Libations
Pansy
"You're gonna be fine, Pans," Harry grumbled.
"Obviously," Pansy sipped her coffee, "I'm not nervous or anything like that, I just don't see why we have to hold a meeting before the party."
"I wouldn't say it's a meeting," Daphne disagreed, lifting her tea to her lips before she smirked and continued, "more like an interview."
"You two," Harry chuckled, "not everything is some kind of subtle social game, y'know? Hermione's pretty straight-forward, she just wants to meet the two of you properly before tonight."
Speak of the devil, Pansy thought, as the witch in question walked into the (Muggle) coffee shop where the trio were seated, accompanied by a man that Pansy thought she recognized, but couldn't quite place.
While Pansy would hardly say that she envied Granger in any way, she could bring herself to admit that the other woman had come a long way since Pansy had constantly taunted her at Hogwarts: Granger's infamous mop of hair was now styled into a full, lustrous set of curls, complimenting the sun-kissed shade of her skin. She must have learned how to dress stylishly at some point, wearing a sundress that flared over the other woman's (apparently) significant curves.
Granger's guest was, to Pansy's eye, surprisingly attractive: a tall, dark-haired man with a face that seemed as if it would lend itself well to scowling and yet carried an easy, bright-eyed expression. He dressed in a very continental fashion in a way that worked for him, a dark purple shirt unbuttoned at the collar under a grey blazer, over black slacks. The man was broad across the shoulders in a way that suggested strength, but not quite to the point of being brawny.
Not a bad pull, Granger, Pansy admitted.
Harry, apparently, recognized Granger's date, a wide grin breaking across his face as he rose from his chair.
"Viktor!" Harry announced – ah, that solves that little mystery – as he closed the distance, clasping the taller man's hand in his own, "didn't know that you were in town!"
"Of course!" Viktor Krum boomed, actually picking Harry up off the ground in a crushing bear-hug, "I would not miss such an event!"
"It's not an event, Viktor," Granger spoke from behind him, "it's merely a party."
"Yes," Krum had lost much of his accent (which Pansy vaguely recalled), but tinges of it remained noticeable in some of his pronunciation. Curious, Pansy thought, last that I recall, he was playing for some Bulgarian team or another. "It is a party!" the man continued, dropping Harry back onto his feet, "hosted by the champion of our world, many of the great wizards and witches of your country in attendance, where the women who could very well become the queens of magical England will be revealed. I would not miss this for any reason!"
Fuck, Pansy sipped her coffee, masking a sneer before it reached her face, that's gonna put Daph all sorts of on-edge. "Queens", really?
"It's magical Britain," Granger corrected once more – shocking, that – as she walked to Viktor's side, linking her arm through his, "and we don't have magical royalty here, but you know that."
Krum grinned in a wry way, a glimmer of something sharp in his eyes.
"I would meet," Pansy met his gaze, and she realized that Krum knew what he was doing, "the women who have so impressed Harry Potter."
Daphne was the first to rise from her seat, crossing the table to offer Krum a handshake.
"Daphne Greengrass," she answered, as Krum instead lifted her hand to his face, kissing the back of her knuckles in a far too traditional way, "nice to meet you," Daphne continued, a slight hint of nervousness in her voice.
"I have met your sister," Krum spoke, "a most formidable woman. It must be a quality of your family."
A compliment, Pansy took another distracting sip of coffee as she rose in turn, except that it reminds Daph of her parents. Clever.
"Pansy Parkinson," she answered, keeping her grip on Krum's hand firm, forcing him into a conventional handshake, "we've met."
"Oh?" a vague hint of a smirk crossed Krum's features, "have we, now?"
"You sat with us at Hogwarts," Pansy forced herself not to sneer, "when you were in the Triwizard Tournament."
Krum released her hand, and Pansy couldn't help but frown as his smirk became fully evident.
"Ah, yes," Krum agreed, "you were the mean one, I think."
"Oh, I'm still an utter bitch," Pansy fired back, "but for some reason, these two seem to like it."
"Well!" Harry interjected, "I think you two need drinks! What do you take, Viktor?"
"Ah," Krum turned from her, "I will accompany you!"
The two men walked from the table to go order, Pansy and Daphne returning to their seats, now joined by Granger.
"So," Pansy drawled, "this is the 'if you hurt him, I'll hurt you' thing, yeah?"
"Hardly," Granger snorted, her expression analytical, "I'm sure you already know that I'm not sold on you, Pansy, but I know Harry well enough to trust him to make his own decisions."
"Strange way of showing it," Daphne's tone was clipped, her arms folded across the front of her body, "using Viktor Krum to, what, intimidate us?"
"Viktor's a bit overprotective," Granger smiled, "but he means well. He likes to put people on edge when he's trying to take their measure, but if you pass the test, you'll be hard-pressed to find a more supportive friend."
"I'm almost impressed, Granger," Pansy flicked her gaze to Daphne, who remained closed-off, starting to retreat into her frosty habits, "Krum's quite the catch. How long has that been going on?"
Her attempt to put Granger on her back foot had failed entirely, judging by the way that the other woman just smiled happily in response.
"Oh, for a while," she leaned forwards, her elbows on the table, "you do realize that I'm actually trying to help the three of you, don't you?"
"I'm not sure that this kind of reception reassures me," Daphne replied, "if this is how the rest of Harry's friends will react, it's not exactly helping."
"Some of them might," Granger shrugged in an easy way, "Park-Pansy wasn't exactly the most liked person in our circles for most of the time we've all known each other. But things change, people grow, and there's going to be plenty of gossip for the more socially-focused considering that Viktor and I are going public with our own relationship."
Don't see how that helps us, Granger, Pansy mused.
"You're…" Daphne furrowed her brow, apparently also as confused, "deflecting attention from us?"
"Viktor's something of a celebrity," Granger rolled her eyes, her disdain for the term apparent, "he's been controversial back home lately, pushing for more progressive policies than many would support." The similarities to the role that Granger had taken in magical Britain's politics were obvious. "After this tea, we plan to be sighted at several different places across London, a newly-minted 'power couple', as it's said."
"Heh," Pansy smirked, "so Witch Weekly and all will be too busy stalking you for photos to have time to spot the three of us. Why, that's positively Slytherin of you."
"I'd say 'know your enemy', Pansy," Granger hazarded a small grin as Harry and Viktor returned, each carrying a ridiculous number of beverages, "but I'm rather hoping we can get past that term."
Maybe we will, Pansy thought, as she watched Daphne unfold her arms, relaxing somewhat, it's probably worth it.
"You nervous?" Daphne asked, turning around to inspect herself in the mirror.
"Nah," Pansy shrugged, "I'm not convinced this won't be a disaster, but I'm not going to worry over it."
"I am," Daphne admitted, turning to face her. As she so often was, Pansy was struck once more by how utterly gorgeous her girlfriend was, wearing a pastel green cocktail dress, her blonde hair done up in a braid, various pieces of silver jewelry sparkling as accents. "Are you ready?"
"Yes," Pansy sighed, tamping down yet another urge to change her own outfit again. Despite her previous teases to Harry, she'd selected a dress which was downright conservative for her own style, a dark blue (instead of black) sleeveless number that covered the rest of her body entirely.
Daphne walked over to her, bringing Pansy in for a light kiss.
"Might have time for a quickie," Pansy teased, reaching around Daphne to palm her arse.
"Oh, you've got a one-track mind," Daphne giggled, the almost-musical sound rapidly becoming one of Pansy's favourites, "we just got you into that dress."
"I could wear another one."
"No, you look fantastic," Daphne checked her watch, "and we really should be going."
Pansy grumbled, taking Daphne's arm as the blonde prepared to side-along apparate to 12 Grimmauld Place. I'm really falling behind on magic, Pansy thought, barely use it at all any more.
"But later…" Daphne teased, just before the world spun and whirled, bringing them in front of Harry's house.
"Alright," Pansy grumbled, "let's get this over with."
She rapped firmly on Harry's door, just barely restraining herself from actually tapping her foot impatiently while she waited to be let in. Thankfully, it was only a few moments until the entrance swung open, Harry greeting them with a smile on his face.
"Hey," he spoke, "you two both look beautiful."
"You're not bad yourself, Harry," Daphne answered, smiling in turn.
She had a point: Harry looked quite sharp in a dark crimson shirt, charcoal slacks, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms and actual braces strapped over his shoulders. Suspenders are just starting to come back in, Pansy mused, seems like you know what you're doing.
"Aren't you fashionable," she voiced her thought aloud.
"Gotta be stylish," Harry smirked at her, stepping into his house, "if I'm going to be your boyfriend, yeah?"
Pansy only mumbled in response, but she felt a little blush rising at the back of her neck from this simple sentiment alone. She and Daphne entered Harry's lounge, various tables and seats arranged in a way that turned the space into something like a reception area.
The scene inside was busy, more guests present than she would have anticipated, given how Harry had continually promised that only his closest, most trusted friends would be in attendance. I've got, what, four friends? Pansy thought. Blaise, for sure, I guess Michel, then Flora and Greg. She hadn't exactly put in any real efforts to stay in touch with the people she'd known at Hogwarts, people like Draco falling vaguely into the "acquaintance" category at this point, but even if she had maintained these friendships she still wouldn't have been able to bring so many people together.
Pansy quickly scanned the crowd, taking account of the various people that she recognized: Ronald Greengrass-Weasley, Draco, and Ginny Malfoy stood in a cluster together (Daph had warned her that Astoria wouldn't be attending), the ease at which those families had blended together still surprising Pansy even now.
It was easy to spot the other Weasleys in attendance, George standing with one of his arms casually wrapped around a woman (who could only be Angelina Johnson), a drink in his other hand as he gesticulated wildly to Remus Lupin and Auror Tonks.
Well, that's one person I get along with well enough, at least.
Hermione Granger was similarly easy to find, passionately explaining something to the impossible-to-miss Neville Longbottom, his wife (Hannah, Pansy recalled) sipping at a pint of beer beside him. The fourth member of that conversation was one that Pansy had kind of hoped she wouldn't see tonight: none other than Susan Bones.
And one person who despises me, she sighed.
Beside Harry's bar, the two remaining guests stood with their backs to the wall, looking out over the rest of the party as they spoke quietly to each other: Viktor Krum, of course, and Fleur fucking Delacour.
Fuck.
Though Fleur hadn't gone anywhere near so far as that incredibly fucking tempting time when she had (maybe?) tried to seduce Pansy in France, the part-Veela's presence still set off competing thrills of anxiety and desire every time Pansy saw her. While Harry and Daphne were well aware of that dynamic and trusted her to remain professional, Pansy couldn't help but admit that Fleur's total lack of personal space boundaries (surely a French thing, right?) was more appealing than it perhaps should have been.
It didn't help that Fleur was wearing one of the dresses that Pansy had made for her, and looking – of course – absolutely impossibly gorgeous in it.
Sure enough, the blonde caught sight of Pansy, smirked, and began to make her way towards her and Daphne.
"Ah, bonjour," Fleur spoke in that absolutely delicious accent, "it is good to see you, Pansy! I am afraid I have not made your acquaintance, Miss?"
"Daphne," Pansy's girlfriend wasn't short in her response, but definitely not as casual as she usually was, "Greengrass."
"Charmed," Fleur answered, silkily, "I quite love your dress! Is it one of Pansy's?"
It wasn't: Pansy had insisted on that, in fact, not wanting to be too obvious about the claim that she'd struck on Daphne.
"Oh, no," Daphne replied, "it's a Muggle label."
"Ah, Saint Laurent?" Fleur inquired, her eye for fashion as sharp as ever, apparently, "I am, how do you say, quite the fan, as well! Though I much prefer Serpentine, this piece turned out very well, wouldn't you say, Pansy?"
Fleur twirled in place to demonstrate just how well the dress had turned out, and Pansy had to swallow tightly when she saw how the swirls of lace at the side panels clung to Fleur's figure. She would still insist that Daphne had a better arse (best I've seen, really), but it was a near contest, and Fleur was supernaturally attractive, with long legs, full breasts, and a thin waist which gave her an arguably impossible hourglass shape.
"The silk turned out well," Pansy tried to remain objective, "but I figured you'd use the layers to accessorise more."
"Ah, not tonight," Fleur smirked, "a brassiere would disrupt the lines, non? Oh, Harry! Come have a drink with Viktor and I!"
"Heh," Harry chuckled behind her – Merlin, I'd forgotten he was even there – moving past his girlfriends to do just that, "Triwizard solidarity and all, yeah?"
As their boyfriend sauntered off with his friend, Pansy turned to her girlfriend, gauging how she reacted to Fleur's… presence.
"She's… unfairly good looking," Daphne commented, though thankfully her tone was neither bitter nor insecure.
"Veela blood would do that," Pansy shrugged, "I guess."
"Well, shall we?"
"I suppose," Pansy agreed, and the pair made their way to join the rest of the guests, pausing to retrieve glasses of wine from a table. They exchanged greetings with Draco, Ginny, and Ronald as they passed, Tonks raising her glass across the room at Pansy as a welcome, but none of the guests reached out to join Daphne and Pansy as they seated themselves on a couch.
However, it wasn't long before Harry made his way over, a looseness in his motions suggesting that he was likely a drink or two ahead of them, and sat himself on the couch directly between his girlfriends.
"I'm glad you two came," he said, more loudly than he needed to, then leaned over to kiss Daphne on the cheek, repeating the action for Pansy.
Her earlier blush now made its presence unignorable, as she swore the party went silent (even though conversation idly continued in the background), Harry staring out at his friends with an undisguised look of challenge on his face.
Fucking Gryffindors, she thought, making a dramatic gesture instead of actually explaining yourself.
Still, the simple, obvious way in which Harry had chosen to reveal their relationship to his friends made her feel… something. Satisfied? Content?
"Happy", even.
The differences between Harry's social circle and her own became more and more apparent as the evening continued, his earlier gesture apparently entirely sufficient to communicate his intent to his friends. Once this reveal was made, more of his guests made obvious efforts to come speak to Daphne and herself, which was surprisingly pleasant.
Ron already knew of their relationship, of course, but Draco and Ginny's reaction was unexpected: "Draco wagered it was Daphne, I was betting on you, so I guess we both win?". George Weasley had made a rapid-fire series of jokes that Pansy didn't quite get the references to until Angelina had appeared to jab him in the side and tell him to behave himself, and Neville and Hannah were perfectly pleasant (if a bit boring, in Pansy's opinion).
The evening didn't take a turn for the worse until Pansy, having just finished talking to Tonks and Remus Lupin (receiving a subtle heads-up that her father had not been charged with anything in the process) spotted Daphne very engaged in a conversation with Susan Bones.
Much like her own working relationship with Fleur, Pansy was aware that Bones was the current patron of Daphne's art, so the fact that they'd talk with each other was hardly surprising, but not even Fleur was so clearly interested in something beyond a working relationship.
Bones was outgoing, social, and bold, and the way that Daphne was giggling at her jokes and practically leaning into the all-too-frequent moments of physical contact between the pair (even as she fumed, Pansy saw Bones run her hand down Daphne's arm) was something that Pansy found herself feeling things about.
As she often did, Pansy tried to run through the list of possible emotions she could be feeling: it was, surprisingly, not jealousy, as she had absolutely no concern that Daphne would pursue anything without hers and Harry's express approval. Neither was she feeling threatened, she had plenty of experience trading barbs with Bones (both at Hogwarts and in the years afterwards) and considered herself fully up to the task of meeting the forceful woman's wit.
Fuck. No idea what this is.
When Bones had said something that made Daphne blush while laughing, Pansy had enough, discarding her own puzzling reaction of "I can do that better" as soon as it arose. She knew better than to act the jealous girlfriend (I'm not jealous, anyways), and wasn't helping anyone by standing around feeling some uncertain emotion.
Sure, she could probably talk to Harry about it, but he was once more wrapped up in conversation with his fellow Triwizard competitors, an audience of Hermione and Longbottom apparently listening to the trio telling tales. Pansy decided she'd get herself another drink, which would certainly help to chase this mood away.
As she set about pouring herself a glass of firewhisky, her internal conflict was interrupted by the very last person she wanted to talk to.
"Well, haven't you done well for yourself, Parkinson," Bones spoke behind her, "managed to snare not only Harry Potter, but Daphne as well. How'd you pull that one off?"
Pansy didn't rise to the bait as she turned around calmly, taking a long, slow drink from her glass before replying.
"Oh, I'm actually quite charming," she answered, "to those that can actually handle a bit of wit."
"Hah," Bones practically barked a laugh, entirely unconcerned with decorum, "right, I'm sure your wit is your best quality," she moved past Pansy, pouring herself an equally-large glass of the firewhisky, before turning back to her, meeting Pansy's gaze as she drained the entire glass in one long pull.
"Oh, no doubt, I'm a complicated type," Pansy finished her own drink, in turn, "the whole black-and-white, good-or-bad thing doesn't hold much appeal to me."
"Of course," Bones replied, "after all, why would someone say what they mean when they could scheme and lie about it instead? Oh, speaking of which, I have to tell you, I'm surprised. You're dressed very nicely," Bones waved her empty glass vaguely in Pansy's direction, before turning to pour another shot, "haven't even got your tits out tonight. Put them away once you finally got Harry to notice, hey?"
"I wasn't aware you'd been looking at my tits," Pansy stood beside Bones now, resisting the urge to physically shove her aside as she poured herself another shot in turn, "though I'm not surprised. I've heard you've had quite the struggle in the dating department, but jealousy isn't a good look."
"I wouldn't say I've much to be jealous of," Bones taunted, "yours aren't bad, but, well," she pushed her elbows together, emphasizing her own considerable cleavage, "I think I've got you beat."
There was a moment of silence as the two women stared each other down, before, as if on some unspoken signal, each downed their shot of firewhisky at the same time. Pansy felt a rare flutter of something like insecurity, as she assessed her opponent: though Susan Bones certainly wasn't the most beautiful woman in the room (how could she be, Pansy thought, when Daph, me, and fucking Fleur are here), she was – objectively – rather attractive, with a heart-shaped face, large brown eyes behind stylish eyeglasses, and long curls of deep-red auburn hair falling over her shoulder. Certainly, Fleur and Pansy herself fell closer to the "hourglass" shape, but neither could Bones's – admittedly – considerable bust and wide hips be ignored.
Fuck, Pansy wondered, I don't actually know what Daphne's type is among women.
"Oh, no, I don't mean that, you seem to have tits on the brain," Pansy poured a third shot, the challenge obvious, "I meant it must be difficult for you to see women dating each other when you, well, aren't."
Bones, of course, matched her in pouring another drink, her response to Pansy's latest barb slower than the last ones. Good, Pansy thought, I bet that stung.
"Well, being Lady Bones," her opponent downed the shot of whisky, Pansy doing the same, as the burn in her throat finally began to catch up to her, "I'm afraid there's a lot I have to keep in mind. Your fucking family," she cursed, as Pansy noted a spark of actual anger in her eyes, "is partially to thank for that, Heiress Parkinson."
"Fuck them," Pansy's words spilled from her lips before she could plan for it, the reaction immediate and intuitive, "we may not agree on much, Bones, but if you can tear my parents down, I'll buy you a fucking drink."
"Hmm," Bones glared at her, processing something as the tension drew to a breaking point, "maybe you will."
The redhead turned and walked away without further comment, and Pansy hissed a breath between her teeth, her mind just as aflame with a strange sort of frustration as her chest was with the three quick drinks of firewhisky.
I need a fucking cigarette, she thought, stomping towards the front door to do just that. Luckily, it seemed that nobody else had caught her showdown with Bones: Harry was caught up with Ron, Draco, and Ginny, and Daphne was excitedly talking with Hermione, gesturing with her hands as she spoke, her openness bringing a slight smile to Pansy's lips.
Outside, the cool night air seemed to help calm her down somewhat, as she sat on Harry's front steps, blowing smoke out with a heavy sigh. After a minute, she heard the door behind her open, and she turned to see – unexpectedly – Neville Longbottom exiting.
"Hey," the man spoke, and Pansy gave a small wave with two of her fingers in response, "I've got something I need to say."
Fuck.
"Yeah?" Pansy felt her nerves coming to life all over again, as she rose to her feet – not that it made much of a difference, she still had to crane her neck up to meet Longbottom's eyes.
"I know what you did," Longbottom said, "in seventh year."
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"That so?" Pansy kept her tone level, but her fingers twitched. She wasn't even carrying a wand, but if Longbottom had decided to pursue revenge for one of the various horrible things she'd done, that wouldn't have helped her anyways. Nor could she hope to meet him in any physical contest, the man made Krum look small, taller than even Greg Goyle in height and just as broad, and built on top of that.
"With Clarissa," Longbottom explained, putting his hands up in a nonthreatening way, his palms out.
Oh.
It was honestly been something Pansy hadn't thought about until this very moment, ever since it had happened, so she was surprised to hear that anyone else even knew about it.
"It was nothing," Pansy grumbled, as she put her cigarette back between her lips, "common sense, really."
Clarissa Abbott, Pansy recalled, a cousin of Hannah's, I think? Of course he'd find out. Didn't even put that together.
In her seventh year, when Pansy had enjoyed a position of absolutely poisonous power as the Carrow twins all-but-ran Hogwarts, she'd caught a third-year Hufflepuff with "contraband forbidden material": a Muggle fashion magazine. Instead of turning the girl in, Pansy had merely taken the magazine from her and shooed her off with a warning.
"Yeah," Longbottom agreed, "but it was the right thing to do. Harry likes you, a lot, from what I can tell, so that's enough for me, but I wanted to tell you that not all of us old D.A. members see you as an enemy."
Huh. Guess someone overheard after all.
"Thanks," Pansy replied, simply, and Longbottom nodded, returning inside.
The rest of the evening passed much more easily, and Pansy found herself almost believing Longbottom's words, actually allowing herself to ignore the instinct which screamed that the people around her were just waiting for her to slip up or fall back into her old ways.
As various guests filtered out, Harry approached Pansy and Daphne, who were chatting at the side of one of his couches once again.
"Hey, you two," he smiled, "how are you doing?"
"Oh, great!" Daphne excitedly replied, "this was actually really nice, Harry."
"I might be convinced," Pansy drawled, "that some of your friends may be tolerable, Potter."
"High praise," Harry smirked, "just, uh, so you know, Hermione and I have some stuff to talk about. Politics shite. You're welcome to stay if you want, but we might be up for a while, and, er, it involves both of your parents."
"That's alright," Daphne shrugged, "I think Pans and I had some plans for after this anyways, yeah?"
Harry smiled, as if some tension had left him with her response. Pansy grumbled, leaning in to pull Harry against herself, craning her neck up to kiss him.
"You'll have to make it up to us later, I suppose," she teased, as Harry leaned over her shoulder to kiss Daphne in turn. Always do like it when I'm in the middle of them, she thought.
"Right, I will," he promised, "you two are both amazing. Really."
"Obviously," Daphne teased.
"Have fun," Harry smirked, raising his eyebrows conspiratorially, "I'll message you both tomorrow, yeah?"
"Yeah," Pansy murmured, disengaging from him, "now, Daphne, take me home."
"Can't keep our girl waiting," Daphne agreed, "goodnight, Harry!"
"Night, you two," he smiled once more at them, then returned to his seat at a table across from Hermione.
"Our girl?" Pansy smirked, linking her arm into Daphne's.
"Hush," Daphne laughed, "you like it."
As it turns out, she did.
Daphne
Pansy and her appeared in Pansy's flat, the signature "crack" of apparition echoing through the empty rooms. Blaise and his boyfriend were apparently out of town tonight, which marked a rare opportunity for Daphne to spend some time at Pansy's place.
Not that it really matters, she mused, since Pans said Blaise knows about us anyways.
Still, it was Pansy's turn next to officially introduce their relationship to her friends, and she hadn't yet revealed her plans on how she would do so beyond a vague hint of "oh, you'll see". Daphne was rather looking forward to seeing what her girlfriend could come up with.
"That went pretty well, yeah?" Daphne asked, having thoroughly enjoyed the evening at Harry's, where it had been his turn to reveal the trio's relationship to his friends.
"For the most part," Pansy shrugged, "got into it with Bones a little bit."
"Oh?" Daphne frowned, not quite sure how to balance this. While it was true that she and Susan had become fairly close of late (and Daphne was not blind to the overtures that Susan wouldn't mind getting even closer), she'd still take Pansy's side in any more serious conflict that arose.
"It's no big deal," the smirk on Pansy's face reassured Daphne somewhat, "the usual trading barbs, bit of a drinking contest, promises to continue the battle later, all that."
"I can ask her to back off," Daphne bit her lip, "if you'd like?"
"Don't you dare," Pansy snaked her arm around Daphne's back, pinching her arse lightly, "I need some kind of battle of wits to keep myself sharp, and Harry's proven himself disappointingly soft of late."
"Right, Harry's the one who's gone soft," Daphne giggled when Pansy's pinch on her arse turned into a gentle swat, "you're definitely nothing like infatuated with him, or anything of the sort."
"I know, right?" Pansy dramatically leaned into Daphne with an exaggerated sigh, "what's happened to me? It must be some fiendish plot to turn me into a romantic or something."
Daphne smirked as she kissed the top of Pansy's hair. As the three of them had explored the details of their now-official relationship, Daphne had come to notice that there were subtle differences in the way that each of the three interacted with the other two, depending on whether they were in pairs or all together: Harry and herself tended to fall into a relaxed, almost domestic dynamic, often appreciating just being around each other rather than doing something. With Pansy, they talked a lot more, the flow of conversation quick and easy. From what she'd heard, Pansy and Harry usually joked with each other and issued a lot of light-hearted dares when it was just the two of them.
Each of the different dynamics had its own appeal, certainly, but Daphne found that she enjoyed the three of them together the most, when the best parts of their individual relationships blended together into one that was dynamic, comfortable, and downright fun.
To say nothing of the sex…
So too did the dynamics of the sexual aspect of their relationship change depending on who was present, and when it was just her and Pansy, Daphne had found that it was her oral skills which were most important: even outside the obvious application in the bedroom, it seemed that conversation served as a form of foreplay for this pair.
Partly to poke at a lingering curiosity that she had, and partly to move things in that direction, Daphne posed her next question to Pansy:
"I can stop seeing Susan outside of the commission requirements, if you'd like?"
"No, no," Pansy grumbled, "I mean, don't go shagging her yet or anything, but I actually don't mind."
"You seemed a bit out-of-sorts," Daphne ran her hand into Pansy's hair, twirling her short, glossy locks between her fingers, "when you saw Susan and I talking. Were you jealous?"
"Not at all," Pansy shivered slightly as Daphne traced her nails against the brunette's scalp, "I was… I'm not sure, actually. It wasn't jealousy, but past that, no fucking idea."
"Surely not envy," Daphne teased, "it couldn't be that you wished you were part of that conversation."
"I've nothing to be envious of, though, uhhh," Pansy's response trailed off into a noise that might have been called a "moan" as Daphne ghosted her fingertips along the side of her neck, "I suppose that I can admit that she's got quite the fucking pair of tits."
"So do you, darling," Daphne trailed her other hand up Pansy's chest, not quite groping but coming close enough.
"You're just single-minded," Pansy's jeering response was venomless, "put a nice set of tits in front of you, and you're snared."
Pansy wasn't wrong – in moments of introspection, Daphne had come to realize that one of the features of a woman that caught her eye was indeed a particularly impressive chest.
"Oh," Daphne leaned in so that her mouth was next to Pansy's ear, dropping her voice to a husky tone, "is that it? You want to watch me playing with Susan's tits?"
"Don't be silly," Pansy hissed, though Daphne did not miss how she shivered at these words, "I'd much rather you play with mine, you minx."
"Maybe you like showing us off," she bit the outside edge of Pansy's ear gently, and felt the other woman sag into her embrace, "Harry and I are quite the catches, and we're all yours, after all."
"Fuck," Pansy muttered, "the two of you are bloody hot, and I do like to flaunt what I have."
"Oh, don't you ever," Daphne ran her hand down Pansy's back, feeling her trembling the entire time, then gripping the shorter woman's ass firmly.
In lieu of a verbal response, Pansy turned her face up to Daphne's, pulling her down into a heated kiss, Pansy's tongue immediately seeking out Daphne's own. The pair moaned in sequence as their embrace somehow got even closer, their bodies crushed against one another.
"Bedroom," Pansy finally spoke, "now."
Daphne giggled as her girlfriend eagerly pulled her by the hand, guiding them towards Pansy's bedroom. The room itself was decorated in a style that Daphne appreciated, a chaotic mix of Muggle posters and emblems from the magical world, Pansy's clothes precisely organized in a way that contrasted with how the rest of her possessions were haphazardly strewn between her desk and vanity.
Not that the décor is what I'm interested in…
"Ah-ah," Daphne gently chided, as Pansy made to reach for the zipper at the back of her own dress, "I helped you get dressed tonight, after all, I'd very much like to undress you too."
Pansy practically whimpered in agreement. While Daphne was quite comfortable with the fact that Pansy usually took a more dominant role with her, she was also well aware that Pansy was a true "switch", equally happy to submit to one of her partners' desires.
Tonight, Daphne had decided that she'd be the one in control.
"Oh, aren't you demanding," Pansy teased, even as she lifted her arms to allow Daphne to unzip her dress.
Of course, she never makes it easy to dominate her… which is half the fun.
Daphne peeled Pansy's dress away, taking a moment to thoroughly grope her breasts before removing Pansy's black lace bra. Maybe I am a "tits woman", she mused. The pair began to kiss once more as Daphne guided Pansy backwards into her bed, pausing only to hurriedly shuffle out of her own dress before she crawled overtop of her girlfriend.
"I did-ah," Daphne stuttered, as Pansy snuck her hand up the back of Daphne's legs to grab her arse, "hear that Harry put you through your paces, the other night…"
"Oh," Pansy smirked between kisses, "he certainly did. It's quite the adventure getting him worked up enough to take control, after all…"
"The poor boy must get overwhelmed," Daphne paused to tweak one of Pansy's pierced nipples, delighting at the gasp from her girlfriend, "there's just so many things we can do with you, how are we to decide?"
"I know what I want," Pansy gasped, "but I can be convinced to listen to what you two want, I suppose."
"Is that so?" Daphne smiled, as she pushed her thigh between Pansy's, pushing her girlfriend's legs apart, "and what do you want, darling?"
"Touch me," Pansy practically begged – not that she'd admit to it, of course – as she spread her legs even further apart.
"But I am," Daphne taunted, trailing her fingers down Pansy's abdomen, across her hipbones, then up the inside of her thighs.
"Daphneee," her girlfriend whined, her hips tilting up towards Daphne's fingers.
"Perhaps you should demonstrate," the blonde giggled, kissing Pansy again.
Of course, Pansy Parkinson was not someone to be taken lightly in any matters, least of all sexual activity, as she made her own desires quite clear, her hand vanishing beneath the waistband of Daphne's panties in a flash, fingertips immediately curling up into Daphne's clit in a practised way that set her legs to quivering.
Two can play at that game, darling.
Daphne hooked her fingers under the front of Pansy's thong instead, immediately finding that her girlfriend was soaking, pushing two of her fingers up to the first knuckle inside her girlfriend's sex.
The pair began to kiss each other desperately, the intensity of their make-out session rapidly escalating in time with the motions of their hands, and soon both of the women were thrusting their fingers inside one another, their hips bucking towards each other.
"Poor Harry," Daphne choked out, in an interlude between kisses, "he's missing quite the show, isn't he?"
"Fuck," Pansy muttered in response, apparently not up to her usual level of repartee.
"Maybe we'd make him watch," Daphne continued to tease, her voice hitching in the middle as Pansy's ministrations continued, "wouldn't you like that?"
"Fuck," Pansy repeated, "rather he'd join in."
"Mm," Daphne admitted she'd prefer that too, "yeah. Maybe someone else, then?"
"Daph…" Pansy whined.
"Perhaps you'd like to show Susan why it is that I'm yours?" Daphne continued the role-playing, forcing confidence into her voice even as Pansy's digits prompted her towards an orgasm, "or maybe you'd make Fleur watch, since she's so intrigued by women fucking each other?"
"Fuck me," Pansy groaned, half an outburst, half encouraging Daphne to continue her own steady pumping of her fingers in and out of Pansy's cunt.
"Or maybe you're a bit of a voyeur," Daphne leaned forward to whisper into Pansy's ear, as she felt her legs begin to quiver, "wouldn't you like to watch Harry bring them in line? Treat Susan like a big-titted toy?" Daphne nipped Pansy's earlobe, her voice growing hoarse, "shove her face into your cunt as he fucks her?"
Pansy's whole body stiffened, her sex clenching around Daphne's fingers, a wordless yelp escaping her lips as she came hard.
"Fuck," Pansy muttered as she came down from those orgasmic heights, "just… fuck."
"You liked that, I take it?" Daphne smirked, thrusting her hips forward in an attempt to remind Pansy that – for once – she hadn't cum yet.
"C'mere," Pansy slurred, removing her fingers from Daphne's pussy, pulling her panties down in doing so, then reaching to pull at Daphne's hips as Pansy slid down the bed. Daphne hooked her leg over Pansy's head, understanding what her girlfriend was aiming for, then cooing in delight as Pansy's tongue practically plunged into her pussy.
"Fuck yes, Pans," Daphne whispered, as her girlfriend devoured her cunt, Pansy's tongue lashing wildly over Daphne's clit, both her hands gripped firmly on Daphne's arse as the brunette pulled the blonde tight against her face.
If I'm into tits, she thought, hazily, then you are definitely into arses.
Given that she was already worked up from Pansy's previous actions, it did not take Daphne long at all to reach her own climax, moaning loudly as her juices sprayed over Pansy's face (judging by Pansy's expression, she did not mind in the slightest), before slumping to the side bonelessly, disentangling her legs from Pansy's head to come to rest beside her.
"Wow," Pansy smirked, "did your dirty talk work on yourself?"
"Mm," Daphne snuggled into Pansy's side, as the brunette slung an arm around her shoulders, "I suppose it did. Not too much, was it?"
"Not at all," Pansy kissed the top of her head, "I don't think that's an 'every time' kind of thing, but, fuck, given the context, it was perfect."
"Yeah," Daphne mumbled, comfortable in Pansy's embrace, "I'm not pushing for it to happen for real, you know? It just felt like a fun fantasy tonight."
"Mhmm," Pansy's response was similarly mumbled, as she played idly with Daphne's hair, "still lots of time to figure all that out. No rush."
"Good," Daphne snuggled against her girlfriend, yawning softly.
"Although…" Pansy muttered.
"Yeah?"
"I think it's given me some ideas for the next time we're with Harry," Pansy answered, "you're in trouble, Miss Greengrass."
"I can't wait," Daphne giggled, reaching to hug Pansy, as both the women felt sleep approaching.
A couple of days later, Daphne felt almost guilty, meeting with Susan at her own studio to discuss the art piece that Lady Bones had commissioned from her.
I suppose I shouldn't use someone as fantasy fuel when I'm trying to keep things professional, Daphne thought.
"It's really coming along," Susan said, leaning forward to inspect the sculpture in progress – Daphne having to pull her eyes away from the way that the redhead's cleavage practically spilled from her top in doing so – which was a tall, marble structure depicting two ambiguous yet clearly female figures intertwined with each other.
"I figure there's about two weeks of work left," Daphne replied, "a few of the finer details, some polishing work."
"Brilliant!" Susan cheered, "which brings me to my next question: do you want to actually attend the gala?"
"Hmm," Daphne hadn't really considered this option before: official Wizengamot events weren't usually something she received invites to, "maybe? Are you inviting me?"
"Absolutely!" Susan grinned widely, which was honestly a good look on her, "I'd absolutely love for you to be able to witness the reception your piece gets."
"I imagine my father will be there?"
"Presumably," Susan's grin briefly turned into a frown, before returning, "I don't know if you've heard, but he's got himself named Chief Warlock, yeah?"
"Of course," Daphne grumbled. She had heard this already: though Astoria knew how little she wanted to discuss their parents, that much had come up when she'd spent the night at her sister's.
"Yeah, so, well," Susan shrugged, "I figure that Harry could bring you as his plus-one, but that might be a bit dicey if you aren't ready to go public-public yet. Cyrus is really starting to drive the whole 'Marriage Reform' thing towards an actual vote."
"And it wouldn't be 'dicey' if I was your plus-one?"
"Hah," Susan's grin grew even brighter, somehow, "hardly! First, I don't give a fuck what your father thinks of me, and second, we can always explain it away that I wanted to appreciate the artist of my centrepiece properly."
I'm sure…
"Well," Daphne twirled a lock of her hair in thought, "I like the idea, and I do want to see the look on his face when he catches sight of 'Embrace'," she gestured at the sculpture.
"Feel free to talk it over," Susan turned to retrieve her mug of tea from a nearby table, and Daphne couldn't help but look at the way her arse filled out her pencil skirt, "I know politics really isn't your scene, and your relationship is a bit more complicated than most people's are."
Not really, Daphne mused, it all works pretty easily, really.
"I'm curious," she asked, "what about Pansy?"
"What about Pansy?"
"Well, it doesn't seem fair if Harry and I both attend and she doesn't," Daphne admitted, "but I don't really know what the conventions around plus-ones are, since I'm so far away from that circle now."
"Hmrph," Susan grumbled, "the Parkinsons will receive their invitations, of course, and they've been making themselves rather scarce recently, so she could always use one of theirs."
"Pansy is even less friendly with her parents than I am," Daphne retrieved her own tea, "I know it's probably a lot to ask, but do you think you could get her an extra ticket?"
"I could," Susan nodded, "but that would definitely raise questions. It's not really much of a secret that her and I don't get along, yeah?"
"Oh," Daphne frowned, "right. I think you could, really, but I get it."
"Maybe," Susan shrugged again, her body language easy and open, "I'm hardly going to sit here insulting your girlfriend, but I'm not as quick to move past the history I have with her as Harry apparently is."
"That's okay," Daphne still wasn't sure what this history entailed, but she figured that she'd leave it alone.
"In sixth year," Susan continued, apparently comfortable talking about it, "I was in the D.A., and Parkinson – Pansy, sorry, was one of Umbridge's attack dogs. You can imagine how that went."
"Not well, I gather." Daphne had been lucky enough to have isolated herself from most of the ways that the Second Wizarding War had been carried out in the halls of Hogwarts, but she could still put two and two together.
"Not terrible," Susan met Daphne's eyes, and Daphne was still surprised at the total absence of any kind of fear, doubt, or the like in her gaze, "Harry and Malfoy almost killed each other, from what I've heard, and now they're best of mates. I guess that I could be willing to move past a few times when she locked me in a classroom for questioning."
Daphne chuckled despite herself: though it would have been before Pansy had come to understand that she was attracted to women as well, she could only imagine that as a confused, arrogant teenager, the tension in those "interrogations" must have been palpable.
"Heh," Susan smirked in turn, "yeah, when I put it like that, it does sound a bit childish, yeah?"
"No, no," Daphne corrected herself, "I really don't understand what it was like to be mixed up in all that, I guess I'm just picturing the way that the two of you argue now."
"It's much more fun now," Susan agreed, "way more interesting when she doesn't just repeat 'Pureblood Standards' this, 'Half-Blood traitor' that."
"Yeah," Daphne shrugged, "would it help if I said she's grown past all that bullshite now?"
"Oh, I know, otherwise she wouldn't be dating you. Or Harry, really. I assume that she has some good qualities hidden under all that bitchiness."
"She really does," Daphne smiled, feeling her chest warm with affection as she thought about her girlfriend, "I'll admit, she's got some sharp edges, but she's witty, she's stylish and cool, and honestly she's fun to be around."
"And she's got great tits," Susan added, as Daphne sputtered in surprise, "what? I might not get along with her, but I'm not blind, Daph."
"Uh," Daphne still needed a moment to process this, "yeah, that too."
"Bloody hell," Susan chuckled, "you're right taken with her, aren't you? I honestly don't know how I didn't pick up on that before Harry's party. Then again, the way Harry looks at you two… the boy's got it bad."
"Yeah," Daphne smiled, "we all do, I think."
"Well, fuck it," Susan set her now empty mug down, glancing at her watch as she did, "I guess that if she can't find a ticket of her own, let me know, and I'll see what I can figure out."
"Really?" Daphne walked with Susan as the redhead retrieved her coat, their appointment clearly coming to an end, "thank you for that!"
"I guess it's practical, too," Susan pulled Daphne into a hug, which remained friendly, "I won't get into it now, but I'm pretty sure that Harry and I are going to have to work together a lot in the next few months, he's probably going to have to start throwing his weight around in the Wizengamot instead of having Hermione do his dirty work for him."
"Ah," Daphne made the effort to push any concerns from her mind before they could take root, "I'll see if I can convince him to be a bit more… active in his participation."
"That'd be brilliant," Susan smiled widely once again – talk about "brilliant" – as she turned to depart, "I'm going to have to count on him, yeah? I guess if playing nice with Pansy is the price for that, it's not that bad."
"Take care, Susan," Daphne smiled.
"You too," Susan turned to grin at Daphne once more, "say hi to the boyfriend and girlfriend for me."