"Holy fuck that's hot," Daphne muttered at her side, as Pansy came to rest against Harry's thighs, his cock fully buried within her.
"You," Pansy gasped – okay, maybe it feels better than I planned on – "come here."
Daphne obeyed without hesitation, coming around to face Pansy again, yelping in pleasant surprise as Pansy roughly turned her so that Daphne's back was pressed against her own front, the blonde hauled over top of the man beneath them, both of the witches facing Harry.
"You're both," Pansy grunted, beginning to slide up and down Harry's length, feeling him stretch her in ways that she wasn't entirely sure she'd actually felt before, "very good at this," sinking down once more with a plap, "but I'm in charge here."
Releasing her grip around Harry's neck, her hand immediately sought Daphne's sex, which she found dripping with anticipation. Beginning to increase the pace at which she rode Harry over time, she hooked two fingers into Daphne roughly, pulling upwards against the sensitive pad of tissue at the front of the blonde's sex.
Words quickly became unnecessary, as the trio groaned and muttered their contentment, Pansy beginning to ride Harry in earnest even as her ministrations on Daphne began to produce deliciously wet sounds.
"Cum for me," She ordered, breathily, and was actually surprised that Daphne was the one who broke first, half-expecting the tight, lubricated grip of her arse to completely unmake Harry. Not that she was unhappy with how the blonde shrieked and came around her fingers, a jet of liquid erupting from her and landing on Harry's torso as Pansy pulled out of Daphne's sex with expert timing.
Harry moaned, apparently enjoying the sight as much as Pansy had, and she felt him throb within her. Not one to provide him time to catch himself, she rode him with a few quick, short strokes at the very end of his cock, before slamming down into him, feeling his orgasm explode within her as she also moaned at the sheer debauchery of the whole scene.
It took a few moments for the trio to catch their breaths, as Pansy removed herself from Harry's cock (muttering "Climactus" as she did so – the second part of the sex spell made cleanup much more convenient), both Pansy and Daphne slumping forward to practically bury Harry under a pile of sweaty (though still gorgeous, she insisted) women.
"Fuck," He spoke, finally voicing his thoughts.
"You were both very good," Pansy drawled, smirking, as she reached up to stroke each of her partners' hair.
"Mm, Daph?" Harry muttered, just audible to her.
"Yeah?"
"When you came just now, you think you could do that again?" Harry asked.
Squirting is pretty hot, Pansy thought, as she idly traced patterns in Daphne's blonde hair. Harry muttered something to the other witch, but it was too low for Pansy to catch. Similarly, Daphne's whispered response was one she didn't catch.
Oh, fuck, she realized, just before Daphne wriggled out from under her, Harry surging forward to capture her wrists in his hands, as the blonde grabbed Pansy by the hips, the pair working in concert to re-position her against Harry's headboard.
"Unhand me, you brutes!" She cried, in slightly dramatic false protest.
"Daphne and I were thinking," Harry drawled, leaning forward to nip at her ear, "you might very well be the centre of attention tonight,"
"But nobody is in charge here." Daphne finished.
One of Daphne's hands replaced Harry's against Pansy's wrist, and the pair looming over top of her each moved to straddle one of her legs, pushing her to be spread-eagled. She definitely wasn't going to complain, though she thought she might protest anyways.
Thoughts of this teasing rebellion were driven away by the motion of each of Harry and Daphne's free hands trailing down her body, each of her lovers pausing to pull and pinch at her pierced nipples, before traveling further down to slide along her wet pussy. It didn't take long for the pair to both push fingers inside Pansy, two of Daphne's digits and one of Harry's filling her in a very satisfying way.
Even if she'd found the thoughts to voice any challenges or barbs, she was denied the opportunity as the duo leaned in to begin kissing her – though all three of their tongues danced together inside and around Pansy's mouth, it distinctly felt as though both were snogging her in this moment.
She moaned through the pleasurable oral activities as their fingers began moving inside her, her hips bucking to the best of her ability, restrained by her lovers' bodies as she was. Dimly, she became aware that Harry and Daphne had both released their grips on her hands, which she rewarded by weaving her fingers into their hair at the backs of their heads, pulling their faces tighter against her.
As the trio separated to grasp for breath, she noted that Harry and Daphne were each frantically masturbating even as they drove their fingers into Pansy's needy sex, and the sheer debauchery of this sight sent a ripple of the beginnings of an orgasm through her.
"Harry," Daphne gasped, "thought that you liked it when he came on you, earlier,"
"So I thought," Harry continued, "why don't we both cum all over you?"
Fuck.
The orgasm hit Pansy hard, her breath seizing in her chest, her vision practically blacking out with the force of the pleasure rolling over her. Her hips pressed upwards, and by the time she regained awareness, she felt Daphne's thighs quivering around her own. Pansy provided encouragement by moaning, opening her mouth and letting her tongue loll out, which set Harry off, who bellowed in pleasure as she felt jets of his cum spray over her chest, a small trail of the salty cum landing on her tongue. In short order, Daphne practically whined to announce her own climax, twitching and pulling back as her own cum sprayed over Pansy's belly in a squirting orgasm.
"Morgana's Tits," Pansy moaned, "fuck… fuck."
Harry chuckled, the low sound against her ear sending a pleasurable aftershock through her, as Daphne flopped bonelessly beside her, cuddling up against Pansy's side.
"You did give me a stamina potion," Harry teased, as Pansy made a show of licking her lips clean.
"And it was clearly the right decision," she murmured, feeling sleep beginning to approach. Considerately, Harry muttered a quick "scourgify" to clean her off before sleep, dismissing the lights in his room with a flick of his hand.
Fuck me, Pansy thought, as she contentedly stroked little patterns against the backs of the two pressed up against either side of her, I could get used to this.