–God damn you, Draco Malfoy!
Harry jerked his head up as that furious female cry echoed through the alleyway forming a dark, twisted, artificial canyon around him. He was here on assignment for the British Ministry, and hadnt expected anything more exciting for the rest of his evening than a shot of firewhiskey in the pub of La Bruja Estrella, the inn that marked the entrance to Madrids wizarding district. He certainly hadnt expected a vaguely familiar female voice shouting that all-too familiar name.
God damn you, and your Danish whore!
He was only a few turns away from the entrance to Estrella. It was very late, maybe two in the morning, and the witchs shouting had disturbed a dog into barking. At least, he hoped it was a dog; in a wizarding district, one never really knew. If she kept shouting like this, the woman would draw attention. Possibly unwanted attentionsuch as the Dark Wizards hed been sent to track down and capture.
Lured by her sobbing, Harry warily approached the figure huddled next to a rain barrel in the lee of one of the shops. It could be a trap; anyone who knew him wouldnt find it hard to learn that he and Draco Malfoy–the Prat Who Escaped Justice–had an antagonistic past. Hed tried nailing Draco for the same crimes as his father, for joining the Death Eaters and torturing people in the name of wizarding puritybut the blond bastard had carefully kept himself out of that organization. When the Aurors had questioned him under the effects of Veritaserum at the end of the war, Draco had escaped via honesty. An unexpected and thoroughly unwanted ploy.
The woman jerked abruptly when he came within ten feet of her, hands scrabbling into her clothes to look for her wand. Harrys was already gripped in his hand, at the ready to counter her attack. Instead of flinging a curse at him, she whimpered and pressed back against the wall, trying to get away from him.
–D-Dont hurt me! Please, dont!
He knew that voice, and he knew that face: Pansy Parkinson. Her features werent puggish anymore, but rather more pixie-like, in the muggle sense. Delicate, without all that youthful baby-fat to obscure her features. Her dark hair had been cropped short, framing her face like a faerie cap, though it was mussed from her distress into rumpled black curls almost as messy as his own. Tears streaked her cheeks, lit by a gas lamp at a shop entrance somewhere behind him. Her hand patted at her clothes again, no doubt trying to find her wand; with the light behind him, Harry guessed she couldnt see his face.
D-Dont hurt me, she whispered, cringing as he took another step closer.
Pity for a Slytherin was not a comfortable feeling. But Harry couldnt help it; she was clearly wandless, in distress, a mess from whatever had happened He still had the same damned hero-complex that had rushed him through all seven years of Hogwarts from one adventure to the next, right through the final confrontation with Tom Riddle, the self-styled Lord Voldemort.
Im not going to hurt you, he murmured, shifting forward. She flinched, pressing her back into the plastered wall behind her, eyes wide with panic. He froze in place, trying to soothe her with his voice. Im not going to hurt you, Pansy; I just want to see if youre alright.
How She had to stop and sniff hard to clear her nose of the tears draining into it. How d-do you know my n-name?
A door opened. Interrupted before he could speak, Harry glanced towards the sound, mindful of the witch at his back in case this was a trap. A trio of wizards stepped out into the cool night air. No, not a trio, Harry realized with a disquieted feeling. A quintet. None of them were his target, but they screamed trouble to his instincts.
Hey, what have we here? one of the wizards offered to the others, speaking in the local dialect. Not for the first time, Harry praised Hermione for her clever translation pendant, which allowed him to hear and speak with anyone in ten different languages.
Looks like someones cornered himself a victim, another one muttered as the five men, mostly in their twenties like him, swerved his and Pansys way.
Harry tensed, ready to defend himself against an accusation of attempted rape. It didnt come. Instead, three of the men laughed. One of the other two rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he approached. Maybe hell share?
It would be hospitable, another mock-agreed as his companions chuckled. But if not, theres only one of him, and five of usand I dont think the little puta has her wand anymore.
Five against one. Harry could take them all on, if he had to; hed won against worse odds during the war. But a stray jinx might hit the woman behind him, and though he hadnt cared for her during their school years, shed refused to join Voldemorts side, and had refused against her parents wishes. Malfoy had refused because of his parents wishes. The confession had come out during her own trial. Even if he didnt like her, Harry felt honour-bound to protect her from these wizarding thugs.
There was only one way to win the fight without a single curse flung. Still, he wanted to avoid letting it be known that he was in town, so he tried the verbal way. This is none of your business, gentlemen. I intend only to escort her back to The Star Witch. I am not going to harm hernor will I allow her to be harmed by anyone else. Go about your own business; there is nothing worth your while here.
Theres five of us, and only one of you, the tallest wizard retorted, lifting his wand pointedly. I dont think you could take us all on and win.
His words had failed. Harry lifted his free hand to his forehead with a sigh, pushing back his dark locks from his hairline. I do.
The light from the gas-lamp fell unimpeded on his face, illuminating the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Five sets of eyes widened, and two of the men stumbled back a few steps. Sliding his hand free of his hair, Harry eyed the quintet pointedly as his locks flopped back into place, concealing the mark.
You will go about your business, gentlemenand if I hear youve been thinking about harassing any other defenceless witches, as a part of that businessit will become my business to correct your line of thought. I really dont think you would like the way Id do that, he warned them softly. A sharp lift of his chin coupled with a tilt of his head silently ordered them to go. They left, eyes still wide and wary, faces pale and pinched, glancing cautiously back at him from time to time, until the shadows of the night swallowed the lot.
Harry didnt relax completely, but some of the tension left his body. Turning back to Pansy, he found her staring at him, eyes wide and glistening with a combination of unshed tears and confused wonder. Whowho are you?
Harry supposed it was possible she hadnt recognized him; hed grown a goatee two years ago, and he hadnt seen her since leaving Hogwarts. It was also only recently that hed let one of the Healers at St. Mungos try out a spell designed to mimic Muggle laser eye-surgery techniques, to correct his vision. It had worked perfectly, allowing him to ditch his bothersome, constantly breaking glasses. Without them, however, his face looked different. Older. Hermione called him more handsome for it, and Ron had lamented that it would snag the Boy Who Lived even more dates, if he wanted. Harry was just grateful no one could damage or steal his glasses from him and leave him partially blind in a fight.
Still, he felt like she shouldve recognized him, even if his face was obscured by the shadows once again. Unsure exactly how to answer, definitely unsure how she would react once she knew one of her old school rivals had just saved her, he shrugged. A Gryffindor. Saving damsels in distress is a part of the job description. Or so I was told. Youre staying at the inn, right?
She shook her head. No. Draco has a posh flat at the end of Hippocresia, that side-street over there. Her lower lip trembled, and fresh tears glittered and seeped onto her cheeks. ButI cannot go back there–I wont! I wont do what he wants me to do!
Harry guessed the two of them had thrown a spat, and Pansy had raced out of the flat without stopping to make sure she had her wand. It was careless of her. Do you have your purse, at least?
She patted her pockets, finding a kerchief which she used to wipe at her cheeks, but shook her head. N-No I just had to get out of there; I couldnt stand being with him any longer. Her gaze dropped to her hands, which were wringing the linen handkerchief. A short sound that wasnt really a laugh escaped her. I even threw away my engagement ring. I cant go back there while hes shagging that Danish whore–in the goddamned parlour, no less–and yet, I dontI dont have anywhere else to godo I?
He didnt want to feel responsible for taking care of her, but Harry did. It didnt help that her declaration started the tears flowing again. Sighing, Harry stepped closer and held out his hand. Come on, Ill take you back to the pub. I dont know if theyll have a room, but at least I could buy you a butterbeer.
Fuck a butterbeer–Id want to drown my sorrows in a firewhiskey or three, she muttered as she wiped at her face again. Blowing her nose, she tucked the kerchief back into her pocket and accepted his hand up. Once she was on her feet, both of them realized how petite she was in comparison; Harry hadnt realized how much hed grown in comparison to her, until now. Then again, he was used to comparing himself to Hermione and Tonks, who were both taller women. Pansy peered at his face as they turned towards the light, but from the way she blinked and frowned, didnt recognize him. A Gryffindor, you said?
Yeah. You wouldnt find a Slytherin stupid enough to rescue a damsel in distress, he muttered, uncomfortable at the strangely soft look in her eyes.
She sniffed. No. Not without expecting the damsel to divest her virginity in bloody gratitude. Slytherins always want something. Take, take, take. Im getting tired of it.
Well, the inn is just this way, Harry told her, releasing her hand to point down the street. She nodded and took a step in that direction, and stumbled. He caught her hastily, snagging her against his chest before she could fall and hurt herself on the cobblestones lining the street.
Dammit. Her voice was muffled by his chest, and thick with more unshed tears. I forgot, I snapped my bloody heel. Thats why I didnt run very far.
Well, dont make me out to be some sort of Prince Charming, butPedo reparo! Golden sparks shot from his wand, enveloping her feet and making her stagger in his grip as the charm repaired and tidied her shoes.
Prince Charming? Pansy questioned. She shifted to his side, but didnt remove her arm from his waist, leaning on him for moral support, if no longer for physical support.
Its from a Muggle tale, the story of Cinderella and the Glass Slipper.
Oh, great. Ive been rescued by a Muggle-born, she muttered, though there was a slight but surprising lilt of humour in her tone. Just what I need to top off the perfect end to the perfect night. A rough sigh, and she offered wryly, Why dont you tell me the ruddy tale? Itll get my mind off my troubles. Hopefully.
Wracking his memory for the story, Harry started reciting it as he guided her down the quiet street. He was only up to the point where Cinderella had been abandoned to her housework by her cruel stepmother and stepsisters when they walked into the pub of the inn. It was fairly quiet, but there were a few customers still lingering downstairsincluding the five wizards from earlier.
Guiding Pansy across the far side of the room from their table, he pressed her into a booth and motioned for her to sit, then went up to the bartender and ordered two firewhiskeys and a bowl of cheese-crisps. Returning to his unlikely companion, Harry sat down across from her. At a gesture from her, he continued the childs tale, until their drinks and snack arrived. It did seem to get her mind off her troubles, so when Harry finished the tale of Cinderella, he continued on with Snow White, then with the Little Mermaid, and Aladdin and the Magic Lamp–silently blessing his cousin Dudleys obsession with constantly watching the telly, and his incessant demand for all sorts of movies to satiate his need for mindless entertainment. It felt really odd, relating fairy-tales to the pixie-faced Parkinson girlwho was now a womanbut it felt right, too. It calmed her down, and that was the important thing.
Finally she sighed and wiped her fingers free of the last bit of cheese. No wonder you Gryffindors are full of knight-in-shining-armour syndrome, if this is the sort of thing you listen to while growing up in Muggle homes.
Not everyone in Gryffindor is a Muggle-born, Pansy, Harry chided her gently. And not everyone in Slytherin is a Pureblood. Riddle was a half-blood, Ill remind you. He not only had a Muggle father, he was raised in a Muggle orphanage. He probably heard the same tales growing up that Ive just told to you.
She shivered at the mention of Riddles name. Well, Im heartily glad hes dead. He ruined everything. Im glad I came to my senses in time to stop from making a huge mistake. Like tonight. I knew there was a reason why I kept putting off the wedding Draco can be very charming, though. It was hard to resist him when he was charming Ill bet you dont want to hear any of this.
Morbid curiosity about any spanner thrown into the works of Malfoy happiness prompted Harry to speak. No, go on; you clearly need to talk to someone, and the least I can do is provide you with a sympathetic ear.
I dont even know your name, she complained, eyeing him from his rumpled black hair to his tidy black goatee and back. I keep thinking I know you, but for the life of me, I cant quite place a name to your face.
Does it matter? he countered, uncomfortable with the thought of the anticipated reaction if he told her who he was.
She sighed and shook her head. Ill figure it out, I suppose. Im not stupid, justtired. But I need something to call you by. How aboutPrince Charming? Since you did rescue me, and youve been incredibly patient and kind, staying with me like this.
I suppose Prince Charming is alright. Harry didnt bother to tell her it was mostly because of the quintet of wizards on the other side of the room. They were still in the pub, sipping at their drinks and glancing her way from time to time. Whenever they glanced at him, their eyes would flick away, not wanting to catch his attention, but theyd linger on her. Petite, almost pretty, and wandless. If Harry wasnt there, theyd probably try to hit on her, or worse. If he left her to her own devices, got her a room of her own at the innthey might try to come looking for her.
She yawned, smothering it behind her hand.
Why dont we take this upstairs? You can stay in my room for the night, he offered in an undertone. At her sharp look, he promised quickly, Word of a Gryffindor, Ill be a perfect gentleman. I promise.
Strangely, that made her giggle. He didnt know what had set her off, other than that theyd each had a couple firewhiskeys, and the chips wouldve only soaked so much of the alcohol. But theyd nursed their drinks for an hour and a half. It was almost dawn, and she shouldve been as sober as him. A glimpse of his puzzled look and she shook her head. Dont ask.
Shrugging, Harry stood and offered his hand, politely helping her rise from the bench-seat. Her fingers threaded through his, surprising him. She tightened her grip slightly when he started to free his hand, and flicked her gaze briefly but pointedly at the five men.
So they dont think Im going to bed alone, she whispered, letting him know that she was sober enough to think about more than just her own problems. She looked tired, though, and he let her hold his hand as they mounted the stairs, wanting to stay close in case she stumbled.
His room at the inn wasnt much; a bed, a table bearing Hedwig on a perch, two chairs, a dresser and a mirror. It did have a private, closet-sized lavatory, though one had to go down the hall to take a shower. He let Pansy have first crack at the facilities while he warded the room against intrusion and tried to figure out where he would sleep. Using the half-bath when she was through, he came out to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, a forlorn, lost look on her face as she stared across the room.
Umwhy dont you take the bed, and Ill take the floor? Harry offered her, approaching the bed. Ill just need a pillow and a blanket, for myself.
She didnt look at him, just continued to stare at the table. Or rather, the perch bearing his snowy-white owl. Her lips moved, and he found himself straining to hear her barely muttered words. Harry Potter. Rescued by Harry Potter. Harry bloody Potter
Yeah, wellif youve got a problem with that–
She looked up at him with chocolate brown eyes, and the strange, indefinite look in them silenced him. Her gaze traveled over his face, cataloguing the differences, before she eyed him again. Why? I was never kind to you. Far from it. You or your friends.
You needed my help, he shrugged. So I gave it.
She snorted. Only a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff would call that an explanation. And you knew who I was from practically the start, so it wasnt a case of not knowing who I was, then carrying through anyway after you knew.
If I hadnt stopped to help you, then those five wizards downstairs wouldve seen you huddled there on your own, and they wouldve done something no woman deserves having done to them, with no one around to stop them from doing it, Harry pointed out, uncomfortable with the subject. Even if they hadnt come out and seen us, another group mightve come along. Or even just a single wizard; you werent in a condition to defend yourself against a kneazle, let alone something like that. Id already considered that as a possibility, and so I acted to make sure it wouldnt happen to you. Its not that difficult to grasp.
IIm not used to anyone standing up for me, without wanting something in return. She looked down at her hands and sighed. Now Im even more on my own. I need to get my things out of the flat, my wand, my clothes, my money
Harry, sensing she was on the verge of letting it all come out, sat beside her on the bed. Using his most gentle tone, he enquired, What happened?
Draco got tired of waiting for me. He decided to punish me for it, too, and brought home that Danish whore.
Something was missing. She was saying something, but it was too subtle for him to grasp. What do you mean, he got tired of waiting? What was he waiting for?
Her mouth tightened briefly, before she confessed, Sex. Contrary to popular belief, she added bitterly, I wasnt a slag, back in school. At leastnot all the way. Another short, humourless laugh escaped her. Twenty-three and still a virgin. But who would believe it of me?
She was right; Harry couldnt quite believe it. But, erthere were rumours. Aboutthings youd do
That provided a snort. Blowjobs, for the most part. If youre good enough, you can suck a boy dry and hell forget all about trying to shag you. But you only get one virginity, and it still means something among Pureblooded families, even if its mostly a physical technicality. Draco didnt want to wait any longer. He didnt want to marry me to get it, Pansy added with a trace of returning bitterness. He knew hed have to sign a prenuptial; my family would never consent without all the financial matters settled on paper and signed in blood. But he was tired of what little Id give himso he brought home that Danish whore. Or maybe shes Swedish, or Finnish. I dont know, and I dont care, anymore.
Swedish. It was a wild shot, but Harrys quarry was Swedish. A former Death Eater witch he was supposed to apprehend and haul back to England via Portkey, to stand trial for her crimes. He opened his mouth to ask her the other witchs name, but she startled the thought right out of his head.
I didnt give my virginity to himbut Ill give it to you, Pansy told him, sagging his jaw with disbelief. She gave him a lopsided smile and cupped his jaw, running her thumb over the short-trimmed hairs of his goatee. Youve earned it, rescuing me like you did. And something tells me youre not going to be interested in deflowering a virgin as a part of some quasi-Dark-Magic ritualwhich is one of the reasons why I kept putting it off.
Iuhthat is, Iuh
She smiled at his patent loss of coherent thought, leaned close, and breathed against his lips, Youre repeating yourself, Potter.
And pressed her mouth to his. Taken aback at the bold move, Harry found to his surprise that she was a good kisser. It was sweet, warm, and enticing. He didnt want to respond, exactly; shed never been on his list of prospective dates. But it had been a while since his last significant relationship, since he wasnt the sort to let any hero-worshipping fans throw themselves at his fame and his body. He wasnt into superficial relationshipsand yet
She smelled good, all flowers and femininity. She tasted a little salty, but with an underlying sweetness. And when she clung to him with her arms, she felt warm and soft and feminine, and the touch of her tongue parted his lips, allowing him to taste the faintest traces of caramel chocolate underneath the chips and cheese and firewhiskey theyd consumed. And she was sneaky, too; Harry didnt realize until her lips left his and kissed their way down his throat to his chest that shed pushed him back onto the bed and unbuttoned most of his clothes.
Mm-hmm, she hummed, licking her way to one of his nipples. Ill definitely please you.
Please, no–I meant– Ah, god, she was doing something with her teeth and his nipple that shot fire through his blood to his loins. A fire she poured petrol upon, by sliding one hand down to the placket of his trousers, cupping his erection through the dark blue fabric. Gasping for air, trying desperately to keep from bucking into her touch, he managed, –You dont have to do this!
No, she murmured between kisses, working her way down to the ticklish line of his ribs. Still rubbing at the hardened ridge of flesh trapped in his pants But I want to All those years of watching you out-flyeveryone else I always wondered how much muscle you had, underneath your Quidditch robes.
He could appreciate the way she carefully avoided saying Draco, dragging him into this momentbut Malfoy was there anyway, a phantom in the room with them. Shed been Dracos fiance for too many years for Harry to not remember the platinum prats influence. And yet, Pansy was very determinedly unbuttoning his trousers, and pulling down the waistband of his boxers.
She giggled. Well, hello Little Harryhmm. I guess theres no correlation between the size of a mans penis and the scope of his powergiven how average you are
That was beyond the pale! But even as he sat up to refute the damned insult, she engulfed his erection. She didnt take him into her mouth, she took him into her throat. To the root in one gulp. Literally. Harry cried out, feeling her throat muscles squeezing the glans of his penis. Hot, wet, and a contrast between hard bone and soft tissue–and the way she danced her tongue along the underside, dear god! She bobbed and breathed, sucked and swallowed, until he thought hed go mad with the need for release.
When she pulled back, he pried open his eyes, breathing heavily. That breath froze in his lungs at the sight that met his gaze. Shed fished his wand from his pocket. This was it; shed brought him to the brink of masculine sanity with her incredible oral skills, and now was going to hex him to death–
–Prophylaxis! There, Pansy added, tossing his wand aside. Now I dont have to worry about anything.
And she started stripping off her clothes. It took Harry a few seconds to realize she hadnt hexed him; the blue glow surrounding and melting into his penis was rather worrisome. What was that?
The Prophylactic Charm–really, what sort of things did they teach you boys in Gryffindor, if you didnt know that one? she demanded, pulling her dress over her head once the zip had been worked down.
I always use Muggle condoms, Harry confessed. They protect against diseases better than most spells, as well as against pregnancy. I meant, why did you
The look she gave him couldve rivaled one of Professor Snapes infamous you-are-such-a-dunderhead-today stares. Harry flushed. Of course. Shed done it so they could do it, and not worry about consequences. Lie back down, Harry, and let me give you your reward.
That sounded a bitclinical for a deflowering. Almost like it was being turned into a chore. Harry didnt care for that. She seemed bound and determined to sleep with him, and at the end of the daywell, Harry was only human, and only a human male at that. Still, there was that nasty comment about little and average. Sitting up, he removed the rest of his clothes, too, using brisk, determined movements that quickly caught up to her. Pansy smiled at this seeming show of eager compliance on his part, but when she moved to press him back down into the bedding, Harry caught her by the shoulders and pushed her onto the bed.
Size, Pansy, is not a substitute for skill, he warned her, pinning her in place with some of his weight. She had nice breasts, a little on the small side but plenty of softness to suckle; hed get to them shortly. I may be average in sizebut I am not average in skill.
For which he could thank Hermione, whod taken it up as her task to personally ensure that the Boy Who Triumphed was thoroughly educated in the ways of a man. That had been a little weird, since hed always considered her a sister, but shed been quite right about the need to teach him how to research, experiment, and practice the art of lovemaking. He didnt sleep around with just anyone, and he didnt waste his talents on complete strangers. Pansy Parkinson might not have been at the top or even the middle of his list of possible partnersbut she wasnt a stranger.
And there was a touch of the old school rivalry rearing up within him, to prove himself better than Malfoy ever could be, as a partner. Kissing her, Harry nipped at her mouth, her throat, even her shoulders and collarbone. He licked a path down between her breasts, enjoying the brush of soft flesh against his cheeks, and laved the undersides of the soft peaks. She moaned and clutched his hair, encouraging him with little tugs and breathy commands; at her insistence, he suckled, scraped, and licked, over and over, first tormenting one breast, then the other, until she shuddered in what had to be a minor temblor of desire.
Kissing his way further down her belly, Harry paid attention to her navel. It was kind of fun, listening to her laugh from the ticklish sensation of his beard, and she squirmed delightfully when he licked his way over to her hip-bone, then down into the seam between pelvis and thigh. –Oh, please! Dontdont do that!
Harry smirked. Pansy Parkinson, begging and pleading. He liked the sound of that. Petty, but true. Firmly pushing her legs apart, he licked and suckled the velvety-soft inner skin of her thighs, nestling his shoulders between her knees. Inching his way up her flesh, he teased her, breathing on her dark curls, tickling them lightly with a fingertipgently prying back her folds. As the early morning light started to shine through the partially open curtains, he could see more and more of her. She was just as fascinating as any woman he had ever seenand according to Hermiones infamous book of illustrationsshe was a virgin.
She had a perforated hymen. Intact, but with tiny holes that would allow her monthly flow to escape. Taking her would indeed create enough maidens blood to be useful in some Dark Rite; Harry was almost tempted to try and catch Malfoy in the actbut he couldnt use her in that way. Leaning in close, he licked up through the glistening folds, savouring her musky flavour. She gasped and bucked up into his touch, clutching at the bedcovers.
Not wanting her to climax right away, Harry pulled back, groped for his wand, and cast a spell. Torpevirgum. Leaning back in, he licked her until she stopped squirming and sighing, letting him know that she was now numb, down there. Rising up over her, Harry slotted his hips into place, braced his weight upon his elbows, and looked down into her pixie-like face. Yes, losing the baby-fat of adolescence had allowed a touch of beauty to shine through. Still, he had to be honourable, even if it killed him from self-induced priapus. Are you sure about this?
Cupping his face, Pansy smirked at him. Do it, Potter–but if I dont like having sex by the end of all of this, what Ill do to you will make every remaining Death Eater in the wizarding world cringe in fear. Got that?
Promises, promises, Harry chided her, freeing a hand to position himself. A grope for his wand, and he muttered, Findevirgum
Her breath hitched as the spell did its job. Harry thrust inside on the heels of the deflowering charm; the numbness was due to fade in twelve strokes, giving her flesh a few moments to heal. He only stroked twice, however, before he pulled out. She pouted and grabbed for him. What are you doing?
Giving you quality over quantity, Parkinson. Resuming his position between her thighs, Harry cast one more charm, this time on himself. Manuxtengua
The word of the spell whispered across her labia. Opening his mouth he extended his tongue, flicking it along her labial lips. The tip of it delved between her folds, flicking her clitoris. She gasped and clutched at his head. Harry smirked–not an easy thing to do, with ones tongue poking out between ones lips–and gave her more of himself. Without moving his head any closer, he pried her folds open with his fingers, and circled his tongue around the sore flesh of her opening, soothing it even as he stimulated her.
Lapping, flicking, licking, he gave her pleasure until she was gasping and shuddering, then thrust his tongue into her body. She gasped and arched up into his tongue, which was lengthening and thickening under his conscious control. This particular charm had been a gift from Tonks, who had confided to him that it was her favorite way for a lover to please her, which was why she thought Harry should know. She, too, had been bound and determined to make sure the Boy Who Lived was also the Man Who Could Make Love–it was like there was some sort of conspiracy to make sure Harry turned out to be a sex-god or something. Not that hed complain too much, but some nights he felt like he was being hunted for his sexual prowess as well as his fame. Or prepped for such a hunt.
Pansy certainly liked being his prey. As his tongue thrust up into her, softer and more flexible than any prick, textured and self-lubricating, licking away the hint of virginal blood and the flood of feminine arousal, she clutched his face to her pelvis with little rhythmic tugs on his scalp. Ten swirling strokes, and she gasped, moaning aloud as the numbness faded. Harry eased the fucking of his tongue, worried that she was in pain. It took him a few minutes of careful prodding and tasting to discern that, no, those whimpering little cries werent from agony; they were definitely created out of pleasure.
Wriggling his tongue, blessing the twins for sharing this rather wonderful charm with him, Harry retreated just far enough from tickling her cervix to find and press against the spongy tissue that was her g-spot. She gasped, fingers tightening in his hair. A nuzzle of his nose against her clitoris and she wailed. It was her turn to beg and plead. Harry didnt give her any mercy, though. He just drove the witch on his bed right up over a precipice of pleasure, sucking on the juices that leaked from her quim. When shed calmed down a little, he did it again. And again.
Aroused by her flavour, Harry finally pulled back while she was on the brink of achieving her third orgasmic peak. It was gratifying to hear her whimpers, to see her hands trembling with need as she reached to help pull him up into place. It was erotic to feel her calves wrapping around his buttocks, and to feel her hot, wet depths enfolding him once again. This time without the pressure of her former barrier, but also without the assistance of the widening charm hed used to prepare her.
Still, she was deliciously tight. And it was sinfully gratifying to dip his head to kiss her, and feel her licking her own juices from his lips; she wrinkled her nose at the damp tickling of his beard and giggled. Rocking slowly into her, Harry enjoyed the moment for as long as he could. He was pleased to note he was lasting longer than usual, too, long enough for her to groan and scratch her nails down his back. That almost broke him.
Mindful of his training, Harry braced his elbows and knees, and thrust a little faster. She moaned in encouragement. Exercising self-control, he fucked Pansy harder and deeper, making her moan with each rocking plunge of his prick into her depths. Yesss, he hissed, hoping he wasnt speaking in Parseltongue. Thats itcome for me Come for me, Pansy. Come all over my prick!
Oh godoh godoh god, Harry! she gasped, grabbing him with arms and legs and holding tight as the rest of her body shuddered with the snapping, bucking force of her orgasm. The squeezing felt incredible.
Harry couldnt hold himself back anymore; he loved the feeling of a tight quim spasming around him in the throes of an orgasm, and hers was very tight. Gritting his teeth, he groaned and pumped as deeply as he could. His semen boiled up out of his testicles, spurting from his penis as he threw back his head with a grunt. The prophylaxis charm didnt stop anything from spilling into her body like a condom did, but it did sterilize his seed, and it did allow him to feel every nuance of her inner texture. It was an additional pleasure on top of all the rest to remind himself of exactly what he was doing: sexually satisfying and being satisfied by Draco Malfoys ex-fiance
Guilt crashed through him on the heels of his fading pleasure as he tried not to collapse on her. Before it could take firm hold in his brain and wither his loins, he felt Pansy pulling his head back down to hers. Oh god, Harry; that was fucking spectacular! Shite, Ive never felt so full and so satisfied, beforenot even when I had it up my arse
Her arse. Now that was virgin territory for him. None of his previous lovers had been that adventurous, though Hermione at least had tried; shed pronounced the whole thing too uncomfortable after a little finger-play, and had refused to attempt it a second time. The thought of shagging Pansy in the arse excited Harry, banishing most of his guilt to a cupboard in the back of his brain. Brushing the curve of her ear with his lips, he murmured back, Just wait until I take you, there
Her moan was undeniably lascivious. As was the mouth-devouring kiss she gave him. Harry let her keep him in place over her, alternating between firmly stroking and lightly scratching his back, while he worked on re-arousing both of them through gentle, rocking, post-coital thrusts. They had time, after all, relaxing in the warded privacy of his rented room
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