
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1603265.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Cho_Chang/Hermione_Granger, Ambiguous_or_Implied_Relationship(s)
  Character:
      Hermione_Granger, Cho_Chang, Pansy_Parkinson
  Additional Tags:
      Drama, Angst, Exhibitionism, Accidental_Voyeurism, Female_Character_In
      Command, Femslash, Unrequited_Lust, Not_Happy, Cruelty
  Series:
      Part 2 of Hermione_in_Authority
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-31 Words: 1000
****** Another Kind of Teacher ******
by Twisted_Mind
Summary
     After Pansy's last lesson, she finds herself a willing student, but
     soon learns that what she seeks is not always what she will find . .
     .
Notes
     Originally posted Oct 31st 2012 at HP Fandom. Betaed by GhostxWriter,
     and edited upon re-posting here.
     You Know the Drill: The characters? Don't own 'em. The setting? Don't
     own it. The Potterverse? I do not own. Therefore the below is highly
     unlikely to have happened, but, well ... I can dream
Pansy had once thought herself the consummate Slytherin--sneaky, cunning, and
exempt from the rules. She had thought herself free to do whatever she pleased,
whenever she pleased, and slippery enough that she never had to worry about the
consequences. She had been wrong, and it had taken a run-in with a certain
Gryffindor to prove it to her. That had been some months ago, and since then,
Pansy had been a good little Slytherin, carefully treading the grey zone that
lay between following and breaking the rules. Until now, that is.

Because the truth was that Pansy couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The last time Hermione caught her breaking the rules was something that haunted
her waking hours, and crept into her dreams. It made her skin tingle and her
cheeks heat, thinking of the way the Gryffindor had humiliated her. And yet,
each time she replayed that night in her mind, Pansy felt the same raging heat
shoot through her, causing her inner muscles to clench.

It was what brought her here tonight.

Tonight, Pansy had decided that she’d had enough; that if she was going to go
mad with her sick desires, then the least Hermione could do was oblige her.
Hermione had started it, after all. And now Pansy wanted her to finish it.

Needed her to finish it.

And it was that need that had forced Pansy from her bed tonight, compelling her
to haunt dark corridors like a pale ghost. Under her cloak she wore her white
nightgown and a satchel full of potions ingredients as she crept her way
towards the abandoned classroom--the same one where she had been caught once
before.

She knew it was foolish.

The last time she had tried something like this, Hermione had been a hair’s
breadth from making a case to have her expelled. It had been nothing but luck
that had saved her last time, and Pansy knew that she shouldn’t--couldn’t--
expect or even hope for that kind of luck a second time.

She couldn’t bring herself to care.

All thoughts of the consequences, of her parents’ disappointment, of Professor
Snape’s disapproval, of what the others in Slytherin would think, they were all
pushed into a dark corner of her mind. Pansy would worry about that later, if
and when she actually did get caught. At the moment, what mattered most of all
was slipping back inside the abandoned classroom, and getting into trouble, so
that Hermione would have a reason to come back.

The very thought made her heart pound.

When she reached the familiar door to the unused classroom, Pansy swallowed
dryly. Her pulse rapping a staccato beat under her skin, she eased the door
open, and slipped inside. She closed the door carefully, softly, before she
turned to gaze about the room. When she finally realized what she was seeing,
her mouth opened and her lungs refused to draw breath.

She wasn’t alone.

Hermione was there. But it wasn’t the Hermione she wanted to see. The Hermione
that Pansy wanted was the one she’d last found here--the one with eyes flashing
in suppressed rage, with the fury of the righteously indignant bringing a
lower, unworthy being to heel.

This Hermione . . . 

This Hermione lay sprawled across a conjured bed, her body painted in sinuous
lines by the dim light of a few small candle flames. This Hermione was
breathing in soft gasps, broken by little whimpers and carefully muted cries.
This Hermione was soft the way the Pansy’s Hermione had been hard; beautiful
and vulnerable where Pansy’s Hermione had been powerful and cruel.

This was Cho’s Hermione.

Cho: beautiful with her long, sleek black hair and honey-coloured skin. Cho,
who was a Ravenclaw; intelligent and bookish and witty. Cho, who had always
made the right decisions and followed the rules and stood by Potter.

Cho--whose tongue was dancing over the flesh between Hermione’s legs.

Pansy was frozen as she watched Cho pleasure the very woman that she had come
here seeking. She wondered if it were possible for her to slip back out,
unnoticed, when she realized that she had caught the eye of one of the room’s
occupants. Pansy bit back a whimper,because it seemed this was Pansy’s
Hermione, after all.

It was evident in the look Hermione gave her, as she turned her head and
levelled her gaze at Pansy. Hermione’s dark eyes were hazy with lust, but that
couldn’t obscure the vicious amusement lighting them. If Pansy was left in
doubt as to the Gryffindor’s true motivation, the cruel twist to Hermione’s
smile erased any such uncertainty.

Hermione kept her gaze on the Slytherin girl while she cried out her orgasm.

When Hermione’s eyes closed and her body trembled in the afterglow, Cho rose
and draped the coverlet over Hermione’s supine form, before she turned to face
Pansy. When she did, Cho did the last thing that Pansy expected.

Cho crossed the room, and kissed her.

It was a harsh kiss, punishing in its force. Cho‘s fingers dug into the flesh
of Pansy’s face as she sucked and bit at Pansy’s mouth. When she pulled away,
the blonde ran her tongue over her split and bruised lips, tasting Hermione
there. She gazed bewildered at the Ravenclaw.

“Because that’s all of her you will ever have,” Cho said dismissively, turning
her back on the Slytherin. Hermione rose from the bed, letting the covers fall
from her body to stand gloriously bare. She opened her arms to Cho, who went
into them eagerly, and kissed her. Pansy fled, feeling desperate and dirty, and
utterly deprived.

Hermione’s cold laughter followed her, ringing in her ears long after Pansy had
fled back to the relative safety of the dungeons, and her dorm. It continued to
ring, mockingly, as she lay in her bed and tried to sleep. That laugh went on
and on in her head, tormenting her.

Because every time she heard it, she desired Hermione all over again.



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