
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8736187.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Daphne_Greengrass/Cormac_McLaggen
  Character:
      Daphne_Greengrass, Cormac_McLaggen
  Additional Tags:
      Rare_Pairings, Sex, Cunnilingus, Underage_Smoking, Alcohol, Dubious
      Morality, Character_Study, Topping_from_the_Bottom, Revenge_Sex, Cormac
      McLaggen_-_Freeform
  Series:
      Part 1 of Blaspheme
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-03 Words: 2917
****** Blaspheme ******
by andafaith
Summary
     “You’re not what I expected.”
     Arching an eyebrow, she asked, “And what did you expect?”
     “I dunno – a quick shag in the loo, maybe. Baggage compartment.”
     “You’re the one who’s gagging for it, McLaggen. I’m simply
     accommodating.”
     “Your state of undress says otherwise, sweetheart,” he said, taking
     another swig of vodka and handing it off to her.
     A breathy snort of laughter passed through her nose. “Being naked
     means nothing.”
Notes
     Author’s Note: Set during HBP. This is a character study more than
     anything. Reading Duality might help with understanding the
     situation, but it can be read without (It is your choice to decide
     whether this is canon to Duality or not). This is mostly about Daphne
     and her character. All you need to know is that Hermione Granger took
     Blaise Zabini to Slughorn’s Christmas Party with McLaggen as well and
     they had it out over her. Now, McLaggen is going after Zabini’s best
     friend/assumed girlfriend Daphne Greengrass in “revenge” for losing
     that battle. Also, Daphne is currently on a break from “occasionally
     fucking” Harry Potter due to irreconcilable differences. Hope you
     enjoy!
     Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I do not own. This story is based
     on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and
     various publishers including – but not limited to – Bloomsbury Books,
     Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money
     is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
See the end of the work for more notes
                                                                                
Blaspheme
          … And that One Time that Daphne Slept with Cormac McLaggen
                                        
                                   }-{}-{}-{
 
Daphne lazily glanced up from staring at the wheels of the Hogwarts Express to
meet a pair of hazel eyes staring at her with keen interest.
 
Too keen.
 
She flicked the ashes off her cigarette and exhaled a long breath full of
smoke. “What do you want?”
 
McLaggen took a seat next to her on the bench while Daphne drew deeply at her
fag. “Can’t leave a pretty girl like you sitting here all by herself. Someone
might snatch her up before I even get the chance to talk to her.”
 
“Oh cut the bullshit, McLaggen,” Daphne said, rolling her eyes. She glanced up
at him out of the corner of her eyes in suspicion. “What do you really want?”
 
“Well… I s’pose, since Granger’s gone traipsing off with your boyfriend Zabini,
you might want to…”
 
“Right. Of course,” Daphne interrupted sarcastically. Some people had a lot of
nerve. “You think you can come over here and chat me up all smooth-like and
I’ll go along with it because it’s so obvious that Blaise and I must be at odds
due to his sudden interest in Hermione Granger.” She paused, gauging his
reaction.
 
The surprised expression that spilled across his face told her that she guessed
it right. How could she not? McLaggen was predictable and way too easy to
read. 
 
When he didn’t say anything, she clarified, “Blaise and I are just best
friends. He can do whatever he wants; I don’t give a fuck.”
 
In fact, I was the one who put the idea of Granger in his head. But she wasn’t
going to tell him that.
 
“Oh, I think you do,” McLaggen drawled, resting his oversized hand on her knee
at the edge of her skirt, stroking her along her skin with his thumb. The
‘charming’ smile pulling at the corners of his lips was vulgar at best. “You
probably care more than you realize – and he’s an idiot. Doesn’t see what’s
right in front of him.”
 
Snorting, Daphne exhaled a puff of smoke and plucked his hand away. “And you
do?”  She turned away from him to focus her gaze back on the Hogwarts Express.
“Even if I wanted a revenge fuck or whatever, what makes you think I’d choose
you?” Raising her eyebrow toward him, Daphne stood and vanished her dead
cigarette with a flick of her wand. 
 
“I’ve everything you could possibly want – and more – so why wouldn’t you?”
 
“Why do you think?” Daphne asked rhetorically, walking away before he could
even try to answer. The bloody arrogant pricks in this school were astounding.
She could hear his hurried footfalls behind her and sighed, pulling out her
silver case to fish for another fag. What was it about her that made her
attract arseholes?
 
“I think that we’d be good together,” McClaggen said, stepping in front of her
and blocking her path. 
 
Daphne exhaled a cloud of smoke in his face. Even though his eyes watered, his
lack of flinching was intriguing. “You wouldn’t be able to handle me.”
 
“Try me.”
 
Smirking, Daphne narrowed her eyes and stared at him straight on. “I would tear
you into a million little bits and piss on the pieces.”
 
“Aggressive.” His gaze wavered from her face and swept over her slowly. “I like
that.”
 
She couldn’t help but smile at that. “You’re fucked up.”
 
“You are too, sweetheart.”
 
Shaking her head in a mock-disappointed fashion, Daphne side stepped past
McLaggen and continued toward the door to board the train – only to have
McLaggen follow. She could feel him there, just behind her as she made her way
through the carriages, trailing smoke in her wake. There was no reason for him
to still be following her, but he did, regardless. Lord only knew why.
 
It wasn’t as if she was very forthcoming.
 
And, she could have stopped it easily – she could have grabbed hold of his
bollocks through his trousers and threatened him to never proposition her
again, which worked nine times out of ten – but she didn’t.
 
Instead, she stopped at the snack trolley, considering McLaggen out of the
corner of her eye while she paid for a packet of sweets. The twat got a
Butterbeer and she had no idea why she was waiting for him to finish up with
the exchange. Part of her was going to blame this on temporary insanity,
because that’s what it took to consider Cormac McLaggen.
 
He was one of those persistent blokes who knew what he had and wasn’t afraid to
put it all out there with a swagger of bravado and brashness that could only
come from a Gryffindor. And he wanted a ‘revenge fuck’, but that was laughable
because all of the ‘revenge’ would only exist in McLaggen’s head. Blaise
wouldn’t care. Daphne wouldn’t care.
 
Only he would care.
 
Perhaps it was that fact that made her stick around:
 
The revenge is in your head; what are you going to do about it?
 
After all, she had a couple hours to kill before she had to meet up with Blaise
and Theo.
 
                                   }-{}-{}-{
 
“So you’ve changed your mind, I take it,” McLaggen said as she pulled him into
the first empty compartment she could find and locked and warded the door. He
leaned up against the luggage rack and popped open his bottle of Butterbeer
one-handed just as the train started taking off.
 
How fucking suave.
 
Daphne gave a shrug before reaching into her robe and pulling out her flask,
which she saved for occasions involving temporary insanity. Exhaling all her
breath, the vodka – charmed cold – briefly reminded her of her grandparent’s
house as it crawled down her throat, warming her gently on the inside in spite
of the frigid temperature of the liquid.
 
McLaggen was staring at her as if he was expecting something from her, but she
didn’t feel like being generous – this was something he wanted from her – so
she took a seat on the bench and crossed her legs as she leaned back. Taking a
drag off her cigarette and downing two more large mouthfuls of vodka, she kept
her eyes glued to his face. Analyzing.
 
He was a blonde pretty boy, who basically got everything handed to him and
didn’t have to try much.
 
And she hated that she always had to be the first one to make a move. There was
a lot to be said about that first move. It spoke volumes. She’d punched Draco
Malfoy in the face, pinned Zacharias Smith to a wall, rolled around half naked
in bed with Blaise Zabini, and cornered and coaxed a kiss from Harry Potter.
 
First moves. It usually set the tone of sexual relationships.
 
So what would be his? She was done with making the first moves.
 
McLaggen’s brow was creasing. “Is that Firewhiskey?”
 
“No.” She held the flask out to him. “Want some?”
 
It took less than three seconds for him to make a decision, accepting the flask
with a shrugging tilt of his head and sitting opposite from her on the other
bench.
 
“Ta,” he muttered, downing at least two large measures and clearing his throat
just a little as he handed the flask back to her, trailing his fingers along
hers in the exchange. “Smooth – whatever it is.”
 
“Vodka. My favourite.”
 
If that was supposed to be his first move, it was a piss poor one. But, she was
willing to give him the benefit of the doubt since he was probably used to
girls throwing themselves at his feet.
 
His eyes were on her chest and her lips curved into a smirk as she downed just
enough vodka to finally make her head start to feel a bit lighter.
 
Much better.
 
Her cigarette was dead between her fingertips and she opened the window a
little to flick it out, waiting for him to try something – bloody anything.
 
When he made no move to do anything, she rolled her eyes. Shoving her flask
into his free hand, she let her cloak fall off her shoulders. Then, she
followed that with unbuttoning her shirt. She wasn’t even trying to make this
sexy, not that he seemed to notice. He sipped at her flask and watched with a
vague expression of disbelief across his face. When she was down to only her
skirt, she leaned back on the bench again, tugged her silver case from the
pocket of her piled up robes, and lit another cigarette.
 
When the bloody fuck are you going to make a move? Can’t you tell that I’m
waiting? I’m trying to make it obvious for you.
 
Instead of saying that outright, she lightly drawled, “I’m beginning to think
that you’re all mouth and no trousers.” Smoke curled from her lips.
 
That crease in his forehead was back and his eyes strayed to bruises and the
slice up the side of her ribs. “Did you get into a fight with someone?”
 
“No,” she lied through her teeth, her face utterly devoid of any indication
that she was.
 
“You’re not what I expected.” Finally, he looked back up at her face.
 
 Arching an eyebrow, she asked, “And what did you expect?”
 
“I dunno – a quick shag in the loo, maybe. Baggage compartment.”
 
“You’re the one who’s gagging for it, McLaggen. I’m simply accommodating.”
 
“Your state of undress says otherwise, sweetheart,” he said, taking another
swig of vodka and handing it off to her.
 
A breathy snort of laughter passed through her nose. “Being naked means
nothing.”
 
“Prove it,” he muttered, an excited glint in his eyes as they trailed from her
skirt and back up to her face.
 
“Impress me and perhaps I will,” Daphne countered, taking a drink from her
flask as his eyebrows rose at her presented challenge.
 
Setting his bottle of Butterbeer onto the floor, McLaggen stripped off his robe
and shirt, tossing them aside. She considered him again – he was all broad
muscles and length and he definitely knew what he had. But it took a lot more
than an attractive expanse of skin and self-confidence to impress her. McLaggen
toed off his shoes – unbuckled his belt. His fingers deftly undid the top
button on his trousers, but he kept it like that. He didn’t go any further,
even though his cock was a clear bulge and he probably wanted to relieve the
pressure by now. She’d been friends with boys long enough to understand that
fact.
 
That fact also made it extremely apparent that he had practiced this before –
strip teasing himself in front of a mirror in his dorm, no doubt. He’d worked
out all of the appealing angles and the right amount of seductive dishevelment.
What a tosser.
 
An enticing tosser, but still a tosser.
 
McLaggen presented himself with open arms. “What do you think?”
 
Sighing around her cigarette, Daphne stared at him expectantly. “I know that
breasts get you hard, but I’m slightly more difficult to please.”
 
“Zabini has a handful then, yeah?” McLaggen asked amusedly, his question filled
with so much meaning. His eyes were a bit hazy from the vodka and she was
certain that hers were as well.
 
For once, she found herself consenting to the rumours, if only to goad the
Gryffindor. “He was fine, but he never had that special something.”
 
That was a lie.
 
Blaise always had that special something. They all did. Harry, Blaise – Draco,
even. Smith was like collateral damage. The others, though…
 
They were all special, even if she hated it. She never told anyone the truth
about Blaise because he was too close to love and she hated love. Love was an
emotion that was strong and hard and terrible and consuming. And she hated
Harry for that. And she hated Draco for ruining everything that used to be
inside her that could potentially love.
 
McLaggen’s eyes glanced down her legs and he half kneeled on the floor, lifting
up her ankle and staring up at her with a loaded amount of intent in his dizzy
eyes. “His loss,” he muttered, pressing small kisses along the side of her left
foot and up her calf.
 
This was the first move – throwing himself at her feet.
 
Unexpected.
 
He was like Draco without the Draco. Because Draco would do this – throw her
expectations, just like this – but she knew she’d have blood filling her mouth
later; with all of the bliss came the pain. Draco had a marvelous capacity for
causing pain, but he couldn’t take it well. And she had to return the pain and
everything hurt her more than it should have done with Draco. McLaggen was like
how she hoped Smith would be, just because he was a Hufflepuff. A good, kind –
even if annoying – Hufflepuff, who talked of big game but he couldn’t deliver.
Smith was disappointing; McLaggen didn’t appear to be the same.
 
Impressive.
 
His lips tingled along her thigh and he kneeled fully between her legs as she
unzipped her skirt.
 
It was thrown into the pile with her knickers seconds later and McLaggen was
nosing at her cunt, his tongue trailing along her. She uncapped and took
another pull from her flask, inhaling a breath full of smoke, while his mouth
danced over her clit.
 
Yes, definitely impressive.
 
He knew his way around a cunt in ways that she wasn’t used to. There was no
fumbling. Just straight – ‘I know where to touch you and I know exactly what
gets you off. Your Gräfenberg spot is no mystery to me, sweetheart.’
 
She could vividly imagine what he’d say if he could speak.
 
Enticing, arrogant, and appealing tosser.
 
Daphne pressed her toes against McLaggen’s bulge in his trousers and she felt
him hiss against her skin as she stroked along him with her foot. “Don’t stop,”
she whispered, gripping his hair with her free hand. One of her legs was thrown
over his shoulder.
 
He sucked and licked and tasted and probed. And he was bloody good at it. She
found herself whimpering from how good he was at giving bloody head. No wonder
he was such an egotistical cock. She briefly wondered how he fucked.
 
And, suddenly, she didn’t want to come yet. No. She wanted to come with that
heat and pressure that she felt under her foot – filling her.
 
Flicking her half-smoked cigarette out the window, she lifted him off and found
herself unzipping his trousers, tugging them down to his thighs and pulling him
up and onto her.
 
Jesus, he was heavy.
 
“Now,” she muttered breathlessly and she didn’t have to tell him twice.
 
It was then that he kissed her, pushing inside her and tangling with her
nerves. Sex was personal in a way that nothing else could be. She’d planned on
just exchanging head and maybe catching up later, but she just had to get sex
involved. They were both appalling people. And that thought stroked deep inside
her, caressing her like a knife. But, at the same time, it was terrifyingly
thrilling, in the way his cock was buried so deep. It was hard and pounding and
he knew all of the spots to hit because he was fucking good at this in the way
that she was good at this.
 
They manipulated people through this. Both of them. She wasn’t the only one.
She could feel it from the moment his lips touched her skin. He did this too.
 
She was fucking a male Gryffindor version of her sexual self and she nearly
wanted to laugh at the madness of it. He tasted like vodka, sex, and filthy
unadulterated lust and she wanted to bite him – so she did. He’d leave with a
bruise on his neck; if he didn’t know any decent glamour charms, he’d have to
live with it as a trophy. He probably would do that regardless, knowing him.
Knowing his brashness.
 
Daphne gripped his back and bucked against him, making him go that last inch.
Her cunt stretched around his cock deliciously and she couldn’t help but
shiver. He was marking with his mouth along her right breast. Fucking her for
all he was worth.
 
“Make me come, McLaggen. Nothing would piss him off more,” she muttered between
her gasping breaths, appealing to his revenge plot, even if she knew
differently. But it worked.
 
He was determined.
 
She was so close, with his fingers sliding around her clit in time with his
strokes. Just a little more of something would tip her over the edge. His mouth
was at her neck, making a mark she’d have to heal later and, suddenly, his hips
shifted, swirling upwards and hitting her just fucking right.
 
Oh, yes, just like that.
 
Daphne came with a gasping moan, clutching onto McLaggen’s back and leaving
streaks of red across his flesh with her nails. 
 
“Gods,” McLaggen groaned, his eyes screwed shut tight as he pounded through her
orgasm, coming to completion not long after. She watched every expression on
his face and smirked through it, clenching extra hard on his cock just to make
it better for him. Since he wasn’t pulling out and coming all over whatever
body part he preferred, he was definitely a deep one – he liked tight heat
around his cock while he came. It wasn’t hard to guess.
 
He gasped and moaned openly, not holding back a thing, with his eyes closed and
his lips parted in bliss. It was like winning a prize, watching this.
 
And Daphne loved winning. 
 
                                   }-{}-{}-{
 
End Notes
     Thank you for reading!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
