
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3316826.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Hermione_Granger/Draco_Malfoy, Ginny_Weasley/Blaise_Zabini, Pansy
      Parkinson/Ron_Weasley, Tracey_Davis/Harry_Potter, Daphne_Greengrass/
      Theodore_Nott, Lavender_Brown/Seamus_Finnigan
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Hermione_Granger, Draco_Malfoy, Ginny_Weasley, Blaise
      Zabini, Theodore_Nott, Seamus_Finnigan, Pansy_Parkinson, Daphne
      Greengrass, Tracey_Davis, Ron_Weasley, Lavender_Brown, Dobby
  Additional Tags:
      Card_Games, bet, Room_of_Requirement, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon
      Divergence, Alternate_Universe_-_No_War, Alternate_Universe_-_No
      Voldemort, Gryffindor_vs._Slytherin, Hogwarts_Seventh_Year, Magical
      games, Veela, Sex-Witch, Sex-Warlock, Fae_&_Fairies, Loss_of_Virginity,
      First_Time, Falling_In_Love, Implied/Referenced_Suicide, Explicit_Sexual
      Content, Explicit_Language, Consensual_Kink, Solving_a_riddle, Drama,
      Angst, Fluff, Smut, Strip_Tease, Fingerfucking, Sex_Toys, Romance, Anal
      Sex, Vaginal_Sex, Oral_Sex, Spanking, Food_Sex, Cunnilingus,
      Hallucinations, Past_Rape/Non-con, Consensual_Underage_Sex, Masturbation,
      Mutual_Masturbation, Mildly_Dubious_Consent, Implied/Referenced_Rape/Non-
      con, Implied/Referenced_Underage_Sex, Vaginal_Fingering, Nipple_Play,
      Anal_Play, Dom/sub_Play, Paddling, Light_BDSM, Horcruxes, Male
      Homosexuality, Bisexual_Male_Character, Bisexual_Female_Character,
      reference_to_prostitution, Bigotry_&_Prejudice, Understanding, Blood
      Prejudice, Unplanned_Pregnancy, Teen_Pregnancy, Blood_and_Injury, Mind
      Control, Mind_Games
  Series:
      Part 13 of Rare_Pairs, Part 13 of Hermione_x_Draco_stories, Part 2 of
      Potter_het_couple_stories, Part 7 of Malfoy_het_couple_stories, Part 9 of
      DARK_FIC, Part 11 of Weasley_het_couple_stories, Part 7 of Games,_Bets,
      Dares,_Challenges_stories
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-02-09 Updated: 2016-02-19 Chapters: 24/? Words: 141842
****** Eros & Psyche ******
by RZZMG
Summary
     Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne
     Greengrass, and Tracey Davis all challenge Harry Potter, Hermione
     Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Lavender Brown, and Seamus
     Finnigan to play EROS & PSYCHE, a scandalous magical card game.
     It's Slytherin vs. Gryffindor, pride vs. desire, male vs. female. Who
     wins in the game of hearts & amour... and is the game as harmless as
     the players all believe it to be?
     WINNER - "BEST SMUT: WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS" & NOMINATION - "BEST
     WORK-IN-PROGRESS: UP TO NO GOOD" - 2017 GRANGER ENCHANTED SURVIVORS-
     ENCHANTED AWARDS ON FACEBOOK
Notes
     This is a FIC CHALLENGE from NEVILLES_GIRL! Here was her criteria:
     1. Dramione – hot, hot sex – lots of it
     2. AU, during Seventh Year
     3. Harry, Ron, Pansy, Blaise & Seamus must also appear
     4. A contest or bet of some kind must be the main plot
     5. Characters that can't appear in speaking roles: the Dursleys
     6. You have to use at least 20 song titles or lyrics in the story
     somehow
     7. Lots of angst and romance
     8. These words must appear: dangle, candle light, sex toys, Save The
     Queen, Veela, and Quidditch
     9. I want a scene with a sexy massage, a scene using food in a sexual
     manner, and a scene with a kiss that leads to love
     10. Happy ending
      
     Revision 1.0 - 2 August, 2010 (*posted on Fanfiction.net)
     Revision 2.0 - 2 August, 2012
      
     STORY DETAILS: Hogwarts-era, 7th Year -Alternate Universe (events
     after novel #4 never happened; Cedric Diggory didn't die, Harry won
     the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Voldemort was not resurrected, and there
     was no war). Years five, six and seven were filled with regular
     teenage angst stuff for our cast. The Room of Requirement was
     discovered by the Weasley twins years back, and now all of the
     students know about it (they keep it a secret from the teachers and
     Filch, obviously). Quidditch was a bigger deal, too (because it's not
     like there's anything else major going on), so everyone on team has
     bulked up for the competition over the years (in other words, those
     who play are more of an athletic build and less lean/willowy as most
     wizards would be). Also, for the sake of this fic, all of the main
     guys featured play Quidditch (even those who didn't in the novels),
     and Ginny plays Quidditch. Characters are OOC (out-of-character), and
     I'm taking serious creative license here because it's a smut-fun fic
     and none of these character hook-ups would happen otherwise. You're
     forewarned! Card game based upon an idea I had for "La Cerise: The
     Sweetest Cherry" fic, but decided to scrap. At last, I can use it
     finally! This will be a multi-part fic.
***** Will You Flinch? *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                                        
===============================================================================
                                        
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland 
                  Gryffindor Boys Dorms (Harry Potter's room)
                   Wednesday, June 10, 1998 (early evening)
 
Re-reading the note that Malfoy had passed to Harry during Potions class this
afternoon, Hermione took a deep breath and slowly let it out, her mind a riot
of thoughts over its contents.
 
Eros – Sat. 7pm, RoR
Pick 3 F, 3 M - 6 & 7 yr. only – must be Gryfs!
No cherries.
Too chicken?
 
Godric Save the Queen, was that no-count Ferret serious? He really wanted a
six-on-six, evenly gender-mixed game of Eros & Psyche this Saturday night in
the Room of Requirement, pitting his Housemates against the Gryffindors?
She snorted in partial amusement, partial incredulity. The blond git was so
obvious sometimes! Clearly, Malfoy wanted to get even for losing the Quidditch
House Cup this last weekend, their last game of their high school experience.
She bet it just ate at the pure-blood, overachieving snob that Harry Potter, a
half-blood who did so extraordinarily well in classes andout on the Quidditch
pitch on mostly sheer talent, had beaten him one final, irrefutable time. Now,
he was apparently looking for revenge.
Bloody hell, that meant he'd do anything to win, wouldn't he?
Having intimate knowledge of the Snake's most afflicting moves, for she had
been on the receiving end of his scathing taunts, cruel looks, and occasional
hexes more than anyone else in school, she wondered if she could really do
this?
Eros was a legendary magical card game that had its origins in the decadently
wicked Masked Gentlemen's Clubs of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth
centuries in England. The objective was rather simple: you played from the time
the first card was turned until the final question card was read, and all turns
had come to a close. Whichever team had the most players standing at that point
won.
More specifically, the game was played with an even number of participants on
two teams, evenly split between genders, and was typically engaged in a
location that would remain secret to all except to the currently engaged
players. It was comprised of four blank decks–so named Partners,
Interrogations, Forfeits, and Deeds–the content of which was determined in
advance by the players themselves.
The first deck, Partners, was simply a deck made up of the names of all
participants in the current game set. These cards were charmed to create a
magically binding contract with anyone who signed their name to them; once you
accomplished that, you were bound to play the current game set to its
completion–much like Jumanji in that way, Hermione thought. The signatory
release also bound you to an Oath of Secrecy; in effect, you were gagged from
talking about the specifics of what happened in the game with any outsiders.
Once all players had signed their Partners cards, the women put theirs into a
pile, which was then shuffled. The men–the Eros component to this whole
shenanigan, as he represented the primordial God of Sexual Love–would then take
turns drawing a card of his intended Psyche, the mythological woman Eros fell
in love with. That witch would then remain the man's committed partner
throughout the entirety of the game set. Once every player was matched up, they
held onto the card of their associated partner, as it assured the connection
between the two of them until the completion of the game.
After partners had been determined, each player was then given two blank
Interrogations cards that he or she would fill-in with two questions of their
choice. They were also given two blank Forfeit cards which he or she would
assign a heinous punishment to, and two blank Deeds cards, from which he or she
would dispense a delicious reward to balance out the punishment. This was done
twenty-four hours in advance of the game's beginning, to give time for players
to think up suitable content for their cards.
In the case of the Interrogationscards, the questions you made up were required
to always start with the phrase, "If you had to…" What you asked after that was
entirely up to your deranged, little mind. You wanted to be positive, however,
that you would only write down a question that you wouldn't mind answering
yourself, out loud, in front of all of the other players. The challenge was
therefore to balance out your insane curiosity of the other players' secrets
versus your own comfort level in dispensing your confidential information to
those same people.
On the night of the actual game, everyone's Interrogationscards were put into a
single deck and shuffled well. Then, taking turns in a clockwise direction, a
player was to draw a card and read it aloud. Each question represented a
'round,' which would only end once all players had either answered the
question, or refused to answer the question. There were consequences for either
decision, of course.
For players who actually chose to answer the Interrogations question, they were
compelled to do so with honesty, as the enchantment on the bespelled deck
coerced the truth from a person's mouth as if they'd been dosed with
Veritaserum. When they completely answered the question, they were then allowed
to draw from the Deedsdeck. This set of cards was made up of suggested
'rewards' for the players who showed remarkable courage in answering the
questions put to them, and because this "compensation" was determined by the
players themselves in advance, the Deedscard drawn could vary between something
as simple as a foot massage to something a little more risqué, such as claiming
a kiss from your partner, to the full kit and caboodle of engaging in full-on
sex with your partner. The partner, in this case, had no choice but to submit
to the Deedscard's requirements placed upon them, or they would be required to
bow out of the game. If a partner forfeited the game, both players were
'retired,' with the surrendering half considered the 'loser' for their team's
final number advantage. It was akin to a 'Truth or Dare' sort of situation.
To add to the excitement, the charm on the game itself allowed any number of
accouterments to magically appear as necessary to fulfill a Deedscard's
requirements. Hermione was guessing that they just popped into the air and then
were whisked away when no longer needed, although she had no idea how a card
deck could be spelled to do such a thing, honestly. So, one could literally put
just about anything down on a Deedscard and the magic would assure that any
necessary items to fulfill that card's requirements would be made conveniently
available.
On the other hand… if a person was uncomfortable answering a question from the
Interrogationsdeck, they could choose to pass and draw instead from the
Forfeitsdeck. The intent of this deck was to punish those who wimped out. These
cards were penalties made up by the players, too, and contained shocking and
scandalous fines; anything causing permanent physical damage, blood loss, or
psychological trauma was caveat understood as absolutely not being allowed, and
no spells were to be used against anyone for any reason, according to the
rules. Everything had to be physically performed on your partner, not
magically. The trick in writing up your Forfeitscards was to balance out what
you wanted to discipline others with versus what you, yourself, would tolerate
acting out, in case you picked your own card.
The amount of time to indulge in each Deedscard or to participate in a
Forfeitcard was exactly twenty-five minutes per action. Meaning, you and your
partner would typically closet yourselves away from the others to act out your
cards for a total of fifty minutes per round, with the remaining ten minutes in
the hour relegated as a 'rest' period - read: making yourself presentable again
for public view, or getting your emotions under control.
The game ended when the last Interrogationscard was turned, or when one of the
two finalist partners caved, refusing to perform a Forfeit, whichever came
first. The team with the most players still 'standing' at that point won.
Hermione realized with a start that this game set could quite possibly string
out into a full twenty-four-hour ordeal given that there would be twenty-four
questions to answer, and each round lasted approximately an hour. No wonder
Malfoy picked Saturday night to start; that way they could have all of Sunday
night to recover from whatever happened.
Ugh. Seriously, could she really do this?
Looking across at Harry's eager face, she realized that this was her chance to
sock it good to that Malfoy git for all of the years of torture he'd rained
upon her head - if she was lucky enough to be partnered with him, that was to
say. If not, at least she could stick it to that snob Zabini, or finally get a
chance to get even with Theo, or maybe even have some fun with Seamus, Harry,
or Ron, all of whom she wouldn't mind a one-off opportunity with, as there was
some fine meat in that group. If she played, it would be a win-win for her, no
matter who she ended up with, she realized.
Besides, she'd always had Harry's back, and he'd always had hers. They'd been
there for each other through thick and thin, and the way he was looking at her
now–as if the whole world's survival hinged on her acceptance of his invitation
to play the game–she knew she would not say 'no' to him.
Looking back down at the rumpled paper in her sweaty, ink-stained hand, two
words stuck out like a beacon of hateful contention to rile her anger once more
into a whipping fury.
Too chicken?
Yeah, he'd like her to be, wouldn't he? That monstrously stuck-up, rodent-faced
Pygmy Puff!
Swallowing back her fear, Hermione looked Harry in the eye and nodded. "I say
we take the challenge."
The others all gaped at her, mouths hinging open like rusted steel traps, this
clearly being the last thing they'd expected her to announce.
"Really?" her best male friend asked, his emerald, shimmering eyes alight with
a combination of relief and skepticism. "I mean, well, anything goes in this
game, 'Mione. Anything.You know… sex stuff."
Raising an eyebrow at him, she smirked. "It's not as if I'm unfamiliar with
what to do behind closed doors, and Malfoy did specify 'no cherries.'" She
looked at her two girl friends sitting at her side on Seamus' bed, then at the
three men sitting opposite her on Harry's twin. "I don't think that will be a
problem with this group, and we all know it."
Ginny face vaulted, her pretty cheeks flaming red with embarrassment. Lavender
giggled, and the three wizards across from them all looked somewhat sheepish,
staring at their feet or the wall as to avoid Hermione's direct gaze.
Really, it's not like they were children anymore! How did they expect to beat
the Slytherins at a game of naughty sex fetish if they grew embarrassed about
just conversing on the subject? It was no secret, after all, that Hermione and
Ron had lost their virginities to each other last summer, after they'd tried
dating for two months. She really hadn't seen what all the fuss had been about
in the afters, as she'd received more pleasure from chewing a stick of
Drooble's Strawberry Gum and her own fingers wiggling under her knickers than
she'd ever gotten from Ron's penis. Not that he wasn't a fun lover, but she'd
just never gotten off with him.
Harry and Ginny had gone for it just this last February, she knew, breaking
each other in on Valentine's Day. However, the novelty had worn off quickly for
both of them, and they'd realized they'd had even less in common than she and
Ron had had. They'd amicably parted ways a month later. Ginny had then hooked
up with Seamus once, who'd already been with quitea few girls by then. It had
just been a bit of fun for them, though, and not repeated since.
And she knew that Lavender had given her virginity to the Irish wizard two
years ago. Nothing had come of that, though, except Lavender's resentment for
the man. It had taken until this year for them to just be comfortable in the
same room together. In the meantime, Ron had been on and off with Lav for the
last nine months in a fuck-buddy manner, neither taking it as anything more
than a bit of fun.
They'd all been sexually active, so what was the big deal?
Ron's face turned an interesting shade of puce. "Since no one else is saying
it, I've got to: are you barking mad, 'Mione? You can'tbe serious? We're
talking about Slytherins here–Malfoy as head git of the lot. You talk about
shagging any one of them as easily as tying your shoes!"
Staring him down with her most confident glare, her smirk widened. "Crass,
Ronald. But you're forgetting a couple of very important things: one, that
Draco, Blaise, and Teddy might end up with the girls from their own team,
instead of any of us, and two, that I amstill a woman, after all. It only takes
a pair of decent, half-naked breasts to make your gender come to heel."
Lavender giggled.
"And what are you on about?" Ron asked his on-again, off-again bed warmer.
"It's not bloody funny!"
The honey blonde patted her beau's broad shoulder. "I think 'Mione's right.
Forcing Malfoy, Zabini, or Nott to do the bidding of one of us women, and make
them panting hot for more at the same time would be priceless. I can think of
more than a few tricks to humiliate the blue-blooded caps right off of their
precious heads."
Ginny recovered, catching on to the idea, eyes bright. "Ha! I'd make one of
them kiss my feet and beg my forgiveness for every horrible thing they've ever
said to me."
Brown laughed. "Honey, you're thinking too small. I'd tie them up and use a
stinging hex on their privates. On and off for a good hour, at least. Let them
try to reproduce after I'm through!"
Hermione grinned like a shark. "It would be brilliant revenge for the years of
horribleness those three have forced us to endure."
Harry stood and nodded at Ron first, and they both turned to Seamus. "Right,
Ron and I are in. You?"
"Do ya have any idea who th' Slytherins will be invitin'?" he asked, his Irish
brogue thick with excitement.
Harry leaned against the back wall and crossed his strapping arms over his
broad chest, which had expanded with hard packed muscle this last year, as he
and the other members of the Quidditch team had begun a rigorous workout
routine this last September, all so they could claim the House Cup this, their
final year. "As I said, it'll be Malfoy, Zabini, and Nott for the boys. He said
Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey Davis would represent the girls
from his House."
Hermione looked at all three men. "Parkinson? Perfect. I'd love to see her
squirm for one of you, too. How galling would it be to her pride for any one of
you three to touch her 'precious pure-blood limbs,' much less make her squirm
under your mouths and hands?"
Harry looked at her with amusement. "Some days, you really scare me, 'Mione."
"She bloody terrifies me on a regular basis," Ron added.
Seamus snickered. "Are ya sure ya were sorted into th' right House, lass?"
Ignoring the ragging, Hermione shared a look with Ginny and Lavender, the three
of them silently communicating their agreement to go ahead with the plan. When
consensus had been reached, she turned back to Harry. "Tell that rat bastard
that we're allin–to win."
 
===============================================================================
                                        
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
                  Slytherin Boys Dorms (Draco Malfoy's room)
                    Wednesday, June 10, 1998 (late evening)
                                        
The owl arrived to his window in the dorms that night about two hours after
dinner. With a tiny bit of trepidation, Draco held the parchment in his hands.
He threw a silent prayer to Slytherin that first, Potter and company had
accepted his challenge, and second, that the predictable ponce had picked the
one girl he was simply dyingto lock horns (and other parts) with.
"Open it already!" Nott growled, brilliant cerulean eyes alight with
anticipation. His tall, broad-shouldered frame hunched over at the waist, as he
placed his palms down on the edge of the mattress and leaned in. "Go on!"
At the foot of the cot sat a silent, unruffled Blaise Zabini, unmoving, his
attention on the note, not giving any indication that he was at all interested
in the outcome of the challenge he'd been volunteered for by his best friend.
Draco knew the façade to be a carefully crafted lie, however. Deep in the
depths of his friend's usually enigmatic, dark brown stare, the same burning
desire both he and Theo felt simmered.
With a flair for the dramatic, Draco opened the letter with slow deliberation.
Reading its contents, his heart let out a loud and lusty shout of triumph.
Beaming ear to ear, he read the response out loud.
 
Malfoy,
We're on. If you chicken out, we'll let the whole school know it. Unless
there's a need for a last minute substitution because of illness, here's our
team roster: me, R. Weasley, S. Finnigan, H. Granger, L. Brown, and G. Weasley.
Be prepared for your arses to be handed to you,
- H. Potter
 
Theodore Nott hooted with laughter. "Gods, I can't waitto mess with Granger!
That girl gets under my skin with her know-it-all attitude. I've been waiting a
long time to put that little swot in her place."
Keeping his face as neutral as possible, Draco tamped down on the jealous surge
through his guts. "If you're lucky enough to draw her name, she's all yours."
Of course, he wasn't going to announce it, but he had every intention of
cheating to assure Granger and he ended up paired off. No one was going to
touch her except him. She was his. He'd waited years to finally get his hands
on her.
He turned to Blaise. "Bet you can't wait to give it to the She-Weasel,
especially after the last match."
As a Chaser, Ginny Weasley had been assigned to check Blaise any time they'd
faced off across the Quidditch pitch. The two had formed an antagonistic
relationship over the last two years since she'd joined the Golden Lions, one
that was nearly as rancorous as Draco's own had been with Granger at the start
of their school years.
Zabini's dark eyes glittered with a dark, unfamiliar emotion, and a small smile
graced his full lips. "If I'm lucky enough to draw her name," he replied, using
similar language to Draco's.
In that moment, Draco knew the gig was up; his best friend suspected that he
intended on cheating to arrange things in his favour. In the manner of
Slytherins, though, his best friend was wordlessly conveying an offer to keep
his mouth shut about the subterfuge in return for fixing the arrangement with
Weasley for him as well. Draco nodded in silent understanding and acceptance.
"I have a good feeling about this," he casually announced. Dropping the
parchment into his lap, he stretched his arms together over his head, cracking
his knuckles by interlacing his long, pale fingers. "This'll be a game to
remember."
Nott stood to grab a piece of parchment, his quill, and an ink bottle from his
school bag, turning them over to Draco. "Let them know we're in agreement. I
don't want any crying foul later that there wasn't an official accord."
Taking the items, Draco conjured a wooden lap board for writing and got down to
pen a reply.
 
Potty,
Terms accepted, dandelion. Again, barring subs, our team is as follows: me,
Zabini, Nott, Greengrass, Davis, and Parkinson.
Get ready to beg for mercy,
- D.M.
P.S. Don't forget to pack your hankies for when the crying starts.
 
===============================================================================
                                        
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
            Seventh Year's Defence Against The Dark Arts Classroom
                       Thursday, June 11, 1998 (morning)
                                        
Harry glared across the aisle at Malfoy. Obviously bored as the rest of them,
as classes had officially ended for seventh-years - all exams had been taken
the previous week, and this week was simply a wrap-up and individual review of
results; next week was personal counselling about every student's future
options based on aptitude and N.E.W.T. scores, which were to come in on Monday
morning, and handed out by Heads of Houses - the smug git had the audacity to
throw a small, waded up piece of paper at the back of Hermione's head. From her
seat two rows up, his best friend looked up at Professor Moody, noted the man
was distracted by Terry Boot's final interview and bent over to pick up the wad
of paper. She opened it and read. Whatever it said made her stiffen and he
could practically feel her ire from across the row.
She picked up her quill and scribbled something on it, then hiding the paper in
the sleeve of her robe, she raised her hand. Harry glanced over at Malfoy, who
tsked and sat back in his chair, knowing he was busted this time.
"What is it, Miss Granger?" Moody asked, looking up from the paper in front of
him.
Hermione cleared her throat. "Sir, I'm afraid I'm feeling a little dizzy. Since
we've already had our review, may I go to the Hospital Wing to have a lie down
for a bit?"
Moody stared hard at her for a second and then nodded. "Potter, you're done as
well, so escort your Housemate to Madam Pomfrey, to make sure she gets there
safely." He turned to talk to Terry, ignoring everyone else, who sat around in
groups and whispered, gossiping and making plans for the weekend and after
graduation.
Harry stood without needing to be told twice. Truth be told, he was bored off
his gourd. "Yes, sir."
Ron threw him a 'you lucky bastard!' expression and waved him off, then moved
his chair back to Seamus, Neville, and Dean's little gathering one row back to
join in their discussion about next Friday night's farewell Formal.
Making his way to Hermione's side, Harry took her bag and slung it over her
shoulder, and then the two headed out. On the way past Malfoy's desk, Hermione
locked eyes with their rival, smirked, and pressed the wadded up paper into his
free hand. Without skipping a beat, she kept walking, so Harry didn't stop
either.
When they were far enough down the corridor for no one to hear, Harry finally
had to ask. "Right, so what did Slytherin's Prince have to say to you, and what
did you say back that's got you grinning like the Cheshire Cat?"
Hermione chortled. "I wondered how long it would take before you broke. He
asked me if I liked kneeling because he planned to have me in that position for
him this Saturday night if he pulled my name as his partner."
Harry clenched his jaw. "How did you reply?"
A tinge of a blush bloomed across her pretty, golden cheeks. "I told him he
should get his cushioned Quidditch leggings out of storage because it wouldn't
be me on my knees if we were lucky enough to be thrown together. I further
intimated that I might just write up a Forfeit card that required all of the
men on his team to suck each other's penises if he kept harassing me."
Harry burst into laughter. "Brilliant, 'Mione!"
His best girl friend shrugged. "Top of the class, you know," she joked,
fluffing her hair in playful teasing. They both erupted into fresh gales of
mirth then, and changed topics, discussing their test scores to date.
Chivalrously, Harry let his Housemate talk first.
As she critiqued her own essay for Potions (which had–gasp–earned her an "E"
instead of an "O"), Harry considered his best female friend from the corner of
his eye, catching every third word or so. He'd had a crush on 'Mione in the
third year, and for a little bit of the fifth year, too, but hadn't wanted to
step into Ron's territory. Now, though, she was free and clear, as his two best
friends' relationship hadn't worked out, and he knew she wasn't currently
dating anyone.
For just those few minute's walk, Harry let himself consider the possibilities,
eyes roaming covertly down her body, appraising… Hermione had definitely grown-
up, hadn't she? Her bushy hair and teeth had been tamed by the fourth year, and
her overall figure had matured with ample curves. She was really quite pretty,
too, in a girl-next-door sort of way, with a very light sprinkling of freckles
across the bridge of her nose, and warm eyes that reminded him of dark-bronze
pence pieces. Her smile was genuine, her shiny curls a warm blend of copper,
chocolate, and russet, and her skin was an enticing golden-pink hue. Overall,
he found he was physically still attracted to her.
Perhaps it wouldn't be a total disaster if he drew her name from the pile
tomorrow, as he'd worried when the thought occurred to him last night. Their
personalities sometimes clashed, yes, but she was someone he could be honest
with, and he felt comfortable talking about private things with her. Maybe that
would be enough for a start?
On the other hand, 'Mione was the upwardly mobile, independent type, always
looking for that next plateau to conquer. She didn't need someone to
emotionally lean on, and her intellect and personal ambition far outstripped
everyone else's he'd ever known. He knew from Ron that she was also the
aggressive type in between the sheets. Harry was exactly the opposite; he was
more laid back about his future, content to enjoy his work. He wanted a woman
who would need him and let him be the strong one in the relationship, would let
him romance her, and who would actually enjoy long love-making sessions.
No, clearly 'Mione, like Ginny, was not the girl for him, no matter how
sexually attracted to her he may be, and he knew it deep down inside. In fact,
if they messed around, he was worried he'd become even more attached to her
than he already was, which would be very bad for their friendship in the end.
Theirs would be a messy break-up...
No, he decided, it would be a really bad thing were he to draw her name as his
partner for the game.
Leaving Hermione at the entrance to Madam Pomfrey's lair, he turned about and
headed back towards D.A.D.A., wondering if he would ever find a girl who
actually wanted to fall in love the old-fashioned way.
 
===============================================================================
                                        
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
                                  Dining Hall
                    Thursday, June 11, 1998 (mid-afternoon)
                                        
Blaise stared across the Great Hall at the Weasley girl. Crimson fire flashed
as she brushed a gathering of her hair over her shoulder, laughing in delight
over something Seamus Finnigan, her Quidditch teammate, had said. Her pink lips
were turned up in a beauteous smile that lit up the room, and Finnigan laughed
around his Sugar Quill. The two shared a secret smile.
He couldn't believe it: she'd fucked the Irish, too! Blaise could see it in the
intimate look that passed between them. It was bad enough Potter had taken her
virginity, but Finnigan was an unapologetic man-slag with a roster that
outstripped even Blaise's list of conquests.
Inside his guts, something tightened and his blood heated, amping him up for
violence.
Weasley was his.
The sexy, little minx had spent the last two years taunting and haunting him
from the Quidditch pitch…and in his dreams…and in the bed he'd shared with
others during that time, as well.
Every partner he'd had, no matter their skin or eye colour, their gender or
body shape, or how they smelled or sounded, all were her as he shut his eyes
and took them. They all had her bronze-gold orbs that sparkled, her shiny,
straight strawberry-blonde mane that she'd randomly dyed black at the tips just
to be controversial, her full bottom lip that begged for kissing, and her
lightly freckled skin that smelled of spicy orange and cinnamon perfume.
Every single time he'd orgasmed over the last two years, whether in a partner
or in his own hand, he'd cried out for Ginevra in his mind, pretending it was
her sweet, tight body he was pouring his seed into. And yet, his single-minded
fixation regarded him with nothing but clear disdain each time she glanced over
at him, refusing to acknowledge or even attempt to know the real man under his
various uniforms - and all because he was a Slytherin.
Her House prejudice was firmly ensconced by a generational Gryffindor
brainwashing, and her contempt cut him up inside and out.
The fact of the matter was, from their very first formal introduction across
the Quidditch arena two years ago, Ginevra Weasley had effectively ruined
Blaise's calm. She'd continually distracted his concentration, made him feel
ineffectual, and manoeuvered him into positions where the consequence was him
acting the fool, and she'd accomplished that task with minimal effort and
without care.
He intended on making her pay for that.
He was going to destroy her senses as much as she did his.
Once he had Draco fix the cards on Saturday night so he was partnered up with
her, and he'd had a chance to fuck her good, he would drop little Miss Weasley
on that prissy, snooty ass of hers with relief, and finally be free of this
obsession that had made him pathetic for far too long.
Glancing to his side, he watched his best friend's winter-grey gaze zero-in on
Granger. "Patience," he cautioned under his breath to his friend, low enough
for only the two of them to hear.
Unlike Blaise's temper, which was usually reserved and outwardly rational,
Malfoy's was fireworks-in-the-sky volatile. The last thing they needed was to
be called 'foul' by the other team and be disqualified for provoking pre-game
fighting, thus losing before the contest could commence.
"And more care, if you don't mind. We've both read the rules of the game. Your
little stunt this morning in class could have cost us."
Draco's lids lowered in an unspoken warning. He didn't take well to being
chastised, Blaise knew. "I'm well aware of how much skirting the edge I can do.
Besides, it's all a bit of fun. I like riling her up. I love watching what it
does to her."
Blaise nodded, turning his attention to slicing up his pot roast, smearing a
dab of gravy on it with his knife. "Just don't anger her enough into crossing a
line. I want to play this one out to the end."
Malfoy speared a potato wedge and held it up, focusing on it before popping it
into his mouth. Once he'd finished chewing and swallowing, his smirk returned.
"Eager to get at our little red bird, are we?"
"My little red bird," he growled under his breath, clenching his jaw at the
man's audacity. His grip on his silverware tightened. "Don't forget that."
Glancing through dark-gold lashes, Draco grinned at him. "Wouldn't dare," he
cheekily replied, popping another chip in his mouth.
They shared a moment more in silent understanding: he would not interfere with
Draco's pursuit of Granger, and in return, his friend would show him the same
courtesy in regards to the Weasley girl, his lioness. That agreement made,
Blaise consumed the rest of his meal in quiet introspection and with restraint,
refusing to look back up at his little firebrand's goings-on, not wanting to
appear soppish or imprudent. He'd leave that sort of thing to Draco, who was
clearly besotted with Gryffindor's Princess.
 
===============================================================================
                                        
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
                        Seventh Year's Charms Classroom
                      Thursday, June 11, 1998 (afternoon)
                                        
Pulling the Pixie Pop from his mouth, relishing its honey flavour across his
tongue, Seamus drifted in and out of the conversation he was sharing with his
mate, Michael Corner. His attention was currently fixated on the front of the
classroom, where Flitwick was going over Lavender's final exam results with her
in a semi-private interview.
Even as he half-cocked listed to his friend brag on and on about applying for a
position within Magical Law Enforcement over the summer, Seamus' eyes meandered
of their own accord over the curve and dip of his ex-girlfriend's long,
graceful neck. Absently, he wondered what it would feel like to touch that
soft-looking skin of hers again…
Lavender Renelle Brown.
For some unfathomable reason, this one witch had driven him fair mad since his
first wet dream. Something about her kept drawing him back in, no matter how
many others he'd taken to bed since their one-off in the fifth year. He'd been
the lucky bloke to win her virginity back then, and although the event hadn't
been all roses and romance, it had definitely haunted him since - and not in a
good way.
Alright, so admittedly, his technique had seriously sucked back then, and he
could understand why she would pretend as if shagging him had never happened.
In his defence, though, it had only been his second time having sex. Yeah, he
knew he'd hurt the lass with his lack of skill, his over-eagerness, and his
size, but he'd also known that it always hurt for a girl the first time.
He'd tried to make it right afterward, though, by cuddling with Lavender, but
she'd been strangely stiff in his arms. It was as if she didn't want him
touching her anymore. She hadn't returned any of his kisses either. In fact,
she'd cringed from him. So, he'd taken the hint, picked his seriously bruised
ego up off of the floor, and left. He'd wanted to respect her need for privacy,
so she could take care of the more feminine, delicate matters of her clean-up.
He'd also needed to retreat so he could cover up his embarrassment at having
failed to make her come, and being little more than a 'two-pump chump' himself.
Of course, he'd learned since how to properly minimize the pain for the girl if
it was her first time, how to last while inside a woman, and he'd also come to
appreciate the finer points of bedroom etiquette - specifically, assuring his
partner's care-taking in the afters. It was a knowledge that he wished he'd had
back then, however, as it continued to be a major regret of his that he hadn't
had such proficiency available to make Lavender's first time all it should have
been. He'd wanted her to scream with pleasure, not moan with pain.
He still regretted the fallout from the event, too – specifically, that she'd
written off both him and their budding friendship. He'd really been head over
boots for Brown then, but she'd made it very clear that she wasn't having
anything to do with him after their one night together.
At the time, he'd been brassed off at her for deliberately avoiding his sincere
attempts to apologize the next day. He'd meant to make up his inept treatment
of her the night before by going down on her and giving her some pleasure, but
she had flatly refused to meet him again. After a week of repeated rejections,
he'd finally given up, assumed she'd had her piece of him, and was moving on -
which had, at the time, stung his pride and made him feel quite used. He hadn't
bothered to approach her again for any reason thereafter, and for the next year
and a half, things had remained severely strained between them–to the point
where they were never alone, she'd hardly glanced in his direction, and she'd
made sure to keep at least one person between them at all times. It had only
been since she'd hooked-up as Ron's casual bedmate this year that she'd
marginally relaxed in Seamus' presence.
Feeling a bit petulant over the memories, he shoved the Pixie Pop back in his
mouth and took another good suck at it. The sweet, addicting taste helped his
mood, somewhat.
As he considered the upcoming challenge this weekend, an exciting idea occurred
to him: perhaps he'd get a second chance this Saturday night to make up for
their first time! If he drew Lavender for a partner, he'd have the opportunity
to not only apologize for the rough treatment she'd experienced under him back
when they'd both been fifteen, but also to give her that orgasm he'd been dying
to give her for the last two years. Maybe even multiple orgasms!
Ah, the luck of the Irish would tell, as his Mam was so fond of saying. He'd
cross his fingers and toes, and hope for the match.
"Mate, you all right?" Michael asked, looking at him askance.
Seamus turned his head and focused on his friend, pulling his mind back to the
here and now for the moment. "Sorry, was thinkin' o' next week's graduation.
Whaddya say?"
Corner accepted his excuse and picked up right where he'd left off, so
engrossed in talking about himself that he hardly noticed that his audience's
attention was not wholly recaptured. In fact, thereafter Seamus' responses to
him consisted of little more than a series of party nods.
His gaze traveled back to Brown's profile as she animatedly spoke with
Flitwick, entranced by the way her mouth moved and her indigo-coloured eyes
sparkled. Letting his gaze drift downward, he grew hard in his trousers at
noting the curve of her ample breasts sweetly outlined from the side, as her
summer uniform blouse was pulled tight across the lovely mounds of flesh. When
she laughed at something the professor said, his attention was drawn back
upwards to her lips again.
He'd kissed that mouth once...
Licking his own lips, he took her all in once more, from head to toe. Gods
alive, she was lovely! She reminded him of a fairy, with her pretty features
and her golden hair, and he secretly chuckled at the idea.
Now wouldn't that beat all if she were Fae?
When she stood up and shook their instructor's hand in thanks, there was a
happy bounce to her movements that captivated him as assuredly as her brilliant
smile did. She moved with confidence and a flirty, enthusiastic grace, and once
more he was helpless but to note just how comfortable she had become in that
body of hers now that she was all grown up and knew how to use it. If only he
could he convince her to use such charms on him anytime before graduation!
All he'd need is one more chance with her...
Godric's bollocks, he hoped she was his partner this weekend for the game,
because he'd waited long enough for her to come back around his way.
 
===============================================================================
                                        
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
                        Seventh Year's Charms Classroom
                      Thursday, June 11, 1998 (afternoon)
                                        
As Lavender turned away from her interview with Professor Flitwick, her eyes
roamed the room…
…and froze on Seamus Finnigan, who was staring at her with some serious heat
while sucking on a Pixie Pop.
Her heart gave a sharp thump, lodging in her throat.
Godric, those spring-green eyes of his, surrounded by sensual, dark lashes! He
could seduce anyone he put his mind to with them!
Oh, who was she fooling? He did exactly that! Everyone knew his sex scorecard
was filled with a long list of conquests. To her humiliation, even she appeared
on the list! Thank the Founders she'd had the sense to only make it a one-time
mistake, though. At least she didn't look quite as foolish as some of the girls
who mooned all over him after he'd kicked them to the kerb, girls like Lisa
Turpin or Romilda Vane. At least she…
Shite, he was playing the game tomorrow night, wasn't he? There was a one in
six chance that he could draw her card on Saturday night. If that happened, a
whole lot more than gawking was going to happen between them – again.
Oh, hell no!
She wasn't sure she'd be able to face that kind of grief again!
But…she had also promised 'Mione that she'd try to stick it out in the game if
only so Gryffindor would be able to smash another triumph in Slytherin's face.
She owed the witch a huge debt, even though she could never tell Granger such a
thing.
Her conscience tugged at her to accept this responsibility as part of her
penance.
No choice then: she'd have to suck it up and deal like a true Gryffindor if she
didend up partnered with Sea. The Irish was one man she knew could break her
emotionally in half if she let him; he almost had after their brief little
affair when she'd been fifteen. Since he'd only had time to hone that charming
charisma over the years, she knew that meant she'd have to be extra careful
guarding her heart this time around… if, indeed, it was her fate to be stuck
with the man.
Better to not think like that for now. Better to simply hope the cosmos
partnered her with Ron instead. She was comfortable with her current, casual
lover. They knew each other well enough that nothing they did on Saturday night
would, in any way, damage what they had. After all, how could you ruin a
friends-with-benefits arrangement when there were no deeper feelings involved?
As she bent to retrieve her satchel from the floor to put her test scores away,
she felt a single finger trail down her spine in passing.
Her spine tingled with mini-electric shocks as Seamus threw her a naughty wink
over his shoulder and made his way to the front of the room for his interview
with the Professor. He held his hand low at his side but waggled a playful
backward wave at he, just in case she'd had any doubts that he'd been the one
touching her.
Blushing to the roots, Lavender hurriedly stuffed her papers into her bag and
sat down in her chair.
"Did Sea just pinch you?" Parvati whispered to her, scandalized. "You jumped as
if he had."
Struggling to regain composure, Lavender tried for nonchalance, laughing the
incident off, even as her heart raced under her ribs. "Oh, you know how he is.
He's just trying to get a rise."
"Looked to me like he succeeded," her friend joked. "His pants were tenting
rather inappropriately just now." The witch whistled in appreciation. "I'd
forgotten how big he is. Yum!"
Oh, that was right: Parvati had had a piece of Seamus a couple of times, too,
hadn't she?
"He's not that big," Lavender sniffed, trying not to think about Seamus like
that again if she could help it.
Her friend's eyebrows achieved a world record jump for height. "Don't tell me
you've had bigger because I'd say that wasn't possible. The boy is a good ten
inches long and thicker than my wrist."
Lavender blinked, feeling the rush of her blood travel like a locomotive steam
engine all the way to her toes. Had Sea really been that big? She honestly
couldn't summon up a memory of such a detail, because she hadn't actually
looked at his cock or touched it with her hand the night they'd had sex.
What she did recall from their time together wasn't so pleasant a memory…
He laid her down on a flat, cold, foreign bed in an empty dorm room. The light
was so dim, Lavender could hardly see Seamus' expression, but she could most
certainly feel everything happening to her. It seemed like a dream come true.
She'd wanted this with him for the last year, and now it was really happening!
Her unbuttoned shirt was parted and her bra tugged down. Sea's hot, wet mouth
wrapped around a nipple and began sucking. Founders, that felt good! He
switched between her breasts, giving each equal attention.
Distracting her with sensations she'd never known before, he slyly scooted her
knickers down her legs and off, pushing her skirt up over her waist. His hand
delved between her legs, touching her in a place she'd only recently discovered
herself. But she wasn't moist at all. Talk about embarrassing! Sea didn't seem
put off by that, though. He licked his fingers several times and brought the
wetness of his saliva to her slit until her body began to relax and her natural
arousal overcame her fear.
Suddenly, what they were doing wasn't so scary…and it was beginning to feel
really good, too.
His mouth lifted to hers and he kissed her once more, pumping his tongue
sloppily into her mouth. It was clear Sea was only a little more experienced
than she was at this, but they learned together how to properly French in those
minutes, even as one of his fingers entered her and began slowly pumping back
and forth.
At some unspoken signal, his hand moved out of her and the sound of his trouser
zip coming down was loud in the silent room. The sharp rasping noise brought
her back to reality better than a bucket of ice water would have. She was
actually going to have sex with him, here, tonight, wasn't she? Her thighs
quaked at the thought. Sure, she'd been daring and brave earlier when he'd
suggested they try this, but now she wasn't so sure she was ready.
There was absolutely no time to tell Sea any of this, though, as he quickly
spread her legs apart, and using his hand, lined his penis up with her opening.
Right as she was about to tell him, "maybe we should wait," he thrust. A series
of hard shoves followed as he tunneled into her virginal channel, opening her
wide and splitting her hymen with a powerful shove. Lavender bit her lip to
keep from screaming at the searing pain that followed the loss of her
innocence, whimpering instead as he inelegantly moved in and out of her at a
fast pace.
Godric, this was nothing like she'd expected. She'd known it would hurt the
first time, but this was just… terrible. She felt absolutely no pleasure from
the act whatsoever.
To her relief, however, it was quickly over. Sea groaned around a kiss and then
stiffened with a cry, his back arching, his hips rolling forward one more time.
He came inside her, but she couldn't feel it. Wasn't it supposed to feel warm?
Gooey? Sticky? There was nothing except the feeling of being stretched too far
and an ache in her hip bones. When he was spent, he collapsed on top of her,
breathing hard.
When he finally recovered a bit of his strength and sanity, there were some
kisses, and his arms came around her, but Lavender felt oddly disconnected to
what she'd just experienced. It was as if it had happened to someone else and
she was merely watching from a distance. Her arms refused to obey her mind's
command to hug him back, too, and her lips felt too cold to move. She was
numbed by shock.
Her first time had been absolutely horrid–not at all the romantic moment she'd
imagined.
Abruptly, Seamus pulled out of her body, and it was then that she finally felt
the rush of warm fluids as they followed in the wake of his quick withdrawal.
Her body was too tender and her pelvis too sore for her to sit up just then, so
all she could do was watch as Sea stumbled around, getting re-dressed. When he
was presentable, he murmured a series of repeat apologies, and then he turned
and left.
He just…left.
How could it have gone so wrong?
Lavender flinched from the memory of what had come after.
Once the dazed astonishment had worn off, the tears had come. They had been
scalding and bitter, and her accompanying sobs had been loud. Yet, even in the
middle of her regretful snuffling, she'd found a moment of unexpected pleasure:
a series of rolling, electric shocks–tiny fingers of stroking, erotic
pleasure–had come upon her without warning, caressing up and down her spinal
column with a pressure that had had her whole body tightening up. Her eyes had
rolled back in her head as the sudden, overwhelming sensation had riotously
ridden her every sense, and a moment later, she'd orgasmed. The warm, lovely
feeling of peaking, flying, and finally melting had hovered around her senses
for a few minutes after that, until eventually the cold of the room had seeped
back into her tired bones, and with it had returned a hateful reality.
Instead of giving her a sense of peaceful satisfaction and closure, that
bizarre, after-the-fact climax she'd experienced that night had only served to
remind her of how deficient her first sexual experience had truly been. Her
body had been so shocked by what Sea had done to her that it had actually
delayed her ability to come! She still felt that to be a totally fucked-up
reaction.
She'd gotten up after that and cast the Contraceptive and Disease Charm on her
belly, as taught by Madam Pomfrey in her Health and Healing Class. The stinging
pain between her legs and the heavy throbbing in her hips had been sheer
torture to endure all the way back to her dorm, but it had been a toss-up to
say whether it was physical or emotional pain that hurt worse then. It had been
especially difficult not to feel so wounded by the feel of Sea's sperm,
deposited so casually and indifferently into her just minutes before, finally
dripping down her thighs as she'd done the 'walk of shame' back to her bed.
As she'd lain down to sleep in her room later that night, she'd berated herself
for having had sex for the first time on the spur of the moment - and all
because she'd been hot for Finnigan, and he'd been able to talk her into taking
such a big step with a few lush kisses. An even bigger blow was when she'd had
to admit the fact that in walking out on her as he had, Seamus had let her know
that she'd meant nothing more to him than a hole to fill. As she'd feared,
she'd been only a bet for him to win with Dean Thomas. The crush she'd had for
the Irish literally did as the name suggested then, and she'd cried to sleep
that night.
Her sorrow over the one-off affair didn't abate for quite a long time for her,
either. The painful lead weight of regret and the major blow to her pride at
being so thoroughly used had continued to press down on her ribcage and linger
over her shoulders for months after. Finally, time did its usual favour and
abated the worst of it, but it had taken almost two years.
After that, she'd vowed never to be used by another man. If there was to be
sexual servicing going on, it would be on her terms. Yes, sir, Lavender Brown
had decided to become a take-charge kind of girl when it came to her sexuality,
and there was no way in the seven layers of Hell that she'd let a man overwhelm
her in that arena ever again–especially the likes of Seamus whore-
mongeringFinnigan!
 
===============================================================================
                                        
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
                                  Dining Hall
                       Thursday, June 11, 1998 (evening)
                                        
Daphne was squeezed between her best girlfriend, Pansy, on one side of the
dining table, and her younger sister, Astoria, on the other, pretending to be
engrossed in eating her cheese, onion, and leek quiche while drowning out the
gossip and prattle amongst her female Housemates. She was, instead, fine-tuning
her ability to eavesdrop on the conversation happening a little further down
the table, where her Theo sat next to Mister Zabini and Mister Malfoy.
Shutting out extraneous noise and focusing on a specific voice or series of
voices while surrounded by others was a trick she'd learned over the years to
survive living in Slytherin House, for the more secrets you knew, the more you
were left alone by others who feared your knowledge against them. Daphne had
never had cause to use such a weapon to date, as it wasn't in her nature to
want to abuse such things, but one never knew what the future might bring, so
she kept these confidences locked in her brain for a rainy day. She rarely had
much to contribute to idle chit-chat anyway, preferring to be an active
listener instead.
As she chewed, she picked up wisps of conversation floating in the air,
capturing the essence by filling in the blanks. Theo had just intimated that
everyone should dress-up for their game night, and the other two wizards in his
accompaniment had readily agreed.
Oh dear, she could just envision what that meant. It was no small stretch to
assume that if Theo had his way, all six of the women would be pasted into
either tight leather corsets and lacy, barely-there bits of lingerie. Six-inch
heels and some sort of restraining device around the neck, wrists, or waist
would also, no doubt, be in fashion. She may love the charming, silly
Slytherin, but she was also well aware of Nott's sexual depravities from having
observed him in secret for years. He was a visual sensualist, stimulated by
colours and shapes, more than any other sense. Physically monitoring the
reactions he purposefully elicited from others–seeing their eyes flare and
their cheeks pink with panic or anger or desire–aroused him more than touching
them. Consequently, that also made him a natural voyeur, and a daring and
uninhibited exhibitionist.
It would be best to warn her friends of their male Housemate's intentions, so
the women would have input into their wardrobe choices.
"It sounds as if our male teammates have determined that we three ladies are to
embellish our clothing options this weekend for their amusement," she leaned
over and whispered in Pansy's ear.
Immediately, her friend curtailed her unflattering comparison of Professor
Snape to Sanguini, the world's most famous 'outed' Vampire with Millicent,
turning rounded, surprised eyes on Daphne. "What?" the witch hissed in anger.
Clearly, she understood the situation. "We'll have to talk about that after
dinner. I don't like things sprung at me at the last minute–especially
costuming."
Daphne did not look up; she merely continued to cut into her meal with genteel
precision. "Agreed," she murmured.
"What is?" her little sister chimed in next to her.
"You need not be concerned with our discussion," Daphne coolly replied. She
loved Tori, truly, but the girl's curiosity was simply too rambunctious for
long-term exposure. She should never have been sorted into Slytherin House;
Hufflepuff would have been a far better match for her sister's temperament.
Daphne suspected that the only reason her sister had been selected to join her
in the Silver and Green was because the girl had wished not to be parted from
her older sibling, and everyone knew the Sorting Hat took a person's private
wishes into account when making its final decision.
Tori pouted. "You always say that. I'm not a baby anymore, Daph."
Taking a deep, calming breath, Daphne turned to address her sister and tried
not to sound like a horrid bitch, keeping her voice even and mild, and her tone
low enough so that no one else knew she was gently rebuking the girl. "I have
never stated that you were, Tori. I recognize that you are fast maturing at the
proper physical rate. However, your mental development must occur at a
synonymous rate if you are to survive in this House. That includes making smart
decisions and rummaging for social cues before interjecting yourself into a
conversation or situation. To speak ahead of considering your questions or
imparting information could mete out your downfall. We have discussed this
before." Conveying such wisdom was the only way Daphne saw of helping her
little sister survive dwelling alongside the other Slytherins once she
graduated in a week, for Tori still had two more years until she matriculated
from Hogwarts, and unless she appreciated and assimilated these important
lessons soon, her final four Terms would be utterly miserable for the girl.
Daphne would spare her affable, guileless, gullible sister such pain if she
could.
Putting her fork and knife down, Daphne daubed her lips with her napkin, and
then put a hand over Tori's as it rested on the bench between them. "In this
case, what Pansy and I are discussing is truly nothing of significance, just a
bit of tittle-tattle."
Tori's brilliant smile lit up her face and she looked with honest eyes up at
the taller Daphne. "Sorry for being so nosy, sis."
Daphne shook her head and smiled back. "Curious, remember? Snape is the only
nosyone around here." It was an oft-told joke around their House that their
Head's hooked beak was large enough to rival a hippogriff's.
Her sister erupted into peals of laughter once more at the sly innuendo. The
sound was merry and frank and artless–a sound not ever heard at a Slytherin
gathering.
Out of the corner of her eye, Daphne caught sight of Theo as he turned his
attention in their direction to investigate the commotion. Her heart beat just
a little faster under his scrutiny.
 
===============================================================================
                                        
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
                     Hallway to Transfiguration Classrooms
                        Friday, June 12, 1998 (morning)
                                        
Ron was walking the hallway, his satchel the lightest it had been all term now
that exams were over. He slung the bag about in the nearly empty corridor, late
for McGonagall's class, but not truly concerned, since he'd already had his
final exam interview with her, and was merely required to show up out of a need
for the school to 'maintain routine'.
He considered whistling low a merry jig taught him by Charlie over the Easter
break but ditched the idea in a heartbeat when he heard the sound of a female
in tears coming from a window niche up ahead. Slowing, he stopped swinging his
bag and within three steps, had come to a complete halt.
Yes, that was definitely a girl crying. Shite. What should he do? Should he
keep walking and pretend he didn't see or hear the girl, who sounded as if she
was valiantly trying to stifle heavy sobs against some sort of fabric, or did
he run past her at top speed instead? He had to get to class; old McGonagall
would notice he was missing and might even use that as the excuse to flunk him,
as she'd threatened to do to anyone who skived off her classes this week or
next, passing exam scores or not.
He shifted around as he contemplated his options, his feet scuffing the stone
flooring.
The girl's crying abruptly stopped. "Who's there?" she demanded.
"Uhhhh," he began, but that was as far as he got before Pansy Parkinson popped
out of her hidden location, face streaked with tears, cheeks reddened by
embarrassment and anger, and dark eyes spitting mad.
"Weasley!" she snarled in righteous fury, spitting his name out as if it were a
blasphemous thing. "Spying, were you? I shouldn't be surprised. I'd expect no
less from the boy," she emphasized the word, "who'd been caught sneaking peeks
in the Prefect's bathroom every Sunday afternoon last year. What despicable
manners you have!"
Taken aback by the unfounded attack, Ron could only stare at Slytherin's Bitch
Queen with open-mouthed astonishment. Spying? Was she serious?
"I wasn't! I didn't!" he refuted, feeling indignation pitting a corrosive, acid
hole in his stomach.
He'd put up with Parkinson's bite for the last seven years, giving it back to
her every time she challenged and sassed him, so he expected ridiculousness to
spew from her mouth every time she opened it. But to have her unjustly accuse
him of stalking her like some sick pervert was pushing it. He may have been
caught in a few compromising positions with Lavender over the past year, but
he'd never peeped the Prefect's bath, and he certainly wasn't spying on this
witch!
"You're in the middle of the hallway, Parkinson! How's a bloke supposed to get
to class and not notice your weeping mug gushing all over the place? Bloody
drama queen!"
Parkinson's eyebrows shot into her hairline and her fists clenched at her side.
She stomped forward, bristles up like some sort of badger on the attack. "How
dare you, you hideous, intellectually-challenged carrot top!" she screeched in
ear-splitting volume, closing the distance between them. "I'll have you know,
Weasley, that I'm considered quite beautiful by some people!" In one of her
hands, she held a piece of wadded up paper that she shook at him now. "Some
wizards find me so attractive, in fact, that they've sued my father to court me
already!"
He scoffed and shook his head. "Well, obviously, they're blind, aren't they?
And clearly deaf, too!" He stuck a finger in one ear and wiggled it around as
if to clear it of the ringing her high-pitched voice had caused. "Honestly, you
screech like a lunatic Veela. I s'pect you might've deafened me." Pulling that
same finger out of his ear, he pointed it directly at her face in a moment of
brilliant clarity. "Hey, I've got an idea: you could put those big lungs of
yours to use and make an honest living after graduation. I'm sure there are
plenty of openings for a good tuba player or balloon blower out there
somewhere, and it beats whoring yourself out to some pure-blood ponce just to
make dad and mum happy, yeah?"
As if he'd thrown a bucket of frozen water over her, Parkinson's cheeks sheeted
white in an instant, and hot tears flooded her eyes again. Her lower chin
quivered, her lips pursed into a thin, straight line, and her jaw clenched as
she struggled not to fall apart in front of him.
For a second, staring into the raw, naked hurt so obviously etching her face,
Ron felt real shame flood through him. Sure, he and this infuriating witch had
traded some nasty barbs over the years, but he'd always assumed those were just
empty words meant to rile and blow off steam, or occasionally to jab or prod to
test each other's strength. They'd never been meant to seriously wound,
however. Now, however, he realized something important: sometimes words weren't
just meaningless, and sometimes, they could hurt. It was a lesson he'd never
taken seriously when 'Mione had explained her feelings every time Malfoy had
called her a 'Mudblood,' but now he was learning the moral in record-fast time
as he stared directly into Parkinson's anguished face.
Looking down in mortification, he shuffled his feet again. "Look, Parkinson,
about what I just said-"
He never saw the blow coming. It was the slap that reverberated around the
world, as loud as the one 'Mione had given Malfoy in the third year, he was
sure. Stunned, he took a step back and his eyes flew to the witch's face…
…only to find those fat, welling tears had escaped and were streaming down her
cheeks. A deep misery was etched into every line of her face. Somehow, she'd
seemed to age a few years in a matter of seconds.
"I hate you, Ronald Weasley!" she shrieked around a sob, then ran past him and
didn't look back once.
He turned to follow her path, watching her shaking shoulders as she cried until
she'd turned the corner and was out of sight. Only then did he let out the
breath he'd been holding.
What the hell had just happened? What had he said specifically to set her off
like that? Blinking away the after-effects of Parkinson's blow, he shook his
head, rubbed his stinging cheek, and numbly continued on his way to class,
feeling disoriented by the events of the last five minutes.
By the time he'd reached Transfiguration, though, he'd convinced himself that
the incident in the hallway with the Slytherin Queen–her acting like a loon–was
probably just a result of PMS. Heck, his sister and 'Mione were always a bit
barmy that time of the month, too.
He felt sorry for the poor sod that drew her name on Saturday night, as a woman
on her period certainly limited what you could and would want to do with her in
private.
 
===============================================================================
                                        
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
                   Seventh Year's Transfiguration Classroom
                        Friday, June 12, 1998 (morning)
                                        
Tracey had received her Transfiguration final review with Professor McGonagall
earlier that morning and now sat, staring across the room at the boy she'd
secretly fancied since the first year.
Harry Potter… Merlin, but he was gorgeous!
His charming smile was currently turned on by something that Neville Longbottom
had said, and she loved the way it lit up his face. She had to admit that she
liked him much better without his glasses in the way now that he'd had his
eyesight magically corrected this past year, although she would miss his
rounded spectacles, as they'd been a mainstay of his appearance for as long as
she'd known him. His dark, messy hair made her fingers itch to smooth it back,
though, as usual. At least that would never change.
"Keep staring at Potter like that and he's going to find out," Hestia Carrow
murmured to her.
Tracey blushed and elbowed her best girlfriend. "Shhh, not so loud," she
admonished.
Hest looked about, pointing out the obvious – that they were the only ones
sitting at the back of the class at the moment. Everyone else was situated
closer to the front. "Who's going to hear?"
Tracey sighed and swung her head back around to take in Harry's profile. He was
now in a discussion with his best mate, Ron Weasley, who had slunk in late
today, looking a little mystified. "Doesn't matter anyway, I suppose."
Hestia's arch tone was a tad scathing. "Why, because he said he'd never be
caught dead dating a Slytherin?" She sniffed in scorn. "For such a 'nice guy,'
Trace, he sounds like a total toffee-nosed prat to me."
But Tracey adamantly shook her head. "House enmity is too ingrained into all of
us, Hest. It's tradition for the four Houses to be rivals, because of
personality differences. Gryffindors are diametrically opposed to Slytherins,
and vice versa. It's the same with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Because of that,
no one from our House has dated anyone from his House in over three decades.
I'm not sure any of that is going to change within the next week, either… and
then, it might not really matter, anyway."
Hestia snorted indelicately. "Then why bother following him into the Auror
apprenticeship program?"
Tracey bit her lip, watching the boy she'd fallen for laugh over something his
best friend said, feeling that familiar, sweet, painful pang in her heart once
more. "Because maybe outside of Hogwarts, he won't see me as a Slytherin, but
as a woman."
Her friend said nothing for a long minute, contemplating her. Finally, she gave
up and sighed. "I still say you weren't sorted into the right House, Trace.
Hell, everyone says it. You've always sounded too sentimental to me to be a
snake. You should have been a Hufflepuff."
Hiding her smile, Tracey did not reply to the allegation but merely continued
staring at the boy-man who had utterly captured her heart, praying for a
miracle at this weekend's game. Even having a slim chance of being partnered
with Harry in Eros was worth any price, as far as she was concerned. Maybe if
he could see her as a woman sooner, rather than later…
If destiny was in her corner and he picked her Partners card, she was going to
give him everything, she decided, and let the chips fall where they may. At
least then she'd have the memories of a few hours in Harry's arms to recall
with fondness throughout the rest of her life.
 
===============================================================================
                                        
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
                  Dining Hall & Second Floor Girl's Bathroom
                       Friday, June 12, 1998 (afternoon)
                                        
Pansy entered the dining hall with head held high, refusing to look towards the
Gryffindor table. She was sure that the filthy, raffish Weasley had told
everyone by now about her little crying spell, and that he and his friends were
even now snickering behind their hands at her. Well, she wasn't about to cower
under their mockery. Hiding her pain behind her face, she marched with
determination towards her regular spot next to Daphne, keeping her back to the
rest of the room.
To her surprise, however, Daphne stood to meet her and escorted her and Tracey
both out of the room by faking a need to go to the girl's loo together. They
headed towards the second-floor girl's bath. To their luck, Moaning Myrtle was
occupied somewhere else at the moment, for the room was absent of her annoying
humming and floating about.
"What's this all about?" she asked her friend, only to be interrupted by the
sound of stall doors creaking as Daphne checked every pen to assure there were
no other visitors about.
"You wished to discuss in private the outlandish scheme Mister Nott, Mister
Zabini, and Mister Malfoy were conferring over at lunch," Daphne reminded her,
waving her wand over the room and entrance to assure privacy. "They will arrive
in approximately another minute or two for precisely that confrontation."
Great, just what Pansy needed – another altercation, for she was sure that was
what this was going to turn into. She just knew what Draco and the others would
consider proper 'attire' for tomorrow night's game, and there was no way Pansy
was stooping to dressing like a whore.
"What idea?" Tracey asked.
Pansy sighed. "Draco has this ridiculous idea that we're going to play 'street
salt' for him and model in our underwear."
"Which sounds like a fine plan to us," Draco announced as he, Blaise, and Theo
entered the woman's loo without respect for the conversation or reverence for
the location.
Tracey's face went pale. "No. Absolutely not! I am not a wanton woman! I will
not dress or act as one, either."
Blaise's handsome gob twisted up into a smirk. "But isn't that the point of the
game – to pretend to be something you're not just for one night of fun?"
Biting her lip, Tracey stared daggers at Zabini. He had a point, the slick git.
Still, Pansy wouldn't back down from a similar position. It was time to set the
limits on the game and to make it clear to Malfoy that this wasn't his show
alone. All of them were in it for their own ends. "I'm with Tracey, Draco. You
won't see me dressed in something that leaves little to the imagination," she
said, planting her hands on her hips and facing off against the three males in
the room. "I've got my own sense of style and standards, and you do not dictate
them to me. None of you do."
Tracey took up space to Pansy's right and nodded, folding her arms over her
chest, showing solidarity. "Agreed."
Daphne cleared her throat and also stood in the line of female authority, to
Pansy's left. "I concur. This game may be one of sexual mischievousness and
dalliance, but it was concurrently designed for sophisticated diversion, not
common tawdriness. You may wish to indulge in such uncouth sport, but I would
like to enjoy it as a game of sultry delight – a conclusive initiation, as it
were, into realizing adulthood."
Theo purred. "Rowrrrr… I love it when you talk smart, Greengrass," he grinned.
"Gets me hard."
Daphne sniffed with disdain. "That is no stupendous accomplishment, Mister
Nott. As you have so abundantly made clear over the years, Witch Weekly seems
enough to instigate the same effect upon your person."
Nott's grin took up the expanse of his handsome face. "That it does! Care to
forward me your subscription as an early Christmas gift, love?"
Pansy blew a harsh breath out in growing impatience and frustration. "Fun
aside, I believe you have our answer, gentlemen. We will not play sex-doll slag
for you or the Gryffindors." She glanced at her two female companions and held
up a finger to block Draco's protest just as he'd started to launch his
campaign to change their minds. She knew that he could be so persuasive when he
put his mind to having things his way, so it was best to cut him off before he
got rolling. "However," she compromised, "I, personally, would be willing to
wear a fancy dress that is stylish for the game–something French gothic in
theme."
Malfoy raised one golden eyebrow in speculation. "And where would you have
picked something like that up, Pans-dearest?" he dared to ask, smirking.
Pansy shrugged. "I couldn't decide between it and two others for the Halloween
dance last October. I've been dying to wear it, honestly. This will give me the
excuse."
"Is it at least marginally naughty?" Theo teased, leaning against a nearby
stall and folding his arms across his tall, well-defined frame.
Chuckling, Pansy shook her head. "For someone of your tastes? No, Theo. But it
will probably suit Blaise's just fine." Everyone knew Blaise was into dark lace
and velvet, not leather and chains, like his roommate.
Nott dipped his head in acceptance. "That'll do, babe."
"I don't have a costume," Tracey admitted. "But, I do have a rather striking
dress that I'd wanted to wear to the last Yule Ball. I bought it but traded out
for something else at the last minute. I could wear that! It's elegant though,
not naughty."
Daphne nodded her head. "I have a similar dress that I had intended to display
at next week's Final Summer Formal but have since exchanged the garment for a
different inspiration. I believe it would be appropriate to display it for this
occasion instead."
Draco eagerly rubbed his hands together. "Excellent! We'll just tell the
Gryffindors tonight that their women have to dress well, too. That way, we're
even on both sides. Problem solved." Believing the matter settled, he turned to
leave.
"Nuh-uh-uh, Draco," Pansy stopped him. "We're not as even as you make it seem,
sweet cakes. What about you men? Can we expect to see you play dress-up as
well?"
Tracey laughed. "Yes, if we're expected to look sexy, you're expected to look
dandy, too."
Theo traded a look with his friends. "Dandy? Does anyone even use that word
anymore?"
Zabini threw him a sardonic grin. "I do when talking about you."
Nott gave him the two-fingered salute, which had them all snickering, even the
normally placid and reserved Daphne.
"You know I'll look fabulous," Draco arrogantly boasted. "Sexy shirt, pressed
slacks, polished shoes. I'll even make a concession from my preferred colour of
choice for my wardrobe ensemble and be contrary in white, just for the
occasion. Sound good to you, love?"
Pansy nodded and looked at Nott next. He scratched the back of his head,
ruffling his chestnut hair. "We're about the same size, so I'll just borrow
something from Draco's wardrobe since all I brought back with me from Easter
break was my dress robes for next week's dance." He threw his friend a pleading
look. "Good?"
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Plebe."
"Wanker," Theo shot back. He was definitely, of the three, the more overt
trouble-maker.
Blaise cleared his throat behind a polite fist. "I have a more than adequate
dress shirt and trousers for the occasion. I won't disappoint, your Majesties."
Pansy puffed up, putting on false airs. "Wonderful. See that you don't." She
turned her nose into the air and made a shooing motion with one hand. "Run
along now, boys. We'll see you three at dinner."
With light-hearted humour, the trio of wizards bowed to their troika Slytherin
goddesses - as they should, Pansy thought - and left. When the door shut behind
Theo's bum, the three women looked at each other and erupted into giggles.
This was definitely the type of therapy that Pansy had needed to get over Ron
wanking Weasley's cruel taunting from earlier that morning. Being fawned over
by three delicious, wicked men was definitely a boost to one's ego.
 
===============================================================================
                                        
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
                      Seventh Year's Herbology Classroom
                       Friday, June 12, 1998 (afternoon)
                                        
Theo met with Professor Sprout for his final exam review immediately after
lunch during Herbology class. He spent a good ten minutes discussing her
recommendations–she highly encouraged him to wizarding university to further
study the particulars of magical and non-magical plants, as his knowledge of
the subject, she'd claimed, was exemplary–and then took his seat next to Draco
and Blaise.
Lounging back on his elbows in his chair against the empty desk behind him, he
considered this afternoon's impromptu meeting with the girls in the loo again.
"Hey," he hedged, getting the attention of his two friends. "What do you think
of Daphne?"
Draco smirked. "She'll eat you alive."
Blaise's answer was to shrug in a noncommittal gesture that told Theo nothing.
"You've shagged her?" he dared to ask his friend, feeling an odd jealousy ping
about his ribcage at the thought.
"No."
Usually, Zabini was tight-lipped about what he did behind closed doors, finding
it impolite to brag, so when he actually committed to saying that he didn't do
something, you could trust he was telling the truth.
"You want to shag her, though?" he pressed the issue, wanting to be crystal
clear where the guy stood concerning the girl. He and Blaise had been awkward
around each other since the third year, and he didn't want to upset their
recovered friendship by pursuing the same witch as his roommate.
Blaise shook his head again, making it clear that he had no feelings whatsoever
for the witch in question.
"Good." At least that much was settled. Now Theo could pursue Greengrass
without any regrets. He kicked a foot against the desk in front of him. "Wonder
who she's taking to the formal?"
"Entwhistle," Draco replied, always seeming to know the newest gossip around
the castle without any obvious sources.
He pulled a face. "Why would she want to go with a tosser like him?"
Chuckling, Malfoy shook his head. "Because that 'tosser' is intelligent enough
to have a decent conversation without it devolving into sexual innuendo."
Theo pondered that for a bit. "Hell, I could give her stimulating dialogue
after, if she wants. I could spew out an entire discourse on magical water
plants found in the Brazilian rainforest if she'd let me fondle her jugs just
once!"
Neither of his friends said anything more on the subject, leaving him to
grumble and turn-over what he knew and thought of Daphne Greengrass over the
years.
It hadn't been until recently that he'd begun noticing her. Prior to the Easter
break, he'd thought of her as somehow cold and untouchable–unlike her two
sisters, who were hellions, but when they'd both returned a few days early and
happened to both decide to sit in the Slytherin common room on the couches and
read silently before the fire one afternoon, he'd begun noticing the little
things she did that made her seem more… human. For instance, she often mimicked
the emotions of the fictional characters within the stories she read. Her face
became a mask of true honesty as she smiled or became upset because of the plot
of her books. She also twirled her long, golden-blonde hair while reading and
preferred to tuck her legs up under her, leaning against a couch arm as a
favourite comfortable position. There was when he inspected her closer, a
softness to her face and body that was certainly compelling, despite the
iciness of her husky tone when she spoke.
He grew hard in his trousers just thinking about her soft curves now.
Right, so Greengrass was a dichotomy just dying to be explored, and Theo–who
had been kicking about the idea for the last two months of getting a taste of
her sugar–decided then and there that he was going to be the man who did just
that! Maybe he'd even be the one to finally melt that icy core of hers, and
bring out the warmth he'd occasioned to spy during those few days she'd sat
across from him reading in silence.
 
===============================================================================
                                        
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
   Dining Hall, then Corridor (Hidden Nook), then Gryffindor's Girls Dorms
                         (Hermione & Lavender's Room)
                        Friday, June 12, 1998 (evening)
                                        
Ginny pecked at her chicken, spinach and mushroom pie while trying to quell the
excitement in her belly. Harry had informed them all that at seven o'clock
tonight, Malfoy would approach them to pass out their blank cards for tomorrow
night's big game, and Hermione had given them all a run-down back in their
common room just before dinner, of what she knew of the game through her
research on it. There hadn't been much, her friend had admitted, but at least
armed with some knowledge was better than going in ignorant.
Fidgeting with nervous excitement now for the appropriate hour to arrive,
unable to contain her anxious energy levels, Ginny accidentally spilled the
entirety of her apple juice on the plate to her immediate right. "Sorry,
Neville," she apologized, watching the flaky crust of her friend's meal soak up
the too-sweet beverage. "I've gone and ruined it now."
Always so gentle and kind, Neville shook his head. "No, it's fine. I thought it
needed a bit of flavour added anyway."
She gave her friend an understanding smile and a small kiss on the cheek. "You
really are too good a fellow, you know."
Nev's cheeks exploded with colour and he looked down at his plate, clearly
embarrassed, stammering a muttered, unintelligible reply. Ginny couldn't help
but be amused. Neville Longbottom was just so cute! And innocent… something she
hadn't been in a while. She sighed for her lost virtue.
Reaching her glass into the middle of the table to request a refill, she
happened to look up and across the room at that moment…and locked eyes with one
clearly-incensed Blaise Zabini, whose dark gaze traveled between her and
Neville and back again with obvious disdain.
Astonished, she nearly knocked her drinking cup over again. Harry saved her
this time as he reached across and grabbed it before it could tip. "Gin, you
okay?" he asked, concerned by her uncharacteristic clumsiness.
Pulling her attention away from the glittering black depths of her bitterest
Quidditch rival's stare, she focused on her ex-boyfriend instead. "I'm sorry,
what did you say?" she asked, shaken to her very core.
Over the last two years, there had been a lot of animosity between her and
Zabini, as was only natural given their positions as Chasers pitted against
each other on the Quidditch field, and the fact that they were in two opposing
Houses. However, this was the first time she could ever recall him looking at
her with naked, untamed anger. Usually, he preferred sneering down his nose at
her, or viciously smirking in her direction. What had she done to provoke such
a strong emotion in him this time?
"I asked if you're all right?" he inquired again, focusing on her with
narrowed-eyed concern. "Are you ill?"
That was the third time in the last two days he'd asked about her health.
Secretly, Ginny was suspicious that her ex was seeking any excuse to call her
unfit for the game tomorrow night. Harry, she knew, was a little too possessive
and overly-protective of the people he'd 'claimed' for his own, and the thought
of possibly sharing her or allowing her under the thumb of some unscrupulous
Slytherin didn't sit well with him, she knew. She understood, however, where
those tendencies originated - in his lonely childhood – and simply couldn't
hold his possessiveness against him as a result.
Forcing a placating smile, she attempted to appear calm and in control of her
nerves. "I'm perfectly fine, Harry," she reassured him. "Just a bit of gas."
Neville choked and had to cover his mouth with his napkin to prevent food
particles from spraying the table. Ginny tried hard to cover her smile but
failed miserably when Seamus banged the table with an open palm and belted a
hearty guffaw. He raised his glass of Mulled Mead–Madam Rosmerta's non-
alcoholic blend, which was allowed at Hogwarts; it was Sea's favourite drink,
as he always called it up with his meals–and saluted her.
"Honestly, Gin," Hermione giggled to her left. "Sometimes you say the most
shocking things!"
"Got you to laugh, though, didn't it?" Ron asked around a mouthful of food from
across the table from them, sitting at Harry's right. He swallowed. "Haven't
heard you do that in over a month."
Hermione cleared her throat. "Yes, well, unlike some, I take final exams
seriously."
Ron snorted, picking up his glass of pumpkin juice for a sip. "A little too
serious, if you ask me."
Lavender scooted down to Ron's right, now that Parvati had excused herself to
sit with her sister at Ravenclaw's table. "That's because studying has always
been Hermione's sport of choice, Ron. You've got Quidditch, and she's got her
revise charts. You've just never understood that."
"What's there to understand?" Gin's brother bantered back, shoveling another
pile onto his fork and preparing it for open-mouth entry. "She's a little too
obsessed with books, I tell you."
"Says the man who owns every Chudley Cannons branded item on the market," Harry
countered with a mocking grin.
They all enjoyed a good one at that as Ron's cheeks turned an interesting shade
of magenta.
It was in that moment that Hermione nudged Ginny in the ribs and indicated with
a nod of her chin that she was to look over at the Slytherin table. Peeking
around Harry, Ginny dared another glance in the direction of her rival. This
time, he indicated with his eyes and a tilt of his head for her to meet him
outside in the hallway. She traded a silent message with Hermione, who nodded.
Was this it, then? Was this when Malfoy and the others would meet them with
their cards? It was a quarter to seven now.
Her stomach fluttering with pixies, Ginny politely patted her mouth with her
napkin, having eaten her fill, and made her excuses about wanting to enjoy a
long, relaxing soak in the Prefects' bath before turning in for the night.
Hermione and Lavender offered to join her–as did Seamus, who was flatly turned
down.
The three ladies tucked their utensils in proper and headed out together. When
they reached the hallway, an unmistakable, "Psssst," from a small, curtained
alcove to one side of the Grand Staircase called their attention. It was Pansy
Parkinson. "Draco said to wait for him and the others here," she whispered,
replacing the Silencing Charm over the fabric entrance after checking to make
sure no one had seen them duck behind the purple cloth. She, Tracey, and Daphne
stood against one wall, so Ginny leaned against the opposite side, checking out
the competition. 'Mione and Lav huddled at her side doing the same.
For a full minute, there was a strained silence that simply begged to be
filled.
"So," Ginny began, wanting to suss out the manoeuvering of genders for this
game. "I'm going to ask the really important question." Five pairs of eyes
focussed on her as she dramatically paused for effect. "What's everyone wearing
tomorrow night?"
Tracey tittered and then tried to hide her amusement behind her hand in
embarrassment.
"Well, it issort of important, don't you think?" Ginny asked, feigning interest
in her nails just then.
The three Slytherins shared their own silent communication with their eyes, and
in that instant, she realized how similar she and her friends were to this
group of girls who had stood on the opposite side of the fence for so very
long.
Pansy shrugged. "We figured we'd get prettied up."
"Actually," Tracey corrected with a wry smile, "the boys asked us to. I'm
wearing one of my Yule Ball alternate dresses."
Ginny straightened, unfamiliar with the term the other witch had used.
"Alternate dress? You mean, like, you bought a second dress just in case you
decided you didn't want to wear your first choice?"
"You do that, too!" Lavender squeaked in pleased surprise. "Thank Merlin! I
thought I was the only wishy-washy girl out there who couldn't settle on a
dress!"
Daphne bent down to adjust her knee-high socks. "It seems to be a trait we
share, as I also will be draped in a secondary choice, although mine was
originally intended for the Formal next week."
"Hmmm… well, I suppose I could wear the dress I planned to for next week's
dance as well," Hermione considered, chewing her bottom lip in thought. "I can
shop for a different one next Wednesday, as classes will be officially over for
seventh-years then." She looked up at Ginny. "You'll be done by then as well,
right? We could go together. Make a day of it in Diagon Alley! I'm sure
Dumbledore would grant permission, so long as we promise to be back by dinner."
Lavender cooed. "Ooooh, sign me up, too!"
The idea of spending good Galleons on several dresses–some of which you might
not ever wear–seemed odd to Ginny, but she went with it. "We're talking
shopping, lunch, and ice cream, right? Seriously, you had to ask if I wanted
in?"
Her best girlfriend directed the same question to Pansy next. 
Parkinson's return stare was even, unfazed, and clearly weighing how much to
say. She gave a casual shrug, crossing her arms over her chest at the same
time. "I've got a costume I wanted to wear last Halloween. It's a gothic-style
dress."
Hearing that, Ginny's heart did a teeny jig. "Well, at least someone with some
taste around here," she smirked. "I prefer the Romanticism counter-culture
myself, so I'll copy the idea if you don't mind. I've got just the thing
sitting in my trunk, just dying for a chance to air."
Tracey looked at each of them. "It's settled then," she brought them to an
accord. "We'll dress to dazzle!"
"How sinful of you all!" Malfoy mock-chastised, stepping through the entrance.
"Conspiring behind our backs like this, ladies. Tsk, tsk." Following him was
the rest of the gaming group. Everyone hurried in and took up spots against the
two walls, just as the girls had earlier.
With a sigh of disgust at Slytherin's Prince, Pansy waved her wand over the
entrance again, assuring its privacy. 'Mione followed it up with a spell of her
own that Ginny didn't recognize. She turned to the group, noted the variety of
questioning gazes and shrugged. "Doesn't hurt to be thorough," her housemate
explained. "And, I even added an extra spell that blends the entrance into the
wall. Unless you knew this place was here already, you wouldn't know it existed
at all."
Malfoy's smirk meandered up his cheek. "Like the Room of Requirement. Clever,"
he complimented. "But then, I'd expect no less from the Head Girl."
The earlier comfortable camaraderie that had begun with the women was erased in
an instant with that one comment. The Gryffindors crowded closer together in
the already-overcrowded space and faced off against the Slytherins, trading
glares. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and stared her blond arch-
nemesis down. "You just can't help being a foul-mouthed git, can you?" she
asked, shaking her head in resigned cynicism. "I think it must be a consequence
of all that Malfoy in-breeding."
Opening his mouth to retort, it was a surprisingly quick Daphne Greengrass who
slapped a hand over Draco's face and stopped him cold. "I do not doubt that the
scathingly adroit rejoinder you planned to launch at Miss Granger would
generate hours of endless self-gratification, Mister Malfoy, but need I remind
you that we have a distinct purpose here tonight and that belaying said task
may, in fact, result in our imminent discovery by a member of the staff sooner,
rather than later?"
There was a pause as everyone digested what she'd just said.
"Wow, that was so totally hot," her brother muttered from somewhere off to her
right. "She made a scolding sound sexy!"
Ginny felt like sinking into the floor. Only Ron could make the seriousness of
the moment inappropriately charged with sexual intimation.
"You said it!" Theodore Nott chimed in from the other side of the aisle. "Smart
girls get you hard!"
Ginny actually groaned and slapped her face into her hand, realizing in a
second that there was truth to the myth that everyone had a like-minded
doppelganger out in the world somewhere. In this case, her older brother was
standing not three feet away from his own.
When she turned back to focus on the team across from her, Draco was already
charming open a Bag of Holding and pulling out a wooden box that looked like it
might have come from the Victorian Era. He plunked it down into Pansy's hands
and opened it, extracting a deck of oversized cards. They were about the size
of two Muggle playing cards placed top to bottom, and about as wide sitting
side by side. Leaning forward, Ginny was able to fully appreciate the beauty of
the artistry on the backs: a full-colour image, deeply burnished with bronze
and gold foil paints depicting the mythological paradigm of true love, Eros and
Psyche.
At the top of an arching canvas stood the moon and the sun on opposite sides,
the stars twinkling in between. In the far-off background of the cloud milieu
was a fantasy castle with glimmering spires that reminded her distinctly of
Hogwarts. In the centre, hypnotically pulling one's attention, the lovers
embraced – Psyche draped in a shimmering gold swath of satiny fabric, her hair
pulled into a half up-do by layers of metal combs and twisted and looped by
glistening foil leaves, the long, aureate strands winding down her naked back.
Held in her tight, desperate embrace was her Cupid, whose profile was hidden
behind Psyche's, his cheek pressed into her temple. Short, phoenix wings made
of golden feathers erupted from his back, sensuously curling at the ends. He
was completely naked, although his body was mostly hidden as it pressed
intimately into his paramour's curves, shielded by her flowing, molten dress.
It was an erotic post, yet innocent at the same time.
It was Psyche's face that drew one's attention, however, as a slight tilt to
the image's pouting ruby lips denoted a hidden sorrow that tugged at the heart.
Usually, Ginny wasn't one for ominous signs or scrying for portents, but in
that moment, a chill crept up her spine and she had her first taste of doubt
about this whole design. Glancing at the faces of everyone else, though, she
noted that only two others seemed to share her reservations–Daphne and 'Mione.
The others appeared engrossed in watching the proceedings or each other, barely
taking an interest in the artwork on the back of the deck.
Malfoy divided the cards up and counted them out. He then looked from one face
to the next as he made his presentation. "First, I'm required to go over the
rules of the game," he stated. "As the Lead Challenger, that makes me head of
Slytherin's team. As the Contender, Potter serves as the head of Gryffindor's.
As such, either of us may, at any time before the actual game begins, forfeit
the match for our team." He smirked. "But I think we can pretty much state here
and now that's not going to happen, right?"
There was a chorus of nods and ascent from both sides of the narrow aisle.
"Good, now that's out of the way," Malfoy continued, "it is part of the
convention that I lay down the gameplay. Even if you know this already, I'm
obligated by the rules to reiterate. So, pay attention because I'm not wasting
time tomorrow night repeating this cripe."
He then launched into a full explanation of the purpose of the game, and how it
was played, including the purpose of each of the four different colour-coded
decks. "Again, the red cards represent the Deeds cards. The blue is the Forfeit
deck. Green is for Interrogations. And the gold card is the Partners pile." He
showed an example of each, holding it up and moving it from side to side
slowly. "Don't mess it up when you're writing your questions, punishments, and
rewards, because nothing can be taken back once it's down on the card."
"What happens if two of us write the same question, or the same punishment or
reward?" Ron asked from the back, his greater height affording him a good view
even at such a distance.
Draco began passing out the cards – one Partner, two Interrogations, two Deeds,
and two Forfeits – to each player as he answered. "The cards are charmed,
Weasley. Once you sign your name to the Partnercard tonight, the game
officially begins for you, and the spell on the deck aligns to all of the
players who have signed their card before midnight tonight. If one of us writes
something down that's too similar to the others, the cards will simply erase
and prompt you to try again. That's why it's important to start right away on
filling in the cards because you don't want someone to trump your ideas." He
glanced down at 'Mione as he passed her cards to her. "Remember that."
When everyone had their cards in hand, he took his wand out. "You mark up the
cards by touching the tip of your wand to the blank side and thinking what you
want to appear." He placed the end of his wand on the Partner card in his hand
and before their eyes, his name appeared. "To seal the cards and keep the
content you've written on them frozen you simply keep your wand tip on the
surface and say, 'Meus mos est vox.'"
A bright, white light surrounded Draco and the card together for a moment as
the magical contract was made, fading out in seconds.
"'My will is word,'" Hermione translated the Latin spell, a thoughtful
expression on her face as she turned the cards over in her hands. "Interesting.
Just like a Wizard's Oath."
Malfoy nodded. "Exactly like a Wizard's Oath, which means, you're promising to
obey the rules and stay until the game is concluded, and not to speak of
anything that happens in-game with anyone not involved in this set ever."
Removing a honey-coloured lollipop from his mouth, Seamus gave a grunt. "An
Oath o' Silence as well, then?" he asked.
Her Housemate's brogue was thicker than usual, which always indicated an
elevated level of nervousness in him. Ginny shivered in response, loving the
way the syllables rolled off the man's tongue. Even though he was an incredible
man-slag, and she'd sampled him once, he was still a verysexy wizard. Sea could
easily make a girl wet just by talking.
Another shiver danced down her spine, as a whiplash of anger slid across her
magical aura. It felt as if she'd just been burned by fire. She glanced up,
unsure of where it was coming from… and was skewered on Zabini's knowing, dark
gaze across the way. From the daggers he was staring into the very heart of
her, it was clear that he was incensed with her again.
What the hell had she done this time?
Annoyed with his cryptic emotional displays, Ginny simply raised an eyebrow at
him and flattened her expression, letting him know in a simple look that she
wouldn't let him intimidate her, and she could care less what his problem was.
His lips twitched in rising fury and she pointedly turned away, determined to
ignore him from then on. Whatever his problem with her was, she refused to
allow it to affect her mood.
"Questions?" Draco addressed them again. "Last chance."
"You collectin' these before or at the game?" Ron asked for clarification.
Malfoy tsked, clearly believing the answer should be obvious. "At the game.
Hold onto them until then, and for Slytherin's sake, don't let anyone else see
them – especially teachers. This is a forbidden game on campus, don't forget,
and I don't relish expulsion a week away from graduation."
"Who's setting up the Room of Requirement?" Harry asked, once more reaching for
his phantom glasses, noting the behaviour and changing it at the last second to
run his fingers through his short hair instead.
Draco shrugged. "I'll do it, if you trust me?" He grinned like a shark, all
white teeth in that pale, pointed face.
Harry stared hard at him. "No, I think we'll do it together if you don't mind."
Always so polite, Harry was. It's too bad their chemistry didn't mesh because
he'd have been the perfect guy for her, Ginny thought. He was the romantic,
wanting to take his time making love for hours, never rough, always soft and
patient. Ginny liked things a little harder, more desperate, though. It was
this incompatibility in the bedroom that had driven them apart. Tragic, really.
Malfoy snickered. "Fine by me, Potter. Shall we meet at half past six tomorrow
night in front of the room? We'll arrange it as necessary when we get there."
Harry nodded. "Deal." He raised his card, magically signed his name with his
wand, and then spoke the charm to commit to this course of action.
Following their teammate's lead, the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins did
likewise. Once everyone had bound themselves to the game, Malfoy turned towards
the fabric door, peeking out, making sure the coast was clear. He turned back
once, grinning with glee. "See you tomorrow night, pips. Don't forget your
hankies." With that, he was gone, Zabini and Nott following close behind.
Eventually, they all made their exits together, girls going next in groups of
three. When they retired to their House common room, the six Gryffindor
teammates looked askance at each other, nodded, and left for their dorms
without another word. Ginny followed Hermione and Lavender back to their room.
Pavarti was out, probably hanging with her sister for the evening, as the two
liked to bunk over in each other's rooms every other weekend, to hang with the
boys from that House during that time. Apparently, it was a Ravenclaw weekend
for her friend. That worked out just splendidly as far as Ginny was concerned.
Locking and bespelling the door for privacy, Hermione indicated them to all
flop down on her bed. "We should work together on our cards, so we don't
duplicate any efforts and waste precious time. You heard the Ferret about
getting down an idea first. I've got some ideas that I'm praying a Slytherin
doesn't take."
Ginny considered it. "I don't mind sharing the fun," she admitted. "In fact, if
we do it together, we'll get it done quicker."
Lavender nodded. "Sounds good to me, too." She put her cards down on the red
and gold coverlet and separated them by colour. Picking up a blue Forfeit
first, she held it up. "I think we should do punishments first, though, since
I'm sure the Slytherins will immediately jump on that."
'Mione chuckled. "If I know Malfoy, that will be the first cards he'll reach
for, followed by the Deeds."
Ginny held up her blue card as well. "All right then, what kind of penalties
shall we invent to torture our fellow players?"
 
===============================================================================
Chapter End Notes
     Long first chapter, I know, but it sets the stage. The remaining
     chapters won't be quite as long.
     Madam Rosmerta's Mulled Mead recipe is an actual drink served at The
     Three Broomsticks. Since they serve Butterbeer – another Hogsmeade
     specialty brew, which is slightly alcoholic - at Hogwarts for special
     functions (it's served at Slughorn's Christmas party in "Half-Blood
     Prince" novel, for instance), I figured another Mulled Mead would fit
     right in and be seen as harmless by the staff, since it's non-
     alcoholic. Here's the recipe (source: ):
     Ingredients:
     1 quart of water
     1 cup of honey
     1/2 teaspoon of nutmeg
     1/4 teaspoon of ginger
     1/2 teaspoon almond extract
     Directions:
     Step 1: Add all ingredients to a pan, and bring to a boil on the
     stove. 
     Step 2: As it begins to boil, a skin will form on the surface. Scrape
     it off, and continue to stir the contents of the pan until the scum
     ceases to form. 
     Step 3: Allow to cool, and enjoy!
     Bag of Holding: A bag with an Undetectable Extensions Charm placed
     upon it. The term is an old roll-playing gaming term.
***** Partners & The 1st Question *****
Chapter Summary
     Let the games begin...!
Chapter Notes
     I recommend the song, "Voulez-Vous" by The Cast of 'Mamma Mia' (cover
     of ABBA song) to set the tone of the game for you. Give it a listen!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
===============================================================================
                                        
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
                              Room of Requirement
 
                       Saturday, June 13, 1998 (evening)
                                        
In the Room of Requirement, the game's twelve participants sat in the
designated common area on the cozy, circular couches provided in advance by
both Harry and Malfoy's joint efforts. On the coffee table between them sat
three stacks of cards, arranged by color, all face down. Each group pile had
been shuffled by both team leaders several times to ensure blending and
fairness. A fourth stack was separate from the others; it contained all of the
cards with the female players' names.
It was rather fortunate, Hermione thought, that the spell on the cards would
know not to pit Ginny with Ron, as they were siblings. She had asked Malfoy to
double-check the rules that had came with the set, and he'd confirmed that
direct relations couldn't be paired. Thank Godric! At least the game
had some moral values.
Each player waited in silence for the castle bell to chime the seven o'clock
hour. Most seemed lost in his or her own thoughts, a few looked about, and
everyone fidgeted to some degree.
Hermione used the time to take a good, long gander at the others. Every single
player had dressed chic and were done up smart, and there was an undercurrent
of sexiness to each outfit – from dipping cleavage to snug trousers, from
perfume to accessory choices - as if all of them were somehow eager to use this
game as an excuse for some naughty experimentation. Even Hermione had to admit
that she had dressed provocatively, not wanting to be outdone by Pansy or
Lavender – the two women in the room she most envied for their lovely style.
The ladies, as agreed, had all worn dresses.
Directly across from her, Tracey had on a floor-length peacock-print that
shimmered iridescent purple, lavender, and indigo blue. Silver embroidery
outlined the feather and fan-shapes printed on the dress, and the cross-over
'vee' neck gave a nice hint of cleavage, but not too much to make the dress
seem slaggy. Her silver shoes with the jewelled strap, as Hermione could see
from how she crossed her legs, accented her pretty arched foot. Her toenails
and fingernails were painted purple to match, and her frills consisted of
purple marquis-cut amethysts in silver. They tastefully adorned her neck and
ears and her right index finger. She looked quite elegant with her long, blonde
hair pinned into a French twist, too, and classily applied makeup that
highlighted her natural beauty.
To Tracey's right sat Daphne. The woman was a fascinating dyadic of opposites:
classic blonde beauty hidden beneath a pair of sensible reading glasses, which
she needed for this game and was too practical, it seemed, to remove them and
face discomfort for the sake of fashion – a move Hermione heartily applauded.
The witch's blonde hair was left down and curled at the ends, her makeup a
little darker around the eyes, but was still rather modest. Her dress was a
satin scarf style, flowing to her knees. It was a flower-paisley print in tones
of light greens and blues, with black outlines. Like Tracey, her neckline
plunged, as the dress was a halter, and her smallish breasts were highlighted
well as a result. On her feet was a pair of dainty, matching ballet slippers
with flowery designs on the toes. Her jewellery was made up of some light blue
stone wrapped in silver – rather Celtic in design – adorning her middle ring
finger on her left hand, her neck and on her wrist. Overall, she was the
picture of a fashionable wood sprite – which was in absolute contrast to her
deeply intellectual personality. Hermione found the resulting dichotomy
intriguing.
Pansy's Parisian gothic dress was stunning. Made of velvet, silk and lacy-sheer
fabrics, it draped down to her knees, a lovely purple-magenta and black
ensemble, pierced by bright silver buttons and draping chains. She wore a pair
of matching silk heels with black velvet bows. It was her jewellery, however,
that truly captured Hermione's attention: a silver burnished snake ear drape in
her left side, a matching silver burnished snake bracelet on her left wrist,
and a black velvet collar with silver detail and teardrop black glass beads
brought the entire piece together. Her hair was the same as always, softly
brushed and shining dark brown, almost black, but unlike her fellow Housemates,
Pansy went dramatic on the make-up. Her eyes were smoky, exotic with heavy
liner and mascara and sparkling charcoal shadow. Her mouth was lined a very
dark colour – near black – and filled in with a matching lipstick. Her pale
cheeks had been dusted with blushing powder. She looked almost as if she was
dressed for Halloween, but Hermione knew that in the Muggle world, she would
have fit right into the Goth scene. Ostensibly, Pansy looked rather stunning.
On her left side of the Gryffindor couch, to Hermione's left, sat Ginny. Like
Pansy, she was dressed in a costume, rather than typical dress robes. Of
course, Ginny had developed a flair for the thespian style, her leisure
clothing reflecting an old-world, piratical theme in general, with flowing
shirts and skirts. Tonight's dress and matching jacket was – in a phrase –
impressive in its originality, vivid and striking in its execution, and held
just a touch of romance for good measure. Made of heavy embroidered material
that was iridescent orange and red, the outer jacket looked very much like a
Regency Era great coat, with flaring, wide sleeves and ribbons. The piece was
tied in the centre by a narrow corset that was synched together with another
ribbon. Silver buttons – three on a side – adorned the corset's middle. Under
the jacket was a simple, black satin dress with spaghetti straps. The whole
thing terminated at mid-thigh. In a bold move, Ginny decided to accent her
outfit not with tall boots, but with sexy, mid-thigh stockings that had a
narrow strip in the back of each that was done up with ribbon. On her feet, she
wore black patent leather five-inch heels. Her accoutrements were meant to pull
the piece together – a black satin throat collar with a large iridescent rose,
red amber rose-shaped earrings, and a red amber and silver ring. Her hair had
been tightly tied up into a ponytail at the top of her head, and left to fall
down her back. Like Pansy, her makeup was dramatic – bright orange and red
shadow, heavy liner, dark, cherry-coloured lips. She was absolutely remarkable,
exuding a fantasy sexiness that definitely enticed all of the men in the room,
especially Blaise, it seemed. The man's eyes had lit up with interest as soon
as he'd spied her tonight.
To Hermione's right sat Lavender dressed in, remarkably enough, a satin sheath
similar to Greengrass' dress. Like her name, the dress was lavender in colour,
accented with brown, light blue and light yellow, in an exotic lotus blossom
pattern. A brown satin ribbon tied into a bow at the apex of a tasteful 'vee'
neckline, adding a flirty feel to the dress. She wore lavender heels, and dark
purple amethyst heart earrings. On her right wrist dangled a very dainty silver
bracelet with silver heart dangles of varying sizes and styles. On her left
hand, a dark amethyst ring set in a silver heart setting sat on her middle
finger. Her make-up was as tasteful as Daphne's as well; lavender shadow, brown
liner and mascara, light pink lipstick. Quixotic and dreamy were the qualities
she exuded.
As for Hermione… she'd fallen in love with her dress the minute she'd seen it
in the Muggle store in downtown London's more 'chic-chic' district, and it had
cost her a pretty pence, but she'd been careful with her money for years; all
those Christmas and birthdays she'd been gifted money had gone right into the
bank. She'd splurged on the dress, seeing as how it was her last year in
school.
It was a floor-length, silk dress that simply flowed like water when she moved.
The top was a halter style – the saleslady had called it 'Rome's Egyptian
style' – with very little fabric to it, honestly. It had a thick, bejeweled
collar, and was backless to the sway of her spine, so she wouldn't be able to
wear a bra with it. It was a multitude of jewel-tone colours, printed almost
like tie-dye, with fractal round patterns blooming up here and there, adding a
three-dimensional visual texture. Creams, oranges, reds, yellows, purples,
aquas, pinks… they blended seamlessly, beautifully to create a montage of
colour. On her feet were a pair of gold strappy three-inch heels, and the only
jewellery she allowed, so as not to detract from the dress, were a pair of
golden dangle hoops with diamond butterflies, and a thin, bangle bracelet that
was made of a multitude of crisscrossing wires in an interlocking pattern.
As for her hair, she'd pinned her hair up on the sides, allowing the remainder
to curl down her back, and she'd tamed it so it would lay flat, not fuzzy, in
shiny, shimmering waves. She'd gone dramatically on the make-up, though, so as
not to be drowned out by the dress: dusky pink, bronze, gold shadow, dark brown
liner and mascara, shimmering pink blusher, pink-strawberry lips.
The effect, in her opinion, was that she appeared sophisticated, with a touch
of dreamy romance.
The men were equally as diverse in their clothing options as the women had
been.
Blaise was dressed in a long-sleeved, dark purple silk shirt, a pair of black
woolen dress slacks, and black, shiny shoes. He wore no ostentatious
ornamentation, but Hermione had scented a cologne on him that hinted of
frankincense.
Theo was all casual summer: black polo, white trousers, black shoes, brown
belt. He looked comfortable and stylish, as if he were going out on a summer
cruise around the harbour with a date. His hair had been combed, and he had
shaved his usual five o'clock shadow. He smelled of pears and citrus.
Harry, like Blaise, had gone for practical-attractive: a dark green, long-
sleeved cotton dress shirt that made his eyes pop, dark black dress slacks, and
black, low-backed leather boots that had been polished. Around his neck was his
favourite necklace, a gift from Sirius – a black leather cord with a silver
Celtic tri-fecta pendant, which had been bespelled to give him mental clarity
at all times, even when drunk off his horse. Hermione would give her right foot
for such a charmed item! His cologne was subtle, spicy, like cedar and mint.
Ron had gone as dramatic as his sister, wearing an ensemble that ironically
matched Ginny's. Hermione was, in fact, betting that Ginny helped her brother
pick out the outfit and convinced him to wear it tonight, just so she wouldn't
feel alone in her flashy fashion sense. A smartly dramatic, iridescent orange-
red jacket cut in a Regency Era officer's uniform style was adorned with velvet
cuffs and edging, with silver buttons up both sides of the divide. Underneath,
he wore a black satin dress shirt. His pants were extremely interesting – tight
in the inseam and hugging his body down to the ankles, where a zipper was
attached to both legs. On his feet, he wore a pair of shiny, black leather
shoes that had no obvious laces. His hair was gelled to stand on end, and as
usual, he'd worn his diamond earring stud in his left ear; he'd gotten it
pierced this year on his birthday, in a fit of rebellion and because he wanted
to mimic his big brother, Bill. He'd shaved, too. Overall, he looked quite
dapper. And he smelled good, as well – like spring grass and the fresh dew of
morning.
Seamus had surprised her, appearing in a more formal, summer wool suit,
complete with dress shirt and vest. Of course, he'd worn trainers to "off-set
the ponce look," as he'd referred to it. Personally, she thought that the dark
grey outfit with the white collared shirt looked rather fetching on him, and
gave him an air of maturity that he definitely could use, despite the sneakers.
He smelled divine, however, like leather and whiskey.
Malfoy… Whoa. He'd gone with a look that left Hermione quite breathless,
honestly, although she refused to admit it by even allowing her eyes to roam
too long over him. Dressed in all white - a shocking first - he'd donned a pair
of loose, summer-weight, cotton dress slacks, a thin white, cotton dress tank
top (he'd left the top buttons open), and partnered the outfit up with a
burnished silver and beige leather belt, and white, tie dress shoes. On his
wrist, he wore a matching beige bracelet made of leather, and around his neck
were strung three cords – one close to his throat, and the other two swinging
down the open 'vee' of his shirt, showing off not only the silver dragon
pendants he had hung from the ropes, but also an impressive physique that she
hadn't known he'd sported. His hair was ruffled to look casually indifferent,
much as Harry's had always been prior to him cutting it shorter this past
spring. He was comfortably casual and steamily sexy as he sat across from her
on the Slytherin couch, his full lips pouty, winter-grey eyes staring at the
ceiling as he leaned his head back into the cushions, showing off a delicious
expanse of bared neck.
As she stared at him now, Hermione grew decidedly uncomfortable… and in a way
she hadn't expected. Between her thighs, she felt a bit sticky.
Determined not to think about Malfoy in that way, she turned her attention to
fiddling with her bracelet instead, twirling it round and round on her wrist,
fighting the urge to jiggle her leg.
As the first toll of the bell rang out throughout the castle and surrounding
grounds, Draco looked up at Harry and nodded, and Harry turned to Seamus and
tapped him on the leg. The men had drawn straws earlier to see who would go
first to draw from the Partners deck, and in what order.
Seamus stepped up to the set of gold cards and flipped the first one. His gaze
traveled to Lavender. "Seems I'll be gettin' me second chance after all,
angel," he slowly smiled, his green eyes warming as he crossed over to her and
handed her his Partners card – the one that had his magical signature on it. He
kept hers in the trade.
Lavender looked positively astonished, blushing, and looked down at the floor,
taking his card with shaky hands. "Oh," was all she said.
As Seamus returned to his seat, Blaise stood up next and took the top card off
the pile next. His grin was positively feral as he silently read the name.
Moving across to the Gryffindor side, seating himself beside Ginny on the
couch, he passed her his Partners card without a word.
Livid splotches of red painted her girl friend's cheeks. "There is no God," she
sighed with resentment. Accepting his card, she leaned back into the cushions
of the sofa, frowning, and crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive
posture.
Zabini remained silent at her side, smirking in triumph.
Theo went next. His grin was cheery as he read off his name. "Hey, check it,
Daph!" He showed her the card he'd pulled. "It's you and me, babe!"
Daphne adjusted the reading glasses on her nose. "So it would seem." She held
out a hand for his card. He passed it off to her and sat at her side, too.
Hermione looked at the dwindling supply of cards and felt her heart racing,
knowing who was next and terrified of her odds. One in three. There was still a
one in three chance that she might end up with either Harry or Ron. Oh, please.
Oh, please. Oh, please, she prayed to whatever deity might be listening in the
great wide cosmos. She may have started all of this with the intent of making
Malfoy pay for being an unbelievable arsehole all these years, but now that the
reality had come down - specifically, that she'd had an opportunity to read
the Deeds and Forfeits of her Housemates in advance and knew what kind of
depravity would go on during this game - she was regretting such foolhardy
revenge planning. The idea of being the partner to Slytherin's Prince was
decidedly dismaying.
Malfoy said nothing for several seconds as he flipped the name card. The
tiniest twitch of his lips was all she needed to know her doom had been
settled, however. She closed her eyes and swallowed the heavy heart-shaped lump
in her throat. Ginny's hand on her knee to her left was the only anchor to her
world of sanity in that moment.
A presence stood over her, and in graceful surrender, she held her hand out
knowing what was expected of her. To her astonishment, Malfoy did not simply
pass his Partners card to her. Instead, he bent one knee before her, and caught
her hand up. With a chivalrous flourish that shocked her into meeting his gaze
head-on, he pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles. Pools of lively, heated
mercury stared directly into her soul.
"It's been our raison d'être from the beginning to cross swords again and
again, Granger," he said. "What made you think tonight would be any different?"
Something in the way he'd phrased that… "Did you cheat?" she challenged,
yanking her hand away and rubbing the imprint of his lips against her skin away
with disgust, feeling real ire grow in her belly. If he had defrauded the game
it would automatically disqualify the both of them – something she was praying
for just then, as that meant her team would get a win from it, and she wouldn't
have to touch him. The cards would make him answer honestly, too, as the spell
upon them would ensure his truthfulness now that he'd signed the magical
contract and bound his will to the rules.
"No," he told it to her straight, and she felt her heart sink again, "but I
tried to. The game wouldn't let me. It prevented my spell. This time" - he held
up her name card and passed her his - "it was definitely all Fate, princess."
He stood to his full height, which stood only an inch or so shy of Ron and
Theo. "Personally, I can't wait to find out all of your secrets, beautiful."
Staring at the card in her hand as he made his way back across the room,
Hermione felt hot tears waver before her eyes. She blinked them away, refusing
to appear weak. The others had accepted their destinies with some small measure
of grace - even Ginny, who had seemed to want to rail about the unfairness of
it all at the top of her lungs, but had simply sat back and quietly sulked – so
she could do the same. She was a Gryffindor, after all, and that meant she'd
take this hit on the chin and get back up.
Harry was next. He blushed when he read the name he chose, a shy expression
lighting his features as he glanced over at Tracey Davis. "It seems we're
partners tonight," he told her, heat blooming across his face and neck.
Tracey's smile was equally self-conscious. "Oh, well, that's… good," she
replied, accepting his name card, her own face as crimson as Harry's.
"At least someone's happy around here," Ron stated, his disappointment obvious.
He flashed Pansy her name card – the last in the stack. "I have a feeling this
isn't going to be a good night," he told the woman who was staring at him with
irate fury.
"No," Pansy replied, her tone ice cold, "it definitely will not be."
 
===============================================================================
 
Now that the partners were fixed, the two teams resumed their proper seating
across from each other, and Malfoy and Harry tossed a Galleon into the air to
see which side would draw the first Interrogations question. The Slytherins won
the toss.
As Theo was on the furthest edge of the couch on one side, he reached for a
green card to start them off.
Malfoy stopped him by holding up his hand. "Last chance," he offered them all.
"Anyone want to chicken out, now's the time."
Eyes moved around the room at record pace, gauging who would might decide to
forfeit. A few faces, including her own, Hermione knew, looked fondly towards
the room's exit, but no one moved. Hell, no one breathed.
After a wait of a minute, Malfoy nodded.
"Ladies, time to cast the Contraceptive and Disease Charm," he instructed the
witches in the room. "No unintended pregnancies tonight. And don't forget to
recast the C&DC at the beginning of every action round, too, after the
questions are answered. It's not my job to remind you."
Each of the women picked up their wand from the centre table and did as
instructed. Madam Pomfrey had been particularly vigilant in assuring that all
of the girls in school – from the fourth year on up - knew this particular
charm by heart.
When that was done, and the pink glows had faded out, and everyone's wands were
returned to the table, Theo turned over the first card. "It's one of my own!"
he informed them, leering. "Right, so, here we go..."
"If you had to go down on your partner right now in front of the group because
of a card, would you secretly like it, feel indifferent or hate it?"
He turned to his left to Pansy, as the rules required, and the game commenced.
She snorted, tapping her foot on the floor twice in a gesture of sheer
irritation. "Stupid question. Hate it, obviously."
"Feeling's mutual, beeotch," Ron snarled, crossing his arms and striking a pose
similar to his sister.
Malfoy buzzed him. "No answering out of turn, Weasley." He pointed to
Parkinson. "Pans, take a Deeds. No, not the blue deck. The red one." With an
imperious motion with his hand, he commanded the group back on task. "Daphne,
you're next."
Greengrass pursed her lips together and let her eyes roam over Theo in
contemplation. "I would most likely enjoy it," she decreed after only a slight
pause.
Theo nearly dropped the green card in his hand. "S-seriously?" he asked, his
jaw practically hitting the floor.
Daphne re-adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose and nodded. "Yes, I
enjoy dominating a man," she admitted, reaching for a Deeds card now that she'd
answered the question. "It arouses me to bring him to the heights of erotic
pleasure, only to watch him unravel under my touch."
Almost every person in the room performed a face-vault at her proclamation.
"Holy gobstones," Ron breathed out hard. "Why couldn't I have gotten you?"
"Next!" Malfoy required.
Blaise stared across the room at his partner and narrowed his eyes. "Oh, I'd
love to make her squirm under my tongue. Then she'd have to live with the fact
that a Slytherin made her come harder than she ever had before."
Ginny stared hard at him through narrowed eyes, and turned her nose up at him
with disdain, refusing to be cowed by Zabini's venomous glare. "Dream on," she
grit. "You'd be lucky to get me wet."
Blaise reached for a red card. "I hope this reward lets me prove you wrong,
little lioness," he snarled, putting it face-down on his knee. No one was
allowed to read their Deeds or Forfeits until everyone had answered, per the
rules.
Ron growled, and Harry had to nudge him to remind the man to tamp down on his
natural urges to play the overprotective brother tonight.
Tracey, who was next in line, looked over at Harry, flushed and lowered her
eyelashes. "Um… well, I'd… Do I have to answer?"
Malfoy shrugged. "If you want. If not, you'll have to take a Forfeits card,
though."
The witch considered that for a moment, turning bright pink as she mulled over
the risks. Finally, she seemed to come to a decision, her back straightening,
her eyes lifting to her partner's with uncertainty, but a sincere resolve.
"I'd... I'd..." She seemed to lose her bravado quite suddenly, her voice ending
in a soft whisper, "really like it, I think."
From the corner of her eye, Hermione spied Harry turn an interesting shade of
red and adjust the collar of his shirt, as if needing to loosen it. For a
second, she wondered if her best male friend had ever had a woman do that to
him, as she knew Ginny hadn't.
And now it was Malfoy's turn.
Hermione tried - really, honestly tried - not to look at him when he answered
this one, knowing he was going to scoff and laugh at the ludicrousness of this
question in regards to touching her 'dirty' self. The answer was so painfully
obvious, in fact, that her ego took the pounding with only a small pang. She
wasn't vain, per se, but she was a woman who liked to be told she was desirable
on occasion. That Malfoy thought her beneath him…
"Like it," he said, staring her in the eye when she glanced up in surprise
again. "Very, very much," he finished, his patented naughty smirk sliding up
the side of his cheek.
She blinked twice. "But-"
"Next," he cut her off, turning to Seamus, who sat directly across from him on
the Gryffindor side. "Your turn."
Her partner reached for a Deeds card with casual indifference, not looking at
her again.
Hermione's heart was thudding in her chest so hard she almost passed out. Had
Malfoy just said he'd like to eat her out? Really?
"It's one of me favourite things ta do," her Irish-lilting friend admitted to
his partner with a lopsided grin. "So, of course, I'd love it!"
Lavender, who sat directly next to Finnigan, gaped at him as he reached forward
and grabbed a red card. "And that's why? Not because it's me, but because you
like doing it?" she scathingly asked.
"No debate," Draco reminded her. "The card doesn't say we discuss the answers,
merely that we answer them."
Lavender turned a cross look on him. "How he answers will determine my answer,"
she stated, quite put out. She turned back to Sea. "Well?"
Reaching out a hand, he gently chucked her under the jaw. "For both reasons,
sweet angel," he explained with a foolhardy grin. "I've been wantin' ta do it
ta ya fer years, but ya kept turnin' me down."
Cutting her eyes to the floor again, Lavender's blush returned. "Oh, well… My
turn to answer, right? Well-" She swallowed, paused, seemed to struggle with
herself. "I-I'd… bloody hell, I can't lie! It won't let me!"
Malfoy chuckled. "No, you can't lie. But again, you can choose a Forfeit card
if you want in lieu of answering."
With a resigned sigh, she reached for the card stack. "He answered it so I
will. I'd like it," she grumbled and grabbed a Deeds card. "Happy?"
"Very," Seamus purred, moving closer to her.
Lavender slapped his hand away as it landed on her knee. "That doesn't mean you
can grope me."
"Not yet, anyway," Ron commented at her side and shrugged those massive
shoulders of his. "Well, my answer's obvious: like it."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, everyone froze in utter surprise –
including Ron. He looked like he was about to suffer from apoplexy right there,
his face ghosting white and his mouth gaping open.
"I meant… I'd love it."
He blinked again, anger fast replacing his confusion, and began swearing.
Across the aisle, Pansy barked a vitriolic laugh. "I'll just bet you would, you
pervert," she sniffed in dry amusement, smoothing the front of her dress.
"No commentary," Harry chastised in the manner of Malfoy, throwing the
Slytherin team leader a "right back at you" look.
"FUCK!" Ron shouted, reaching for a Deeds card. "This game so totally sucks!"
And then it was Hermione's turn, and her heart started pounding again.
How did she feel about the idea of touching Malfoy? Well, naturally, she
loathed him, so… "Hate it, because I know he'd use it against me afterward to
hurt me in some cruel way," she spoke before she even had time to think up a
proper response, blinking in surprise that it just popped out of her mouth.
Appalled, she put a hand up over her mouth, her eyes jerking to her partner's
face. Slytherin's Prince stared back at her with a cool blankness that didn't
seem natural to any form of mammalian species. He was so like a snake in that
moment – so blank that she couldn't read him – that Hermione felt very much
like the mouse before a hypnotizing cobra.
Everyone in the room had stalled again, glancing between her and Draco, as if
they suspected violence to erupt at any moment. Thirty seconds ticked by, then
a minute, and still no one moved. Finally, Hermione's hand fell to her lap and
she reached for a red card, taking her eyes from her greatest rival's with
severe anxiety fluttering through her chest.
It was Ginny's turn. She stared across the aisle at Blaise with an animosity
that was unrivaled between any of the partners. "Hate it," she confessed,
"because just like 'Mione, I could never like touching someone who wanted to
hurt me."
Blaise's eyebrows twitched, but aside from that, he didn't say a word. Ginny
grabbed a Deeds card from the stack, her wary gaze never leaving her partner's
own black stare. Hermione reached out a hand and entwined her fingers with her
best friend in a show of supportive strength.
They finally came to Harry. He cleared his throat and looked over at Tracey.
"Well, I don't really know you, do I? And I'm not sure I would like doing
something that intimate with you if there was no emotional connection. I
wouldn't hate the idea either, though, as you are quite attractive. I suppose,
until things change – if they change – I'd have to say indifferent for now. But
please understand that my answer has to do with my comfort levels, not because
I don't find you physically desirable because I do. Quite a lot, in fact. That
dress only adds to the appeal - especially the cleavage."
"Whoa, maybe a bit too honest there," Teddy laughed, reaching across the narrow
gap between couches to slap the Gryffindor on the shoulder, all chummy.
As Harry reached for a red card, Nott stared over at his partner, Daphne. "Oh,
I'd love eating you out, baby, no question! Especially if you reached into that
superior vocabulary of yours and started spouting off rare expletives every
time you came for me." He leaned in a little close, smiling like a shark. "How
many different ways can you say, 'oh, god, yes!' do you think?"
Daphne turned her head and stared him dead on, unperturbed by his nastiness.
"You may have the opportunity to find out during this challenge, Mister Nott -
but only if you're a very good boy."
Theo's eyes brightened, widened, and his grin leaped to match. He grabbed
a Deeds card from the pile, excited to see what he would get.
Probably hoping for an oral sex requirement now, Hermione thought. She knew
just how eager Theo was for pushing the physical with a girl.
"Everyone's answered, so you may all turn over your cards over and read them.
You'll then be required to perform or receive a performance from your partner
as the text on the card allows," Malfoy instructed. "If you need privacy, there
are six rooms along the far wall – one for each couple," he threw a thumb over
his shoulder, where a row of half a dozen closed, identical doors lined the
wall. "They're all exactly the same – white on white furniture, walls, and
flooring. If you want to change the room's décor in any manner or add or remove
any items from the room, simply think of the changes, and they'll happen in
seconds. This is the Room of Requirement." He smirked and a wicked look entered
his shark-skin coloured eyes. "Or, if you're into voyeuristic theatrics, you
could also perform out here for the rest of us to watch - but you both have to
agree to that plan, otherwise it's a private room for you."
He turned his card over and read it. His eyebrows hit the roof.
Uh-oh. That didn't bode well, Hermione thought.
Blushing, she turned her card over, too, and read the text across the cream-
coloured backdrop:
DEED: Your partner must give you a sensual back and neck massage. Lips and
tongue can be used.
Bloody hell! It was one of Harry's rewards. Team Gryffindor shared their cards
today at lunch, reading them over, so she recognized the handwriting.
"You have got to be kidding me!" Pansy shouted, getting to her feet. "This
sounds more like a Forfeit to me, not a Deeds!"
"Tough cookies, sugar," Ron sarcastically replied. "Whatever it is, let me tell
you that we're both screwed. My card's equally as repulsive. As if I'd want to
touch you!"
"Are either of you forfeiting the game then?" Malfoy asked. His tone was
casual, but the undercurrent accusation of 'pussy' was clear.
"No!" the partners-at-war simultaneously chimed, staring at each other with
suspicion.
"Then, I suggest you stop bitching and get going," Slytherin's Captain
commanded. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can move on." He
nodded to Harry. "Time?"
Harry looked at his charmed pocket watch. "Thirty-seven past seven, exactly."
"The rooms will chime at you to tell you to come back out at around twenty-
seven past eight. Everyone finish and be in this room no later than ten minutes
past the chime or you're automatically out," he ordered. "Oh, and if you both
agree that you're done before then, you can come back here and just wait
around. I wouldn't touch the cards, though, as they're charmed for some nasty
consequences if you try to cheat in any fashion." He stood and made his way
towards a private room. "Good luck, people!" he waved over his shoulder.
Hermione stood on shaky legs. "Yes, good luck everyone," she murmured, then
followed after her partner into his room of choice.
Chapter End Notes
     *Artwork by Marta Dahlig (https://dahlig.deviantart.com) is how I
     picture the artwork on the back of the card game to look. Thank you,
     Marta, a million times over for the brilliant inspiration!
***** 1A: Draco & Hermione *****
Chapter Summary
     Draco makes his opening move.
Chapter Notes
     User fuzzychxrx recommended the song, "A Little Less Conversation" by
     Elvis Presley for Draco & Hermione this go around, and I thought it a
     perfect complement to Draco's thoughts here. So, this chapter is
     dedicated to fuzzychxrx - congratulations!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                        
                               DRACO & HERMIONE 
===============================================================================
                                        
Draco left the door open behind him, knowing Granger would follow without
question. There really was no choice in the matter, unless she forfeited –
which he was betting she absolutely wouldn't do in this game.
He was hoping she wouldn't either. He definitely wanted to get as much as he
could out of this time together, knowing it would be the only chance he'd ever
get the opportunity to touch, taste, or fuck Gryffindor's Princess. She
definitely would never let him near her again after the game concluded,
loathing him as she did.
Although, she'd actually blushed with undeniable arousal when he'd answered
that he'd like to eat her pussy. He'd seen the glimmer of heat in her shocked
gaze. And her answer when asked if she'd like to blow him had been negative
only in so far as her fears of him using the incident against her later, not
because she'd detest the idea of touching him. So, maybe she didn't hate him as
much as either of them believed…
He caught a flash of brilliant colour from the corner of his eye as she entered
and shut the door behind her. Circe's right tit, but that dress was fetching
upon her! He'd love to take it off with his teeth… She didn't move towards the
bed in the centre of the room, where he was currently sprawled, staring up at
the too-white ceiling, clearly uneasy with coming closer.
Well, if she wasn't going to take the initiative, he would.
"Since I drew my Deeds card first," he explained, "that means I go first to
play it."
"I know," she replied.
He held his card up and read it aloud to her:
DEED: You partner must list out loud at least 10 good things about you.
There was a moment of silence, and then a deeply expelled breath and a small
laugh in relief. "That's it? That's… oh, thank Merlin!"
Yes, well, Draco wasn't too pleased with his first draw. He'd really wanted
something hot right out of the gate for her but instead was stuck with a share-
care card. Who the fuck wrote up such a wanky thing anyway? Obviously, it
wasn't a Slytherin.
"You can come into the room, you know," he told her, disappointment spoiling
his stomach. "I'm not going to touch you this round, it seems."
Taking a moment to gather her courage, Granger stepped forward and leaned
against one of the four large wooden posts that made up the bed frame. Her back
and shoulders were ramrod straight with engineered bravado, and yet she
remained just out of reach.
Draco sighed. He hadn't expected this to be an easy win, anyway. "All right,
let's get started. Tell me how fantastic I am, Princess."
She rolled her eyes at the nickname. "Your list of drawbacks far outstrips your
advantageous attributes, you know. It would be far easier for me to list your
negative personality quirks instead."
He gaped at her. Gods, she could be such a bitch sometimes. It was one of the
reasons he wanted her so badly. "You know, you've got one hell of a sexy, sassy
mouth," he grinned, hoping to peck her off, turning the situation on its ear
just to confuse her.
Granger arched an eyebrow at him, not rising to the bait. "Whatever. So, I'm
expected to stack your ridiculously overblown ego. Fine, I can start by
honestly saying that you're smart."
Draco couldn't help the morphing of his grin into a full-blown, toothy smile.
"Really? Do tell, Granger. Just how intelligent do you think I am?"
His partner gave him a flat stare. "Clever enough to maneuver me into this
game, hoping you'd be able to fix it so we could be together so you could
attempt to humiliate me tonight. But not wise enough to research the cards
you've been playing with enough to know the spell on them wouldn't allow such a
thing. So, you're moderately smart, Malfoy, but not overly so."
Okay, that wasn't what he'd been expecting. Clearly, she was going to insult
him every time she had to praise him. Fan-fucking-tastic. What a way to spend
the next twenty-five minutes!
"Moving on," he charged, feeling a bit deflated by the fact that he knew these
were her totally honest feelings about him, as the cards wouldn't let her lie.
It bit to think she was judging the entirety of his intellect based solely upon
this one minor, flawed expedition this weekend. Obviously, she was forgetting
the other dozen or so schemes he'd concocted over the years that had been
stupendously successful at wanking her off. "Because as compliments go, that
one sucked. You're terrible at the game of flattery." He stretched his arms up
and linked his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling and
concentrated on changing its color to red, then green, then blue, then black,
and back again to white. He amused himself thusly while she thought up the next
tribute.
"All right, you've got the makings of a natural born leader," she stated,
seating herself on the edge of the bed, her posture stiff. "Although you might
want to work on learning how to be gracious and respectful to your minions
because you're terrible to them."
He barked a laugh. "Minions? Is that how you see my friends?"
"Crabbe and Goyle worship you, Malfoy," she reminded him. "And you mistreat
them all the time, insulting them and getting them into trouble. That's not
what a friend does."
Now she was treading into territory best left alone. "You know nothing of
Slytherin politics, Granger. My House isn't like your touchy-feely, hearts and
rainbows one where everyone holds hands and sings songs together. What I have
always done to Crabbe and Goyle was so I could protect them. They're too dim-
witted and just vindictive enough not to end up on the wrong side of the law
someday. I kick them around to keep them in line but give them a place of
importance so they don't feel like common whipping dogs either. The first few
years, just the protection of being associated with me – with my name and my
father's reputation - also kept them from ending up some seventh year's bitch
in the men's showers late one night. And yes, Granger, that kind of thing
happens – more frequently then you probably ever assumed," he replied to her
gasp of disbelief. "Don't be so naïve." He glanced at her with a deep frown.
"Basically, I keep my friends safe in a hierarchy they can fit comfortably
within, so no one will take advantage of them and so they'll stay out of
serious trouble. In return, they do me favors and accept my authority." He
sneered at her now. "But then, I don't suppose you'd understand that type of
power structure, seeing as how you come from the hippy flowers and sunshine
House."
She was silent a moment, contemplating that. "You know, I never thought of it
that way before. It's the law of the jungle in Slytherin - kill or be killed?"
He bit her lip and sighed. "How very sad for you."
Ire crept into his belly, ruining his mood. "Judging my House? How
sanctimonious you are, Granger! But then, it's common for Gryffindors to be so
arrogant – and woefully unsophisticated about how the world really works."
"Cynic," she accused.
"Idealist," he indicted back.
They both sighed. This was clearly not something they were going to come to an
agreement to anytime soon, if ever.
"Next," he grumped, hating this game all ready. This wasn't turning out to be
nearly as much fun as he'd hoped.
She was silent a bit longer, and he could sense a cautious tension in her.
"Well…" she began, and from his peripheral vision, he spied her nervous
twitching. "Another positive trait is that you're… well, a rather handsome
specimen."
His battered ego picked itself up off the floor and crawled back up his spine
then, his foul mood lightening a tad. "Really?" he inflected, feeling a small
tilting of his lips force its way back into life. Not that he didn't know he
was rather attractive, but that Granger also thought him good looking was at
least one bright spot in this whole debacle so far. It was something they could
build upon, maybe, because it meant she didn't find him repulsive to touch, at
the very least. "Do go on."
Clearing her throat primly behind a hand, he watched her attempt - and as she
spectacularly failed - to remain detached. "You have rather classical features
that provide a nice juxtaposition of the best traits in a man – a rounded jaw
that is just square enough at the edge and the chin to provide a strong
foundation, a straight, aristocratic nose, your eyes are set at an equal
distance apart and are a lovely shade of grey-blue, your brows and lashes are a
soft dark gold and give you just a tad of roguish shape, and your lips-" She
paused, pinking now at the cheeks. "Your lips are… pillowy and… a nice shade of
rose pink. Your teeth are a sparkling white and straight and even. Your skin is
a tad too pale, but for some reason, it doesn't detract, highlighting your
other colorful attributes instead. And you're always clean-shaven, showing you
care about your appearance very much – which is an appealing trait in itself."
He sat up into a sitting position, encouraged by the fact that she'd taken that
much effort to pay attention to his face. "And?" he prompted her to continue,
wondering just how far her assessment of his physical characteristics went.
She wiggled in her seat. "Well, your hair is a lovely shade of pale gold-white
– a very light champagne, and the way you style it makes you appear aloof, and
yet impishly dangerous at the same time. The cut perfectly frames your face.
Your ears lay just the right distance from your skull, not sticking out, and
the lobes are detached and small – nice traits for a man." She rolled her
shoulders, clearly uncomfortable, but unable to stop speaking the truth until
it was all out, as the cards required. "Your neck is elegant, not too long or
too short or too thick. Your shoulders aren't extremely broad, but they are
clearly well-defined." Her face flushed a darker crimson. "I can see how
adequately you are muscled in that shirt and how finely your torso is cut. It's
rather eye-catching. You're not too bulky, not too willowy, but lean and sleek
like a good Quidditch Seeker should be."
Showing more bravery than he'd ever given her credit for, she turned and looked
down at his hands then, as if drawn to them against her will. In a soft,
quixotic voice, much like the Lovegood bint often used, she described them.
"Your hands are well manicured, strong, with long fingers just made for-" She
broke off, looked away again, turning so that not even her profile was
available for his perusal. "They seem made for playing the piano or composing
long drafts for publication - that sort of thing."
She fidgeted in place some more, smoothing the front of her dress, clearly
embarrassed by having to give a positive assessment of him that indicated her
fascination – perhaps even an unconscious desire – for him. It was strange to
hear the usually crisp, formal, harpy-like Granger speak to him thus. Draco
found he rather liked this softer side.
Feeling the devil's teasing fever grip him, he scooted closer to her and held
his two hands out where she would see them, pretending to evaluate them. "I
never thought of my hands like that before, you know," he commented, and it was
the truth. He couldn't lie, after all. "But now I can see, you're quite right.
I suppose my fingers would be perfect for gripping and smoothing a hard, stiff
object - like a quill, for instance - or for stroking and gliding across
playable surfaces with precise accuracy, to make them hum and sing for me."
To his amusement, the blush upon his partner's cheeks roved down her collar and
over the tops of her breasts, and her breathing quickened just a tad. Well,
well, well… Granger secretly had a hand fetish! How very fascinating, indeed.
"An interesting observation," he practically purred in delight at having gotten
under her skin with just a few well-chosen turn-of-phrases. "Thanks for
pointing that out to me, Beautiful. I won't be able to forget it now, every
time I look at them."
Abruptly, she stood up and walked over to the opposite wall, looking into the
ceiling-to-floor length mirror that spanned the whole length of the one side,
pretending to adjust her earrings. "Yes, well, it's not as if you didn't know
the rest, Malfoy. You make it a big deal to strut around this place as if
you're an Adonis or something."
He stared at her in the mirror, letting a slow smirk wind its way up his face,
knowing well how that expression charmed the opposite sex. "As long as you
noticed, Granger, I could care less what any other woman thought."
She froze, her eyes wide, her lips parted in shock.
He nudged his chin at her. "That was three things. Go on with your list. There
are still seven left to go."
Blinking out of her stupor, she scowled at him in the mirror. "Egotistical
prat."
"Straight-laced bint," he countered with no heat, enjoying the banter.
Rolling her eyes again, she moved over to a cozy chair, which seemed to have
popped into existence at her thought. It matched the white-on-white décor of
the room. Sitting back in it and crossing her legs, she put her elbows up on
the arms and lounged back like some sort of Queen on her throne.
Draco's cock jumped in his pants at the sight. Founders be damned, she was
fuckingbeautiful, wasn't she?
"You're rich," she pointed out next. "I suppose some people might call that a
credit to a person's worth."
What an interesting way to phrase such a thing. "You don't?"
Delicate shoulders bunched up for a second in a shrug. "You didn't earn the
money. You inherited it."
"And you can't respect that?" he predicted.
She shook her head. "No, not really. I believe in earning your way in the
world."
Looking at her askance, he considered having this particular conversation with
her at this particular moment. Should he? It might stir up a hornet's nest.
Or it could make her see him in a different light.
He threw his plan out there, to see where the chips would fall. "What if you
found out that I intended on taking that inheritance and putting it towards
worthy endeavors?"
Scoffing, she chuckled. "Like building up the family fortune?"
Tilting his head in shameless acknowledgment, he decided to share his vision
for the future with her, and in so doing, finally shake up her understanding of
who he really was once and for all. "That would be a by-product, yes, but my
plans would benefit the community as well. It would provide jobs and
educational opportunities – yes, Granger, what I plan willhelp educate people,"
he reiterated in response to her skeptical grimace.
"I have a three-tiered strategy already worked out," he explained. "I plan to
expand the family business. We're currently invested in light commodities
trading. First, with father and the Ministry's help, I want to open trade with
the Asian markets for healing potions ingredients in their raw, plant forms. I
want to import them here. I figure that will take several years of negotiation
work, as the Eastern wizards are notoriously protectionist. Then, I'll offer
the plants to Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang to care-take. They can use
them in their teaching endeavors, and in return, they'll sell me their
finalized harvests. The money I give them in trade should help them to pay the
professors more than the pittance they're getting now, and maybe even help them
come up with some stimulating programs for the students. Merlin knows they
could shake this place up a bit with an interesting guest speaker once in a
while."
He shrugged, as he wasn't interested in fixing the educational curriculum
around here; he'd leave that to the Board of Governors. "For the third part of
the plan, I'll take the finished products and sell them to apothecaries around
the world. I plan to corner the market on potions ingredients distribution.
I'll have a pile of Galleons to sleep on, and a staff of hundreds by the time I
retire and turn the company over to my own son." He glanced at her and grinned.
"Oh, and if you dare steal my idea and try to beat me to the market, Granger,
I'll spank you hard."
Literally, she sat and stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment.
"Are you attempting to catch lacewing flies?" he joked.
Clamping her teeth together so hard he could hear the snap across the room, he
watched in gleeful delight as Hermione Granger struggled over the concept that
Draco Malfoy was more exceptionally creative than even she had anticipated.
"How… well… that is to say…" she stammered, obviously searching for the proper
words to praise his ingeniousness.
He waited with bated breath for the moment she finally admitted aloud that he,
her bitterest rival, was more discerningly calculating than even she'd given
him credit for.
"How ruthlessly inspired, Malfoy."
For a moment – just a fraction of a second – he took offense to her words. Then
he realized what a great compliment she'd actually just given him and he
smirked. "I knewyou'd come to appreciate my slipperiness soon enough!"
She shook her head. "That counts as one of your ten things, I suppose. We're
down to six." She tapped a painted fingernail against the chair arm in thought.
"As for the rest: you play Quidditch rather well, are exceptionally good at
potions, when you laugh with true sincerity it sounds nice, you have impeccable
table manners, are well organized, and you smell rather pleasant on a regular
basis. There, we're done."
All of her compliments were rather touching, honestly, but one, in particular,
grabbed his attention to play upon. "It's French. Custom."
She blinked, not catching his jump in logic. "What is?"
"You said I smell rather pleasant. It's my cologne. It comes from Paris, and is
tailored so that everyone smells whatever they most desire from me," he
explained, hopping off the bed and approaching her. She looked ready to bolt by
the time he'd bent down in front of her and leaned over the chair, putting his
neck near her nose. "What do you smell?"
Her hot breath panting against his neck sent electric tingles down his spine.
Now, this was more like it!
"Go on, sniff," he encouraged, leaning his lips towards the shell of her ear,
forcing his tone and demeanor into calm control, despite the racing blood
through his veins. "Tell me what you smell."
Pretending indifference, she made a rather rude harrumph, not even bothering to
inhale. "I don't have to sniff to know I'd smell wet, musky ferret fur."
He tsked at her. "Seriously, Granger. Give it a go." He turned and
smirked a challenge. "Or are you too chicken to be so close? Afraid my
handsomeness will overwhelm you?"
"Pah!" she sniffed with scorn. "Not likely." To prove that she was not afraid,
she leaned forward and sniffed once. Then, she pressed her nose in a little
further and inhaled again. Drawn to him now, as that was the effect of the
cologne, her nose touched down right over the skin above his pulse as she
breathed in his scent. When she moaned in longing, Draco thought he'd never
heard a more desirable sound, and his body reacted by going hard and tight.
"What do you smell, Princess?" he coaxed, placing his mouth right on top of her
lobe, letting his lips rub the delicate skin. "Tell me," he whispered, in a
dark, enticing tone.
Her breath was caught in a slow pant, and her hands crept of their own accord
to grip his bared shoulders. With a light pressure, she dug her nails into the
skin, causing electricity to shoot up and his spine and his heart to pound in
response.
"Sandalwood, cinder ash, wine, and… roses."
"Close your eyes," he bid, as he inhaled her light fragrance, and was equally
as seduced by the moment. Trembling against him, her grip on him tightened as
he let out a soft moan, and he pressed in closer. He nuzzled her neck with his
nose and chin. "What do you imagine from the scent? Tell me."
Granger began shaking in earnest now. "I…I see a dark room, black satin sheets,
and silvery moonlight spilling through an open window upon them," she whispered
the secret fantasy. "There are embers in a dying fire and red wine in a glass.
Red rose petals are strewn all about the room and on the bed."
Ghosting his lips up the side of her throat, he breathed hot air on her skin.
"Beautiful," he sighed, very pleased and at the same time, very disturbed.
"Symbolic. That's your perfect setting for love-making, Granger. How you see it
would be…with me."
"Hmm?" she asked, slowly coming back into herself, pulling away from his
collar. Her grip on his arms eased up. "Love-making? With you?"
He let go, not pushing for more physical intimacy at just that moment. It
wouldn't do to frighten her off. Still, he didwant to set a sultry tone that
would linger with her thoughts after this round was over. "The scent is meant
to evoke your passion and trigger your unconscious desires for me," he
explained in a soft murmur. "Black satin sheets and silver moonlight – you want
me to dominate you, but you want it done seductively, not rough. A warm fire
and wine – you want things between us to burn slowly and smolder before we lose
all control and overindulge in each other."
Leaning back in her chair and letting him go, he watched her face drain of
colour. "It's a trick - some sort of pheromone response."
He nodded. "In a way, yes. The cologne is very rare as it's made from Veela
tears. It's designed to show you what you most desire. But there's a downside
to the attraction because of its key ingredient," he explained, regaining his
full height over her, feeling the throbbing ache in his groin. She'd spy his
obvious erection any moment now… Backing towards the bed, he held her
shimmering, dark amber gaze. "It also shows your greatest hope, which for many
people will never be fulfilled and so will only lead them to despair. In your
case, you saw red rose petals everywhere. It means you want romantic love. But
you believe such a thing is impossible coming from someone like me, which is
why the fire was dying and why everything was hidden in the dark, under black
sheets and the cover of night."
They stared at each other in silence for many long minutes, studying each
other, considering what had just been revealed and now lay like an
uncomfortable weight between them.
It was his greatest fecking dream come true: Hermione Granger truly desired
him! Obviously, it was a repressed longing - so much so that even she hadn't
been willing to admit it until now - but the fact was that the bookish, severe,
goody-good Princess of Gryffindor wanted not just sex from him, Slytherin's
King, but love.
That knot in his chest – the one that had always been there, ever since the day
they'd met; the one that had contained both his burning hatred and his
desperate desire for this witch before him – tightened at the thought that she
wanted him just as badly as he wanted her and for the exact same things.
His partner flinched first.
Looking away, Granger tried to compose her temporarily shaken foundation,
hiding once more – as he did – behind a mask of cool detachment. "I'm done with
my list," she informed him, wrapping her arms around her middle.
Sitting back down on the mattress of the bed, Draco spread his long legs out in
front of him and leaned back on the heels of his palms, uncaring if she noticed
the sizable bulge in his slacks; wanting, in fact, for her to pay attention to
it. "Then I'm done with receiving my reward from you. Your turn," he offered,
wanting to find out what her requirement was. If he was lucky, maybe he'd get
to touch her.
She cleared her throat again, and her cheeks pinked. Whatever it was she had
received as a gift, obviously, she wasn't comfortable with it.
"Don't go yellow on me now, princess," he cajoled, knowing the insult would get
her back up. "What's the card say?"
She turned a venomous look at him, then brought her card up and read it aloud.
When she was done, she threw it down on the floor in disgust.
Draco nearly jumped up and crowed his good luck on the spot. He was going to
give her a massage. Fabulous! He toed off his shoes and motioned for her to hop
up onto the bed, patting the spot next to him. "Lay down here," he bid,
lowering his voice again and giving her a promising look.
Hermione's eyes strayed to his pants then, and he knew she'd finally spied his
very happy erection. She warily shook her head. "I'm not lying down next to
you."
"Then come sit on the bed," he tried instead. "I can't bloody well give you a
massage in that chair, with its back to the wall. There's no room."
With as much dignity as she could muster, Granger stood and made her way over
to the bed, sitting on the end again – at least a foot away. Apparently, she
wasn't going to make this easy on him. The woman could be so bloody obstinate
sometimes!
He crawled over to her position, intending upon crowding up behind her.
Catching on to the plan, his partner tried to rabbit for the door out of pure
instinct, but Draco's reflexes were faster, and so he snaked an arm about her
waist and kept her in place, positioning them so that his legs were spread wide
to either side of her body as she sat in the 'vee' between his thighs. He
snuggled in close, pressing her back against his chest, refusing to allow her
to move away. "Now, now, Granger, are you forfeiting the game already? It's
only a little massage." He pressed his lips to her exposed ear and lowered his
voice further, softening it, breathing hot against the lobe. "This is your
reward, after all. Enjoy it."
Shaking like an active Snitch between his fingers, his pretty little prey
swallowed with upset several times. "Y-you promise not to hurt me?" she asked.
"That you'll be gentle and not pervy?"
Draco inhaled her cardamom-rose-cinnamon scent, letting it suffuse into his
nose, roll across his tongue and onto the back of his palette. She always
smelled so good. He'd been purposefully putting himself near her in classes for
the last year just so he could sniff her perfume, although she'd had no clue.
"I can't hurt you. I can only give you pleasure," he sighed, feeling the knot
in his chest tighten a little more. "If anything I do feels bad, just tell me
and I'll stop. Deal?"
He could feel her quickened pulse against his chest, could practically hear the
internal debate in her head. To his amazement, she loosened up, forcing her
muscles to let go one by one. "Okay, just a simple massage on my shoulders."
Draco trailed his fingers up her arms, reveling in finally being able to touch
the golden skin that he'd been dreaming of caressing for so long. It was as
soft and warm as he'd always imagined. His skin was pale and slightly cool in
contrast to the light honey glow of her flesh. "Relax, Beautiful." He began
kneading the knots away with light, rolling pressure. "Close your eyes and
think of your favourite place to be in the whole world. It'll help you unwind."
He waited a few seconds, giving her a chance to envision the location he knew
she'd imagine. "Have you got the library firmly in mind yet?"
The object of his obsession gasped as he preempted her once more. She grumbled
something under her breath about bouncing ferrets, and Draco chuckled. "Too
easy, Granger." A thought occurred to him then. "Instead of the library, why
don't you try to envision a calming beach? One where you're all alone and you
can appreciate the sounds and smells around you without being disturbed by
teachers or other students. Just you and the white sand, and the blue water,
and the surf gently washing in and out…"
As he spent the next fifteen minutes describing the scene for her in vivid
detail – down to the gulls crying in the air, the feel of warmth beneath her
bare toes, how the salty spray tickled her nose, and the gentle breeze that
stirred her curls off her neck - he felt her melt into a state of relaxation
against him. He'd also willed the lighting in the room to dim, creating an
atmosphere of peace and tranquility.
"You're really very good at this," she murmured. "I haven't been able to relax
in, well, a long time."
"I know," he breathed into her ear, teasing it with his lips. "You're always so
tense, Granger. Earning your own way in the world is all fine and dandy, but it
deteriorates your health, too. You play too little and work too hard."
"I can't help it," she breathed a frustrated sigh. "There's always so much to
do, and it's hardwired into me to get it all done."
Draco's fingers increased their pressure to work her back down from the tension
she was once more evoking just thinking of such things. "Relax," he soothed
again. "Just forget the world outside for now. Lean back and enjoy this."
With a reluctant sigh, she surrendered herself to the massage as he'd
requested, leaning back against his chest in full surrender… which was
precisely what Draco had been waiting for. He slid his mouth over the curve of
her neck and shoulder, placing gentle kisses as he went. The card didsay that
this was allowed, and he intended on taking full advantage of that offer.
With a quick swipe, he licked at the sugary-salt of her skin. She was powdered
with honey dust – a delicious treat he hadn't expected, and which explained how
her skin sparkled under the light. His sweet tooth enjoyed the flavor very
much. Traversing a wet, playful path up to her pulse point, he gently nipped a
little harder over the spot, grabbing on with a light possessiveness intending
to evoke a response.
Granger didn't disappoint; she moaned low in her throat and the sound traveled
all the way down to his cock, jerking it wide awake once more, causing the
settled, deflated member to grow hard again in an instant. She would feel it
against her back this time, as there was no hiding his excitement from her,
seeing how they were so tightly embraced.
He groaned in response and increased the pressure of his teeth on her delicate
flesh. Against her throat, he began laving bold lines up and down with lazy,
cat-like licks, stopping briefly to nibble her earlobe or brush the hair off
the back of her neck. His mouth curled around, placing suckling, wet kisses at
the top of her spine and across the nape of her neck. When he got to the other
side, he repeated his seductive technique until Granger was squirming in his
arms.
Opening his eyes, he feasted on the sight below: the hard points of her nipples
strained the thin, silken fabric of her dress, proving her arousal was genuine.
With sly maneuvering, he unbuttoned her halter and slipped it from its catch.
Ever so slowly, he lowered the collar of her dress, continuing to kiss her
exposed skin.
As the silken fabric of her dress just barely covered her cleavage, Draco
stopped, not wanting to risk the card's wrath. The spells were very specific on
the deck: you couldn't do more than required, unless the other party wished it,
too, and then, they had to say it aloud. If he was to unveil and touch her
breasts, as he so desperately wanted, he'd need Granger's spoken permission,
and moans and grunts wouldn't cover it.
"Hermione?" he breathed her given name for the first time ever and she shivered
in response.
"Mmmm?" she hummed, caught up in his seduction, her fingernails kneading into
his thighs.
Her eyes were still closed, her lips slightly parted, her body molded against
his, and Draco felt his need for her burn through his very skin. He ran his
fingertips over her shoulders, following the delicate bones of her collar
towards the center of her chest. "I want to see you - just a little more. Will
you let me massage your beautiful breasts, too?"
The word 'breasts' he was sure had given him away, for he felt it when she
realized what was happening, and fully comprehended what he had asked. He knew
by the stiffening of her muscles that she was going to pull away then, and felt
a tremendous frustration and disappointment by the letdown.
So much for a sexy massage. She'd start screaming at him any minute now…
Her hands came up and held onto her liberated halter top, preventing the dress
from slipping down any further. "I think… that's enough for now," she said, her
confusion and mortification evident in her tone.
Draco put his hands up for her to see that he meant her no harm and would
release her without fuss. "As you wish," he offered, leaning back and letting
her go. They still had many rounds left before the game ended. Perhaps at some
point tonight or tomorrow she'd trust him enough to give him what he wanted
without a card enforcing her compliance.
Because, sure as Hell, he wanted Hermione Granger to give all of herself over
to him, and at her own free will – and not just her body, but her heart as
well. This whole thing was, after all, not just about indulging in a one-shot
chance of a lifetime, but creating something that would endure after the game
ended. He'd spent the last year coming up with the perfect opportunity to get
her alone for just this chance, settling on Erosthe moment he'd heard of it. He
could be patient a few more hours, at least, when such a grand reward awaited
him at the end of it… he hoped.
Chapter End Notes
     Here are their outfits:
     [https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/rzzmg/33309824/156997/
     156997_original.jpg] [https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/rzzmg/33309824/
     157186/157186_original.jpg]
***** 1B: Harry & Tracey *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry's unexpected, pleasant surprise.
Chapter Notes
     User flybynight088 recommended the song, "Making Memories of Us" by
     Keith Urban for Harry & Tracey this go around, and I thought it a
     perfect complement to Harry's thoughts here. So, this chapter is
     dedicated to flybynight088 - congratulations!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                        
                                 HARRY & TRACEY
 
===============================================================================
 
Harry politely opened the door for Tracey into their private room, scooting in
behind her to close the door with a gentle push of the lock. The room was
decked out exactly as the others: white furniture, walls and flooring, ceiling
lights, and fully capable of being altered in a moment by either party should
they ask the Room of Requirement to do so.
Tracey looked about, blushing. "Wow, it's…really...white."
Harry considered it and nodded. "I'll fix it if you'll let me?"
They glanced at each other and she nodded, looking shyly down at the floor
almost immediately.
With a thoughtful request, the room altered. The white shag carpet became a
plush dark green, the walls a very light grey, and the furniture blended to
match. He also requested a fireplace against the back wall instead of a bed and
set a magical flame to it. The final piece was a comfy, fabric two-seater sofa
in front of the fire that was black, designed so they could get to know each
other better. He'd tried for Slytherin colors, hoping to put her more at ease.
He lowered the light in the room so that it was a more intimate atmosphere.
"Better?"
His partner looked about with a smile and relaxed visibly. "Much, thank you."
He indicated with a polite arm that she should sit on the couch ahead of him,
choosing her seat as she wished, as was proper for a man to do. He then took
his place beside her. "You drew first," he reminded her lightly, trying to keep
things as stress-free as possible between them, given the awkward situation.
"But, before we begin, maybe we should introduce ourselves properly?" He smiled
at her gently. "I mean, I know you from around classes, but we've never
actually spoken, I believe."
Davis hesitantly held out a hand to shake, her pretty lips turning up into an
honest smile. "Tracey Marie Davis."
Harry smiled brightly and shook her small, dainty hand. "Harry James Potter."
They let go immediately at the same time and looked away, apparently both
bashful about such things.
"So, um… would you like to read your card first?" he offered again.
Tracey blushed. "Oh, yes, of course."
She held it up and read it aloud:
DEED: Your partner must give you a sensual foot and leg massage with a nice
scented oil of your choice.
He almost adjusted his non-existent glasses again, reminded himself with a
mental slap to knock it off, and instead scratched the side of his face. "Well,
as Deeds go – and I don't know about you, but I did get a chance to read all of
my Housemates cards in advance – that one is rather pleasant to start off, I
think," he chirped, trying to make it easier on both of them.
The pretty blonde girl nodded. "Yes, I think we could both enjoy this."
They sat for another minute, neither moving. Behind Harry's chest, his heart
started beating a little faster.
"Right, so, what oil scent do you want to try?" he asked, unbuttoning the cuffs
of his shirt, rolling up the sleeves and kneeling down by her side, waiting.
She considered it, biting her lip. "Um… honestly? I've never done this before –
get a massage, I mean - so I wouldn't know," she admitted. "You choose."
Harry's eyebrows lowered in confusion. Had no one ever given her a massage
before? Tragic! It had been one of his favorite things to do with Marietta
Edgecombe while they'd been dating. "Well, you're in for a treat, then," he
explained, cracking his knuckles and twirling his wrists to stretch them out.
"I happen to be a massage expert." He glanced up at her through his dark
lashes. "Do you like the smell of peppermint? It has a refreshing, cooling
effect for the feet and legs."
Tracey nodded without a second's thought. "Sounds nice. I'll trust you, Harry."
His stomach flipped at her words and at the sincere look of faith in her hazel-
colored eyes. Merlin, she was really pretty, wasn't she? "Okay," he stuttered,
then summoned a bottle of peppermint oil into his hands. Indicating her dress,
he nodded at her. "May I?"
She acquiesced easily, and Harry respectfully lifted the hem to above her
knees… and nearly got blown away with the exquisite beauty of her bared calves,
ankles and feet. Secretly, Harry had a thing for touching a girl here, finding
these spots sensually erotic on a woman. With delicate care, he removed her
strapping sandal heels from her feet one at a time. Her toenails, he noted,
were very well cared for and she'd given herself a pedicure with matching
purple nail polish before coming to tonight's game.
A girl who cared for her feet was such a total turn-on for him.
Glancing up at her, he indicated that she should lie back into the cushions of
the sofa and enjoy what he was about to do. Following instructions, she watched
him not out of suspicion, but out of genuine curiosity about the process of a
foot massage.
With another silent thought, Harry conjured a towel to lay over his lap and
piped in some soothing Enya to play in the background, thinking of his favorite
artist's 'Watermark' CD, feeling awkward with the silence that would, he knew,
ensue as soon as he started rubbing her feet. Tracey seemed surprised by the
music and tensed up.
"Relax," he soothed her. "Just a bit of Muggle music to make the atmosphere
peaceful, so you can enjoy."
"Oh," Tracey replied and immediately did as he bade.
Rubbing the oil between his palms and then rubbing them together to heat them
up, Harry began smoothing the slick fluid over her foot, inhaling the sharp
minty bouquet on the air with a sigh of contentment. Peppermint had a nice odor
on both the breath and the body. Applying the proper pressure to the bottom of
her right foot, he moved his thumbs over the top, smoothing the muscles there
first. Moving with tender attention, he then rubbed the pad at the base of her
toes, where he was sure there was pain from the height of her heels. Tracey
inhaled and then exhaled deeply in pleasure, and her muscles just seemed to let
go at that point as she fluidly melted into the furniture.
"Good?" he asked, continuing on down to the arch of her foot, applying just the
proper pressure as he rubbed in outwardly-curving circles with his thumbs.
She nodded. "Oh, yes," she harmonized in sincere enjoyment, and as he moved to
her heel, rubbing it in a circular motion, she moaned and leaned back into the
couch, closing her eyes fully, willing herself into his capable hands. "That
feels wonderful."
Warmth suffused his chest at her words and the expression upon her features.
He hadn't felt such a thing for another person since Ginny. It was a queer,
nervous feeling he was experiencing just then, but at the same time, it filled
him with hopeful anticipation. Perhaps this game was going to present him with
an opportunity here…
"Good," he whispered, then continued, working on her individual toes next, then
her ankle, then calf. As he moved the towel to his shoulder and rested her leg
on it, so he could get to the back of her knee, her dress accidentally moved,
giving him a glimpse of her soft, rounded thighs. Her legs were strong – not a
runner's musculature, but definitely indicative of some sort of athletic
activity aside from climbing the stairs of Hogwarts. "Are you a dancer?" he
chanced a guess.
Tracey's eyes flew open. "How did you know?"
He continued to massage her knee. "Your build. You're tall, thin and have great
legs."
He blushed at his own candidness, but thankfully his partner did not reply.
Concentrating on continuing the massage, he moved back down her calf, reversing
his path from earlier, assuring he'd gotten every last knot out before letting
her go. When he'd finished with the right leg, he took up its twin and repeated
the process, not speaking, letting Tracey enjoy the experience, absorbing
himself in the act as well.
She had absolutely gorgeous legs and feet, and he was so turned on by the
touching and the occasional peeking at her thighs that by the time he'd gotten
up to Davis' knee, his sack was beginning to ache from the tightness of his
pants. He chanced a look back up at her, hoping she hadn't noticed.
Head lolling back against the cushions, eyes closed and a small smile gracing
her lips... she'd fallen asleep!
The old ego taking a nice stroll around the room at the thought that he'd
relaxed his partner so thoroughly that she'd sacked out, Harry took that stolen
moment to really look at this girl more closely. She was really quite a beauty.
Why hadn't he noticed her before?
Well, that wasn't quite fair. He knew the reasons: over the last four years,
he'd had a crush on 'Mione, then Cho, then Marietta, then 'Mione again, then
Ginny, and finally Julie Parkes, whom he'd broken up with a little over a month
ago after a two week fling that meant nothing but a good shag opportunity for
both of them. Besides, Tracey was a Slytherin – a House he'd vowed never to
date anyone from, simply on principle alone. Had he missed his chance with this
girl as a result of such prejudice?
He was getting way ahead of himself. He didn't even know her yet! Yeah, she was
pretty, and apparently liked the color purple, and she was shy and somewhat
trusting, but that wasn't enough for him to really know if he wanted to make a
play for her. He had to get to know her better. He hoped they didn't get any
really kinky sex stuff before he felt comfortable with the idea tonight.
Performance anxiety was a killer for a boner.
He'd finished up her left foot by then, and put both legs back on the floor,
glancing up. She was still asleep. Placing the towel on the floor and sitting
up on the sofa next to her, leaning back on the couch, he took her hand gently
in his. "Tracey," he murmured, trying to wake her without scaring her. "Tracey,
wake up." She sighed but didn't awaken, merely shifted so that her head moved
to his shoulder and leaned upon it. In another second, she had snuggled up to
him.
Harry was caught off guard, unsure as to what to do. He looked down at the
girl-woman in his arms and tried waking her again. She merely burrowed her nose
into his chest.
So trusting, he thought again, feeling that warmth in his chest expand. It was
adorable… but for the sake of the game, they had to do his card before time ran
out or else he would accidentally forfeit and they'd both be knocked out. It
was too early for such a thing. Besides, he was kind of enjoying their time
together and the idea of performing his card now was rather interesting to him.
"Tracey, wake up," he jarred her lightly. "Come on. You have to get up now,
pretty girl."
She stirred and looked up at him, sleepy, multi-colored eyes so honest and
sincere. Their gazes locked. "Harry?"
His heart gave a painful leap in that moment, squeezing tightly. Oh,
man…Swallowing back the tide of irrational feeling that flooded his senses
(especially between his legs), he righted Tracey, helping her come fully awake.
"If I don't perform my card, I'll be knocked out of the game," he reminded her.
"There isn't a lot of time left. I've lost about ten minutes already."
"Card?" she asked, and then dawning realization alighted her features and she
sat up abruptly. "Oh, your card! The game! I'm so sorry for falling asleep like
that! It's just that N.E.W.T.s were so exhausting last week, and I never really
recovered fully from all of the parties they've been throwing in the dorms and
all. And the massage was so wonderful..." She looked down, realized that her
knees were still exposed, and righted her dress immediately, blushing again.
"So, your card. Yes, right. We need to act it out."
Harry noted that her hands were trembling slightly, and he put one of his over
the both of hers in her lap. "Don't worry. It's really a harmless one." He read
it for her:
DEED: Your partner must dance with you – however you want.
"Oh!" Tracey brightened, her smile finding its way back home. "Well, that
sounds lovely!"
He stood and held a hand out to her. "Rather fortunate that you're a dancer,"
he joked as she slid her warm, small hand into his and helped her to her feet.
"Because I'm awful at it. You lead."
She laughed and it was an enchanting sound. "I'm barefoot," she reminded him.
"What if you step on my feet?"
"Hmmm…" he considered the problem, and promptly hopped her up onto the tops of
his shoes, wrapping one arm about her waist and the other taking her hand, as
he had learned for the Yule Ball years before. Snuggled in close to him, her
body pressing against his, they were almost of an equal height, he slightly
taller still. "I guess I'll have to do my best to guide us then. Just don't
laugh."
He thought of some songs he wouldn't mind dancing to with her like this and
came up with a couple of his favorites. The first one piped into the room to
the soft jazzy accompaniment of a piano, a muted trumpet, and a soft cymbal,
performed by one of his favorite Muggle singers.
Unforgettable… that's what you are.
Unforgettable… though near or far.
Like a song of love that clings to me,
How the thought of you does things to me.
Never before has someone been more…
Unforgettable… in every way.
And forever more… that's how you'll stay.
That's why darling it's incredible,
That someone so unforgettable,
Thinks that I am unforgettable, too.
"I know this song," she admitted. "It's one of my mother's favorites. She's a
Muggle-born witch, you know. She used to dance with my father to that song in
our living room when I was younger."
"Nat King Cole is one of my favorites, too," he admitted softly, staring into
her charming eyes as he sashayed them back and forth. "I used to hear my Aunt
Petunia sneak these songs on the player when she thought no one was home to
hear. I've always imagined my parents dancing to this song. Funny, huh?"
She nodded once. "Funny."
"It's not my favorite song from him though. This one is." He thought of the
song he wanted as soon as the last notes of "Unforgettable" faded away, and
then the fully orchestrated version of "When I Fall In Love" filled the room.
When I fall in love,
It will be forever,
Or I'll never fall in love.
In a restless world like this is
Love is ended before it's begun.
And too many moonlight kisses
Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun.
When I give my heart,
It'll be completely,
Or I'll never give my heart.
And the moment I can feel that
You feel that way, too…
Is when I'll fall in love with you.
Behind his chest, his heart thumped wildly, and for a moment, he felt himself
falling, too… directly into Tracey Davis' honest, green-blue-brown combination
eyes.
Oh, man… Not good!
She was on the other team! She was supposed to be his rival for this game…
Thankfully, a light chiming sound rang out in the air, telling them that their
time was up (a Malfoy idea when they'd been setting up the Room of Requirement
earlier; it was timed to count out exactly fifty minutes from the moment a
couple entered a private room).
"Time to go," he stated, reluctantly releasing her.
"Yeah," she agreed, seemingly just as loath to end the dance.
Lowering her eyes, she climbed off his feet. The loss of her warmth from his
person was enough to make him shiver. He swallowed and turned away, trying to
compose his rioting emotions as she bent to replace her heels, politely
allowing her to support and balance herself with one hand on his arm.
Moving to the door side by side, he reacted on gut instinct and stopped her
from reaching for the knob. "Listen, Tracey," he tried for honest. "No matter
what else tonight brings, I want you to know that I liked this. Just this, what
we did here this first round. It was… perfect."
Rosy-cheeked, she looked over at him and nodded. "Yes, it was a… perfect first
date, I suppose you could say," she smiled tremulously.
Stepping into her, he reached up and smoothed a loose blonde hair off her
forehead, tucking it back behind her ear. "I'll try… not to hurt you," he
promised her. "No matter what my card says, I won't… do anything you don't
want. You set the tone and pace."
She looked at him a minute more, and then slowly leaned forward and kissed him
gently on the cheek. It was butterfly soft and made fireworks go off in his
chest. "Thank you," she accepted graciously, then smiled playfully. "I just
realized something. This is the first time I've been escorted to the door by a
date." With a sigh of happiness, she turned the knob and stepped away.
Harry's heart flipped over in his chest, and he knew right there that he was in
serious trouble.
Chapter End Notes
     Here's their outfits:
     [https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/rzzmg/33309824/159179/
     159179_original.jpg] [https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/rzzmg/33309824/
     158732/158732_original.jpg]
***** 1C: Ron & Pansy *****
Chapter Summary
     Perhaps there was something to Ron's answer to the first question
     after all...
Chapter Notes
     User El-El-El recommended the song, "Crashed" by Daughtry for Ron &
     Pansy this go around, and I thought it a perfect complement to Ron's
     thoughts here. So, this chapter is dedicated to El-El-El -
     congratulations!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                        
                                  RON & PANSY
                                        
===============================================================================
                                        
As soon as they entered the room, Pansy scoffed. "Oh, hell no," she stated
rather emphatically and with a thought, changed the entire room. Gone was the
square bed. In its place, a simple rug lay on the floor. No pillows, no
comfort. "No one will be enjoying this," she told him rather flatly.
Gritting his jaw at her imperious tone of voice and her grating attitude, Ron
narrowed his eyes. "Fine by me, baby doll. It's not like I wanted any of this
anyway."
"Forfeit then," she challenged with a malicious smirk.
"You forfeit!" he countered back, clenching his fists at his side, reminding
himself how much bigger he was than her, and that if he smacked her on the
snoot—as he was aching to do—he would hurt her. Ron didn't like hurting girls.
It was his number one rule: no hitting a girl, ever. He'd never done it, even
in Quidditch (it's why he'd picked the position of Keeper – because the contact
with other players was limited physically, and the majority of his time was
spent on blocking Quaffles lobbed at the goals or Bludgers aimed at his head).
"Never!" Parkinson hissed at him, her fists equally clenched. "You'd just love
to see me quit, I'm sure, but you can choke on it, Weasley. I will never give
in to the likes of someone like you!"
Smirking, Ron stepped closer. "We'll see about that." He flipped his card up
and taunted her by not showing her the Deed on the other side, letting her
imagination run wild. "So, shall we get to it? We haven't got all night, you
know."
Fuming mad, Pansy stomped over to the little scrap of fabric she'd put on the
floor and crossed her arms. "I drew first, but I'd rather not touch you yet.
Have to work my way up. You go."
"Why? So you can get the last laugh on me? Forget it, Parkinson. You go first,"
he challenged.
Smirking just as viciously at him as he had at her, she read off her card:
DEED: You get to go down on your partner. Have fun!
Ron blanched. She was going to bite his dick off. That shark-like grin with
those little, sharp teeth promised it.
OH, FUCKING HELL!
Unless… He looked across at Slytherin's Bitch Queen and was inspired. If he
didn't make his card unpleasant for her, perhaps she'd be less inclined to make
her card unpleasant for him. Besides, he thought, as he read his card again,
maybe he could even knock her off her pedestal as 'Mione had suggested earlier
this week…
"Parkinson? Perfect. I'd love to see her squirm for one of you, too. How
galling would it be to her pride for any one of you three to touch her
'precious pureblood limbs,' much less make her squirm under your mouths and
hands?"
Yeah, good plan, that. He could really work her up with his card, pretend it
wasn't so bad and he liked it even. Maybe charm her in the doing. Then, she'd
be more willing to go easy on him. Or maybe even run off scared (despite her
vow of two seconds ago not to be outdone by him).
It was a workable plan. A potentially fun plan. A very Slytherin-like plan.
HA! He'd use Parkinson's own way of playing against her. He'd beat her using
her own tactics!
"Forget it. I'll go first," he insisted, and read his card aloud to her:
DEED: Lick the beverage or food of your choice off your partner's body.
As he'd expected, his partner balked, but after a minute of letting her pace
back and forth, swearing, he finally put his foot down. "Either forfeit or take
the dress off," he said in the evenest voice he could muster. "It's too pretty
to ruin."
She stopped on a dime and looked up at him like he'd gone daft.
"Or, I could just get chocolate sauce all over it," he offered instead. "If you
don't mind, that is."
Snarling, she reached around and pulled down the zipper of her dress. It was an
awfully loud, rather ominous sound in the quiet, bare room, and sweat broke out
on his upper lip unexpectedly. With a shrug of her shoulders, the straps fell
and then the dress was pooling at her feet.
Circe's holy tits!
Her strapless bra and lacy black panties with the garters that attached to
lacy, sheer black thigh-highs covered her so that no hint of nipple or bush was
visible, but the rest of her mouth-watering body was fully exposed to his gaze,
and for the first time, Ron had an opportunity to see what really had lain
under Parkinson's robes. Large C-cup breasts, a long torso that was peachy-
golden, flat tummy with a tiny bump at the bottom to give it a nice rounding
out, hips that were wide enough to want to grab onto as you thrust away, and
long, toned legs. He even thought her belly button pretty.
"Take a picture, you lecher," she scowled. "It'll last longer." With that, she
lay down on the floor, resigned, staring up at the ceiling with jaw tightly
snapped shut.
If she wasn't such a shrew, he might actually think Pansy Parkinson quite a
beauty. Too bad she was a raving harpy with a foul mouth, though.
Removing his jacket and summoning a chair to lay it over (he wasn't going to
throw it on the floor, carpet or no carpet), he then thought up what single
food item he'd most like to lick off that smooth, untouchable skin of hers. The
perfect idea came to him, and into his hand popped a bowl of fluffy dairy
product – his favourite. Parkinson snorted.
"Original, Weasley," she snidely commented. "Really original. Whipping cream."
Scooping up some with two fingers, he put it to her lips and smirked. "Not just
any whipping cream, sweet cakes." He smeared it all over her darkly-tinted
mouth. "Strawberry heavy whipping cream." She sputtered in reaction, and as
soon as her lips parted, he thrust a finger in. "Try some."
She bit him and growled, but not hard enough to hurt, just to warn him off. A
half-second later, her eyes widened and she let him go. He removed his fingers
and licked his lips, knowing she'd had a taste of the lightly sweet, fruity
cream.
As if cued by his action, she mimicked him, and swept the cream off her mouth
with a flick of her pink tongue, then hummed in surprise. "Not bad, I suppose,"
she grudgingly approved. "At least it won't be too sticky."
Suddenly realizing how much fun this actually could be, Ron dipped his fingers
back into the bowl and, scooping up a goodly amount of the dessert
accompaniment, began smearing it across her belly button. Slytherin's Queen
jumped and gasped, then clenched her teeth, trying to pretend disinterest.
Oh, he was going to wipe that indifference away, all right. He was going to
make her squirm like a worm on a hook, just as 'Mione had predicted.
Putting the bowl at his side, he leaned over and began lapping the cream off of
her body. Within three small strokes of his tongue, he had to reach for more to
replenish what he'd taken, and her body shuddered, tightening up. Goosebumps
prickled her skin all over now. He took his time licking the second batch off,
and then the third, which he smeared up her belly and sternum to the point
where the bra cut him off.
His neck was starting to hurt because of the angle. Straddling her body
instead, looming over her, he licked and sucked the cream off that tasty,
quivering skin of hers. When he looked up, he threw her a seductive smirk.
"Yum," he said in a deep rumble and made a show of licking his lips again.
For her part, Pansy was trying not to look affected, but a blush was staining
both cheeks and up her throat now, and her dark eyes were a little too wide.
Her breathing had also picked up some. He thought, looking down on her, that
she was rather lovely this way. Pushing her boundaries was definitely turning
out to be a lot more enjoyable than he'd expected.
Smearing cream across her collar, breastbone, and throat, he slowly laved and
sucked his way up her skin. She turned her head when he got too close to her
lips. "Thanks," he cheerfully offered. "Better access."
Closing her eyes, Parkinson was clearly trying to pretend that this whole
humiliating thing was just going to go away. Oh, no, you little snake, he
thought, I plan to lick strawberry off your 'strawberry creams'...and there's
still your card to do after this. We're not done by a long-shot, baby doll.
He daubed more over her pulse point and nibbled, and finally got a reaction
worth remembering: she gasped, and then bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut.
"Feel good?" he whispered in her ear with a sinful snicker.
"Hardly. I'm trying not to vomit all over myself," she snapped back, her tone
bitter.
"Hmmm…really?" he asked, licking again, "because you taste kicking delicious to
me."
She growled again.
Merlin, that was a cute sound!
"Pervert!" she snarled.
Ron chuckled, smearing cream over her cheek and jaw, sucking and licking his
way closer to her mouth. She tried very hard to refuse him, but this was his
card, and he wasn't going to let her deny him anything he wanted. Cupping her
jaw and turning her head, he had to remind her again that she had to submit or
forfeit – which earned him the blackest, most hateful look he'd ever received.
"If you dare put your mouth over mine–" she began, but he cut her off by
covering her lips with sugary goodness. Staring her in the eye, he leaned in
for the kill. Parkinson actually whimpered, her expression changing from one of
hatred to fear in an instant. "Don't!"
"You're going to suck my cock in less than fifteen minutes and you're worried
about a kiss?" he asked, a bit incredulous. It was only a kiss. What was the
big deal?
Her face flushed, turned white, and then the anger was back. "I hate you,
Ronald Weasley," she spat.
Licking his lips, he grinned. "Back at you, Parkinson," he mocked. "Not too
novel a sentiment on your side, though. Heard it before – a million times, in
fact. Can't come up with another way to say you loathe my guts, hmmm?"
He moved off then, not removing the cream from her mouth, scooting back down
her body and pulling her bra down with a yank to both sides. She hissed in
astonishment and threw her hands over her exposed breasts to cover up. "Nuh-uh,
baby doll. Anywhere I want to lick, I get to. Card says so," he cruelly
reminded her, taking delight from her discomfort. "Since you're going down on
me in a few, I figured it might be fun to sample you as well."
Gently, he pried her hands off her chest and took a good, long look. Bloody
hell, her tits were beautiful, too! Dark purple areolas, perfectly shaped, big
nipples. They were breasts made for snacking.
He smeared cream all over them and dipped his head downwards. When his lips
came into contact with a taut bud, he twined his tongue around it, bringing it
to full prominence. Parkinson cried out, but stifled the pleasure-filled gasp
with the back of her hand. She covered her mouth to keep her reactions as quiet
as possible, trying to deny that what he was doing to her was actually
enjoyable.
He licked, circled, and flicked her nipples one at a time, making them hard,
excited points, and when that wasn't enough for him, he wrapped his lips around
each one and sucked – hard. Beneath him, his partner shuddered, squirmed, and
moaned with arousal. The sound shot straight into his pants, making his prick
as solid as an iron bar and causing his bollocks to tighten with need. He
reacted by sucking harder and gripping a nipple between his teeth, gently
tugging on it as he pulled back.
Another series of deep moans were dragged from his partner's throat as he
dipped to the other nipple for an instant replay, and her hands were suddenly
gripping the sides of his thighs, her sharp, painted fingernails digging into
him. Her back arched, thrusting her breasts forward, giving him permission to
keep going.
Man, this was seriously turning him on! Like, to the point where he wanted to
shag Parkinson until she got rug burns on that pretty arse of hers, not caring
that they couldn't stand each other. It was time to take back a bit of control
over the situation before he lost his mind and became the seduced, rather than
the seducer.
Trailing cream up her throat, he followed the path with his tongue and lips.
"Are you sure you don't want me to kiss you?" he teased as he hovered over the
shell of her ear. "Or maybe… you want me to put my lips somewhere else?" His
fingers trailed down her hip to the crease of her knickers as he sucked on her
throat. "What do you think, Parkinson? Shall I make you come before you make
me?"
"You're a Gryffindor," she accused him, her whole body shaking with fury and
unwanted desire, her nails digging harder into his thighs. "You're not supposed
to be this cruel."
He snickered. "I take that as a 'yes,' then."
With that, he slipped down her body, tonguing her as he went, careful to put
cream in his path so he wouldn't violate the card's requirements. When he got
to her knickers, he released the garters and slipped the whole set down her
hips. Parkinson wasn't going to make it easy for him, though. She refused to
lift her bum, so he had to pull her knicks down harder than he'd wanted,
stripping them from her ankles after a bit of a wrestle, leaving her stockings
and heels in place as he spread her thighs apart.
Merlin's balls, was there any place on Pansy Parkinson that wasn't physical
perfection?
Dark, neatly trimmed curls were damp with her arousal, and she had a tiny
beauty mole on her left front hip that just begged for kissing. He dragged the
bowl of whipped delight closer to him and dipped his fingers in. Slowly and
with a light touch, he brought them between her lower lips, separating the
flesh, coating it with sugary goodness.
Slytherin's Queen cried out and released him to bite the back of her hand
again, but she made no other protest.
If she really hated this, why didn't she just quit? "Will you forfeit?" he
asked softly, running his cream-coated fingernails over her clit. "I'll stop
now if you want. Just say it."
She glanced down her body at him, her chest heaving up and down in quick
succession, and slowly bent her knees, opening herself up to him. "If you stop
now, Weasley, I'll bite your dick off for sure when it's my turn, and to hell
with the rules," she promised him.
He tore his gaze from her pussy and looked up into her face…and finally saw
what she'd been holding back: lust for him, heady and strong in her sparkling,
dark eyes. Pansy Parkinson wanted him.
His brain switched off, and the game suddenly didn't matter anymore. Damn the
consequences, he really wanted her back.
Dropping his gaze to focus on her pleasure, he teased the entrance to her quim,
rubbing cream all over it and the soft, fleshy lips surrounding it, and used
his free hand to encourage her to drop her knees to the sides so she would be
wide open for him. She complied without resistance.
He nearly lost his sanity then as he stared straight into the heart of the
perfect pussy: swollen lips, a button-shaped, engorged clit, dark rosy skin,
and a glistening core.
All for him.
A slave to his own lust now, Ron pressed forward, letting his mouth have at her
for the first time. He swiped up the middle with a tongue thick with saliva and
pressed a deep, thorough kiss to her centre. "Bloody hell," he swore as he
pulled back, licking his lips to capture the salty-lemony-strawberry essence
that glossed them. "Shite, you taste so good," he murmured, liking the flavour.
He licked her again, pressing his nose into her and inhaling at the same time.
"Fuuuuck. That's… oh, man. So good." Throwing her calves over his shoulders, he
lifted her hips off the floor, angling his face closer. "Want more," he growled
and set his mouth to the task of devouring her.
Pansy absolutely wailed in pleasure as he latched onto her clit and gave it a
good draw. She thrust her pelvis at him in a rocking motion, rubbing her pussy
all over his chin and lips. "Yes! Don't stop! Oh, gods, don't you dare stop!"
she begged.
Her legs tightened around his neck and she bucked against him with strength,
nearly squeezing him to death between her thighs. Ron didn't mind in the least,
though; it was actually a serious turn-on for him knowing he could so
completely unhinge the Ice Queen of the Hogwarts Dungeon. He continued his
ruthless exploration as she quivered all around him, lapping over every inch of
her cunnie, sucking her tender flesh into his mouth, and thrusting his tongue
deep into her channel.
Gods, she tasted of perfection as well. And her scent…
Her fingernails scrabbled across the carpet, seeking purchase as he tilted her
world upside down and within moments, he made her come so hard that she
actually screamed to the ceiling and arched her back until her hips locked
straight out. He drank her warm, shuddering orgasm up, muffling his moans into
her flesh as he swallowed her delicious essence.
"Let me… at you!" she pleaded, reaching for him as her orgasm released her and
she relaxed at last in his grip again. "Damn you, Weasley, I want you! Let me
down!"
He raised his head from his feast and lowered her bottom to the floor,
scrabbling up her body until only inches separated their mouths. They stared at
each other, fast breaths mingling, hearts pounding in a compatible rhythm,
dawning realization taking them both away in that moment.
In a flash, she was on him, thrusting her fingers into his hair and pulling him
down on top of her, claiming his lips for their first kiss. It was as wild and
out of control as they were in that moment, as they equally moaned and gasped
around pulls of skin, reveling in the madness of their lust.
Wrapping her legs around his waist, and with a strength he didn't think she
had, Pansy rolled them to her left and suddenly Ron was underneath her.
"Your turn," she panted.
Flipping around so that her quim was back in his face, she unbuttoned and
unzipped his trousers, freeing his aching, hard cock from his pants and taking
him up in a tight, feminine fist. Fuck, her grip felt good! Watching between
their bodies, he caught the whole show as she lowered her mouth onto him,
stretching her darkly-rouged lips around his head and sinking low, taking him
down her throat in one glorious motion.
Ron lost the last of his marbles at that. He reached for the bowl of cream,
smeared it all over her exposed skin, grabbed onto her hips, and lowered her
onto his face once more.
They moved in perfect tandem, and Merlin, the witch knew what to do! Parkinson
gave him the best blow of his life, her mouth plummeting down to the hilt with
each quick downward stroke, creating hard suction that bordered just this side
of pain with each upstroke, just as Ron liked. He wasn't a big man, he knew,
but he was a decently sized bloke at six inches. Still, she took the whole
length of him into the moist cavern of her mouth, licking and sucking at his
prick like he was some kind of Honeyduke's lolly. And every time she moaned, it
vibrated straight up his shaft, making his sac clench.
For his part, Ron gave as good as he got, utilizing every trick in the book,
even running the tip of his tongue over her clit, signing out his name as if to
prove to himself that he'd possessed at least this much of her.
Very quickly, they were both on the edge, ready to explode together.
"Parkinson, I'm gonna come!" he warned her. "Pull off if you don't want–"
She sank down low on him again and tickled his base with the bottom of her
tongue as she pulled back up. That did it. His knees folded up of their own
accord, his back arched off the floor and he roared his pleasure as he
released. Pansy took down every drop of him, swallowing convulsively, moaning
right along with him. Clearly, she liked his taste, too.
Panting as he released the last of his spurting seed into her warm, wet cavity,
he belatedly realized she hadn't found her own fulfillment yet. That just
didn't seem quite right to him, especially given what she'd just done to him,
so pressing his tongue into her entrance, he fucked her with it again, and
played with her clit with his fingers. With a few swipes, he had her moaning,
squirming, and tightening up on him as before. "Come on, baby doll," he
mumbled, coaxing her, wanting fervently to pleasure her a second time. "Give
yourself to me."
Apparently, that was the magic phrase, because Pansy climaxed again, shouting
and bowing her back like a cat in heat. Her blissful cry was loud and she was
completely uninhibited in that moment… and Ron found that he really dug that.
He held her hips still as he greedily drank her up, and when she was finally
done convulsing, he placed kisses over her soaked lips, her inflamed clit, and
her sopping entrance before letting her go.
As soon as his hands released her, Pansy crawled off of him and to the side,
turned away from him. She rolled up into a little ball and started crying.
The sound of her sincere anguish slashed at Ron's heart. What had happened?
What had gone wrong? That just shared a mind-blowing experience. They'd both
orgasmed really hard and enjoyed it, right? So, what was up with the boo-
hooing?
Staring over at his partner's curved, naked spine, sanity returned, bringing
with it sickening dread. This was Pansy Parkinson, one of his bitterest rivals,
and she'd just allowed him to make her climax twice – she'd begged for it, in
fact. And she'd sucked him off and swallowed his come, too, gulping him down
with an eagerness that matched his. Fuck, but they'd completely lost their
fecking minds there for a few minutes, becoming animals, pawing and biting at
each other in desperation! She was probably feeling really embarrassed and very
vulnerable right about then as a result. He knew he the hell was!
Sitting up, Ron tucked his tired, flaccid member back into his pants and zipped
up his trousers, crawling over to the weeping witch's side, unsure as to what
to do now. She had her arms wrapped about her middle, her lids were squeezed
tightly shut, and she was sobbing as hard as she had been the morning he'd run
into her in the hallway on his way to Transfiguration. He thought she looked
very small and defeated.
A wave of shame swept over him, killing the satisfied buzz he'd had going after
coming.
Shite, he'd hurt her. Not physically, but in a much more powerful, terrible
manner: he'd toyed with her emotions by using sex as a weapon. Although it had
been his intention to teach her a lesson tonight in just such a manner, seeing
her like this now… well, it hurt him, too. Facing the consequences of his
revenge, Ron knew in that instant that he'd done the wrong thing. A queer need
to take responsibility, to comfort the crying woman erupted in his conscience
and forced him to act.
Taking a risk, he snuggled up behind Pansy in a spooning position on the floor,
and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her slight form against him to both
comfort and provide warmth. She didn't resist but simply cried harder. "I'm
sorry that I hurt you," he whispered in her ear, his voice catching slightly as
he felt remorse weigh heavily upon his chest. "Merlin, I don't understand any
of what just happened, Parkinson, but… gods, you're so fucking beautiful, every
bit of you. Did you know?" He pressed a chaste kiss to her throat. "I know you
hate me, but… fuck, I loved what we just did! You were abso-bloody-lutely
wonderful. I've never come so hard in my life. That was the best I've ever
felt. I… I thought you liked it, too. I'm sorry if you didn't."
He held her in silence after that as her crying eventually tapered off.
Finally, lying limp in his arms, she sniffed away the last of her sorrow.
"The best? Really?" she asked in a tentative whisper. "Are you lying?"
Ron huffed. "Hell, woman, I could die happy after that. You taste like the
sweetest dessert I've ever had and you suck cock better than any fantasy I
could dream up. What wasn't there to love about it?"
Parkinson chuckled. "You want to know something funny, Weasley? I've never come
so hard in my life either. And twice! I've never done that. I'd be lucky to get
it once most of the time."
His ego gave a rousing cheer in his head. At least he'd done something right.
Parkinson turned in his arms and poked him in the chest, giving him an arch
look. "But you're not allowed to tell a soul I said that, or I'll hex off your
brass ones."
He lifted his hands from around her waist and put them up between them as if to
ward off potential evil. "Yes, ma'am," he automatically replied, having been
taught from a young age not to argue with an authoritative woman, if possible.
After that, they lay on the floor, not touching anymore, just looking at each
other, measuring up the other's intentions, considering future options.
Would he want to repeat what they'd just done? Hell, yes! If the oral stuff was
that good, what would the fucking be like?
The irony of that thought struck him when the chime rang to tell them their
time was over and they got up to dress. As he helped her look presentable once
more, even going so far as to helping her re-zip her dress and assuring the
front chains of the costume hung properly, he realized that his earlier answer
to the Interrogationscard from the first round had been the truth: he hadliked
going down on his partner.
No, not just 'liked'. He'd loved it.
Now, wasn't that the hell of it?
Chapter End Notes
     Here's their outfits:
     [https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/rzzmg/33309824/160192/
     160192_original.jpg] [https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/rzzmg/33309824/
     159854/159854_original.jpg]
***** 1D: Theodore & Daphne *****
Chapter Summary
     Theo meets his kink-perfect match.
Chapter Notes
     User gingerhairedgirl567 recommended the song, "So I Need You" by 3
     Doors Down for Theo & Daphne this go around, and I thought it a
     perfect complement to Theo's thoughts here. So, this chapter is
     dedicated to gingerhairedgirl567 - congratulations!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                        
                                 THEO & DAPHNE
                                        
===============================================================================
                                        
Theo immediately kicked his shoes off as soon as he'd entered his private suite
behind Daphne, and hopped into the middle of the bed, testing out its
springiness. Ah, just the right amount – not too firm, not too soft. Just like
he liked his women. He could live with the colour; it didn't really matter to
him.
"So," he looked at her slyly from under his lashes, giving her the look he knew
made women melt. "You get to go first, since you drew your card before me." He
grinned with anticipation. "What do I have to do? Bathe you in warm oil? Lick
heavy cream off your belly? What?"
Daphne smiled amusedly at him as, whipping out her card, she read off her
naughty reward:
DEED: You partner must kneel before you and perform any three tasks you want,
responding with 'Yes, Your Highness,' to your commands.
Theo's jaw fell and then he let out a whoop of pure excitement. "Woo-hoo! YES!"
Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, he looked up at her eagerly. "So,
dominate me, my Queen! Make me do your bidding!"
Daphne looked hard at him. "Mister Nott, you are supposed to kneel at my feet
when you offer yourself up."
His guts twisting into hot molten lava at just the commanding tone in her
voice, Theo hurried to do as she bid, throwing himself at her feet, looking up
at her with desperate fever. "Command me," he begged, wanting to see this
woman's kink in full force.
Tilting her head, his Housemate coolly appraised him behind those fucking hot
glasses of hers and then began walking a circle around him. "Before we
commence, Mister Nott, there are a few matters we need to address, so we may
reach an accord." Unexpectedly, he felt her slippered foot pressed against his
right shoulder blade. His body reacted instantly, hardening, flushing with
blood. "Here are my three 'tasks,' as it were. First, you will do my bidding
exactly, as and when I dictate it throughout the entirety of this round. I
expect you to obey me for the full twenty-five-minute duration, throughout
which, you will do as my card requires you to do and answer every single one of
my demands with 'Yes, Your Majesty' - not'Your Highness,' but 'Your Majesty.'
Do you agree?"
Oh, bloody hell, this was going to be so awesome! "Yes, fuck yes," he
enthusiastically agreed.
Her foot slid over his shoulder, and now she was pressed against him, her naked
calf hanging over his torso to slide against his chest. "Second, you will never
speak of anything we do in our private chambers outside of the boundaries of
the game even after this card has played itself out, and especially not with
any of the others confined to gameplay. Do you agree?"
Swallowing thickly, cupping his steel hard erection, he nodded. "Absolutely. I
agree."
Fingernails ran through his hair, massaging his skull erotically, making him
moan in pleasure. "Third, when this game ends, you will not pursue me."
He paused.
But what if he liked what they did and he wanted to see her again later?
Fingers tugged his hair somewhat painfully, while at the same time Daphne
wiggled off her ballet slipper and rubbed her toes into his crotch, moving his
hand aside. "Do you agree, Mister Nott? If not, I will be inclined to play this
game exactly as the cards require and no more than that."
He closed his eyes, loving the feel of her rough treatment and her tough voice.
At this point, he'd promise her anything if he could just tear into her.
"Sure."
"Excellent," his partner purred, removing her leg from his person entirely and
stepping back. "Then, we may begin."
The lights in the room suddenly dimmed several notches, and Theo's anticipation
kicked up to the point where he was now shaking.
"You will remove every stitch of clothing," his goddess commanded. "Now, Theo."
"Yes, Your Majesty," he breathed in joy and stood, hurriedly kicking his
clothes from his body. As he did, Daphne came around to the front of him, and
rather casually removed her glasses and her shoes. When he was fully nude in
front of her, Theo waited, trembling, fists clenched at his sides as she took
him in from head to toe with a sweeping glance, her eyes lingering on the erect
length that jutted against his belly.
"There is a sloping chair behind you," she informed. "You will sit in the
curve, facing the higher end."
"Yes, Your Majesty." He turned to find the bed had been replaced—apparently, at
Daphne's thought—with one of those Tantra Chairs that he'd seen advertised in
PlayWiz.
Oh, wow! She was definitely into kink, as he'd secretly assumed!
He did as she wanted, waiting and aching with need. Daphne surprised him by
seating herself against his back on the smaller hump of the chair. Her dress
had worked its way up her thighs as she straddled the furniture, baring the
smooth flesh of her legs to his hot gaze as they came around him. Her calves
and thighs were silken, lightly tanned, and toned from all of the stairs they
had to climb around the castle.
Gliding her hands all over him, starting at his arms, then his shoulders, his
back, and down to his waist, then around to his abs and pecs, his partner felt
up every inch of his hot skin with her cool, caressing fingers. "Exceptional,
Theo," she breathed against his ear, making him twitch in palpable desire.
"Luscious, in fact. You take excellent care of your physique. I appreciate that
very much in a man." Her fingernails lightly scraped over the tops of his
thighs, and as she bent forward, he could feel her hardened nips behind the
satin of her dress pressing against his back.
"Don't stop," he demanded, wishing she'd grab a hold of his todger and start
wanking away. Instead, her hands stilled and she bit his earlobe hard in
punishment, pulling his head back and to the side.
"I give the orders here," she reminded him firmly with a growl. "Understand,
Theo?"
He gulped loudly, and nodded his head, loving her aggressiveness. "Y-yes, Your
Majesty. I'm sorry, Your Majesty."
Her arms wrapped around him, one hand pressing against his heart, the other
about his waist. "Because you contravened the rules, Theo, this round will be
all about my pleasure, instead of yours, as I'd wanted to do for you. You have
sacrificed that opportunity with such impetuousness." Her nails dug in, leaving
rounded half-moon indentations in his skin, making him hiss from the unexpected
sharp pain. "I am your Mistress, and you will do as I command – as you agreed.
Do you understand?"
Whimpering like a whipped puppy, he heedlessly blurted another apology, his
only driving thought to get her to relent so he could come soon. "Forgive me,
Your Majesty! Yes, I understand. I won't do it again!"
Pulling away from him, Daphne stood and walked around to the front of him and
straddled the chair, looking down at him with disappointment. "The sincerity
and eagerness of your response pleases me, Theo. Therefore, I will provide you
with a single opportunity to earn my forgiveness – although this round will
continue to remain for my pleasure only. However…" She narrowed her eyes in
severe warning. "If you fail to do exactly as I want for the remaining time we
have in here, this game will end for both of us. I will simply forfeit… and you
will never have me. Do you understand, Mister Nott?"
Theo's panicked response was a detonation of ballistic cold fire in his chest.
He'd never had a woman dominate him before, but it had always remained his
deepest, most sacred and secret fantasy. He now understood that Daphne could
grant him this closeted fetish that he so desperately wanted, and for that
reason, he needed to please her. "Yes, Your Majesty! I agree. I'm so sorry!
Please, please forgive me." His fingernails bit into the palms of his hands as
he clenched his fists in a masochistic fit meant to cause himself some pain for
having been so stupid and risking this opportunity with his impatience.
Daphne stared at him with those enigmatic, deeply compelling eyes and Theo felt
like a surrendering pet under her gaze. "Set your hands upon my knees."
He immediately leaped to do her bidding. "Yes, Your Majesty!"
"Slowly, run your hands up my legs, moving my dress up as you go," she murmured
the command, and his stomach clenched as his cock jumped in anticipation. Where
would this lead? Would she ask him to lick her pussy in retribution? Man, he
would be so lucky!
"Yes, Your Majesty," he whispered, and holding her gaze, he did as she bade,
scrunching the silky, shiny dress up past her thighs, over her hips and
bunching it at her waist. She wore a pair of V-String iridescent blue-green
satin mesh panties with lace trim that he could just barely see through… and
noted that she was completely shaved. "Oh, hell," he breathed in awe, wanting
to bury his nose right in and start licking.
"Theo, look at me," his Queen commanded.
"Yes, Your Majesty," he responded automatically, gazing into her beautiful,
bright eyes once more.
She stared at him, then reached out a hand and traced his cheek, strangely
gentle. "Do you want to worship me properly, Theo?" she asked in a low, sultry
voice. He lost his ability to speak coherently and could only nod. "Then stand
up." He followed her instruction, now looming over her in greater height.
"Yes, Your Majesty," he breathed in what was automatically becoming his
favorite phrase of the century.
"Remove my dress," she bid, watching him with a grey-blue enigmatic, unwavering
stare. "Slowly."
With his hands already at her waist, he moved the satiny fabric inch by inch up
the remainder of her deliciously curved body. Theo's mouth ran dry as he took a
good, long gander at the perfection before him. Daphne's belly was flat, her
hips flared, her breasts… oh, bloody hell, her breasts! They were perfectly
ample, just the right size for his tastes, spilling from the top of a matching
lacy-satin iridescent green-blue bra. Tugging the dress over her head and arms,
he let the fabric slip to the side through his fingers, unheeded.
"Now, tell me, Theo, what your card requires you to perform," she indicated the
laminated piece of cardboard lying atop his clothes pile nearby. "Can you
recall it from memory?"
He nodded eagerly, and recited the instructions:
DEED: Lick and touch your partner's naked chest.
Daphne hummed and gave him a sinful smile that made his penis twitch once
again, then reached behind her and with a practiced ease, slipped the
fastenings on her bra and removed it, allowing it to fall to the side on top of
the dress. Theo's breath caught and his heart leaped against the underside of
his ribs painfully; her breasts truly were exquisitely shaped, with tiny
nipples that were a light pinkish-brown in color. Such gorgeous nipples, he
thought as his mouth watered at the fantasy of taking them in his mouth right
away. It was only with great restraint and a reminder to himself that he didn't
want her to get angry with his impatience again and walk away now that he just
managed to keep his fingers (and his lips) to himself.
"Sit back down," she required of him, and immediately he obeyed, with a
reflexive, "Yes, Your Majesty," erupting from his lips without thought.
Sinuously sliding down with him, his partner straddled his lap, and then pushed
him slowly into a reclining position over the smaller hump in the funky chair.
"Lay back."
When he'd settled so that his spine matched the flow of the chair's design
comfortably, Daphne gripped his hands gently and guided them towards her chest
to cup her mounds. "You're going to give me pleasure now, Theo. I want you to
start off here." Settling herself more firmly over his erection, letting the
width of him rest in the middle of her folds, which were slightly damp behind
the fabric of her knickers, she gave him a wicked smile and proceeded to teach
him. "Were you at all cognizant of the fact that a woman's breasts are an
important feature of her feminine image, Theo?" she asked in a softly
compelling voice, keeping his hands still and in place, letting him feel the
warm, cushiony flesh.
He shook his head. Honestly, he hadn't given the matter much thought. Tits were
tits – something to be sucked or held onto while you fucked. "No, Your
Majesty."
The smirk on her face widened perceptively. "Oh, yes, quite. We of the feminine
persuasion are always consciously aware of their weight upon our chests, of
every abrupt temperature change that affects them, of the sensitive reactions
elicited by differing elements stroking against them, be it lace or satin or
cotton… or oils… or skin. We also gauge them against other women's, reassuring
ourselves of their beauty, comparing them in much the same way a man does his
penis." He swallowed heavily as she shifted her hips to glide her core up and
then back down his stiff cock. "They are a beautiful extension of a woman,
Theo, faithfully responsive to pleasing stimuli, much as your most cherished
possession." On the final two words, she slid over him again, just once, making
his need flare. She then went still against him.
"Lightly caress my nipples," she commanded. "I want you to learn my body so you
can please me properly."
More turned on than he'd ever thought possible, Theo did as his goddess asked,
letting his index fingers swipe over the tiny buds, and watched in amazement
the actual process of them swelling in response. He was amazed to see them
change color, flushing with blood as they became engorged. Why had he never
noticed such a small, but awesomely arousing detail before?
Daphne hummed in approval, enjoying his attention, and his eyes shot to her
face to watch her reaction. Lust crawled languidly through her ocean-blue
depths, her pupils expanding as her body felt the stirrings of need. Her smirk
had transformed into a small, pleased smile that decorated her prettily painted
lips with an expression he'd only seen once – the afternoon she'd sat across
from him on the common room couches, relaxed and enjoying herself. That look
was what he'd been waiting for… and this time it was directed at him, at
something he was doing to her, and not some book.
"What do they feel like?" she inquired. "Tell me every sensation that caressing
my body in this manner is educing from your senses, Theo."
Theo licked his lips and dropped his gaze back to what his hands were doing.
"Your skin is so soft…buttery soft," he sighed in pleasure, cupping her breasts
and pushing up a bit, squeezing lightly. "And malleable. There's firmness
underneath, but it moves about under my fingers."
"Show me what you've learned, Theo," she arched into his hands. "Worship my
breasts properly, just as your card allows."
With very light caresses to start, he traced the edges of her breasts one at a
time, learning the soft span of flesh with intimate detail. She had a single,
light freckle on the top of her left mound, and another underneath her right.
He found those beauty marks to be fascinating, not ruining the perfection, but
adding to its uniqueness. Her left side was slightly larger than her right, and
a tad heavier. Snaking a fingertip over her areola, he circled it many times,
just tracing, softly learning Daphne's shape. It was such a sensual thing to do
to study the contours of a woman, he was discovering. "Beautiful," he
whispered, enraptured by the motion of flesh under his fingers. "I want to run
my tongue all over these."
To his surprise, goosebumps decorated her skin and she lightly shivered. He
looked up at her in astonishment, and Daphne graced him with a slow, sensual
smile. "I give you permission to use your mouth now. Start with your lips only,
and then add your tongue, and then your teeth at last. Change the temperature
by breathing hot, then blowing cold alternatively. Watch how your attention
affects me."
Giddy as a virgin, he leaned in and ran his mouth over the entirety of her
breast, following the curves, breathing and blowing upon her skin randomly,
enjoying the tiny shivers that raced her spine as he played. Adding his tongue
to the mix, circling her nipple, but not touching it, teasing until Daphne
decreed he take the tiny bud into his mouth, had been so gratifying! He sucked
her breasts, one at a time, alternating pressure as she directed. By the time
he'd moved on to the use of his teeth, her nipples were dark from his love
bites, delightfully bruised and he was sure, aching in a way that made Daphne
quite pleased.
Her voice thrumming with pleasure, Daphne calmly continued with the lesson,
rubbing her lower body against his cock in a slow, continuous rhythm now. "A
woman's body is a place for your veneration, Theo. While you are touching her
or deeply buried inside of her, she must become the centre of your adoration
and devotion. You achieve this not just with words, Theo, but with every
sincere effort you make to bring her pleasure."
He adored the challenge in her eyes. "Yes, Your Majesty," he seductively purred
and turned back to his task, loving the feel of her satiny knickers sliding
across his length. He nipped at her, bit harder, pulled back as she requested
of him, repeated, changing tempos. Then he bit the tender flesh around her
areola, leaving a nice imprint behind on her left lower curve. As he worked,
Daphne encouraged him with soft words, and when he'd finally put it all
together – laving, stroking, pinching, forcing air of varying temperatures
across the sensitive skin, and biting hard enough on the nipple itself to leave
another mark, Daphne came for him. It was magic, this gentle bringing, making
him truly aware of his partner in a way he had never been before.
She was wholly beautiful as her head tilted towards the sky, her lips parted,
her back arched, and her breasts and throat and cheeks rushed with blood. As
she yielded to her petite orgasm with a soft moaning sigh, her fingernails
gripped his biceps tightly and pressed in sharply, and she shook in his arms
allowing herself to finally slip a margin of that tight control she always
maintained. She was all feminine grace and strength and vulnerability wrapped
up in his arms in that moment.
"Daphne," he breathed her name in awe, really seeing her for the first time.
When she came back into herself, his partner's dark eyelashes fluttered open
and their gazes connected once more. As they silently watched each other, he
awaited her next command, enjoying this game of pleasing her immensely. Sexual
contact had never been like this for him, and this experience tonight was
decidedly heady. Theo craved more. His eyes dropped to her lips as she licked
them. Gods, he wanted to kiss her!
"What will you have of me now, my Queen?" he whispered, letting his attention
travel the length of her long, peachy-gold throat, down to where his fingers
were still lightly caressing her nipples. "Shall I continue?"
Her chest expanded as she took a deeper breath, and then she put some space
between them and reached down to grip his penis. She stroked upwards from the
base of him with a tight grip, and Theo hissed, tensing up, enjoying the
skimming of his most sensitive self. "Oh, yeah!" he cried out with delirious
desire as she swiped her thumb over his wet crown, circling his tip with her
fingers, rubbing softly. "Your Majesty, please… bring me, too. I beg you!"
Sadistically, her fingers let him go immediately, and he groaned in mounting
frustration, looking up at her for intention as she straddled his lap, watching
him so calmly, her restraint iron-clad once more. For just a second, he felt a
hot stab of anger at her playing with him; he'd given her pleasure, after all,
and it was only fair that she did likewise for him, right?
"My pleasure only this round, remember?" she reminded him wickedly, even as the
lights from the ceiling above reflected gauzy glints of gold all about her,
haloing her in an angelic bath of heavenly illumination. "Patience, Theo. Your
turn will undoubtedly come at the next opportunity and I have no doubt you'll
make me pay for my selfishness ten-fold."
His eyes brightened. Yes, in the next round, anything could happen! He might
get a really nasty card to try out on her, and then she'd be under his whim…
But did he really want that?
He was rather enjoying being Daphne's submissive. He was not only learning
about the more sensual side of sex, but he was fulfilling a fantasy... and
honestly, there was something compelling about being with this witch. She drew
him in with her formal speech, and her smart talk, and her sexual allure. He'd
never felt so utterly charmed by a woman before. "I'll turn over my action to
you next round if you will it, my Queen," he heard the words escape his mouth
before he'd put much thought into them.
One dark eyebrow rose in curiosity, and her warm hand cupped his cheek,
stroking back and forth against his smooth, freshly shaved skin with renewed
interest. "You would do that? Why, Theo?"
As he stared up at her from his willing, exposed position at her feet—at her
soft, shining pale blue eyes and sweetly parted light wine-colored lips, and
her lovely cascade of champagne-colored hair—a sudden feeling overcame him,
gripping his heart tightly. Unnamed, unknown, it was powerful enough to induce
a clenching of his naked abdomen, to propel his stomach to drop, to leave him
feeling strangely defenseless. "I…don't…want this to stop, Daphne," he admitted
with anxious inspiration. "I like what we're doing."
His Queen watched him carefully, her fingertips tracing over his full lips,
apparently considering his offer. "I accept your gift, Theo," she finally
agreed, and he felt relief bloom throughout his body, relaxing his muscles
again. "Next round we will continue as we are, and perhaps, if the cards are in
your favour, I will even pleasure you."
Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against her thighs, letting his hands
rest on the sides of her long legs, thanking her silently for her beneficent
deliverance.
As they redressed in silence a few minutes later, and while her back was to
him, Theo considered all he'd learned about Daphne Greengrass over the last
hour. Her movements were precise, she appeared unruffled by getting half-naked
with a man she hardly knew, and yet his impression was that this was not
something she did regularly with men, so she was no common doxy. Did she feel
anything for him at all, aside from some wacked out BDSM needs, though? Or was
this all simply a game to her? How many men had she done this sort of thing
with anyway?
What had she said yesterday? Something important…
"Iwould like to enjoy it as a game of sultry delight – a conclusive initiation,
as it were, into realizing adulthood."
Maybe he wasn't special to her at all. Maybe he was just one last fling before
graduation, as she'd sort of intimated that she wanted. Hell, she hadn't even
wanted a kiss from him when he'd tried to give her one not three minutes ago in
thanks for what she'd done with him this round; she'd stepped away and shook
her head, telling him there would be no kissing between them unless a card
required it.
"When this game ends, you will not pursue me."
She'd made him swear to that requirement in the beginning of all of this…which
meant she didn't have any intention of getting emotionally tangled up with
Theo.
When they were ready, and as he reached for the handle to exit the room,
allowing Greengrass to go before him, he felt a sinking sensation in his guts.
What if he didn't wantto let her go at the end? He'd seriously liked doing this
with her. What if he wanted to pursue her, to explore more of this forbidden
side that he'd secretly yearned for? How screwed was he going to be then?
Somehow everything had gotten turned on its head. He'd joined this game so he
could fuck a girl – anyone, didn't matter to him (although he'd been kind of
hoping for Daphne when he'd reached for the Partnerscard). Now, he was finding
himself wanting a specific girl, and hopefully, not just for this one night.
Only she didn't seem to want him in the same way, as was so obviously evident
when she walked past him and sat back down on the couch, as cool and calmly
collected as ever.
Fucking hell, what had he gotten himself into?
Chapter End Notes
     Here's their outfits:
     [https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/rzzmg/33309824/162282/
     162282_original.jpg] [https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/rzzmg/33309824/
     161839/161839_original.jpg]
***** 1E: Blaise & Ginny *****
Chapter Summary
     Blaise is about to discover that wrestling with a Weasley will always
     result in being tangled up in the end.
Chapter Notes
     I thought the song, "Remember When It Rained" by Josh Groban was
     perfect for Blaise & Ginny this go around, specifically for Blaise's
     thoughts.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 
                                        
                                BLAISE & GINNY
                                        
===============================================================================
 
Ginny was fuming mad that she'd been stuck with Blaise as a partner – he could
see it in the set of her shoulders and in the fire in her eyes. He inwardly
chuckled, enjoying her discomfort. He did find it strangely fortuitous that
he'd drawn her for his game companion, considering Drake hadn't been able to
cheat to arrange it for him. It must have been Fate, he supposed, just as
Malfoy had explained the odd coincidence to Granger. Apparently, he'd been
meant to have this time with the Weasley girl, and so he intended on making the
most of it.
They squared-off on either side of the white bed, with its white blankets and
pillows, in their floor-to-ceiling white room, her staring at him with distinct
loathing, while he stood in parallel opposition, infinitely pleased with the
idea of being her 'date' for the duration. They'd been silent for the past five
minutes, neither willing to back down.
"For Godric's sake," his redheaded fascination finally growled. "Are you going
to go first or shall I? 'Cause I've got places to be and better people to see."
"So forfeit," he challenged, smirking at her.
Ginny scoffed. "Not a chance."
"Fine. Since I drew my card first, I'll go," he decided, and read the card out
loud to her…
DEED: Spank and/or rub sensually your partner's naked bum over your lap.
His partner gasped and turned white as a ghost.
A sneaky suspicion overtook him. "It's one of yours, isn't it?"
Glumly, she nodded. "I don't suppose you'd consider not doing it?"
Even before the fifth word was out of her mouth, Blaise heartlessly dashed her
hopes against the rocks, shaking his head. "I'm not quitting this game until
I'm satisfied, Weasley, and that won't happen until after you're under me,
screaming my name to the rooftops as I fuck you six ways from Sunday."
"You unmitigated bastard!" she hissed in fury. Her cheeks were flushed, and her
eyes spit fire. At her side, her fists were clenched, and her chest heaved with
violence. "I'll fight you tooth and nail! I won't make this easy for you!"
Leering, Blaise gazed into her dark sienna depths with lustful anticipation,
feeling his blood ignite in his triumph. He thought up what he wanted to
fulfill this requirement, and next to him appeared a white cozy chair with no
arms. He took a seat in it, adopting a lazy, exalted posture. "You might want
to ditch the jacket at the same time as your knickers." When she didn't
immediately move, he let his witch stew for thirty extra seconds. "Every minute
you delay I'm taking out of your time, you know. And as the first to go, if I
don't get in my twenty-five minutes, that means you've forfeited the game."
With a sneer of unadulterated hatred, Ginevra Weasley stripped off her jacket,
untying the ribbon and whipping it through the eyelets with quick, nimble
fingers. Shucking the coat from her shoulders, she caught it and folded it,
placing it on the bed with care. Angry though she was with him, clearly she
wasn't going to ruin her outfit for his sake.
When he caught a look at what little she was wearing under the jacket, Blaise's
heart leapt into his throat. It was a simple slip dress that narrowed at the
waist, showing off her curves. It had a plunging sweetheart neckline that
allowed the barest amount of succulent cleavage to show. Lacy spaghetti straps
held it in place. Wearing just that and the thigh-high stockings and the heels…
"Beautiful, my little lioness," he breathed in awe. "Flirty, sexy." He smiled,
throwing her his best sultry smile. "I like it very much."
She sniffed with disdain. "I didn't wear it for you. I was honestly hoping for
Seamus."
Whatever warmth Blaise had managed to siphon out of their minimal discussion so
far was leached away with that one comment. In its place settled the ugly,
bile-laden acid of jealousy.
Finnigan. Of all the males she could have named…
Fuckin' fairy.
"Tick, tock, Weasley. Get that arse over here so I can spank it good."
Ginny gave him a flat stare. "You fink. Torturing me with my own slagging card!
What kind of man are you anyway?"
He narrowed his eyes, his ire increasing. "The kind that's going to give it to
you like you deserve, woman. Now take your knickers down and lay across my lap
before I call foul."
Her cheeks were bright crimson with mortification as she reached up under her
dress and took off a pair of black, satin-lace panties, putting them on the bed
next to her jacket. It then required two more deep breaths and apparently a
whole lot of Gryffindor courage for her to walk over to him and bend over his
lap. Hanging with her head down, she waited for his first blow to land,
awkwardly tense.
Gently, Blaise lifted the hem of her dress, exposing her bare bum to his hot
stare.
"My, what a sweet arse you have, Ginevra," he murmured, thoroughly entranced.
Rubbing all along the curves of her buttocks in slow circles, he began his
torment of his heart's greatest obsession. His fingers danced across her waist,
smoothing down her hip to cup the soft mounds of her backside. "Such pretty,
creamy skin…soft and curvy," he said as he continued caressing her, unable to
deny his need to touch every inch of her skin. Dipping into the sway at her
spine's end, he circled the tiny mole she had just above her right cheek. "Your
uniforms do your bum no justice, my little lioness. I'd have never known how
delicious this side of you was if not for this game."
"Just get it over with," she growled, her nails clenching into the plush, white
shag rug beneath their feet.
"Eager to be punished?" he wondered aloud, continuing to torture her with
tender contact. "Tell me, has anyone ever sexually spanked you before,
Ginevra?"
She barked a laugh. "Loads of men have. Plenty of times. You'd be no
different."
An expert on ferreting out untruths amongst his Housemates, Blaise heard the
obvious lie in her voice, said out of a need to falsify bravado in the face of
her shame. "Tsk, tsk. Lies aren't a Gryffindor trait, kitten."
"No, they're the province of you slimy Slytherins," she goaded him.
"Perhaps," he acknowledged, running a single digit up the middle of her cheeks,
barely touching the tiny entrance to her rear. He purposefully stroked the spot
with expert attention, wanting to prolong his getting to know her in this
manner. "Has anyone ever fucked you here?" he asked, tickling the small hole.
His partner sharply inhaled and held her breath, and her back cheeks tightened
up. "Don't," she choked, clearly uncomfortable with him touching her there.
"You can spank me and rub me outside, but don't–"
She faltered, losing her nerve.
"Don't what, Ginevra?" he asked, sincerely curious now. She sounded and acted
as if she were terrified, which was wholly uncharacteristic for his brave
lioness.
He left his finger temporarily resting in place, trapped by her tensed muscles
as it was, not quite ready to leave off until he was given a good enough
reason. This was his reward, after all, and he wanted to touch every bit of her
during this game if possible, even places she would consider 'forbidden.' He
gently prodded her teeny, furrowed opening, wiggling against the creased skin,
allowing the tip of his finger to very carefully poke—not enough to break
through, but enough to cause her breathing to become distressed.
"What don't you want me to do?" he posed the question in a different way,
curious as to why this act intensely bothered her.
He actually heard her swallow, the gulping noise loud and heavy in the hushed
room. Clearly, whatever she was thinking, it was not just embarrassing to
voice, but quite painful, too.
"Don't go inside there. You can do anything else you want to me, Zabini, and I
won't flinch, but buggering me–"
"Is your limit," he guessed. "It will make you quit this game, won't it?"
A critical pause followed for a beat, then two before she replied. "Yes, it's
the only thing that will."
He removed his finger from her grip and began stroking her rounded flesh again.
"What if I made such a thing very pleasurable for you, my lioness?"
She firmly shook her head, her long, fiery hair flopping about on the carpet.
"There is no way that could ever feel good. So, just don't go there. Please."
He hummed, dropping the matter for now, knowing eventually that they'd talk
about it. He was determined to know the reason such a thing had horrified her
so. Who had touched her there and caused her enough pain to actually scare her?
A cold, leaden weight settled in his chest at the imagined thought of her
screaming and crying as some unknown man violently penetrated her little
rosette, tearing into her.
If that was the case, he'd personally hunt the man down later.
"Are you ready now, my lovely kitten?" he asked in a deceptively calm voice,
still sensually touching her, exciting her nerves all along his intended area
of purchase. He was going to make that pretty, pale skin bloom and scarlet.
"I won't stoop to begging you not to do your card, Zabini. Just get on with
it."
"Fair enough."
His strike was well-measured, but solid and unapologetic. And loud.
The contact of his hard hand on her soft, sensitive flesh had to have stung, he
knew, but for her part, Ginny did not scream. She did not make a single noise,
in fact.
Had anyone ever spanked her, he wondered again. She hadn't answered truthfully
a moment ago, but he bet he could get her to tell him now. "I'll ask you again,
my lioness: has anyone ever done this to you before? Be truthful this time or
I'll add five extra spanks on the end just for trying to deceive me."
"If anyone should know about deceit, you double-dealing serpent–"
He cut off what he was sure to be a scathing insult with another resounding
slap. "Answer the question, Ginevra," he commanded. "It's a simple request."
She shook her head again, stubborn to the core. "I don't have to do anything of
the sort, you Slytherin bastard! The card doesn't require me to divulge my
private interests to you. It doesn't require me to interact with you at all, in
fact, except to allow you to humiliate me like this. So I think I'll just keep
my mouth shut and let you spend the rest of your days wondering whether or not
I let men do this to me in the privacy of my bedchambers."
He spanked her again, a little harder this time for provoking his jealousy once
more. "Language, young lady," he scolded. "I've let you get away with calling
me a bastard twice tonight. No more."
"I hate you," she spat with venom. "I loathe the very ground you walk on, you
slimy, reptilian–"
Smack!
"You're too wild for your own good, Weasley," he caressed her pinking bottom.
"I think I'll rein in that mouth and temper of yours during this game. That'll
be one of my goals."
"Bite me, you sleezy whore corpse."
Whap.
Blaise shook his head, amused with her audacity. "Keep it up, kitten. I love
watching your pretty arse blush for me." He stroked her erotically in between
slaps now, just to add some spice to the mix.
"You're a total arsehat, Zabini, you know that?"
Whack.
"I think it's time we got a little more serious, Ginevra, as apparently, my
message isn't getting across." He stepped up his strikes, putting a little more
force into them, not enough to bruise or injure, but enough to nicely rouge her
bum. As his palm came down again upon her skin, he explained, "That's for all
the years you looked down your nose at me, woman."
Ginny gasped in outrage. "Why you hypocritical arse-monger! I didn't look down
my nose at you until you did at me!"
Her bottom, he figured, must be nettling her by now, but still she didn't beg
him to stop as another stinging slap rang through the high ceilinged room. "And
that's for all the times you slammed me in Quidditch," he told her.
"You slammed me right back! Don't you dare deny it!" she snarled at him in
righteous fury.
Her whole body quivered now with barely-repressed rage.
He gave her another satisfactory blow for her willful insolence. "And that's
for all the names you've called me over the years to your friends when you
didn't think I was listening."
She hissed then, sounding just like a viper about to strike. "You eavesdrop on
my conversations? What the hell, Zabini? Got nothing better to do than to stalk
me, you sick fuckwallop?"
He spanked her again. "Profanities from such a lovely mouth should be
outlawed," he mocked, loving her outraged scream.
He then gave her three more slaps in succession, each one as passionate as the
last. Finally, her bum was a nice crimson in color, and Blaise felt quite
vindicated for all of her slights over the last two years.
Now it was time to end her torment and give her some pleasure…
Returning to rubbing gentle hands over the warmed, quivering flesh, he soothed
the pain he had caused away with an erotic massage. As his touch softened,
Ginevra immediately stopped squirming and instead lay limply across his lap,
unresisting. "And this, my dear lioness, is because you have never backed down
from me, and because you have never let me beat you into submission. Not even
now, as you lie across me, hating me with every fibre of your being, as I
stroke your beautiful, ruby-coloured bum."
With a sigh of contentment, he bent his tall frame down and laid his cheek
against her buttocks, softly nuzzling against her hot flesh.
"What are you doing?" she asked, suddenly panicked, going rigid again. "You're
only allowed to rub."
Turning his head, he ran his lips over her cherry skin. "I am rubbing, Ginevra.
The card doesn't say what body parts I'm confined to using for this task,
though." He ran his bottom lip over the curve of her spine. "You should have
been more specific when you wrote it down, my fiery kitten. You left it open to
interpretation, so I'm interpreting it to mean rubbing you with my lips and
tongue right now."
"Oh, hell no!" she shrieked, indignant. "Let me up this instant! Isn't your
turn over yet?"
Blaise chuckled. "Not yet. I still have fourteen minutes. So, for the next
thirteen and so many seconds, I intend upon properly rubbing you. Just lie
there and enjoy."
"I don't want to enjoy anything you do to me, you twisted narcissist!" she
yelled.
Licking along her spinal column, Blaise used his fingers to once more stroke
along the bottom curves of her arse, creeping closer to the centre divide. He
teased, retreated, and returned over and over again, inching closer to his
ultimate goal. "Ah, but I want you to, my lioness. And since this is my
reward…"
"I am so going to make you pay for this!"
He let his lips and tongue trail down to the split of her backside. "What you
fail to understand, Ginevra, is that I'll let you do anything to me, so long as
I get to fuck you tonight—preferably several times and in different positions.
Nothing else matters for the next twenty-four hours." With that, he traced
every inch of her bum, placed wet, sucking kisses all along the tender skin,
dipping down as far as he could go to lick, tasting a bit of her salty quim in
the deal. He even separated her back cheeks at one point and tickled her rear
opening with his tongue, just over the outside. He started with light flicks
around the small, puckered hole, making her squirm, and then boldly laved her
centre, coating her with his saliva.
In his arms, his lioness quavered, and her breathing grew ragged as he pushed
her comfort levels, retreating only when he felt her ready to call it her
limit.
When he'd covered every bit of her, and rubbed away the pain, he noticed that
Weasley remained strangely silent and had gone deathly still, her trembling
ceased all together. In fact… He leaned his head back down between her legs and
inhaled.
My, my, but she was very aroused.
Gently moving one leg outward, he opened her up a bit and looked. There,
glistening at her pretty, small entrance lay the proof of her excitement.
Blaise hummed with appreciation, even as his cock came wide awake in his pants.
"You're wet and ready for me, my beautiful lioness." Against his thumb, he
could feel her pulse through her femoral artery pounding like mad. "Would you
like me to keep exploring?"
"N-no, let me up!" she stammered, scrabbling to lift her chest off his legs.
"Are you sure?" he asked in his most seductive voice. "No one has to know what
we do here. I'm good at keeping secrets." He lazily stroked the inside of her
thigh, inching towards the beautiful, bare cunt that beckoned him closer. "And
I promise to make you feel good. No more pain, only intense pleasure."
She shook her head and pushed against his knees again, trying to raise herself
up. "I'm not required to endure anything more than what you've already done to
me."
Endure?
She'd actually gotten off on what he'd done to her!
"Let me up, Zabini," she demanded again. "You've had your fun humiliating me."
She got her feet under her and started to rise, but he put a hand on her spine
to stop her. "Not just yet." Before she could protest, he bent again and kissed
her on both cheeks. Then, he sat back and let her go.
Ginevra turned stony eyes on him, her face as flushed as her bottom had been
earlier. Without another word, she turned and walked back to the bed to grab
her knickers and slipped them back on. She put her arms through her jacket, but
left it undone for now, then gingerly sat on the bed, picked up her card, and
read it aloud.
DEED: You get to ask your partner any five questions you want about them and
they must answer wholly and truthfully.
Sitting back in the chair, Blaise crossed his legs and stared down his partner.
"Ask away. I have nothing to hide, Ginevra."
Nothing you're likely to guess, anyway.
Cool, whisky-brown eyes glittered with icy hatred for him. "Question one:
what's your True Wizarding Name?"
Blaise felt the colour drain from his cheeks.
He'd been wrong – there was something he had to hide from her, and this would
be it. This was one of his two big secrets that could be used to utterly
destroy him.
A wizard's or witch's True Name was something only they and their parents knew.
No one else was privy to this most sacred of secrets, not even the Ministry.
Usually, not even spouses had disclosure, in case of divorce. A TWN was first
bound to a magical, non-Squib child (well, half-bloods and pure-bloods; he
wasn't sure what Muggle-borns did, as they didn't have magical parents to bind
them to the name) at the age of five, and then reaffirmed and rebound to the
child when they began their magical training at the age of eleven, before they
went off to school for the first time. It was the most closely guarded secret
of a witch or wizard's lives, as it was the gateway to their magical ability.
It's how He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named managed to control his Death Eaters in the
Dark War, twenty-eight years prior; the madman's loyal followers had given
their Master their True Wizarding Names when they swore fealty to his cause. As
a result, he'd been able to slide through their minds at any time he'd wanted,
day or night, and he'd had the power to summon them to his side using the magic
of the Dark Mark he'd branded on them.
If he gave Ginny his TWN, she could abuse him with it for the rest of his life,
forcing him to do things against his will, much like the Imperius Curse. If he
didn't give her the name, he had to forfeit the game right here and now.
How badly did he want her again?
Was it worth this price?
Leaning his head back against the chair's cushion, he stared up at the ceiling
and ran his hands over his face. For a Gryffindor, she'd just neatly maneuvered
him into a very Slytherin ruse…which was totally hot and one more reason why he
had to have her.
Fuck, fuck, FUCK! He was so screwed!
Reveling in his mental torment, Ginevra smiled at him with a flat, serpentine
gaze. "Tick, tock," she mimicked his earlier sentiment.
Gritting his teeth, he growled out his own demand, wanting at least some power
in this negotiation. "I want an Oath from you not to tell anyone else my TWN,
and not to use it against me."
Weasley firmly shook her head. "I'll compromise and agree to the first, but the
second, no. It's my guarantee that you can't ever hurt me again." She
innocently held her hands out to the side as if to say, 'What are you going to
do?' and shrugged, all the while grinning like a man-eating shark. "Take it or
leave it, Zabini. Tell me the name or quit the game. Your choice."
He stared hard at her. Was this really worth it? Was she?
The answer to that question was obvious and required no serious consideration:
everything inside of him called out to have Ginevra Weasley.
For the last two years, he'd stood back and seethed in helpless frustration
watching her dally with other boys, barely restraining his need to do violence
upon the competition. The day after she'd given away her virginity to Potter,
he'd almost committed murder, in fact, having felt the shift in her sexual aura
and instinctively known what it had meant. That day, something deep inside him
had despaired and raged at the lost opportunity to own that important piece of
her. Now his desperation had reached a peak. He was a man on the edge, and he
had to have her, and this game gave him the only legitimate excuse. If he quit
now, he was certain she wouldn't let him anywhere near her ever again,
especially after that spanking, and then he'd end up becoming the monster he
feared he might be for too many years so he could just take what he wanted. If
things went that far, he'd hate himself forever.
No, there was no choice but to go on.
"Fucking, buggering hell!"
"You said it," his partner cheerfully agreed. "So, I guess this means you'll be
dropping out of the game now? Too bad. A shag is hardly worth the risk, though,
huh?" He heard her stand up and make her way to the door. "I'll just tell the
others and make your excuses. Ta-ta, Zabini!"
He heard her turn the knob and panicked. "Shut the fucking door! We're not done
here," he snarled and stood up, pacing back and forth, feeling a muscle in his
eye twitch in irritation. "Fine, I'll give you your answer."
It took her a good twenty seconds to move, as if she were too shocked to
comprehend what he was about to do, and then she quietly closed the door and
came to sit back on the edge of the mattress, waiting.
He put his hands over his face again, refusing to look at her, unable to
believe he was about to make what would be, he was quite sure, the biggest
mistake of his life. "Take the Oath first," he stipulated. "Right now. Swear on
your power as a witch that you will never, under any circumstance, reveal my
True Wizarding Name to another for as long as your soul walks the Earth,
whether in life or as a ghost."
His partner raised an eyebrow at that. "Extreme, but fine." She held her hand
up over her heart. "I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, do hereby swear upon my power as
a witch and a practitioner of magic that I will never, under any circumstance,
reveal Blaise Zabini's True Wizarding Name to another soul for as long as my
soul walks the Earth, whether in life or as a ghost."
There was no glow, or fireworks, or sound of a ringing bell, but the Oath she
had just undertaken would certainly now bind her powers to it as firmly as if
she had signed a magical contract before the entire Wizengamot. It was the best
he could ask for, since an Unbreakable Oath wasn't an option, as they'd need to
include a third party to bind them, and then they'd have to explain all of this
mess to that person…which Blaise had absolutely no intention of ever doing.
His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. "MERDA!" he swore in Italian,
then turned and pointed an emphatic finger at the little redhead sitting on the
mattress and claimed her right then and there as his own. "Tonight, I'm going
to fuck you hard for this, Weasley—all over this sodding room! I'm going to own
you, body and soul! And after this bloody game is over, I'm coming after you
for more, I swear it! You're mine!"
Ginevra waved him on. "Sure, sure. Whatever. Spill it or forfeit already. We're
wasting time."
Gritting his teeth, Blaise ran a hand one more time over his closely-shaved
head, shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "My given name is Blaise Alessandro
Zabini." He turned and looked his woman dead in the eye. "My True Wizarding
Name is Blasius Cyne Sovrano Zabini. It means 'Fiery Royal Ruler.'"
To his surprise, his lioness did not laugh. Instead, she looked rather shocked
that he'd actually done it.
In truth, he was, too. He was feeling a little ill over the whole thing, in
fact.
Weasley opened her mouth, and Blaise knew—just knew—what she was going to say.
"Don't you dare," he warned, giving her a stern frown.
Blinking with faux innocence, looking entirely too scrumptious for his sanity
at the moment, she absolutely dared.
"It's a very nice name, Blasius."
At the tingle along his spine at the speaking of just one of his three magical
names, Blaise started swearing his head off. He paced back and forth, feeling
utterly defenseless.
What had he done? Had he finally gone insane?
"Tsk, tsk, Zabini. Language," his auburn-headed minx mocked, smirking. "Now
we're even. You made me vulnerable, and I've made you vulnerable. We both have
secrets about the other we're never going to tell anyone else. I think that's
more than fair."
She would, as the situation appealed to her Gryffindor sensibilities.
It rubbed his Slytherin ones all wrong, though.
He swore some more, again in Italian so she wouldn't understand him.
"Are you quite done?" she inquired. "We should move on, because this round's
almost over and I still have four more questions to ask you."
Blaise stopped cold, turned to her and gaped. How could she continue on after
having so fantastically manipulated him? Didn't she realize that now she could
just use his name and order him to quit, and he'd have no choice but to obey?
Fuck, was she really that naïve that she had no idea of the power she now held
over his will?
Weasley had the audacity to shrug, clearly not understanding the look he threw
her way. Either that or she was intentionally ignoring the two-thousand-pound
elephant in the room in favour of torturing him further.
"Question two: what's your favourite colour?"
Blaise narrowed his eyes and assessed her. She wasn't curious about something
as simple as his list of favourite things. No, she recognized what she'd just
put him through and was going easy on him now. Her bloody Gryffindor compassion
had kicked in…which meant she had no intention of exploiting his TWN, as a
less-then-scrupulous Slytherin might were the situation reversed. Knowing that
didn't help to alleviate his anxiety much, for he also understood that although
she seemed rather benign now, she would abuse his name if the conditions were
right. His little kitten had sharp claws when provoked.
"Purple." He indicated his shirt with a tug. "Next."
"Give me the run down on your family. Question three: how many Zabinis are
you?"
Sighing, he slumped back down into the cosy chair, having paced himself out and
resigned himself to his fate. "There are seven children. I have five sisters
and one brother, and I'm dead in the middle of them all. The eldest, my
brother, is twenty-three. The youngest is ten. My mum's a Black Widow, and my
dad barely escaped her web. We're pure-bloods, the lot. Next."
"You have an older brother, hmm?" She seemed piqued by that little fact. "Does
he look like you?"
Blaise shook his head. "None of my siblings come from the same father, so
technically we're all half-brother and sisters. My dad was from Morocco. The
rest of my siblings are as white as you."
"Well, well, well," she breathed, tapping a finger against those pretty lips of
hers in consideration. "You might have to introduce me to big brother someday.
Maybe he'll prove to be much more considerate of a girl's needs."
Inside his chest, Blaise's heart locked down, squeezing tight. The thought of
his lioness sidling up to Lorenzo, who was all charm and charisma personified,
positively infuriated him.
"Are you growling?" his partner asked with incredulity.
"What's your next bloody question?" he demanded between gritted teeth. "I want
out of here pronto. I need air."
She looked at him askance. "Question four: do you hate me?"
"No."
It was the truth. He didn't hate her. Not at all.
What he hated was that she despised him.
Clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth, Weasley pondered that, and her
last question. "Hmmm… Let's see… Question five: what's your favourite memory
from Hogwarts? In other words, what one thing will you remember for the rest of
your life when you leave here next weekend?"
Blaise's heart slammed under his ribs; he was physically shaking in fury now.
He pursed his lips and angrily stared at her, not wanting to reveal any more
hidden parts of his soul, but knowing he had no choice. The spell on the cards
was going to force this one since he'd chosen to answer the first question and
not forfeit.
And hell, it wasn't like she'd just stripped him of his last defense in getting
out of him his True Wizarding Name. What more could she do to him now that
she'd totally unmanned him?
"You," he softly stated, livid inside that he was obligated to say this out
loud. "On your broom this last game, when Potter caught the Snitch and won the
Cup for your House. The rain had just stopped and the sun had peeked out
through the clouds, and the light was glinting like fire off that crimson hair
of yours as it blew about in the wind. Your eyes were bright and shining with
happiness and your smile was so fucking beautiful that it hurt to look at it."
He stared at the white shag rug beneath his feet, wishing he had the magic to
command his feelings to die out as assuredly as his pride was doing right then.
"All I could think in that moment was how you were like that Tonge painting of
the redheaded angel dancing in the air, temporarily keeping the storm at bay."
He closed his eyes, awash with rioting emotion. "You hovered at my side when
the game was called, then turned to me and said–"
"'It was fun, Zabini,'" she whispered in remembrance across the space between
them. "'I'll miss you.'"
His head jerked up, their eyes met, and in her lovely dark gaze were wavering
tears.
"It's you I'll never be able to forget," he admitted, fighting the catch in his
throat. "You'll haunt me to the end of my life, Ginevra."
Emotionally naked, exposed as a fraud, Blaise knew in those seconds that there
was nowhere left for him to hide. None of his Slytherin training was going to
save him from this fall.
With his heart bloodied and raw, he stood up and stormed from the room in
irrational self-hatred, slamming the door behind him.
"Hey, mate, anything wrong?" Theo asked him as he retook his previous seat on
Slytherin's side of the sofa in the main room.
Everything's wrong, Blaise wanted to scream. It's over with now. She knows!
"Nothing," he replied instead, turning away his friend's concern.
Laying his head back on the cushions of the couch, he pressed the heels of his
palms into his eyes and cursed himself a fool, seriously considering quitting
the game.
Chapter End Notes
     Here's their outfits:
     [https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/rzzmg/33309824/156044/
     156044_original.jpg] [https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/rzzmg/33309824/
     156240/156240_original.jpg]
***** 1F: Seamus & Lavender *****
Chapter Summary
     Seamus is going to need the luck of the Irish to break through his
     partner's iron-clad stubbornness.
Chapter Notes
     My husband recommended the song, "Be There" by U2 for Seamus &
     Lavender this go around, and I thought it a perfect complement to
     Theo's thoughts here. So, this chapter is dedicated to my hubby man -
     congratulations!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                        
                               SEAMUS & LAVENDER
 
===============================================================================
 Seamus allowed his partner to pick out the room she wanted from those
remaining. They got to a door just before Harry and Tracey, and Ron and Pansy,
and so weren't the last ones in, even though Lavender was clearly dragging her
feet. The room's décor, however, left much to be desired, as it was too bloody
white, so with a thought, he changed it to something they might both be more
comfortable with: the Gryffindor common room.
His ex-girlfriend looked about, shocked as the room changed every aspect of
itself to suit his wishes. "That is one thing about the Room of Requirement I
will never get used to," she admitted, shaking her head.
"Ye've been here a'fore then?" Seamus asked, taking off his jacket and jumper,
tossing them both over the familiar russet-red couch, and then lounging back
into the corner of the sofa. The magically-lit hearth directly across from him
gave off no heat; it was merely ambiance, as the lighting had dropped to the
common room's usual somewhat dim levels.
Lavender took the cozy chair directly next to the sofa, facing him. "Once," she
admitted. "On a date."
"Wit' one o' me mates?" he asked, smiling, working on fighting his Irish lilt,
trying to sound more British. It had been his goal for the past year to 'clean
up' his accent so that people could better understand him. His brogue was
always thickest right after returning to school from a holiday break or when he
was a tad nervous – like now.
Lavender looked at him askance and cleared her throat. "Aren't we on a time
limit to perform these things?" she asked, holding up her card. "Not that I'm
particularly rushing to do them, but…"
Seamus' good humor deflated. "I thought ta make this easier for ya, angel. Ta
get used ta me," he explained. "My card, ya see… it's a wee bit… frisky."
His partner's lids flared wide and she paled. "How frisky?"
He read the card aloud to her:
DEED: Your partner has to kiss your neck, ears, face, and lips as you instruct
them.
When he glanced back over at his witch, she was frowning. In fact, she looked
almost a tad rebellious, as if she were contemplating forfeiting. Truthfully,
he'd been looking forward to this reward, as it seemed a nice place for them to
start over, but as he watched her hands clench in her lap and her gaze fall to
the floor in consternation, he knew she honestly didn't want to be there with
him or touching him like that again. The idea was sobering.
"Do ya want ta talk some more?" he asked, wanting to make this easier for her.
"I don't mind easin' inta this with some conversation."
It took her another minute of contemplation before she hesitantly shook her
head. "No, that wouldn't help."
With a sigh, she stood, dropped her card on the chair she vacated and crossed
to him. "Um, how do you want to do this? Maybe you should stand up and-"
Seamus decided that it was time to throw her off; she was thinking too much
about this and getting herself worked up. Leaning forward, he grabbed both her
hands and yanked, cutting off her thought and dropping her directly into his
lap. She stumbled into position over him, her knees falling exactly where he'd
hoped: to either side of his legs.
"This is where ya'll want ta be," he teased, smiling.
Shocked, Lavender just sat there, her face inches from his, eyes wide and mouth
parted in surprise. Anger, however, quickly replaced her momentary
astonishment. She sat back on his thighs and scowled, and he knew from the way
her hands shot to her waist – a stance his Mam had perfected when squaring off
with him - that a scolding was coming. He thought it the cutest expression he'd
ever seen on her.
"Other women may fall for that, Finnigan, but I won't let you push me around,"
she declared, glaring at him. "That means no pawing me. The card doesn't say
you get to touch this time. I could call what you just did a foul."
His jaw dropped. She wouldn't! Not over something that insignificant. "Was only
a wee bit o' teasing, love. I meant no harm." He put his hands up between them
in innocent protest. "Ya have me promise not ta touch ya again during yer turn,
all right?" He promptly shoved both hands down the sides of the couch cushions
and trapped them there, trying to look thoroughly chastised and apologetic.
Lavender gave him a wary, measured stare, and nodded, accepting his contrite
admission of wrongdoing. Her gaze then wandered, rather unconsciously he
thought, to his lips. "So, um… I have to kiss you."
He gave her a wicked smile. "As I want ya ta," he reminded her. "It's me
reward, after all." He licked his lips, thinking of a good starting point,
watching his partner's cheeks redden with heat and her eyes glaze over with
passion. Oh, yeah, she was already feeling it, wasn't she? The effect of his
blood's magic was quick to pull at his female partners, he knew. "I'd like ya
ta start at me neck," he tilted his head to the right. "Kiss all up and down
now, leavin' no bit untouched."
Lavender looked positively distraught, but with a sigh, bent her lips to his
throat and pressed down. Her kisses were fast and chaste as she rushed to
finish. He wouldn't be having any of that!
"Slower. Take yer time," he coaxed into her ear, which was right next to his
lips. "Relax. Enjoy me. I canna touch ya, remember?"
He felt her throat convulse around a nervous swallow against him as she did as
he bade, letting her mouth slow in its contact, let it linger a bit over each
spot it touched.
"That's it, love. Take control o' me, ya?" he encouraged, already aroused by
her scent and just the idea of her touching him again in any capacity. He'd
waited two years to get back here with this witch, and hadn't realized until
just then how much he'd missed her in this way. Somehow, Lavender had a hold on
him that no other witch had been able to match. He wondered if it didn't have
something to do with his mother's heritage... "Use yer tongue and give me wet
kisses. Ahhh, yes! Like that, sweet angel." He shivered when her kisses melded
into soft, moist things that lathered across his throat, right over his quickly
beating pulse. "Leave me a love bite, will ya? Right there."
Lavender did as he wanted, sucking hard on a particular spot that shot fire
straight down through his spine and into his trousers. "Yes, leave yer mark on
me," he begged, loving the idea.
After long seconds of concentrated sucking on the one spot, she lifted her
mouth away and sat back, turning his head a bit to examine her work.
"Did ya like doing that ta me, angel?" he asked, watching her from the corner
of his vision as her fingertips traced around the spot she'd just bruised.
"Tell me the truth. Did ya?"
Reluctantly, she nodded.
"Then kiss me some more, love. Use yer teeth this time, if ya will. Not sharp.
Nice and light."
Bending back into the crook of his neck, his partner complied, and the scrape
of those even, white teeth against the hot skin of his neck made Seamus groan
and all of the blood in his body gather between his legs. He coaxed Lavender on
by continuing to direct her ministrations on his throat, requiring her to give
equal attention to his other side, where she sucked and left another love bite.
Her hands, by this time, were gripping his shoulders, and the crescents of her
nails were digging in as she got into the dominant position she'd taken over
him. She wiggled on his lap, and he knew she must be feeling his so-obvious
erection. "I like this, Lavender," he whispered, nuzzling the shell of her ear
with his nose. "I like this a lot, sweet lass. Yer mouth was made fer kissin',
I've always thought."
"Just kissing?" she paused, her breath a hot pant against his throat.
He shook his head. "Kissin' and lovin' and laughin'. Everything about ya,
angel, was made fer happiness. It pulls me ta ya, dontcha know?" He ran his
lips ever-so-light down her throat, not quite violating the rules. "But I want
more right now. Will ya kiss me jaw and chin next? Soft kisses, slow. Let me
feel that sweet mouth o' yers all o'er me."
A slight pause, a small shudder, and then her lips were caressing across his
face as he'd asked, working towards his lips. It felt like butterfly wings
tickling his face – soft, teasing, elusive. His hands clenched into fists as
she pressed a light touch against the corner of his mouth. So close, just a bit
more…
Circling around to the other side, Lavender did as he wanted and no more.
Seamus could feel the trembling in her body and knew she was scared of what
they were doing. He'd been watching her on and off for a very long time,
waiting for another chance to come along, but he also recognized that she'd
been purposefully avoiding him all that time – which meant she was still
uncomfortable about what had happened between them two years ago in that empty
dorm room. He intended on making up for that during this game, but in order to
do that, he needed to get past her defensive walls. That meant pushing her a
little further.
"Kiss me lips, sweet angel," he pleaded in a gentle whisper. "Let me taste ya
again, proper."
His partner's breathing kicked up a notch, and her shaking increased.
"Lavender," he purred across her skin. "Let me make up for the past. I'll make
it good for ya. Just kiss me and ye'll see."
Her chest hitched as she slid her cheek along his until their noses touched and
they stared into each other's eyes. "You hurt me, Sea," she told him in all
earnestness. "I don't trust you."
There was pain in those lovely eyes of hers, and Seamus felt the heavy weight
of guilt for having put it there. He didn't like hurting women; it always left
him unsettled in his belly. Women were made for loving, in his opinion. "I
wanted ta make it right, angel," he explained. "But ya wouldn't let me say
sorry! I've been waitin' for another go, but ya never let me near."
"I don't want to kiss you," she told him, turning her head and closing her
eyes. "I don't want to do any of this with you."
His pride took the blow, and he felt real anger simmer in his chest. "I'm
sorry, a'right! I know I was rough when takin' yer cherry years ago, and I've
regretted the hurt since. I've tried ta make it up ta ya, but you still won't
let me! How many times does a fella have ta say 'I'm sorry'?"
Her gaze was dark and angry when it swung back his way. "Like that would make
up for how used you made me feel! It was my first time, Sea, and you didn't
even try to give me any pleasure! You just took what you wanted, and then you
left me there, by myself in the dark, to clean up the mess."
He had to sit on his hands now, knowing that if he didn't he would reach out
and violate his earlier promise and touch her without her permission. "I didn't
know what ta do," he admitted, feeling his face flush with embarrassment at
having to admit his prior lack of skill. "I'd only done it once meself before
ya. It's not somethin' yer perfect at right o' way, ya know? And ya went all
stiff on me when I tried ta hold ya after. I figured ya didn't want me touchin'
ya anymore and needed privacy, so I left. Ya think that was a good feelin' for
me?" He growled, angry at the continued slights he'd endured for two years for
one night that had gone mistakenly wrong. "I wanted ta try again. I wanted ya
fer me girl, but ya rejected me o'er and o'er. There's only so much a man can
take, ya know, before he gets the hint."
Lavender scowled. "Yeah, what was that, a week before you moved into Parvati's
bed?"
Seamus grit his teeth. "Ya made it clear that ya hated me. I tried ta ferget ya
fast after that, like takin' off a bandage. It hurts less if ya do it quick and
get on."
His partner sniffed. "Yeah, well, you succeeded. You forgot me a lot after that
– with just about any girl you could whore your way into bed with." She looked
down at the collar of his shirt, her expression bitter. "Are we done yet with
your card? I'd like to get off your lap now."
"No, I want me kiss," he growled. It would be a bad idea to take their first
kiss in two years while angry, but he wasn't passing up this chance. Something
in him wouldn't let him walk away without at least a taste... "I want ya ta
snog me senseless, Lavender. I want yer tongue and lips o' mine, and I want it
ta taste like ya really want me. And since this is me reward, yer gonna give it
ta me. Now."
She looked ready to smack him and walk out, but then she narrowed her eyes and
leaned in, hovering over his lips. "I could always forfeit the game," she
warned him. "I could walk out right now and call it quits. Then you couldn't
force me to do this."
Seamus captured her gaze, desperate to hold onto her for even just a little
while longer. "Then I won't command ya, but I'll ask it: will ya please kiss
me? Kiss me fer all yer worth and make me pay for hurtin' ya back then. I'll
take yer hatred so long as I get ta taste ya again, even if it's ta be the last
time."
Her eyes widened as he spoke, and fear bloomed in the indigo depths.
Nudging his chin a bit, he aligned their mouths better, dropping his lids to
half-mast to stare at her with lustful need. "Kiss me," he whispered the plea.
"Give us a second chance, sweet lass. Let me do it right this time."
Lavender seemed frozen with indecision for at least a good minute, and then she
stared him dead in the eye. "No second chances. It'll just be a kiss. It means
nothing." With that, she dropped her mouth onto his.
It was a heart-stealing, soul-searing kiss, filled with anger and lust, and it
burned Seamus to the core. He groaned under his partner's rough handling,
loving her enthusiasm, especially when she bit his bottom lip in retribution,
then softened a bit, as if feeling a tad guilty for causing hurt. It was
telling, this first kiss: Lavender was furious with him, oh definitely, but she
also clearly wanted him. Knowing that was enough for him to want to stay on,
too, to try to make good on his wish to turn this chance – this possible last
chance for them – into a good memory for them both.
The open-mouthed, wet kiss grew in intensity when he slipped his tongue between
her lips and stroked hers with velvety gentleness. They both moaned in
response, and the sound made him shiver with anticipation. No matter her
protests, Lavender was on-board for this.
Seamus poured every ounce of skill he had into that snog, twining his tongue
about hers, lapping at her lightly, teasingly, and seductively. His partner's
hands traveled up to cup his jaw, then smoothed through his hair, gripping on
tight as the kiss deepened, as the anger ebbed away to become something more
profoundly stirring, genuine, and greedy.
A second after she moaned with pleasure, Lavender was off of him, having jumped
to her feet, wobbling unsteadily as she tried to regain her balance on heels
after having moved so fast. Her eyes were wide, her face was flooded with heat,
and her breathing was decidedly fast. "It was just a kiss, and no big deal,"
she spoke with conviction.
Seamus thoroughly assessed her in a sweeping glance as he removed his hands
from between the sofa's gaps. "Who're ya tryin' ta convince, angel?" he replied
without fear of reprisal, getting to his feet and looming over her. He stepped
forward and she stepped back. They continued the dance until she fell back into
the cozy chair she had previously occupied. Trapping her effectively by putting
both hands on the arms and leaning over her, he pressed his advantage. He
smiled in counter to her scowl, knowing well the signs of true arousal in a
woman and recognizing them in her just then. "'No big deal' woulda made ya
unaffected, and right now, I think yer verra affected. Just like me."
Turning her head again, she sniffed in mocking disdain. "It would have felt the
same with anyone, so don't think you're special, Finnigan."
He crouched down at her knees, still careful not to touch her, conscientious of
his earlier vow. "Ya don't snog Ron like that," he stated with arrogant self-
assurance, having spoken with Weasley on occasion about his relationship with
Lavender over the last few months. Living in the same dorm room with the guy
had allowed Seamus the opportunity to keep up on the comings and goings of Miss
Brown this past year. "Otherwise, it wouldna been casual a'tween ya two all
these months. And that kiss, Lavender… there wasn't a thing casual about it,
and ya know it, love."
Her back teeth were probably hurting her by now with all of the jaw
clenching she was doing. "We're done with your card, right?"
Seamus could have pressed it; they hadn't spent the whole twenty-five minutes
on his task. He decided, however, that all things would come to those with
patience, and winning this battle of wills with Lavender – getting her to admit
that she still felt something for him, as he now was willing to admit such
reciprocal feelings – was going to take many more rounds, a lot more fighting,
and some crafty ways of apologizing to her. He was looking forward to all of
it, and had no intention of pushing if it meant antagonizing her right out of
the game altogether.
"I'll concede ta me card being finished since ya asked it o' me," he agreed.
"Which means it's yer turn ta command me, sweet angel. So, what demands do ya
have?"
She reached under her bum for the card she'd tossed onto the cushion earlier,
and then read it aloud to him:
DEED: Your partner must wash your feet and hands, and then suck your fingers
and toes – all of them.
Seamus' eyebrows hit the roof… as did his smile. This sounded like fun!
Lavender, on the other hand, was glowering. "Why me?" she growled and threw the
card down in disgust. She slumped deep into the chair's cushioned back and
crossed her arms in annoyance.
Seamus chuckled, and with a mere thought, summoned a small basin of warm water
and a wash rag. "Shall ya remove yer shoes fer me, or shall I do it fer ya?" he
asked, beaming with happiness.
A snarl broke his partner's throat, making him snicker, and he leaned back as
Lavender removed her shoes, roughly unbuttoning the straps and kicking them
away.
Dipping the soft wash rag into the basin of water, Seamus wrung it out then
brought it to Lavender's right hand first, then her left, washing each finger,
the pads of each hand and her wrists as well, giving them a small massage in
the doing. He concentrated on every stroke, making sure to give her proper
attention, hoping to make up for all of the mistreatment she felt she'd
suffered under him prior. When he'd finished, he patted her hands dry with a
conjured towel.
He turned to her feet next with the same care, even dipping her lovely, purple-
painted toes in the basin now, letting the warm water lap over her skin as he
rubbed her in light circles. He massaged as he went, doing to her what he
thought he'd want to be done to him. He'd never actually given a foot massage
before to any girl, so this was a first. From the relaxing of her muscles and
the lack of a protest from her lips, however, he took that to mean he was doing
an adequate job of it. He then patted her feet dry with the same gentleness
he'd shown her hands.
Lifting her right foot first, placing it on his left shoulder, he bent his head
and began kissing her ankles, moving in slow, wet, deliberate action towards
her toes. He licked her arch in a slow rasp, which earned him a small cry of
distress from his lady. Against his thumb, he could feel her pulse speed up in
the artery that ran down into her foot. The lust was stirring in her veins, but
like the stubborn witch she was, she adamantly was trying to deny it. The
thought made him smile.
Circling up the pad of her big toe, he wrapped his lips around it and brought
it into his moist mouth, playfully running his tongue over it. As he pulled
back with suction, he looked up into Lavender's face, caught her eye, and
didn't look away.
His partner looked like a pixie in mating heat – dilated pupils, rapid
breathing, crimson cheeks, lips parted with growing hunger. He licked her
second toe, never pulling his gaze from hers, rolling her flesh around with his
tongue, and pretending for the moment that he was doing this between her legs,
to her tiny, little bead instead. With each toe, he worked her over physically
as well as psychologically, hoping to crack through that emotional fence she'd
put up between them.
When he'd run the gamut of the foot, he returned to her ankle, placed a kiss on
the sensitive part right under the bone, and guided her leg back down.
The fun wasn't over yet, though. He repeated the process with her left foot,
paying extra attention to suckling and licking over spots that made her body
shiver or her muscles jolt. She shivered when he tickled between her toes with
his tongue, and when he nibbled just above her ankle joint.
When he'd finished, he lowered her foot and sat up on his knees, reaching for
her right hand.
"Did ya enjoy that, me love?" he asked, nuzzling her limp hand with his nose
and cheek. "I know Idid. Ya taste wonderful."
Lavender didn't reply. She swallowed and looked away again instead, clearly
trying to control her reactions.
Seamus broke right through that tight discipline of hers, however, when he drew
her index finger into his mouth and sucked it slow. Her eyelids fluttered shut,
she began shaking from head to toe, and the pulse in her wrist flew out of
control under his fingertips. He tongued the skin between her fingers with
skill.
"Are ya imaginin' where else I could be tonguin' ya, sweet angel?"
He sucked in her middle finger next, releasing it with slow, purposeful
reluctance.
"How about on the skin o' that golden neck o' yers? Right over yer pulse?"
He then bathed her ring finger in his saliva.
"Flickin' your lobe and nippin' it with me teeth…"
Lapping at her pinky, he drew the seduction out, bringing his body – and her
hand – right near her face, continuing to enjoy her flavour as he tried to
entice her further.
"Would ya like me tongue ta lap at those beautiful breasts o' yers?"
He tickled her inside wrist with his tongue, mimicking the motions he hoped to
make around her areola at some point during the game.
"I'd love ta take me time lickin' yer nipples 'til they were achin' from the
attention."
As he spoke, he reached for her left hand and brought it to his mouth, allowing
the right to fall back onto the chair arm. He repeated his lips' trailing,
dampening quest all over again.
"Shall I tell ye that I've dreamed of lickin' that little hole in yer belly…"
Suckle.
"Or inside yer thighs…"
Suckle.
"Or behind yer knees…"
Suckle.
"And especially between yer cunnie."
Nibble, lick, suckle.
"I've wanted ta taste yer honey, love. Ta lap between those long legs o' yers
until ya were moanin' fer more. Ta suck yer clit until yer spine arched wit'
the pleasure."
He leaned mere inches from her mouth, drawing her index finger back into his
mouth, running his expert tongue over it.
"I've wanted ta enter ya again, Lavender, slowly and wit' thoughts ta only yer
desire. I've wanted ta bring ya gently, ta hear ya cry out fer me finally, ta
watch yer face as ya let go and gave yerself ta me."
A soft chiming alerted them that their time was up, but Seamus wasn't quite
finished yet. There was one more thing to say…
He cupped her cheek and fanned his fingers out over the soft, glowing skin,
locking his eyes onto hers. "I wanted ta make ye me girl once, sweet angel. I
know now that I never stopped wantin' that all this time. I want ya ta think
about that during this game, and at the end, I want ya ta give me yer answer.
Will ya be mine, or no?"
She opened her mouth, but he pressed a finger to her lips to silence her.
"At the end. Not before. Give me time ta court ya right."
With that, Seamus stood and tugged on Lavender's hand to help her up. Quickly,
she removed her fingers from his grasp and moved past him to collect her shoes.
Without a word, she left the room, holding her shoes in one hand, her back
ramrod straight. She acted as if she were pulling up the remnants of her
dignity and pride, and cloaking herself in them for protection - attempting to
keep him out at the same time.
Seamus wasn't disheartened by her lack of a warm response to his proposal, for
in her eyes he'd seen her desire, and it had mirrored his. It was a good start.
Whistling a small jig, he took up his jacket and jumper, shoved his hands in
his trouser pockets and left the doppelganger Gryffindor common room in place,
wanting it to remain for the next action round as well.
Chapter End Notes
     Here's their outfits:
     [https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/rzzmg/33309824/161031/
     161031_original.jpg] [https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/rzzmg/33309824/
     161013/161013_original.jpg]
***** The 2nd Question *****
Chapter Summary
     The first round has ended, and the second round begins with another
     interesting question that puts the group to the test...
Chapter Notes
     CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: User AngiesDreams recommended the song,
     "The Power of Love" by Huey Lewis & The News for everyone this go
     around, and I thought it a perfect complement to everyone's thoughts
     here. So, this chapter is dedicated to AngiesDreams -
     congratulations!
     PLEASE REVIEW!
 
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
                              Room of Requirement
                       Saturday, June 13, 1998 (8:30pm)
                                        
As the game required of all players, Draco sat on the end of the couch in the
same spot he had vacated earlier, and tried not to be too obvious about staring
at Granger, who sat next to a very pale, frowning She-Weasel. The two women
were gripping hands tightly and neither had said a word since they'd come out
of their private rooms a few minutes earlier. In fact, no one had spoken; it
had been strangely silent between all of them, as if whatever had happened
behind those six closed doors in the last hour had somehow changed them all.
Except for him. Nothing he'd done in the privacy of the room he'd occupied with
his partner had left a lasting stain upon his conscience. In fact, he was
looking forward to doing a lot more this round. Clearly, though, Hermione
wasn't, as she wouldn't even look his direction. Maybe he'd pushed it too fast
by moving in fast on the physical stuff?
"Does anyone need the loo?" Saint Potter finally spoke, his voice soft in the
hushed room, taking the lead this round, as he and Draco had previously decided
upon. When a silent chorus of shaking heads met that question, the Gryffindor
captain nodded. "From what I understand, the action cards from last round have
all been reshuffled magically into their correct deck now, and last round's
question card has erased itself, having been completed." He looked to
Slytherin's Team Captain for confirmation, and once he'd received it, he
continued. "Then, Parkinson, it's your turn to draw a green card," the chirpy
Gryffindor dictated.
Draco watched as, jarred from the moment's introspective thoughts, his female
Housemate reached for the next Interrogationscard and blanched, then read it
aloud, fighting to keep her voice even:
 
"If you had to participate in an orgy with anyone in this group tonight, who
would you pick as your partners? Name 3-5 people."
 
Everyone focused on Daphne, who was immediately to Pansy's left. The woman
adjusted her glasses as coolly as possible and looked around, pausing
momentarily on Theo. She then reached for a Forfeits card.
Her partner leapt to his feet. "What? You mean you wouldn't want me at least?"
Greengrass said nothing, merely looked at him as evenly as possible. "I believe
the rules state rather specifically that I am not required to answer a question
unless I wish to. I choose not to this round, with no reflection on anyone
here."
"Yeah, and you can't interrogate her on her lack of response either, Nott,"
Potter added. "Those are the rules."
Draco regarded Theo as his face flushed red with anger. Apparently, whatever
had happened between he and Daphne during the previous round had affected him
enough to feel he now had some sort of rights over his partner. Greengrass was
disabusing him of that notion right quick, however, returning his stare without
flinching.
"Theo, sit," he cautioned his friend. "If Daph doesn't want to admit or deny
anything in front of the group, she doesn't have to."
After a final moment of glaring, his best friend slumped back down onto the
couch, still steaming. He turned his head away from the proceedings, looking
off at the far wall, clearly trying to cool his head. The play moved on to
Blaise.
He looked equally as shaken as Theo was, although his gaze was purposefully
directed on the She-Weasel, who refused to look up at him. "You know my
answer," he stated somewhat bitterly to the little redheaded woman across from
him. He spoke to her alone, tuning out the rest of them, his face a mask of
granite detachment barely holding in place, spilling unhappiness out at the
corners as he fought to contain his emotions. "Even though I know you'd love to
knock my block off right now, I'd still pick you as my first choice. I couldn't
care less who the other people would be. Guy or girl, it doesn't matter.
Everyone in this group is interesting enough, I suppose."
Draco wasn't really surprised by this revelation about his friend's sexual
orientation. He'd always assumed Blaise to be the "take sex as you can find it"
type. The man was so closed-mouthed about his partnerships however that it was
impossible to have ever previously been able to say definitively one way or the
other. Now it was out there for everyone to know finally that Blaise was bi-
sexual. There were a few askance looks (especially from Gryffindor's side, and
he noted that Theo shifted in a curiously uncomfortable fashion). The
Weaslette, however, did not meet his gaze. She did not respond at all, in fact.
She merely swallowed hard, looking positively miserable and ill.
There were an awkward few minutes after Blaise's pronouncement where no one
spoke or dared breathe too loud, as if everyone could feel the palpable
discomfort and pain electrifying the air around them, centering on the cyclone
of emotions that was Blaise Zabini and Ginevra Weasley. Uncomfortable himself
with the queer silence, Draco finally nudged Tracey, wanting her to take her
turn next to move past the moment and get them back on track.
The woman jumped and then blushed. "Oh, um, Blaise has to take a Deeds card,
right, and then it's my turn?" Next to her, Zabini reached forward and took a
red card from the stack. When he'd done that, Tracey cleared her throat behind
a polite hand. "Right. Well… um…" She swallowed convulsively a few times. "I
don't think I'd enjoy the experience at all of being with multiple partners,
and I'm not very comfortable with the idea of naming any people to do such a
thing I wouldn't like anyway, so does that mean I have to take a Forfeits
card?" She looked over at Potter, who glanced at him. They both nodded at the
same time, in agreement over the ruling of this one.
"Sorry," Harry apologized sincerely to his partner. "You're choosing not to
answer technically, so that means you take a blue card." Cheeks flushing,
Tracey nodded, and reached for a Forfeitscard.
Draco shrugged. "Those are the rules, Davis." He turned his attention to
Hermione then, as it was his turn, and gave her the slickest smirk he could
conjure, watching her face pale as she realized he planned to answer. "I'd pick
Granger, Davis, and Greengrass." He'd answered flippantly, making light of the
matter and grinning like a cad, which he knew irritated his partner.
She turned her nose up at him, annoyance flickering across her features.
Reaching for a Deeds card, Draco chuckled under his breath. "Your turn,
Finnigan."
Seamus laughed loudly and lustily, and it was a strange sound in the still-
charged room. He leaned back into the couch and swung an arm up and over the
back of the cushions. "Well, since it's me own card, I suppose I have ta
answer." He turned a lascivious grin on Brown, who sat at his left. "I'm sure
me partner would rather kick me arse than give me half a chance, but I'd want
her. As fer the others…" He looked about the group, measuring up each woman. "I
suppose I'd have ta say Hermione and Ginny."
Ginny grinned and rolled her eyes at her Housemate, but Granger looked up and
over at the handsome Irish, blushing a brilliant red. Her mouth opened in
shock, as if she was just cued into an idea she had never before considered.
Draco restrained the growl that rose up in his throat by gritting his teeth. Of
all the men at the game tonight, it was Finnigan who he felt was the greatest
threat for stealing a woman's attentions. The guy was rumoured to have a
humongous dick that had never failed to satisfy. That he'd dare consider
Granger… Cock-sucking bastard.
Lavender barked a cynical laugh. "Figures." She indicated her partner should
take a red card from the stack. Before he'd sat back, she snatched up a blue
card, holding it tightly to her chest. "I refuse to answer," she sulked
indignantly. "There are too many big egos running around this room already."
Her partner took no offence, laughing at her stubbornness. He stretched his
legs out in front of him, supremely confident that he'd known what Brown's
answer would have been anyway, and clearly enjoying her determination not to
name him.
Brown elbowed the man hard enough to make him lose his breath and bend at the
waist, clutching his abs for such an arrogant show.
Good girl, Draco sadistically thought, feeling vindicated.
The Weaselbee was next. He cleared his throat, glanced at Pans out of the
corner of his eye, and turned an interesting shade of red. "Pansy. No one
else." He turned to the blonde at his side quickly. "No offense, Lav, but…"
Lavender shook her head and patted the guy's hand with a casual affection.
"Friends, Ron. That's all it was for me, too."
The wizard nodded his head in agreement, then his bashful gaze wandered back to
his Slytherin partner's across the aisle from him and he cleared his throat.
"Then… I'd only want Pansy."
Draco couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. He knew it was against the
rules, but it was an uncontrollable reaction that needed a voice. "Oh, hell,
Pans, you're good! In less than an hour, you brought home a puppy!"
Parkinson threw him a death glare. "Shut it, Drake," she warned, her eyes
glittering with the promise of retribution for making a joke at her expense.
He wiped the tears of hilarity from his eyes, and tried to compose himself, but
fell into another round of wild, amused chuckling.
Across the way, Gryffindor's former Keeper had gone still with fury. "She's
fucking hot, Malfoy," Weasley countered coldly, leaning forward in his
direction for emphasis. "You're just too stupid to see it."
Abruptly, Draco's amusement disappeared, much like a candle extinguished with a
strong puff of breath. He (and the others in the room, he noticed) stared with
incredulity at the Weasel King. The bloke was serious. Really, truly serious.
Hell's bells, not an hour ago, he and Parkinson had practically been at each
other's throats!
Draco quickly changed his focus to Pansy. His ex was staring at her game
partner, astonished. Her dark eyes were blown wide with disbelief, but the
definitive sparkle of interest glimmered in the back of them. Abruptly
realising she was the object of Draco's attention she shuttered her lids and
looked down at her hands. He would almost say she looked… shy.
Oh, hell, he thought, with some small measure of concern. "Tell me you're
kidding."
He glanced between the two sides, his eyes bouncing between his ex-girlfriend
and the one guy in the world he couldn't stand more than Potter.
"Shut it or else," Weasley growled, looking ready to leap up and throttle him
at any moment.
"Bloody hell," Draco grumbled, resigned to the fact that the truly bizarre was
going to inevitably be part of tonight's game. If Pans wanted to toy with the
redhead, who was he to play the protector of her remaining virtue? He had
enough to think about with Granger, anyway, whose turn it was next to answer.
"Whatever. Rules say you can't answer that way. Finnigan's card was specific.
You have to pick three to five people from the group. So either answer
completely, or take a Forfeit."
Weasley looked to his friend and Captain, but Potter simply hung his head and
nodded in concurrence. "Malfoy's right. The rules are specific. Sorry, Ron."
The ginger git looked torn and gazed across the space at Parkinson again, whose
eyes were still on her lap. Without any more thought to the matter, he reached
for a blue card.
Obviously having caught the motion from her peripheral vision, Pansy's head
jerked up in astonishment, and then a small smile tugged at her lips and relief
was evident in her eyes.
Seriously, whatever, Draco sighed, turning his attention on the one person
whose answer did matter to him.
Hermione didn't even look at him as she reached for a Forfeits card, saying
nothing.
Not surprising. Really, he could have bet the odds on that one and come up the
winner. Let down by her lack of courage, though, Draco sat back into the couch
and contemplated his partner with intense scrutiny, silently willing her to
look up so he could aim that disappointment directly into her brain.
The She-Weasel copied her best friend exactly. All the while, the two ladies
maintained a death grip on each other's hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he
saw Blaise smirk and look to the side, as if the response from his partner
hadn't been at all unexpected.
Prince Potter was talking then, and Malfoy shook himself out of his
contemplation to tune-in to the nonsense. "I'm monogamous. That's not my kind
of thing, and just speaking hypothetically about it isn't comfortable for me
either, so I'll just take a Forfeit."
Gryffindor's Captain snatched up a blue card as game play passed quickly to
Theo.
Draco's other best friend crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, clearly
considering the wisdom of answering or not. With a growl, he lunged forward and
took a red card, then tapped it against his knee. "I'd fuck any of the girls
here, but if I had to pick, top three choices would be Greengrass, Granger, and
Brown." He stared at Daphne pointedly as he replied, as if challenging her to
argue.
For her part, Greengrass remained wisely silent. She adjusting her glasses
again across the bridge of her nose and stared off at the far wall with
deliberate insouciance. This only seemed to anger Theo more, though, Draco
noted; his friend's free hand actually clenched into a fist.
Damn, what had happened between Nott and Greengrass in that private room to
make Theo react so aggressively? He'd never known his friend to be so affected
by a woman!
But then, Draco could relate. His obsession had been on-going for a rather long
time, however, and was therefore had deeper roots.
He turned to his own partner, feeling a tad bitter about the answers this
round. "My, aren't you popular with the boys," he bit, his own jealousy
manifesting.
He knew he was behaving immaturely, but the fact that every male in the room
wanted to fuck his girl (and he was quite sure that the Weasel and Potty would
have listed Granger, too, had either of them had the cojones to do so) made
Draco terribly resentful.
Granger stared at him as if he'd just said something completely nutters.
"No discussion," Potter reminded him and Draco was forced to turn aside his
need to lash out. It wasn't, after all, really Hermione's fault that she was
desirable enough to put on a list of women a bloke would most like to fuck.
Slytherin's balls, he even wanted her, and he'd been her antagonist for years.
"Parkinson, back to you," Scar-Head indicated.
Pansy practically glowed neon red, opened her mouth, shut it, then hung her
face in her hands and muffled her reply. "I'd pick Weasley. No one else." She
reached for a Forfeits card, not able to answer the question correctly either.
"No shit?" her partner asked, breathing a shaky sigh of relief. "Well, that's…
good."
Draco looked between the two former enemies-slash-new best bed buddies and,
mentally shook his head.
"Time to turn your cards over," Potter announced.
Draco flipped his placard and read it carefully, then uncrossed his legs and
stood up. "Time," he demanded, tapping the Deeds card against his thigh.
"Its 8:40," Potter replied, replacing his fob watch in his pocket. He reached
for those invisible glasses of his again and sighed when he remembered he no
longer wore them. He'd have to find a new OCD tick, it seemed.
"All right, you've got until 9:30," Draco declared, turned on his heel and made
for the same room as last time, knowing Granger would have no choice but to
follow him. She had a punishment coming to her, after all.
Behind him, Potter's voice rang out. "Pregnancy charms, ladies, if you please."
Draco snorted, re-reading his card as he reached for the knob and pulled his
door open. Maybe they'd have better use for such a spell with Granger's
Forfeit, because his action round certainly wouldn't call for the use of such a
spell. Talk about rotten luck.
***** 2A: Seamus & Lavender *****
Chapter Summary
     Lavender's determination not to be hurt by Seamus ever again is
     seriously put to the test...
Chapter Notes
     CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: User "Daisykins" recommended the song,
     "Give and Take" by Tyler Collins for Lavender & Seamus this go
     around, and I thought it a perfect complement to Lavender's thoughts
     here. So, this chapter is dedicated to DAISYKINS - congratulations!
     PLEASE REVIEW!
 
Back in their own private version of the Gryffindor common room, Lavender
tossed her bum down in the same cozy chair she'd previously occupied during the
last two action rounds, crossing her legs. She positively glared at Seamus as
he entered behind her and quietly shut the door.
Swaggering over to the couch, he carefully removed his woolen jacket and
jumper, laying them across the back of the sofa, and then literally jumped into
the same catty-corner as before, lounging back as if the world was his oyster
and he had no cares. He unbuttoned his white, cotton dress shirt at the collar,
and did the same to his shirt cuffs, rolling them up to mid-forearm.
They stared at each other the whole time in silence, she trying hard not to
notice his predatory inspection of her person. When he'd made himself quite
comfortable, he lifted his card and read it aloud to her:
DEED: Caress every inch of your partner's naked body on the outside.
Lavender felt the blood drain from her face. "You have gotto be joking!"
That sexy smile of his put in an appearance, gliding up his cheek. "'Fraid not,
sweet angel. Shall we get ta it then?"
She grit her teeth, letting her fingernails roll-tap over the arms of the
chair. "I'd rather not."
Her partner frowned, losing his good humour. "Yer mad about how I answered the
question, aren't ya?"
She hated to admit it, but the fact that Seamus had so casually tossed out the
idea that he wouldn't mind getting it on with two other women, one of whom was
her good friend, had stung. Lavender had always felt she'd placed second when
compared to Hermione, whether it be in Ron's arms or in their various classes.
To have Pansy included in the mix... she couldn't even begin to describe how
that had galled her. The woman was a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake!
Of course, it hadn't helped that not a minute later, Ron had said he'd
preferred Pansy, too. Her self-esteem had taken a big hit then.
Was she going to let Seamus know any of this, though? Abso-bloody-lutely not.
He had too big an ego as it was.
"Let's just get this over with. It's not like you haven't already had me naked
before."
Quelling her terror, tamping it down deep into her gut – she was a Gryffindor,
after all – Lavender stood up and reached behind her neck, pulling the string
tie to the halter of the dress, letting it fall. Peeling the dress away with a
wiggle here and there, it drifted to the floor in a satiny heap.
Seamus sucked in his breath as he took in her lingerie. "Bloody hell!" he swore
in amazement, and wolf-whistled. "Ya went and grew up on me, love. And yer
knickers are quite fetchin', ya know." He got to his feet in a flash and
approached.
Teetering on her heels as she took a step away, Lavender nearly fell back. Sea
caught her with an unexpected swiftness, however, gathered her into his arms
and effortlessly held her up against his solid chest. His arms were steel bands
around her, pressing her into his warm curves. They were nose to nose when she
looked up.
Godric, he was gorgeous, wasn't he?
An electric tingle shot up her spine and into the back of her head, causing her
knickers to go instantly wet, just as it had last round when he'd touched her.
She might have said it was some sort of magic she'd felt that caused the
reaction, but he wasn't holding his wand.
"Easy, sweet angel," he murmured in a gentle tone. "No need ta be rushin' and
hurtin' yerself. Let me enjoy ya like this a bit, yeah?"
Lavender's inner alarms blared in warning. From the end of third year, when
she'd first developed a fancy for Sea, he'd been her greatest temptation, with
his smooth moves, his alluring woodsy scent, and those full, kissable lips and
intense, green eyes. And that brogue… gods, that lilt, with the rolled r's, and
the way he emphasized the 'La' part of her name! It made her shiver inside and
out. Her ex-boyfriend had a way of enchanting her with a look or a simple
phrase - which is why she'd made such a grave error in calculation two years
ago and given up her virginity to him.
She'd promised herself after that fiasco that never again would she be made a
fool of by putting her feelings so easily on the line. She'd cried too many
tears, for too many months to count, and didn't intend upon repeating such a
mistake. That vow was one she had lived by since, as she absolutely refused to
become a victim to any man's clever wit or sultry looks a second time. In order
to assure that happened, there was no such thing as 'making love' in bed – it
was 'just sex' now.
That meant that Mister Seamus Finnigan, who had made the claim tonight that he
was offering her something deeper than a simple physical relationship, was
strictly off-limits. Besides, she didn't believe his offer to be true, anyway.
It was most likely that he was simply trying to alleviate his guilt by earning
her forgiveness. Once she gave it, he'd probably skip off to the next girl.
Narrowing her eyes, she threw him her most disapproving frown. "The card says
nothing about either one of us enjoying this. I just have to do it."
The teasing glint left Seamus' eye and his countenance became very serious.
"Lavender, I want this ta be good for the both o' us. Don't make me touch ya
without care, Angel. It would… hurt me."
A sharp pang stabbed Lavender's chest. Well, that had seemed totally sincere…
No, he's a silver-tongued liar!, she sharply reminded herself, shaking off her
momentary doubts. She knew better than anyone that this wizard talked a pretty
speech to get a witch into his bed. The rumours from the other females around
school only confirmed it; he'd turned dumping a girl into an art form. Frankly,
Lavender didn't trust Sea any further than she could throw him.
"You did it before, so why should you care now about a repeat?"
The frustration flashed through his eyes, making him stern, almost scary. "I
told ya why already! Merlin's pecker, woman, don't ya listen? I care about ya,
a'right?"
"Pretty words, but just that," she threw back, her heart fluttering behind the
cage of her ribs in anxiety over this confrontation. "But then, you're known
for them, Sea. Every girl you've shagged says the same thing: you're a regular
Lothario blessed with Cassanova's mouth."
He closed his eyes and sighed, obviously trying to rein in his temper.
"Lavender…"
"Save it," she interrupted, pulling herself out of his embrace, reaching for
her heels to get the bloody things off her feet so she'd stop tripping. "Your
history speaks for itself, Finnigan, and I don't believe you." She kicked her
shoes across the room, and then shakingly began removing her heart bracelet.
"So, let's just get this over with already."
I will not cry, I will not cry, I WILL NOT CRY, she repeated the litany to get
rid of the unexpected wavering tears in her eyes.
Why in all the levels of Hell was she this distressed? She'd promised her heart
that she would never allow a man to upset her like this again; would never to
let a man tip her whole world upside down and turn it inside out a second time…
…and why was this fucking clasp not coming off?
Gentle hands intervened, pushing her shaking fingers to the side and calmly
removing the bracelet from her wrist, placing it down in the center of the
nearby chair's cushion. "Slow 'n easy, sweet lass," Seamus coaxed, stepping
back into her sphere, pressing in too close.
Wait, didn't he hear what she'd just said? Didn't he understand that she didn't
want him like that ever again?
Those strong fingers of his slid over her arms and up to her shoulders, gently
slipping her bra straps down, softly caressing the skin in passing.
Godric, he was stripping her. She should stop him!
No, he was only doing what his card allowed. If she stopped him, it would be
her forfeit, and that was something her pride wouldn't let her do. She wouldn't
be chased out of this game! She wasn't some little, naïve girl anymore. Their
experience two years before had irrevocably changed her. Now she would show
Seamus Finnigan that she could endure whatever he could dish out like the
grown, mature woman she'd become!
Heart skipping madly, threatening to crawl up her throat, Lavender fought to
regain control of her rapid pulse, to stop her body from trembling, and to calm
her breathing. That odd, warm sparking tingle continued up and down the length
of her spine, though, making it hard for her to ignore. Godric, was she that
desperate for his touch, or was their chemistry just that bloody good?
Seamus slowly circled behind her, giving her a bit of space… but was too little
a gentleman to stop, apparently. When he began unhooking the clasp to her bra,
her inhalations sped up again. "Calm, me love," he coaxed in a soft murmur. "I
won't hurt ya."
"Liar," she whispered, unable to match the strength of the echoing shout in her
head.
His touch was tender, unhurried, and when the tension of her bra eased up, his
warm hands smoothed the lingerie away, pulling it from her arms and dropping it
to the floor. He leaned his head over her shoulder and looked down, his hands
coming to rest on her waist. He melded his body to hers. "Yer beautiful," he
whispered, and began tracing circles over her skin with his fingertips, gliding
them across her abdomen. "Tell me, love, can we combine our cards, do ya
think?"
Against her better judgment, Lavender nodded. Perhaps if they did their actions
together it would go faster? She recalled her card's requirements and recited
them back verbatim for him:
FORFEIT: Your partner gets to use a feather on you in any way they wish.
Seamus hummed in approval and held his hand out before her. Into it appeared a
rounded wooden knot, at the top of which was bound a grouping of cockerel
feathers. He gripped it between his fingers and brought it towards her without
pause. The pulsing organ in Lavender's chest tried to leap out between her
ribs.
No! Get control of yourself! She adamantly refused to let what he was about to
do to her affect her. She'd grit her teeth and endure it, but she would not
enjoy it!
Oh-so-gently, her partner stroked the feathers over her throat. "I'll only
touch ya this way, angel," he pledged, running the extremely soft plumes over
her neck, up and down, back and forth from one shoulder to the other. "And ya
don't have ta get any more undressed unless ya want ta. I won't force it."
"But the cards say-" she began, but he cut her off, stroking the feathers over
her lips.
"Sod all the cards," he denounced, moving the fetish toy over her cheeks and
jaw. "It's me turn, and I get ta interpret the bloody things as I want."
As the wispy strands of the feather edges moved past the bridge of her nose to
her forehead and back down, Lavender had no choice but to close her eyes.
Trying to hold absolutely still through this wasn't going to be an option, as
her body was shivering from the pleasurable sensations as the feather ran over
her sensitive pulse in her neck again. Anticipation quickened her breath.
Seamus' lips were right on top of the shell of her ear when he groaned in
longing, but instead of trailing the feathers down her breasts, as she'd
expected, he teased them over the flesh of her right arm, bringing goose bumps
to the surface.
Lavender kept her eyes closed out of fear and embarrassment now, and bit her
bottom lip when the tickling centered on the inside bend of her elbow and over
the veins in her wrist, for that feeling did more than just delight – it set
off a rioting of butterflies in her stomach, making her belly clench. A gasped
huff escaped her mouth despite her will.
As her fingers received a light stroking, the brush moved across her abdomen in
a zigzag pattern from just under her breast to her lower left hip bone and
back, before centering on her bellybutton. She was not normally a ticklish
person, but that light grazing made her burst into helpless giggles. Trying to
staunch the eruption was impossible as well, because Seamus didn't let up until
she pushed his wrist away.
"No, no, lass, ya canna prevent me from touchin' ya how I want," he kidded,
stroking the feathers down the length of her spinal column. "This is me reward,
after all."
His reward, Lavender instantly sobered, opening her eyes once more, the harsh
reality of their situation coming down on her once again. That's right. That's
all this is about – winning me over so he can get my forgiveness and appease
his guilt.
Stiffening up again, she stood stock still. "I apologize for interrupting. You
can continue. I won't move again."
Finnigan sighed and she could hear the frustration. There was an awkward pause,
and then she was being tugged to the sofa, being forced to straddle him once
more. This time, however, her breasts were thrust into his face. She backed off
as far as he would allow – which was only to put a little space between them.
Her ire shot through the roof.
"You can't touch me like this! It's a foul!"
"I'm beggin' ta differ," he countered with a growl. "I need good access ta ya
front, since that's where I'm wantin' ta touch ya next. Sittin' here like this
gives me what I need ta fulfill the cards." He jerked his knees out, forcing
her thighs wider, and leaned forward, leering at her. "Yer gonna like this
part, I'm thinking. Now, don't move, like ya promised."
With deft hands and one rather determined feather, Seamus managed to transform
her irritation into instant desire, as he trailed the stimulating ends of his
toy over her right breast, circling her nipple with it. More electric sparks
shot along her spinal column, seeming to centre in the very sensitive spots at
the tip of her tail bone and at the nape of her neck. Everything inside her
clenched, making her literally quake, and a startled gasp escape her lips. It
took a supreme effort of will not to clutch at his arms for support, instead
forcing her hands into clenched fists at her sides.
"Ah, ya see, angel," Seamus enticed, continuing his lazy sweep of her tiny
rosy-beige buds. "Yer body isn't as cold as ya'd have me believe." He flicked
the wispy feathers under the curve of her breast, following it around to the
top and over to her left nipple, where he repeated a languid figure eight
pattern across her skin.
"Yer tiny nips are perfect for suckin', me lass. I'd love ta run me tongue o'er
this one here first," her former boyfriend indicated the breast on the left,
tickling it with the feathers. The hot air from his sultry, thickly-accented
speaking voice lightly danced over her skin at the same time, adding to the
stimulation. "I'd bathe ya in me wet, warm mouth, lappin' across yer nipple,
sucklin' and leavin' behind a love bite ta mark ya as mine."
He tilted his head to the other side, making sure his mouth hovered very close
to its intended target. He exhaled and cool air instead caressed her skin,
making Lavender choke back a whimper and resist the urge to squirm. "This one
here, I'd clamp me teeth around and pull." He pressed his torture device
directly against that nipple and slowly rotated it. "Gentle like, ya know? I'd
let go right when ya were on the brink a'tween pleasure an' pain, then do it
again and again."
Seamus continued his languid sweep around each breast, over and over again,
turning his head to supposedly 'inspect' his work, all the while changing the
temperature of the air around them by physically exhaling through his open
mouth, or pretending to blow air out. By the time he moved the feather toy down
her abdomen again, Lavender teetered on the brink of insanity.
And still he wasn't done with her.
The velvety smooth titillation continued its downward trek to just over her
knickers, tracing the edges from one hip to the other, and around the curves of
both thighs. The sensitive flesh there quivered in response, tensed up, and now
she had to place her hands on her thighs to keep herself from jumping up off
his lap.
"Ah, such soft lookin' skin ya have, me love," her partner murmured. "I gotta
touch ya again." He put the toy down at his side on the cushions, and then blew
on his hands and rubbed them together to warm them up. Lavender went as stiff
as possible, steeling her resolution and dedication to her previously made vow,
her fingers twitching and digging into the area just above her knees.
Tender, determined fingers splayed across her ribs and roamed slowly upwards,
cupping her breasts and pushing in a smooth rolling motion. Lavender lurched
and bit her tongue.
"Godric's rod!" Seamus breathed in awe, letting his fingertips stroke her
nipples back into hard, little points. "What a fool I been, missin' this
beauty."
He tweaked each of the tiny buds between his index fingers and thumbs, and
that's what sent Lavender plummeting to her doom. She cried out and grabbed at
his biceps, arching into him. With her face pressed to his neck, and her
breathing ragged, she drew in the scent of Seamus once more, drowning in his
musky fragrance, letting it roll over her, just as she had when she'd kissed
him not an hour before.
"I wanna kiss 'em, sweet angel," her seducer whispered his wish against her
ear. His fingers continued to work their magic on her overly-sensitive breasts.
"Will ya let me?"
Stop fighting it,a naughty voice in the back of her head coaxed. Give in.
Her walls battered down by his physical assault of her senses, Lavender was
helpless to do anything but nod in surrender.
His mouth closed over her left breast, and just as he promised, he took it into
the moist cavern of his mouth, and licked and flicked gently with his tongue,
soaking her in his saliva. Her hands moved into Seamus' hair and grabbed on, as
she pressed into him more firmly, a low, desperate moan leaving her throat.
Deep in her womb, she felt the fire of need burning, and between her legs, warm
fluid trickled from her opening, wetting the fabric of her knickers.
Tilting her hips forward, she tightened her buttocks, and Seamus' hands roamed
down to cup her backside in response, pulling her body in tight against his. As
soon as she came in contact with his very hard erection, he began a hard
sucking of her tiny bead, leaving behind what she knew would be that love bite
he promised. Driven by a lusty greed, she ground her pelvis against his covered
cock and cried out in pleasure.
When he was satisfied with his attentions to her one breast, Seamus turned his
mouth towards the other, and again, as he had described, he took her bud
expertly between his teeth and clamped down, tugging it away from her chest
with slow, deliberate pressure. Digging her nails into his skull, Lavender
hissed and arched more vigorously into her former lover's embrace. "Oh,
Merlin!" she panted, as his hands began kneading her arse, pulling her over his
solid length, humping to a slow, insistent rhythm. His fingers slid the edges
of her knickers up and over until they met in the crack of her bum, and then he
glided over the exposed flesh, rubbing it, urging her to continue pumping over
him on her own. All the while, his teeth never stopped tugging and releasing
her nipple.
"More," she whimpered, ashamed by how easily he'd enslaved her to the need for
him that had never quite gone away over time, no matter her contrary claims.
Godric, help her, but she wanted Seamus – always had. He was her one weakness…
Never breaking contact with her breast, her lover guided her back onto the
couch. Hovering over her, he continued to place wet, warm kisses between her
tits, even as he shifted to find a comfortable position kneeling between her
legs. He didn't mount her as she'd expected. Instead, he pulled the edges of
her knickers up in the front, letting them ride her slit, tugging them with
gentle insistence so they stroked up and then down, rasping against her clit.
Shite, that felt good!
Spanning his fingers over her mound next, he teased her small patch of well-
trimmed curls, moaning as he found them dampened by her musky arousal. Pushing
the heel of his palm up, he caused the panties to continue to ride her clit.
Rocking against her this way, he easily overwhelmed Lavender's will as the
onslaught of such lovely feelings shoved aside all logical protest.
Deep inside her core, electricity began arcing. It worked its way up her spine
and simultaneously traveled down her hipbones, centering under Seamus' touch.
"Oooh, yes," she hissed, her pelvis swaying forward to meet the thrust of his
hand, her fingers running through his hair and pulling him into her in an
unconscious gesture of longing. "Don't stop," she begged in a heated whisper,
her knees bending to cradle against his outer thighs, rubbing against his crisp
woolen slacks. "Feels so good."
His tongue and mouth continued to love her as thoroughly as promised, even as
his fingers gently scraped through her pubic hair at the same time as
increasing his palm's tempo. Scorching fire shot through her engorged clit,
sending sparks rioting along both the outside and inside of her pussy lips. She
soaked the thin strip of fabric that rested in her seam, scenting the air
between them with her body's natural musk. Her lover indulged Lavender's utmost
gratification, utilizing his honed skills to bring her to the brink in moments.
By cherishing her body as he was - as he'd previously neglected to do years ago
- the fortified wall of Lavender's anger began to erode. Perhaps she could let
this happen between them again. Perhaps she might be able to trust him.
Perhaps…
A sheen of perspiration dotted her upper lip as she panted, reaching… reaching…
Lifting his head, Seamus placed his lips next to her ear, breathing hot air
down the curve of her neck at the same time as pushing up with his palm again,
making her shudder. "Let go, me love," he gently bid. "Come."
Like magic, his words freed her, and Lavender tumbled over the edge of bliss
with a wild, lusty cry. Her back arched off the cushions, and behind her
tightly shut eyelids, detonations of colour burst in a parade of light. She
floated high on the wave of pleasurable sensations for several long seconds
before slowly coming back down to earth.
"Lavender," her wizard purred against her throat as she rode out the
aftershocks and slid into the warm glow. "Yer so lovely, me lass. How I wished
I'd been able to bring ya back then like this."
His words… they wounded without intention. Why couldn't he have said these
things to her back when she'd given him her virginity? If only he had, things
might have been different between them. They were such small words, but they
were so very important.
Her tears came, as a hot rush of mortification overcame her, adding to her
vulnerability. She burst into sobs, trying to push Seamus away, afraid of her
weakness, but this time, he wouldn't let her go. Wrapping those powerful arms
about her, he pulled her up against him as he knelt back on his haunches, and
rested her face into the cradle of his neck. "I'm so, sosorry, love," he
murmured, gently rocking her. "I wish I'd had this knowledge in me head back
then. I'd have made yer first time so special. I'd have loved ya all night, and
never let ya go."
Her icy resolve cracked, splintered, shattered as she threw her arms about his
neck and buried her nose against his throat. "Oh, Sea!"
Her lover held her tight to him, letting her anger and sorrow run its course,
and bathe his shirt in her tears. When it passed over her at long last, she lay
like a limp ragdoll in his strong, comforting embrace. He finally let her go
only when the chimes rang out to tell them that their time together was nearing
its end.
Helping her to her feet, he redressed her with tenderness, fitting her breasts
away inside the cups of her bra – not sexual now, but sensual, caring. When the
tie on the back of her halter was redone, and he'd loaned her his handkerchief
to wipe away her tears, he gave her a final look-over, stroking her cheek with
one finger.
"Do ya want me ta forfeit the game, so I canna force ya ta do anything more?"
he asked. "I won't hurt ya again, Lavender."
Her heart gave a lurch.
This was it, then – the decision that would affect both of their lives. If she
said 'yes,' he would walk away and set her free. If she said 'no'…
"Kiss me," she breathed, leaning up on tiptoe, wrapping her arms about his
neck, wanting to know what his mouth would tell her about his sincerity.
Seamus sighed in resignation, taking her request as a sign of her rejection,
and yet, he did not let that stop him from sweeping down and gathering her into
his arms again, slanting his mouth over hers in hungry possession. Their
tongues twined, pulled apart, their lips following the rhythm as if it were the
most natural of fits in the universe.
This was meant to be. She realized it then – felt it in the marrow of her
bones. Some small voice inside her head told her to follow this path of second
chances that the game had provided to see where it would lead. Perhaps it had
been fate that they'd both agreed to play tonight, after all.
Lavender sighed with contentment as he moved away. She finally had her answer.
The wall she'd protected herself behind for so long began to crumble, and the
ice of her cold anger to melt. "I want to see where this leads us," she told
him. "So, no, don't quit."
His spring-green eyes glimmered with the light of new life and hope. Taking her
back into his arms, he pulled them in good and tight. "I meant it when I said I
wanted ya fer me girl, Angel, so I'm gonna do everything I can ta win yer heart
back."
Blushing to the roots of her hair – Merlin, please don't let this be a mistake!
– she gave him a quick peck on the lips. "We should go. Time's almost up."
Seamus nodded and taking her hand, he led her from the room. He didn't let her
go, even after he'd sat back down on the main area's couch at her side. The
feeling of him holding onto her was much more comfortable than she'd
anticipated. In fact, it felt warm and good. It felt… right.
***** 2B: Ron & Pansy *****
Chapter Summary
     Pansy's actually enjoying the naughty and playful aspect of Ron
     Weasley -- because it's bringing out her own inner sex kitten at long
     last...
Chapter Notes
     CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: User CAREYLYN recommended the song, "I'm
     A Slave 4 U" by Britney Spears for Pansy & Ron this go around. It
     perfectly reflects Pansy's thoughts here. So, this chapter is
     dedicated to CAREYLYN - congratulations!
     PLEASE REVIEW!
 
As soon as Pansy entered their private room and Weasley shut the door, she
turned on a sickle and faced him, holding her card up. She read it aloud:
 
FORFEIT: Do a seductive strip tease down to your knickers for your partner .
 
Ron grinned ridiculously, and read his card:
 
FORFEIT: You have to go down on your partner and make them come. Good luck!
 
They stood there looking at each other for a good minute, before she and her
ginger-haired partner simultaneously tossed their cards aside, and Ron stalked
her towards the round bed, where she backed up and unceremoniously fell into
the soft, white mattress. He unbuttoned his jacket and tossed it against the
pillows near the headboard, then leaned over her, placing his palms on either
side of her head and lowered his mouth, hovering above hers, staring her in the
eye hotly. "I'm going to snog you senseless before we go any further,
Parkinson," he told her rather dominantly. "Unless you object, that is?"
She shook her head fervently, her mouth watering at the idea of tasting his
moist, pink tongue again. "Kiss me hard, Weasley, and make it count."
"Yes, m'am," he approved and dropped his lips to hers without further ado.
Like before, Pansy's stomach erupted with fluttering pixies, her senses reeled,
and she moaned eagerly, letting him claim her again. How was it that this boy –
this man- made her panting hot and wet with the simplest touch of his fiery
mouth and tongue? She clung to him, wrapped her legs about his waist and held
on as he used those bulging muscles of his to push them into the middle of the
bed, riding her dress up in the process. They kissed and kissed for a bit,
enjoying each other's flavors, before finally having to come up for some air.
Lying fully atop her now, wedged between her legs, supporting his weight on his
elbows, Ron stared down at her. His fingers, she noted, were absently playing
with her hair, slipping through the straight, dark, short strands. "Parkinson,
I meant what I said out there - you're so fucking hot you burn me inside and
out," he admitted in between breaths, aqua eyes simmering with lust again for
her. "I'm so hard for you it hurts."
Pansy's womb did a little jig and her vanity took a euphoric trip down
Jubilation Lane. No man had ever spoken to her, or had looked at her as Ronald
Weasley was doing now. For the first time in her life, she felt desirable and
beautiful and worthy – three things she had never, in the entirety of her life,
ever believed of herself deep down inside. It made her want to give back to
him; to make this wizard feel as good as he was making her feel just then.
"Do you want your strip tease now?" she asked, eager to watch him lose all
control again.
Ron nodded enthusiastically. "Then, I'm going to eat you out, like my card
wants. I'm going to make you come all over my face, baby," he promised with a
wicked, delicious smirk that took her breath away.
It was heady, this ability to make a man look at her like that. All of her
'grown-up' life, Pansy had been at the whim of the opposite gender. She had
never learned to assert herself properly two years ago, when she'd lost her
innocence to the first love of her young life, Draco Malfoy. He'd taken her
virginity and her heart and taught her the folly of giving such things to a man
who didn't have reciprocal feelings. Oh, no, he hadn't been cruel; he just
hadn't shared the same depth of feelings, and that had hurt. Since then, she'd
searched in the beds of a few other men and even one girl for the one who would
look at her with wild abandon, who would desire her before his or her own
nefarious ends. It seemed she'd been looking in the completely wrong House all
along.
"Then let me up so I can give you your reward," she murmured against his lips,
licking them like a cat with cream.
Weasley groaned and reluctantly pulled away, rolling off of her.
As she regained her feet, Pansy turned her head to look over her shoulder,
noted Ron was still lounging on his side, propping his head on his hand as he
watched her, that black, silken shirt clinging to his muscled frame, those
tight, black trousers showing off his toned legs (and the bulge already
beginning in his pants). His booted feet hung off the end of the bed casually
as he awaited her pleasure, and in that second, she thought him truly,
desperately handsome. Why hadn't she noticed before?
A catty, cynical part of her chimed in that it might have something to do with
the clothes (and not justthat wicked tongue of his). To be completely honest,
Pansy was a sucker for a man who dressed sexy in refined garb (much as her
mother loved a man in uniform). Weasley's outfit tonight certainly qualified as
that; he was the best dressed of the bunch, in her opinion, and that certainly
added to his appeal.
But the truth was, there was something compelling about the honesty in his
face. Having lived in the paramount den of vipers for the last seven years, it
was distinctly refreshing to know that he wasn't putting on an act (for she had
trained herself, having bunked with Slytherins continuously for most of her
growing years, to sniff out a lie from a hundred paces). Her partner wasn't a
liar – he had the courage to say and feel what he willed without fearing
repercussions, and she liked that best about him.
If only she could do the same…
His hands dropped down onto the mattress and he looked at her with concern
suddenly. "If you don't want to do this, I won't make you. We can just trade
cards or something."
The selfless offer melted some of the ice around her serpent's heart. "No, I
want to do this," she explained. "I was just…thinking up a good song to do it
to. It's better with music."
It wasn't a complete lie, as in the back of her head she had been, in fact,
considering a musical selection to set the mood for her disrobing. In a flash
of inspiration, she settled on one by her favorite R&B singer, Prince (who
skimmed both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds effortlessly, being a Half-blood,
with the Muggles none the wiser as to the man's true talents). Yeah, his song,
"Cream" would be the perfect accompaniment to set the tone for the next hour.
As Pansy slowly turned fully, the lights dimmed at her mental urging and the
song's slow, bass-heavy beat began. Hips swaying in time to the music, she gave
Weasley the hottest stare and naughtiest smile in her arsenal – the one that
promised wicked things soon – and reached for the buttons down the front of her
dress.
 
                                  This is it!
                     It's time for you to go to the wire.
                                 You will hit!
                       Cause you got the burnin' desire…
                                        
Slipping each chain free of its accompanying button, her nimble fingers moved
to part the mesh frock and pull the satin silk of her dress up her legs slowly,
revealing her knees. The dress inched up unhurriedly as she gyrated her hips in
a circular motion, revealing the garters holding up the edges of her stockings.
 
                                It's your time!
                  You got the horn, so why don't you blow it?
                                 You are fine!
                  You're filthy cute and, baby, you know it.
                                        
Her fingers purposefully edged under the material, which she stopped at the
bottom of her knickers. She licked her lips sexily and put one leg up on the
bed, bending her knee and tilting her hips forward, giving him a perfect view
of her dampening knickers.
 
                                    Cream…
                                  Get on top.
                                    Cream…
                                 You will cop.
                                    Cream…
                                Don't you stop.
                                    Cream.
                                She-boogie bop.
                                        
Stroking herself over her panties, then gripping the edge of one side, she
pulled it over, exposing her dark curls to him once again. Slipping a finger up
and down the center of her slit, Pansy tossed her head back, exposing her
collared throat, and moaned, caressing herself erotically over her moist lower
lips. The jangle of her silver snake bracelet on her left wrist accompanied the
sound of the music's beat as she moved her hand in time, swirling circles
around her wet vulva.
On the bed, Ron's eyes had gone positively feral with heat and his breathing
had become harsh.
 
                                You're so good!
                       Baby, there ain't nobody better.
                                 So you should
                         Never, ever go by the letter.
                                        
Having had enough of teasing, and with a knowing smirk (his erection was now
raging to be let out of his slacks, she noticed), Pansy let her hold on her
knickers go and dropped her leg back down to the floor. The dress slid back
into place as she reached around behind her to grasp the zipper and began
pulling it down.
 
                                You're so cool!
                         Everything you do is success.
                                Make the rules,
                  Then break them all cause you are the best!
                                 Yes, you are!
                                        
When the fastener hit its base, and she could easily inch out of the dress,
Pansy played with the straps of her outfit, slipping them down her shoulders
and arms coyly. Pretending to hide her breasts and crotch away with her hands
as the purple-magenta-black fabric fell and pooled at her feet, she made a cute
moue with her lips, as if surprised to find herself in such a state of en
déshabillé. "Oops," she faked being ashamed, grinning like a shark.
She continued to swivel her hips in time to the music, and kept her gaze locked
firmly on her partner the whole time. "Want to see more?" she eventually asked
him in a low, husky tone.
Transfixed, Weasley nodded, shifting up into a sitting position, bending one
knee and leaning an arm on it. "Hell, yes," he murmured. "Take it all off for
me, baby."
 
                                    Cream…
                                  Get on top.
                                    Cream…
                                 You will cop.
                                    Cream…
                                Don't you stop.
                                    Cream.
                                She-boogie bop.
                                        
Sliding her hands away from their false pose of hiding away her body, she
skimmed her belly with her long, painted nails, watching him follow the path
she laid out, up over her sternum, eventually caressing her breasts.
He licked his lips, his cheeks taking on a dusky hue as his lust reared to the
surface. "Rip your bra off."
With a throaty laugh that had Weasley scooting to the edge of the bed, Pansy
did as her partner wanted, yanking the top of her strapless down with a harsh
tug, revealing her bared breasts to him once again. She then shimmied it down
to mid-abdomen before reaching behind her and unclasping it. Tossing the bra
into his lap – right over his crotch – she cupped her nude, swaying boobs and
thrust them out at him with a kittenish arch of her back.
 
                                Do your dance!
                        Why should you wait any longer?
                                Take a chance!
                       It could only make you stronger.
                                        
"Pinch your nipples for me," he coaxed next, his eyes darkening with untamed
hunger.
Sashaying up to him smoothly, Pansy caressed her breasts right up in his face
and did as he wanted, hissing in pleasure from the electric shocks that
traveled down her center to her core, instantly moistening her lower lips.
After a few more passes, she felt emboldened to try something truly naughty.
Bending her head, locking her eyes on her paramour, she licked zealously over
her own hardened nipples one breast at a time.
 
                                It's your time!
                  You got the horn, so why don't you blow it?
                                You're so fine!
                  You're filthy cute and, baby, you know it.
                                        
"Holy bloody hell," Ron swore on an exhale, licking his lips again and
swallowing loudly. "Baby, you're so getting fucked sometime tonight. Hard. To
this same song." Widening his legs, he reached for her waist and pulled her in
close, meeting her gaze (amusedly tearing himself from the appealing sight of
her lapping at her own breasts with some measure of effort, she noted). "I'm
gonna fill you with my aching cock and make you scream my name," he vowed,
tilting his lips towards her straining nips. "Now, can I suck on these?"
Running her hands through his crimson hair, Pansy nodded and smiled sinfully,
her cunt throbbing with the visual his words conjured. "Gods, yes!"
 
                                   Come on!
                                    Cream…
                                  Get on top.
                                    Cream…
                                 You will cop.
                                    Cream…
                                Don't you stop.
                                    Cream.
                                She-boogie bop.
                                    Boogie!
                                        
Weasley had Pansy moaning and gasping and grabbing at him in no time, that
talented tongue of his again taking her breasts to attention. Throwing her head
back wantonly, Pansy cried to the ceiling as his teeth scraped, then nibbled,
then finally bit with some measure of pressure.
"Have to… finish the… strip tease for you," she panted the reminder. They were
on a time-limit, after all, and she really wanted to play his card soon, as she
was slippery between her legs and dying for fulfillment.
A man of direct means, Ron's fingers simply pulled the garters off of her
stockings and began dragging the mesh-lace mini-corset down over her knickers,
apparently deciding to finish the strip tease himself to get it done quickly.
He tugged the garment until it reached her lower thighs, where gravity simply
took it the rest of the way down to her feet, then jerked at her panties next,
letting his mouth trail down her abdomen.
Warning bells went off in Pansy's head; her partner was now dangerously close
to be in violation of the cards. Pushing a tad away, she raised his face to
hers to stop his determined actions and stared him in the eye. "Yes, I give you
permission to touch me all over and to put your mouth on me anywhere you want."
When that formality was done, she stepped back into his sphere of warmth and
giggled down at him. "You owe me now," she smiled slyly. "I just saved your hot
arse."
Taken aback, Weasley let out a whistle. "Close call, there. Sorry 'bout that."
He let his hands slide up her waist, around her back, following the sway of her
hind as he rested his chin on her abdomen and looked up at her through his red-
gold lashes. "I definitely owe you, baby," he readily agreed. "Will you let me
pay you back now?"
She tilted her head, pretending to consider his offer. "Well…"
He tickled her sides in response, grinning from ear to ear like a fool. "Wicked
witch."
Laughing, she wrapped her arms about his neck. "I suppose you could take the
rest of my clothing off, if you wanted."
Ron's eyes lit up, and his fingers moved once again to her knickers, thumbing
the sides and wrenching them down without any finesse. When they, too, fell to
her ankles, he looked at her, considering what to do next. "Leave the stockings
on. It'll take too long to get 'em off anyway." With that, he yanked her into
his lap, forcing her to straddle him, and as he bent his head to take her lips
once more, he asserted his possession of the thatch between her thighs.
Kissing her to distract her, he rolled and laid her back on the edge of the
bed, swapping places with her, leaning over her body. "My turn," he announced
cheerfully, dropping to his knees between her legs without further ado.
"Oh, gods above!" Pansy howled as his tongue swiped her clear up the middle,
and then he was sucking on her clit hard, his fingers diving into her body,
pistoning to a strong rhythm that was relentless and sought only one goal: to
drive her over the edge. "Yes! Yes! YES!"
"That's right. Come for me, pretty baby," her ginger-haired partner moaned,
focusing all his attention and skill on bringing her again.
Slytherin's skull cap, who'd have thought Ron Weasley would be the best lover
she'd ever have? And she hadn't even had actual intercourse with him yet! He
was a natural sex enthusiast, attentive and sincere in bringing her pleasure,
treating her with respect – something no man had ever actually shown her before
in bed. His willingness to give made her want to give back, and although that
frightened her because of its unfamiliarity, it was also a powerful rush – like
flying head-first at top speed towards the ground on your broom.
He flicked her taut bead with his tongue, alternating pressure between suckling
on it and lightly teasing it. The dichotomy drove her insane with electric
need. Gripping his hair tightly, she shoved her hips at him over and over. "Eat
me up," she begged, rambling incoherently as she mounted her orgasm quickly.
"Oh, Ron! For you! Oh, yes…all for you!"
Lifting his head, their gazes connected. "That's right, baby, for me," he
agreed, lapping at her clit in oddly shaped patterns. "And for you."
She squeezed her eyes shut, leaned her head back and concentrated on giving to
them both, as he traced strange patterns over her wet pussy. Just as she tipped
over the edge, she finally realized what he was doing, and her scream of
delight ended in amused laughter. Between her legs, Weasley chuckled darkly,
finishing up licking the last of her cream before finally leaning up and over
her once more.
Wrapping her arms about his neck tiredly, and drawing him down for another
kiss, Pansy grinned and shook her head. "Isn't there a 'y' at the end of your
name?"
Ron shrugged, grinning. "Couldn't quite finish. You were squeezing my head too
tightly."
He slid one arm around her shoulders and held her close, kissing her lips, her
jaw, her throat, while the other hand slid first down her taut belly and then
into the crisp, damp, dark curls between her thighs. He began to tease her
labia softly at first, then more insistently, circling her still-aroused clit
with his fingers and sending renewed shivers up her spine.
Gods, was he kidding? He wanted to bring her again?
"Ron, that feels so wonderful," she whispered, shivering with anticipation at
the feeling of his hand buried between her thighs. But, wait…he hadn't even
enjoyed himself, had he? He hadn't found his release. "What about your needs?"
She reached down and touched his rock hard erection, stroking it under his
trousers.
Ron moaned against her mouth. "Thisis what I need right now, Parkinson." He
caressed her slit straight up the middle with two fingers. "Bloody hell, Pansy,
you're so wet," he murmured as he ate at her mouth, gasping right along with
her. "I love that you get so turned on just for me. I love that I do this to
you - that you're letting me."
The sound of her name on his lips made her heart tighten up in her chest.
"Don't tease, baby," she begged. "Go inside me again."
His fingers tickled her entrance, driving her spare, before plunging into her
grasping channel a second time. Pansy cried out in bliss as she felt him part
her folds once more, moving slowly in and out with tender care. He was fucking
her with his fingers as if this were the most important act in the world just
then, holding her and kissing her with an equally gentle awareness. His mouth
traveled down her collar equally as slow, licking a determined path to her left
nipple. He circled the dark areola twice before taking the super sensitive bud
between his lips and sucking. All the while, his hand kept up its rhythmic
destruction of her senses between her legs.
"Oh, gods…I love your touch, Ron. Please, don't stop," she whispered the plea,
her hands gripping onto his hair and pulling him closer into her.
He shook his head. "Won't stop, baby, promise," he quickly answered before
returning to the task of suckling on her tits and cherishing her pussy.
It had been too many months since her last relationship had ended; too many
nights of fingering herself in her lonely bed, silencing the curtains around
her to prevent the others from knowing what she was doing. It felt so good to
have a man touch her like this again – to have him touch her. To be able to
scream with her pleasure if she wanted, and no one but the two of them would
ever know.
Tears burned in the back of her eyes at the intensity of the emotions building
in her chest. Could she give this up at the end of the game? Could she walk
away from this perfect brand of loving now that she'd found it after searching
for so long? Slytherin help her, she was starting to think that maybe she
didn't want to. She liked what they were doing too much; was starting to
realize that she actually liked Ronald Weasley in the mix, too, and not just
because he made her come again and again, but because he seemed to sincerely
want to do so. He cherished her, desired her. Could they build something out of
that?
Gods help her, she was in way over her head this time. This couldn't end well
for either of them, because her future was set, and her Gryffindor lover wasn't
going to be a part of that picture. Not that she had any say in the matter…
"Ride my fingers, baby," he coaxed, lapping at her right breast, his free hand
petting her cheek, his naughty hand retreating from her body slowly, only to
slide home again and again and, merciful gods...again. "Use those hips of
yours. Moan for me. Let me make you come again."
Pansy did as bade, thrusting her thighs and arse in time to his hand's patient
cadence, coupling with him in a way she'd always wanted to with a man –
sweetly, sensually. She moaned, she begged, she sweated and reached for her
climax with all her might, wanting to call out to him at that perfect moment.
When Ron's thumb brushed her swollen, vulnerable clit in a circular motion, she
let go, screaming his name. Behind her eyelids, the world exploded in bright,
white stars, and in her veins, lightning and blood rode fast together,
shattering every nerve ending with pleasure. Her orgasm lasted the longest
she'd ever experienced; she just kept coming and coming, her whole body
shaking, out of control. "Oh, Ron!" she cried again, pulling his head up and
fiercely sealing her lips to his, wanting to shove these feelings into him to
share, wishing he could know and understand how much pleasure he'd just brought
her.
When the wave finally retreated, and she lay limp and sated in his arms, Ron
withdrew his fingers from her body with a final swipe up the center. He then
brought that hand to his lips and sucked on her release, licking every bit off.
"You taste so good, Pansy," he moaned. "And you smell fantastic." His mouth
moved to slant over hers, and she tasted herself on his lips as she kissed him
hungrily. When he pulled back, he looked down at her with a contented smile. "I
loved doing that to you, baby," he admitted, brushing her sweat-damped hair
from her forehead and cheek lightly. "And I'm gonna do it again and again to
you, too. Every chance you let me."
Her chest tightened painfully. Every chance… If only there was a chance beyond
the next twenty-three hours.
Foolish woman, he's not meant for you and you know it, she self-censured
silently.
It was a waste of time pining for 'what ifs,' especially when she didn't even
know Weasley's real feelings about her; this might all just be a fun one-off
for him anyway. No, this game, the time she spent here with this wizard, she
would enjoy it, and it would just have to be enough to fill the loneliness and
need within her. Perhaps it could even carry her through what was awaiting her
after graduation.
"I'd like that," she smiled up at him, stroking his cheek delicately with her
fingertips, locking her anxieties away in her heart.
Eyes as blue as the oceans gazed down on her with tenderness, and then he bent
his head and claimed her lips again. They kissed and kissed for a long time,
enjoying the taste and warmth they shared, and then the chime rang, and Pansy
realized she was still not dressed. "We're going to be late," she warned,
pulling her mouth from his. "Ten minutes over final call time and it'll be the
end of the game for us both."
Weasley looked down at her, measuring, and then grinned and shrugged. "We lose,
big deal." He pressed his jutting erection up against her. "Wanna fuck now?"
Pansy shook her head and pushed him, sitting up and rushing to gather her
clothes, hastily throwing them back on. "Forget it. You're not ferreting out on
the next cards, my sexy wizard." She turned after throwing her dress over her
and smoothing it down, deciding to leave her shoes on the floor where she'd
flung them, entirely too unbalanced at the moment for heels (her world was
still glowingly reeling from what he'd just done for her). "I want to play with
you some more before we get down to it, mister."
Her partner's eyebrows hit his hairline as a terribly naughty thought passed
over his features. "Oh, yeah, we still have my Deedsand Forfeits to go!" he
grinned brightly, rubbing his hands back and forth in anticipation. "Can't
wait!"
Pansy couldn't help it; his enthusiasm was so real and contagious that she
burst into laughter again as he opened the door for them and took her hand in
his. They were both laughing and breathless with anticipation as they raced
each other to the couches, eager for the next round's surprises.
***** 2C: Draco & Hermione *****
Chapter Summary
     Hermione's understanding of Draco shifts.
Chapter Notes
     CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: User "SUN_NEVER_RISES" recommended the
     song, "Unusual You" by Britney Spears for Hermione & Draco this go
     around. It perfectly reflects Hermione's thoughts here. So, this
     chapter is dedicated to SUN_NEVER_RISES - congratulations!
     THANK YOU ONCE AGAIN UNSEENLIBRARIAN for once more being the beta
     that rocks my socks off!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
By the time Hermione had caught up to Draco's longer, faster strides and
entered their private room, the interior had changed. Gone was the blindingly
white décor. In its place was a beach scene, complete with a layer of flattened
white sand upon the floor.
In the dead center of the space was an elegantly laid out table, complete with
plates of food already waiting to be consumed and a hurricane lamp lit candle,
and two chairs seated next to, rather than across from, each other. Circling
the set-up at a safe distance, set into the sand, were a series of golden
glowing candle lanterns. Palm frond Tiki torches, each tied with a pink
Hibiscus medley flower arrangement, were staked in a circle beyond the
lanterns, their flames lit – the only other illumination in the room. Magically
piped in was the sound effect of the ocean waves lapping gently upon a shore,
and the ceiling was charmed to look like the night sky, complete with a faux
moon that was at half face. The overall effect was a rather romantic ambiance.
Instantly, her stomach clenched in dread.
"Are you going to gape all night in the doorway?" Malfoy teased dryly. "That
would be an awful reason to forfeit at this point."
Snapping to, Hermione stepped into the room, realized the impracticality of her
heels and knew she'd have to remove them if she intended upon entering fully.
"What… is all of this?" she asked, as she bent, balancing one hand against the
wall just inside the door and removing her golden sandals.
"This," Malfoy indicated with a sweep of his hand, bending to remove his own
shoes and socks as well. "This is dinner and dessert. I don't know about you,
but I didn't get a chance to eat, so I'm sort of thankful I got the card I did
this round."
Hermione shifted her toes into the sand; it was so soft and warm that she
hummed in pleasure. "And what does your card say exactly?"
Malfoy took his card from his trouser pocket and read it aloud to her:
 
DEED: Order and share your favorite meal with your partner. Explain to them why
you like every part.
 
"Hmmm, that's a rather nice card," she admitted, surprised that anyone in
Slytherin would have come up with something so benign. "Tracey's maybe?"
Sleekly muscled shoulders shrugged casually. "Or it could be Potter's or
Brown's," he commented off-handedly.
Hermione shook her head. "No, my team read each other's cards before turning
them in."
"Oh, really?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow in interest. "Isn't that akin to
cheating, Granger? I thought you Gryffindors would be above such things."
She shrugged. "I prefer to think of it as necessary preparation. After all, we
were going into a game with a bunch of Slytherins. 'Those cunning folk use any
means to achieve their ends,'right?"
Draco grinned and shrugged. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Hermione tsk'd and shook her head, then giving the matter no more thought,
enticed by the scent of the meal (she hadn't eaten either, honestly, hardly
able to stomach the sight of food before the night's game had kicked off, her
nerves on high alert), she made her way over to the table, noting the colorful
and unique array of haute cuisine dishes already laid out, all kept warm under
mini glass domes on fancy plates. There were also two full settings arranged,
signaling that she and Malfoy would share each portion. "How lovely," she
smiled, taken aback. "And it all smells so delicious." Placing a hand over her
belly, she blushed. "I admit I'm famished as well."
Before she could reach to scoot her chair out and sit, her partner was behind
her, tucking her in chivalrously. He even laid her napkin out on her lap
properly before circling around and taking the seat next to her, closer to the
dishes (as, apparently, he would act as server). From a silver ice bucket at
his side, he pulled out a chilled white wine. It had recently been uncorked and
was waiting to be poured. With expert handling, Draco filled her white wine
goblet halfway, twirled it to aerate, and then handed it to her by the stem, as
was proper. He measured out an equal amount for his own glass, and then set the
wine bottle back down to remain at a cool temperature.
Raising his glass in a toast, he stared at her evenly, his face a blank,
unreadable mask. "To the game: may the next twenty-four hours be unforgettable
for both of us, Granger."
Hermione's gut clenched. If she hadn't gotten the glaring clue last round that
Malfoy was up to no good, this cinched her suspicions. When she added up the
facts, the picture became crystal clear: obviously, this entire charade had
been schemed and executed by Slytherin's Prince with the sole purpose of
humiliating her one final time. She was sure Harry and Ron's embarrassment had
been part of the goal, too, but of a secondary concern. No, she'd been this
wizard's aim all along. He wanted revenge against her, specifically, most
likely because she'd beaten him continuously in academics and in oratory
sparring time and again (after all, Draco was a very prideful, vain person).
That she had accomplished that feat despite her magical purity status…
Malfoy hated Harry because, of the two, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain had
been physically the better performer on the pitch. However, at least her best
male friend was a Half-blood, and for that reason, was redeemable in the eyes
of the purist elite within the wizarding world. But Hermione was persona non
grata – the lowest of the low to those of Pure-blood stock. Her bettering of
Draco by two measly grade points (thus stealing the spot as Valedictorian of
their class), probably galled him more than any other loss he'd faced to date,
being as serious as he'd been about his studies. She bet her bottom galleon
that his father wouldn't be happy at the loss of face as a result, either.
So, all of this – the apparent interest in her in a sexual manner - really was
a sham, as she's suspected all along, and therefore, Malfoy's aim became
glaringly apparent: he intended upon seducing her, making her an agreeable
partner to his advances, and in the end, he would cruelly hold it over her head
for the rest of their lives that she'd willingly let him – her greatest rival,
and a man who found her to be no better than a skrewt's turd - fuck her.
"Not going to raise your glass?" he asked, seemingly innocently curious. The
act was a good one, she had to admit.
Not wanting to give herself away quite yet, she plastered a fake smile on her
lips and toasted him in return, clinking glasses gently. "To the game," she
intoned back and sipped at her wine, amazed with its smooth, melting flavor as
it rolled across her tongue and down her throat. There was no bite, denoting
the wine was of a good reserve and age. Mmm… that was quite a delicious
vintage! Pulling back, she twirled her glass again, looked at the legs as the
sugar content ran down the sides, and then stuck her nose in and inhaled
deeply, separating out the various notes and cataloguing them. "You seem
coached in the etiquette of fine dining, Malfoy," she wryly noted. "But then, I
suppose with your family's wealth, this sort of meal would be a regular staple
at the Manor House."
He watched her carefully over the lip of his glass, drinking half in one tilt
of his head, and putting it back down on the table, near his plate. He reached
out and removed the lid on one of the dishes, and Hermione noted it appeared to
be quartered figs, resting atop some sort of thinly-sliced prosciutto. "Black
mission figs with Serrano ham," he explained, using the small fork that rested
on the plate to serve her a few pieces of each. "This reminds me of the summer
before Third Year. I had just turned thirteen, and we were having dinner with
the family of one of my father's friends in Barcelona. The wizard had a
daughter named Alara. She was a year older than me, with long, midnight black,
straight hair, sky-blue eyes, and a nice set of knockers. She played footsy
under the table with me every time there was a meal." He smirked and shook his
head with the memory, putting the appetizer plate back down and reaching for
his own napkin, laying it across his lap. "I got my first kiss that July from
her. She snogged me senseless for over an hour under one of her father's fig
trees in the far back end of the orchard on the estate. After, we ate the figs
right off the branch and returned to the house holding hands." Picking up his
appetizer fork, he poked at one of the sliced fruit portions, spearing it, and
bringing it to his lips. "I asked her to be my girlfriend."
Hermione nearly dropped her fork into the sand at that last bit. Up until that
point, she'd been listening, but multi-tasking, trying to decide on a course of
action to take now that she knew he intended on using this game as a weapon.
However, at the mention of Malfoy falling hard for a girl – a child's crush,
really – she tuned-in completely to his story, strangely mesmerized with the
very idea that he actually had a heart and had put it on the line for a girl.
"What happened?" she heard herself ask, conjecturing that they weren't together
anymore by the fact that he'd dated Pansy a few years back, and a whole lot of
other girls since.
As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to bite off her tongue and
swallow it, realizing that she shouldn't care a fig (internally wincing at the
unintended pun) for Malfoy's personal life. Instead, she shoved a piece of the
dark-purplish fruit in her mouth, tasting the fresh, sweet ripeness of it from
the first chomp, chasing it down with a small slice of ham. The bit of wine
she'd drunk earlier didn't detract at all from the flavor, thankfully, allowing
her the full experience of the combination.
He sniffed in amusement, chewed his fig completely and swallowed before
answering, as was mannerly. "The other visiting family at the time had a son
the same age as her. Turns out he liked figs, too."
Hermione's gut instinct was to sympathize; she felt a small, sharp pain for the
cynicism reflected in his wintery grey depths. A first heartbreak was never
something you forgot, she knew first hand, and it was never easy to swallow.
"How terrible. I'm sorry."
Blinking out of his remembrances, her partner turned to her and indicated the
appetizer she was still chewing. "What do you think of it?"
Swallowing and primly dabbing her lips with her napkin, she looked down at her
now-empty plate. "That was the first fig I've ever tasted, honestly. It was…
wonderful, actually. Rich, sort of nutty, like a lychee, but not with the same
juicy explosion. It's softer, too, and the small seeds added a ticklish texture
as they crossed my tongue. The ham was just the perfect complement, a tad salty
and smoky to balance out the sweet. I liked it very much."
Malfoy was looking at her with something like amazement, his golden-blonde
brows stretched up into his brow higher than she'd ever seen before. "And what
did you think of the wine?" he asked, genuinely interested (or at least, he
appeared to be).
Lifting her glass again to her nose, she closed her eyes and inhaled, letting
the aroma take her. "Notes of Anjou pear, fresh vanilla bean, and a hint of
roasted almonds." She took a sip, letting it rest upon the back of her pallet
before swallowing. "Very nicely aged, smooth. I get the hint of a French oak
barrel."
Her partner's mouth dropped open, literally, and he looked at her with awe.
"Well, call me surprised, Granger. Who'd have guessed you're secretly a food
connoisseur?"
She blinked, blushed hotly, and put the wine glass back down hurriedly. "My
mother's family is Greek. It's all about the food." She shrugged, trying to
pass it off as nothing special.
Malfoy was leaning his elbow rather rudely on the table, resting his jaw
against his fingers as he contemplated her behind narrowed eyes in silence for
a bit. After a minute, his inspection became uncomfortable, though. "What?" she
demanded, not liking the fact that he'd already unnerved her somewhat, and
they'd only been in the room for about ten minutes together.
"Is that why you're so good at Potions?" he finally asked. "Can you smell the
ingredients well enough to know what goes into each concoction?"
Hermione considered it and lightly shrugged. "I never compared the making of a
draught to the process of making a meal, but I suppose that could be the
reason. I know I can separate out the tastes, when I ingest an elixir."
Malfoy seemed to mull over her answer for another few moments, before turning
to the next menu item without a reply. Lifting the lid, he slid one of the two
shelled lobster claws onto her plate, and scooped on top some of the buttery
sauce. He then added some of the side greens on top. "Christmas, Sixth Year, my
parents took me to Boston. We dined at a fine establishment in the wizarding
part of the city. I ordered this dish. My father abhors seafood, and made a
comment to such an effect as the server brought our appetizers to the table. I
spent the rest of the meal trying to convince him to try the dish. He
eventually gave in, just to shut me up. He orders lobster now quite often." He
had been slicing his meat up as he spoke and now took a bit, chewing it and
shutting his eyes in pleasure. When he finished, he took another sip of his
wine. "It was the first time I'd actually been able to sway my father on any
issue."
Hermione listened attentively as she tried the appetizer herself, conceding
with a sound of pleasure that she, too, enjoyed the flavor of the dish. "It's
delicious," she favored the compliment. "Not too chewy, buttery soft, with a
hint of… garlic, I think?"
Malfoy watched her as he lingered over his glass and nodded. "Very finely
chopped. Try the greens with it." She did so, and the combination of crisp
butter lettuce with the meat was succulent. She smiled and nodded at him in
approval.
"So, do you have a 'lobster story' to share, Granger?" her partner asked,
smirking.
She swallowed and dabbed her lips again with her napkin. "Or a 'fig one'?"
He nodded. "Or a 'fig one,' yes."
Hermione pondered for a moment, as he reached for the next dish – some sort of
dark, roasted meat covered with cooked, sliced cherries. It smelled of cinnamon
and sweet wine; she inhaled as he ladled out a heaping spoonful onto her plate.
"I shared a plum pudding with my nine year old neighbor named Adam," she
admitted, grinning, feeling strangely at ease sharing such silly memories with
this man. "We were best friends growing up, and I had a small baby crush on him
from practically the start, but he never seemed to notice. I thought that if we
shared the dessert, he might like me." She sniffed and shook her head in
remembered distaste. "He stuffed his face on most of it himself, and then ran
off to go play in the snow, leaving me to clean up the mess. I was so angry
with him that I walked outside with the pudding plate and dumped the last of it
on his head, and then I refused to talk to him again. He came groveling back a
week later, with the recipe for making a plum pudding folded up in his pocket.
He handed it to me with an apology and we were best friends again after that."
She smiled fondly and shook her head. "I live a very exciting life."
Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Whatever happened to him?" he asked. "This boy."
"We still see each other on occasion," she told him, swirling the last of her
wine around, preparing it for the final swig. "On breaks when I go home. He
only lives a few doors down from my parents."
As casually as possible, Malfoy reached for a bottle from a non-chilled bucket
to the side. This one contained a red wine. He uncorked it and sniffed, then
poured half a glass into his empty goblet. "Does he know you're a witch?"
Hermione sighed and shook her head. "Dumbledore made it clear when he came to
visit me after I received my Hogwarts acceptance letter that being a
practitioner of magic was a secret we couldn't share with anyone outside of our
immediate family, unless they already knew. I can never tell him… unless we
marry, that is."
Malfoy's hand paused in its pouring for just a moment. "Are you dating this…
Adam… then?"
She shook her head and laughed. "Oh, no! I mean… no. I'm not the right gender
for him." A small giggle escaped Hermione's lips, and she immediately put her
fingers up in front of her mouth in embarrassment. "Must be the wine getting to
me. I'm a bit of a lightweight," she admitted, then reached for her glass and
downed the rest of the delicious spirit. "May I have a little more, please?"
Draco's silvery-grey gaze was warmly, indolently examining her. Silently, he
reached for her wine glass, and as they passed the stem between them, he
stopped her from pulling away, capturing her fingers under his. "I like that
you dumped the pudding on him. He deserved it."
Hermione's heart sped up unwittingly. "You… you've deserved a plate over your
head more than once, too, you know," she pointed out.
One golden eyebrow twitched. "I'm sure I have," he conceded, giving her a
smoldering smirk. "Are you offering to share a meal on me, then?"
Pulling her fingers away, she let him have the wine glass, bristling at his
blatant innuendo. "Certainly not!" she huffed, but immediately worried her lip,
wondering if she would be made a liar out of later if she had the misfortune of
drawing one of Ginny's cards, as the girl had written up edible Deeds and
Forfeits cards, both.
Deflecting the situation by focusing on the portion before her, Hermione tried
to cover her obvious embarrassment. "What about this dish?"
Malfoy chuckled darkly, discerningly, pouring a glass of berry-colored wine and
handing her back her half-filled goblet. "This is the dish I was enjoying
during the Easter break this year, when I had my revelation about my future. My
parents and I had traveled to Argentina with the Parkinsons – Pansy included.
They were trying to establish an open dialogue about marriage entanglements
between our families now that we were coming up on graduation." His fork moved
the contents around on his plate as he spoke in a manner decidedly agitated.
"I'd just taken a bite of my dinner when I realized that if I didn't speak up
in defense of my own wants right then and there, against the ancient tradition
of prearranged marriage, I was going to end up just like the rabbit we were
eating – a tasty morsel to be enjoyed, but no more than that." He smirked and
tilted his head. "So, I spoke up, made it clear I wanted a future of my own
making, not one designed for me, and just like that, I was free - like a rabbit
is supposed to be."
Hermione blinked, horror spreading through her guts. "Prearranged marriage?
This isn't the Dark Ages, Malfoy. You mean to tell me that you parents would
really have foisted Parkinson off on you if hadn't said anything? Why would
they think they could have that kind of power over you? You're an adult,
legally."
Draco's smirk turned bitter. "I still rely upon the goodwill of my family's
inheritance and the protections allotted the Malfoy name to establish myself in
the world, though." He took a sip of his dark, ruby-colored wine. "Regardless
of what you may believe, Granger, there is a wizarding elite and they move in
circles that Half-bloods and Muggle-borns don't have a clue exist. Pure-blood
families typically follow ancient convention when it comes to marriages,
producing heirs and preparing death ceremonies. It's only been in the last
thirty or so years that the custom has been changing, but some traditions are
too deeply rooted - modernity be damned."
"Are you saying your parents might have disinherited you completely for what
you did?" she asked, wide-eyed, revolted by the thought. Her parents would
never consider interfering in her life in such a fashion, much less telling her
to kiss off if she didn't follow their advice. She thought her relationship
with them was such that even if they disagreed with her on major life choices,
they would always have her back, the same way she, Ron and Harry did.
Malfoy shrugged. "I took the chance. Better to be eaten by the sharks then to
sink with the ship, yes? Fortunately, it paid off."
Hermione was simply floored, her impression of who and what Draco Malfoy really
was heaving and listing somewhat under the weight of this new revelation into
his personality. "That took courage, Malfoy." She measured him up behind pursed
lips for a moment. "I admit that I'm decidedly impressed that you could do such
a thing, knowing that you could have lost everything you hold dear. It was a
very… Gryffindor-ish… thing you did, standing up for your dreams like that."
His smirk was positively wolfish as he chuckled again and shook his head.
"Don't paint me so magnanimously, Granger. My mother has a way of making my
father agree with her, and I'm her spoilt, baby boy. I banked on her sympathy
and support to sway his opinion, honestly. It took five days of her not
speaking a peep to him afterwards to relent." He nudged his jaw towards her
plate. "You going to try it, or are rabbits like house elves: too innocent and
cute for the barbeque?"
She couldn't help it; Hermione burst out laughing. "You are absolutely…
incorrigible!" she gaily accused.
He waggled his eyebrows at her. "At least you're finally noticing."
With a shake of her head in exasperation, Hermione hooked a piece of the juicy-
looking meat onto her fork and popped it into her mouth. The explosion of taste
was marvelous, and she couldn't help but moan again. The rabbit was definitely
a more gamey flavor than typical store-bought meats, but it was delicately
flavored, having been tenderly braised. The cinnamon and cherries were a
perfect combination to bring out the meat's wilder essence.
When she'd finished sampling the first bite, she took a sip of the red wine. It
was the ideal counterpart to the meal. "Delicious!" she concurred. "The
cherries and cinnamon make the meat pop, and the wine adds the bite needed to
wash it all down. This truly is a wonderful meal."
Malfoy's eyes watched her with true warmth, shimmering almost bronze in the
torch light one moment, only to recapture a steely glint as he shifted in his
chair and the false moon reclaimed them in the shadows. "I'm glad you're
enjoying it," he murmured low, his voice smoothed with a silken, honeyed tone.
As before, when she'd been sniffing his cologne, her nose pressed into the
smooth skin of his neck, Hermione felt sultry, powerfully persuasive desire
slide through her veins. In between her legs, an ache began, fueled by a
slippery wetness that she fought to ignore.
This was Draco Malfoy, ferret boy extraordinaire that she was getting all hot
and bothered by! It was ridiculous and dangerous to feel this way – especially
when she knew what he was really up to now. With a forcible mental reminder
that he was only using this to get her to lower her shields, Hermione
intentionally looked back to her plate and finished the portion before her,
refusing to allow herself to fall for the age-old trap that was sex.
"There's still dessert," he offered, reaching for the final plate on the table
that had remained untouched. He lifted the lid to reveal a slice of very moist,
lemon-colored cake, topped with what looked to be a fresh cream sauce. On the
side was a scoop of what appeared to be vanilla bean ice cream, and beside
that, a mini round tower of solidified custard. Decorating the plate was some
sort of caramel sauce, a vanilla stick, and some very thin, fried fruit – apple
and banana – slices. It was a pleasing presentation, certainly, and just enough
for them to share.
With a thought, the other plates all disappeared from the table, both of them
having finished eating the main meal. All that remained were the glasses of
wine – his remaining a quarter full, hers less than half – and the desserts and
two forks.
"Please try it," he indicated her polished silver utensil before her.
Truthfully, the dessert looked too tempting to pass up, so she picked up her
fork and made ready. "What do you recommend I try first?" she asked, trying to
keep things politely cordial, but backing off from the earlier familiarity a
tad.
Apparently picking up on the changed vibe, Malfoy watched her a bit,
considering his next angle, she could tell. "The panna cotta cake," he
recommended reservedly, backing off on the charm. As she took the first bite,
allowing the texture and taste to roll across her tongue, he began explaining
the history to the choice of this dessert. "I was fourteen, it was two days
before New Year's, and we were in Italy at the Zabini's manor house for
Blaise's grandmother's seventieth birthday. This was the cake they served. One
of the cousins in attendance, Leila, simply appeared at my side while I was
enjoying it and took a bite off my plate without asking. She was seventeen,
blonde, green eyes – very pretty. We talked for a bit after that. I lost my
virginity to her in an empty bedroom upstairs later that night while everyone
else was downstairs partying."
Hermione nearly choked, managed to keep from spraying the contents of her mouth
all over the table as she coughed once, and swallowed hurriedly instead. She
chased the whole thing down with a sip of wine, helping to transition the food
down her esophagus quickly. Malfoy patiently waited her out, while she regained
composure. It took more than a minute, but then she felt more under control
(although her face was flaming, she could tell by the heat on her cheeks). "I
apologize for that interruption," she tried to sound properly contrite. "Pray
continue."
With teasing humor, Malfoy pointed his fork over the mini tower. "Try the apple
custard flan next."
She reached to scrape a bit onto her fork, paused, and glanced at him through
her lashes. "If I do, will you wait to spring the next story on me again until
after I've swallowed?"
Draco full out laughed, and it was such an infectious, good and honest sound
that Hermione couldn't help but snicker and smile in return. "This story isn't
quite so shockingly scandalous," he consoled her. "The flan was one of my
favorites from Kyoto, when we went there during April during the break in Fifth
Year. We stopped in a small café in their wizarding alley, and I ordered it,
while looking out over the main street. That's when I first caught sight of one
of the oddest apothecary ingredients I've ever seen: a talking purple flower.
The thing sounded like it was bemoaning sitting in a pot outside the shop,
because it kept calling and turning towards passersby, acting like it wanted to
go home with one of them. I couldn't understand a word it said, but it was
bloody hilarious to watch." He took a bite out of the cake, while she tried
some of the custard. When his mouth was cleared again, he continued. "I'd never
seen anything like it before, and realized that we were missing a lot of the
Eastern cultural traditions here in Europe, because we didn't have access to
their unique plants and herbs."
Hermione swallowed the mouthful of appetizing flan – loving the sweet-sour
combination, that reminded her so of a Granny Smith apple – and piped in then.
"I suspect you saw a Singing Dog's Tooth Violet, as they're said to be
melodramatic and temperamental." She toyed with collecting another bite of the
apple custard on her fork. "They're quite rare, you know. Endemic to Japan."
Malfoy stopped again, watching her carefully. It made her decidedly
uncomfortable, this odd scrutiny, so she shoved another forkful of yummy
goodness into her mouth. "What do you use them for?"
"Their roots used to be ground up and used as a binding and thickening agent in
beauty-product draughts," she explained as she finished chewing. "But in the
19th century, potato starch became the predominant ingredient for such things
because it was cheaper to reproduce and didn't talk your ear off when preparing
it."
Gently placing his fork on the edge of the plate to indicate he was done
eating, Malfoy wiped his mouth and folded his napkin, putting it on the table
next to the fork. He finished off his wine in one swallow. "No wonder you're
Valedictorian. I formally concede; you utterly deserved the spot, Granger.
You're twice the brain I am."
Hermione blinked at him, not expecting that kind of twisted praise at all. It
disarmed her totally to hear him sincerely surrender to her greater
intelligence. "There's a book on it in the library…" she tried to explain, but
his snicker cut her off.
"Of course there is," he ribbed. "One you've read cover to cover, no doubt."
She looked down, feeling ire grow in her belly. "I hate it when you do that,"
she murmured sourly, putting her fork down and sitting back in her chair. "Make
fun of me because I enjoy learning new things. I like reading, and I like
sharing information with others. So what? At least I can carry on a
conversation that isn't exclusively centered on the week's 'Dear Tabitha'
column in Witch Weekly."
Malfoy was quiet for a moment, and the sound of the ocean waves returned to
help balm her raw feelings. "I didn't mean it as an insult, Hermione."
Her eyes shot to his, wary, shocked that he'd used her first name again, as if
they were friends or something more intimate.
The moments ticked away as neither said a thing, simply assessed the other. It
was Draco who broke the stalemate again. "You really are the brightest
practitioner of our age. You're going to go far in your life because of the
knowledge stored in your head. I'm just amazed you can keep so many facts
straight and accurate. I wish I had the skill."
Glancing at him from the side, she considered how sincere he was in his
apology. He seemed genuine. True, he hadn't actually said he was sorry for
offending her, but this was Malfoy, and what he'd just said was probably the
best she could expect, if he really meant any of it at all.
Reclaiming her fork, she poked at the melting ice cream scoop. "And this?" she
asked, trying to get them back on track, not liking how the last twenty minutes
were beginning to make her doubt her earlier beliefs about the wizard sitting
across from her.
A smile twitched a corner of his lips as he stared at the fast-dissolving ball
of vanilla cream. "Indonesia, a few days after my eleventh birthday, when I
received my Hogwarts letter. My mother wanted to treat me to something exotic,
so my father Apparated us all three together to a small café in Jakarta's small
wizarding hub and we gorged on the local cuisine. This was my favorite part of
the meal, though – the banana-vanilla bean ice cream. It was made fresh, and
was already melting by the time the bowl arrived to the table. The fried banana
slice on top was coated in caramelized sugar, just the same."
He smiled, reached for his fork and took a small dollop into the end of the
tines, bringing it to his lips. He sighed in pleasure, and then put his utensil
back down, leaving the rest for her. Hermione indulged as he continued talking,
enjoying the rich flavor of banana combining with vanilla and cream across her
tongue.
"My father had wanted me to go to Durmstrang, but my mother wouldn't have it,"
he explained composedly. "Too far for her tastes. I was pleased, actually,
because I'd wanted to go to Hogwarts since I found out my father had gone
there. I wanted to get into Slytherin to please him, to follow in his footsteps
so he'd be proud of me." His smile dropped, as his gaze unfocused, turning
inward. "But, it seems I've disappointed him once too often lately."
Hermione was almost afraid to ask, but for some reason, felt compelled to know
more; to know what it was that had made Draco Malfoy frown with some measure of
pain as he was just then. "How could you possibly have disappointed him? You're
perfect at everything you do, and every girl in school practically trips all
over herself to get your attention."
His focus returned to her and he spoke candidly, his eyes burning with meaning.
"Not every girl."
Finishing off the final bit of ice cream, scraping it through the caramel
sauce, she put her fork down for the final time, wiped her mouth daintily with
her napkin and folded it the same as Malfoy had earlier. She also finished off
her glass of wine, feeling the alcohol shooting straight to her brain,
emboldening her in a way she was sure she would regret later.
Picking her card up off the table, where she'd laid it when taking her seat,
she read it aloud to him:
 
FORFEIT: Tell your partner a frightening secret about yourself. Explain it in
detail. Answer their questions about it.
 
Staring into Malfoy's eyes, she knew exactly what secret she needed to say
aloud, for both their sakes. Maybe it would change everything, make him less
likely to want to hurt her later. "I've secretly had a crush on you all this
year. It's just a small one, so don't make it a bigger deal than that, but…
there you have it: every girl in school you can now accurately boast."
Malfoy's eyes widened perceptively and a tension built in his shoulders,
flexing them taut. He leaned forward in his seat, closing the distance between
them. Hermione sat back, scooting as far to the left of her chair as she could
manage without falling off, keeping as much space as possible from him. "You
like me? Why?"
Hermione snorted indelicately, trying to keep a lid on this potentially
explosive truth. "Really, Malfoy, I already told you that I find you handsome,
and your intelligence and ambition are compelling traits. It's your mouth I
don't care for. If you weren't such an unbelievable prat most of the time, I
could actually like you more."
A very slow, very sensual smirk crawled up his face as his eyelids shuttered
seductively, making Hermione internally groan. Maybe it hadn't been such a good
idea to stroke his ego like this. Now the power balance between them had
shifted in his favor once more, putting her at a distinct disadvantage.
Bloody, randy alcohol! Bloody, awful card! Bloody, stupid game!
With a thought, the table before them was banished, as were the wine buckets.
Hermione was trying to gain her feet, just as Malfoy stood to his full six
foot-one inch height and loomed over her; she'd forgotten how fast he really
was, with those Seeker reflexes of his. Pale hands shot out and gripped the
chair backing, effectively trapping her between as he leaned down, his face
mere inches from her own. "Have you ever thought about me sexually?"
Quelling the riotous pixies in her stomach, Hermione affected a bored look.
"Yes, so?"
His smirk became positively wicked as he moved in, swooping towards her ear at
the last moment. Hermione hadn't been worried he'd actually kiss her, because
he'd have needed her permission to do so or he'd have violated the rules and
would have had to forfeit. "Have you ever come thinking of me like that,
Hermione?"
She grit her teeth, tried not to answer, but the stupid spell on the cards was
forcing her. She'd opened this can of worms picking this specific secret to
reveal, so now she had no choice but to do as the card required and answer all
of his inquiries truthfully. "Yes."
He hummed in approval. "How often?"
"Often enough," she bit, trying to fudge around the truth, but found that was
quite impossible. She was induced to speak the truth. "At least once a week
since October last year."
"Always me?" he asked, breathing hotly down her neck, causing small shivers to
overtake her spine.
Clasping her hands together in her lap, trying to keep them from shaking,
feeling the sweat on her palms break out, Hermione swallowed heavily. "Almost
always. Maybe ninety percent of the time."
Malfoy was quiet for a few heartbeats, and she knew – absolutely knew – what he
was going to ask next. "Who else?"
Bloody, buggering hell! She didn't want anyone else to know this... "Theo,
twice. Adam, maybe four or five times," she admitted through gritted teeth.
"I thought you said you weren't interested in your childhood boy toy," Draco
bit, sounding a touch bitter. She wished she could see his face, to discern his
thoughts.
"No, I said he wasn't interested in me," she corrected. "He's gay. You're more
his type, actually."
Malfoy slowly straightened, looking down at her. Was that… anger… she saw
reflected for a moment in those grey depths? He stepped back and held a hand
out to her politely, volunteering to help her stand. Almost against her better
judgment, she reached out and accepted the proffered help. "Thank you," she
murmured civilly, hoping that was the end of the questions.
She slipped her golden shoes back onto her feet, adjusting the straps, and
reached for the door handle just as the chimes rang out to announce their time
was up. Malfoy's hand and the weight of his arm pushing on the door kept her
from opening it, however. She looked up into his face, hoping this wasn't the
beginning of his revenge.
"You might want to reconsider, Theo," he advised. "He's got rather…dark tastes
in the bedroom."
Hermione blinked, not understanding.
Draco sighed, looking somewhat defeated. "He's into pain, Granger. He'd love to
hurt you."
Before she could stop herself, the words popped from her mouth: "And you
wouldn't?"
Very tentatively, his long, pale fingers came into view, heading towards her
cheek, stopping just shy of touching her to prevent the rules violation. Eyes
like molten silver stared straight into her soul, scorching her with lustful
heat. "No, Hermione, I'd much rather make you scream in pleasure."
He eased off the door and she turned, jetting away as quickly as possible,
heading for the safety of the couches, wanting to get away from the confusing
feelings she was experiencing deep in her heart.
===============================================================================
 
                                        
===============================================================================
 
Chapter End Notes
     "Better to be eaten by the sharks then to sink with the ship" =
     Meaning, it is better for a person to fight with their last breath
     and let the sharks at the surface of the water line get at you (in
     the hopes that you'll be rescued before that point or at least have
     made every effort to survive for as long as you could), than to allow
     yourself to give up and simply let the water take you under when the
     ship sinks beneath your feet.
     Dog's Tooth Violet – (a.k.a. Katakuri Lily; Erythronium japonicum)
     Not a violet at all, but a member of the lily family. Endemic to
     Japan's islands. Each plant of the Japanese species has a pair of
     leaves, and bears a single mauve flower, with backward-flaring
     petals. Although it hangs its head downward, insects are quickly
     attracted to the nectar by following the eye-catching marks on the
     petals. In this fic, I simply made the flower a singing variety for
     fun.
     'Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends': The Sorting
     Hat's song about Slytherin's attributes.
***** 2D: Blaise & Ginny *****
Chapter Summary
     After last round's powerful revelations, Ginny's unsure as to her own
     feelings for Blaise, and is nervous about what that change might mean
     for them both...
Chapter Notes
     CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: User "lonely4ashara" recommended the
     song, "Let It Rain" by Amanda Marshall for Blaise & Ginny this go
     around. It perfectly reflects Ginny's thoughts here. So, this chapter
     is dedicated to lonely4ashara - congratulations!
     Chapter revised (revision 2.0) on 20 March, 2018.
     NOTE: Remember that this is an A/U universe, and Voldemort was never
     resurrected in Harry's 4th year. However, the events from the first
     three novels + everything minus the Dark Lord in the 4th novel still
     took place in this world (including the issues of the Quirrel, Tom
     Riddle's diary, Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban, and the Tri-
     Wizard Tournament). Harry's years 5, 6, 7 were 'normal', however - no
     war, no deaths (Umbridge did come to Hogwarts in his 5th year, but
     that issue is addressed in a future chapter).
===============================================================================
===============================================================================
By the time Ginny crossed to the room she and Blaise had taken for their own,
she had regained her wits and felt emotionally refortified.
Yes, her courage had been severely tested during the first action round, but
after long minutes of silent, serious contemplation during this last question
phase, she'd had time and some breathing space to turn things over in her head,
including her options for the rest of the game. The conclusion she'd reached
had been a rather simple one, actually: nothing had really changed.
Zabini was playing her.
Oh, he obviously wanted to bed her with the kind of relentless lust that every
eighteen-year-old man felt, but according to his reputation around school, that
didn't make her unique. He'd fuck anything that moved. Everyone said so.
Alright, yeah, he clearly fancied her, too—something that couldn't be said
about any of his other partners, as far as the rumours went about him. But
still… No, that thought didn't seem to want to stop turning over in her head
long enough for her to consider anything else, actually. Like a needle stuck in
a record's groove, her brain seemed glued to the idea that Zabini actually
liked her…and a bit obsessively so, it seemed.
He wants you, a little niggling voice in the back of her head reminded her.
The slick arousal currently riding her thighs made it clear the feeling was
more than mutual.
And the strange, giddy feelings rousing to life under her ribs were, too,
weren't they?
Sitting across from him on the couch this last question round, she'd been
hyper-aware of Blaise's concentrated focus upon her…and the longer he'd looked,
the more she'd felt something stirring to life deep within her for the wizard
she'd always thought of as her greatest rival. It wasn't at all as she'd
expected, either: not hate, not revulsion, and not even a simple lust she could
just brush aside as irrelevant. No, it was a dangerous attraction to his darker
nature, to the thing that seemed to prowl behind his eyes as he watched her
carefully. Its focus lured her in, made her want to discover more of her own
darker desires as well…
Had what that bastard shade of Tom Riddle done to her really fucked her up that
badly all those years ago? She'd thought she'd gotten over that, put it behind
her, but as she'd lain across Blaise's lap and he'd alternated between spanking
and caressing her, offering to make pleasurable for her the one thing that had
haunted her nightmares for months after the incident in the Chamber of Secrets,
all of those old fears and pains had been dredged to the surface. She'd been
shocked and disturbed to feel arousal from such things, but the truth was,
she'd almost come as his tongue had lapped so sensually over her arse.
Was that wrong? Was it sick? Did it make her sick to want it?
Until she had her answers, Blaise Zabini had to be off-limits…because if she
wasn't careful, he'd drown her with his intense, frightening desires.
The door shut behind her with a loud click in the silent room, and curiously,
she could feel her partner's magical aura gathering behind her. Her heart
started pounding a moment later as his body settled so close into the curves of
her back that the hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end.
Without a word, his arm came around in front, holding up his card so she could
read it.
DEED: You get to blindfold your partner and they must guess three things that
you let them touch correctly before the blindfold comes off.
Oh, just fecking wonderful! Would he do something really nasty, like make her
put her hands in a bowl of live flobberworms? Boys did stupid things sometimes,
especially to the girls they claimed to like. Was Zabini like that, too? Her
intuition said, 'no', but then again, he'd body-checked her enough times out on
the Quidditch pitch to give her a smidge of doubt as to how far he'd go to get
her attention.
Sticking to the silent treatment, she held her card up over her shoulder for
his perusal.
FORFEIT: Submit to a snog session with your partner. You can't touch them back,
except to kiss.
Giving him a full minute to digest the ramifications, she tossed her card down
to the floor and sighed. "Get it over with, then," she growled. "What's on the
menu first? Fresh garden gnome intestines or will it be cold, slimy squid
parts? I have six older brothers and they've all played far worse pranks on me,
I can assure you."
Without a word, Blaise dropped his card, and into the empty hand popped a black
satin blindfold, which he brought up and tied around her eyes.
Against her will, instant fear took flight in her breast. Going from having
sight to losing it in a blink was one of the most frightening experiences a
human being could endure, for you were never quite sure what was coming at you,
or whether your next step was going to make you plummet to your death. To do so
with a man who she didn't really know and who had made it clear he had every
intention of seducing her until she lost her mind was truly terrifying.
Ginny swallowed her trepidation, reminding herself over and over that the cards
were spelled to prevent him from doing anything that would cause her serious
harm and that she held the secret of his TWN, should things get really
uncomfortable.
To her surprise, a gentle hand guided her across the room, and within a dozen
steps, she was being lowered onto a mattress, flat on her back. Her arms were
lifted and splayed out to either side so she lay in a 'T' shape. What the hell?
Wasn't she supposed to sit in a chair or something? Before she could question
her partner, her jacket was unbuttoned and opened, the hem of her dress slipped
up to her neck, revealing her barely-there lingerie.
"What the hell are you doing, Zabini?" she demanded, shoring up her walls once
more and putting on a brave front, just to be on the safe side. "It better not
be anything truly awful! Even you wouldn't be so low as to force yourself on a
girl, I'd hope."
She heard a zipper being taken down and the ruffling of discarded clothing.
No fucking way! Was he going to rape her?
He couldn't! The cards, they would stop him, right?
His big body was suddenly there, looming right over her, his aura palpable in
her mouth. His knees rested on either side of her legs, and the palms of his
hands beside her head. "We're going to perform your card at the same time as
mine, kitten," he informed her in a lulling, deep voice that caressed her face
with hot breath in its passing.
Courage, she reminded herself. He can't hurt you. He can't hurt…
Butterfly soft, very tentative lips touched down on hers in a sweet pull that
had come and gone before she'd even realized their first kiss had happened. The
second touchdown of pillowed gentleness followed, this time lingering a bit.
Then, a third and fourth and fifth landed, and each time he lingered a moment
longer before pulling away. Every kiss was filled with apprehension, the
emotion passing between them in equal parts.
If anyone had told her that she would be kissing Blaise Zabini last week, she'd
have laughed in their face. If they'd told her Zabini would give her the most
beautiful series of kisses she'd ever received, so filled with tentative need,
she'd have scoffed and thought them mad. If they'd said she would feel those
kisses all the way down to her toes, that they would make her doubt her own
resolve, and worse, that they would cause an eruption of nervous desire to
flare in her belly, she'd have probably had them committed for life. Yet, his
kisses had surpassed every possible expectation. They made her melt, as she'd
feared would happen.
It was almost a relief when he changed the intensity and let his tongue slip
into her mouth, fully claiming her lips with heat instead. Lust was familiar,
and she could easily embrace it…keep her heart away from it.
Except her partner wouldn't let this be simply about his taking what he wanted.
Oh no, Blaise Zabini was all about breaking down her will, making her a ready
participant in this game of seduction he played with her. The man was genius at
it, too. "You taste like honey and sunshine. So addictive and sweet," he softly
murmured, dipping back in for another taste. His expert tongue swept through
her mouth, running over every surface, learning the curves and angles and
spaces. "Give it back to me, my lioness. Torture me with your kiss."
She should just lie there and not respond. It would discourage him and force
him to quickly get his part over with.
That was what she should have done…but she didn't.
Doubting her own sanity, Ginny did the unthinkable and met his tongue and lips
with her own.
Golden light flashed beneath her eyelids as she finally kissed him back, and
her whole body quivered in response.
As if he'd sensed her growing arousal shooting through her veins, Blaise
responded. The groan that was torn from him rumbled through his chest. His
hands thrust into her hair, tangling up in the long strands, holding her
captive for his plundering of her mouth.
The intensity of their kissing grew into something wild and hot, wicked. It
infused her senses, destroyed her self-control. She was the one moaning now,
loud and uninhibited, and her nails were digging into his shoulders…
Abruptly, Zabini pulled away first. He rested his forehead on hers, tried to
catch his breath the same as she did. It seemed they'd undone each other.
"Guess now. What was that?" he asked her.
It took a few seconds for Ginny to clear a path through the fog of desire that
had swamped her brain to figure out that her companion had just asked her for
the first of the three things she had to guess.
"A…really fantastic snog?" she hesitantly answered.
He chuckled.
"Not the answer I was looking for, but nice. Try again, though."
With that, he dove back in and fiercely reclaimed her lips, stirring the flames
higher this time. He was almost relentless now in his sparring with her tongue,
roughly feasting at her mouth, expertly stroking her pleasure with his tongue
and lips until she was whispering pleas for him to never stop.
When she was once again gasping for air and ready to throw caution to the wind,
he pulled away.
"Tell me, what was that, Ginevra?"
Thank Godric for the blindfold, for it allowed her a few moments to get her
thoughts back into some semblance of order and for reason to return. If she'd
had her sight right then… Needless to say, she and Zabini probably wouldn't be
emerging from this room until long after the game was over.
"What was it?" he whispered, ghosting her lips with his own again. "Tell me,
what did that kiss best represent?"
The answer came to her as naturally as breathing, but its implication made her
heart stammer in her chest. "Us. That kiss was…us."
"That's right," he purred into her mouth as he licked her again. "Mutual desire
meeting, and now finally unleashed."
Ginny swallowed, shivering. "It's just lust."
She had to believe that, because if not… Founders, if not she was in serious
jeopardy of losing herself to Blaise Zabini's unspoken offer!
Once upon a time—up until five minutes ago, actually—she'd definitely desired
such a thing. Passion, excitement, with the promise of being burned to a crisp
at the end of a hot, flaming love affair…count her in! Despite the fact she was
inordinately proud of her parents for their sticktoitiveness, she'd never
wanted a marriage like they had, one that was comfortable, but unimaginative.
It's why her brief relationship with Harry hadn't worked out. She'd wanted 'bad
boy' and he'd been too nice, playing things safe and slow. Then she'd thought
Seamus might be more her cuppa, especially given his rep—until it turned out he
was only good for a one-off and never again. "'Tis me rule, pet," he'd
explained after turning her down for a second go-around.
But now she was thinking of Zabini's reputation around school, specifically
about the number of partners it was rumoured he'd had, and it occurred to her
that for some people, using passion as a weapon was a sport.
And Blaise was a Slytherin. They weren't known for their sincerity, either.
So it was better if she just thought on anything they did tonight as merely a
case of teenage lust and not become at all attached. Keep him at arm's length
and don't get suckered, she told herself. The last thing she needed was a case
of the regrets, right?
"Just hormones," she reiterated.
Zabini's mouth glided across her cheek towards her ear. "I told you once
already: lies don't become you, kitten," he whispered against the sensitive
lobe. Nuzzling it, he forced her to turn her head to the side, giving him full
access to the hollow of her throat. "I know lust, and this…this is more than
that. This is soul deep. It's fate. You simply refuse to acknowledge that
truth."
She shook her head. "No, you've always hated me-"
He nipped the skin over her pulse, making her gasp, effectively stopping her
tirade before it could begin. "I told you already: I don't hate you, I never
have."
"Then you want to hurt me," she argued, clenching her fists. "You're doing this
now to humiliate me. It's some slimy Slytherin trick!"
His hands cupped her cheeks to hold her still, to force her not to turn away
from him. "It's not," he said with a touch of anger. "Where you're concerned,
I'm all out of tricks. You did that to me, Red."
"How?"
"You know how. You even know why, if you think about it."
Because he wants you, wants to possess you, to own you, a hissing voice
whispered in her ear. All men do with the women they desire.
"Why can't you just leave me alone?" she growled, refusing to be some man's
fuck puppet. "Let me go."
"I can't. I tried," he insisted. "For two years, I've attempted to fuck you out
of my system. It's still only you I see when I close my eyes." His forehead
dropped to hers again, and his tone became softer, almost anguished. "Don't you
see? You've consumed me, Ginevra. I can't think for want of you most days.
This…obsession…it has to end. It's going to finish me if it doesn't end!"
He kissed her again then, and it was wicked and hot, and so good Ginny's whole
body reacted against her will. Her hands were suddenly pulling at him, her
nails digging into his shoulders, her tongue thrusting upwards to meet his. He
dragged those full lips of his over hers, sucking on her tongue, and everything
inside her went tight and wet with instant need.
Hell, had she just told him to let her go and walk away? Why would she say
something that idiotic when his kiss was this good?
When their tongues met again, electric shocks ran up the length of her, and
something deep inside her came partially awake, lazily stretched, and
instinctively responded. Once more golden light flashed behind her closed
eyelids, and the pulsing light traveled the length of her body like a lightning
strike, igniting her desire all over again.
Above her, Blaise jerked as if struck and groaned with pleasure. His answering
rumble was deep and resonant in his chest, like a rolling thunder across a dark
sky.
Her partner was right: she wanted him, and this was more than mere lust.
Whatever it was, it both terrified and exhilarated Ginny. It was like flying
and falling off her broom, both at the same time.
Well, hell, she'd wanted passion…
Eventually, Blaise freed a hand from the messy tangle of her hair and reached
up to take her hand in his. Slowly, he slid her fingers down the length of his
well-muscled torso until she was grabbing what she knew to be his thick, long
prick. She gasped, shocked that he'd be so bold, but found it nearly impossible
to let him go. Just holding him in her palm felt so…right.
"What's this?" he asked her, and it was clear he was using this bizarre first
encounter with his most sensitive anatomy as one of his three things to touch.
"Um, your cock?" she replied as evenly as possible around a mouth suddenly too
dry.
Gods, he was fecking huge! He easily rivaled Seamus.
Stroking their hands together gently up and down over his taut length, Zabini
corrected her. "Try again."
Ginny had to admit: it was seriously erotic to be touching this man whom she
considered explosively unsafe, much less learning his shape without sight. She
let her fingers have their freedom and explored every inch of his silken,
velvet length and the heavy weighted balls beneath them, all the while
cataloguing her discoveries, memorizing them. During her exploration, Zabini
moaned a few times, and every time she swiped up his length, his cock twitched
against her hand.
"So, what is it, Ginevra?" he asked once more pressing his lips to hers, as he
began thrusting his hips in time to her rhythmic stroking. "Tell me what it
represents."
"Proof," Ginny breathlessly answered, her mouth watering, her mind already
wondering naughty things about his taste. What would it be like having this
monster thrusting away between her lips, reaching into her throat, shooting hot
come across her tongue? "It's proof of your desire for me."
"Very good, my lioness," he praised her with a sinful chuckle as he gently
removed her hand from its surveying and she let out an unhappy sigh. "You're
quickly catching onto this game." He licked her from the vee of her breastbone
up to the bottom of her chin. "Tell me you aren't the tiniest bit curious as to
how my cock would feel inside you."
Merlin help her, she was curious! She wondered what it would be like to be
taken slowly, stretched and filled by someone of his size.
"You've definitely got my attention," she admitted.
"Do I?" he asked, deceptively mild, although she could feel his hand tremble
against hers. "Is it enough of an interest for you to consent to sex with me
now?"
Ginny licked her lips at the visual, barely holding her ground against her more
reckless nature. "If we do it, you'll only use this chance to take what you
want from me and not care about my needs."
He lowered himself until his chest touched hers and his mouth hovered above her
lips again. "And if I promised to make it so good for you that you came the
hardest you ever have—and multiple times, too, would that change your mind?"
Godric save her from her own stupidity, but Ginny so wanted to fuck Blaise now
that she'd tasted his kiss and held the weight of his dick in her hand… Yet the
price he was asking her to pay was steep, possibly quite devastating, in fact.
Besides, she'd been raised to be no man's fool. There was no way she was ending
up as just some man's cum sponge, thanks.
"And after?" she dared to ask. "What, you give me the best night of my life and
then dump me flat and laugh about it with your friends behind my back?"
"I would never do that to you."
She scoffed. "You do know people gossip about your exploits all the time around
this place, right? Someone talked about those hook-ups."
"It wasn't me. I don't discuss my partners with others."
"Except in this game."
He sighed. "You know my True Wizarding Name, Ginevra. You can mistreat me at
any time, in or out of this room, tomorrow or ten years from now. I trusted you
with such power over me. Trust me now with this. I would make our time good for
both of us."
But she didn't trust him, and that was the whole point. Knowing Zabini's TWN
was irrelevant; she'd never use it unless he meant to cause her or someone else
harm, and they both knew it.
"Forget it," she said and throttled back on her arousal, reminding herself
again that messing around with a Slytherin—this one, in particular—was a bad
idea. The grapevine wagged constantly about the sheer number of female partners
attributed to him. In truth, it was enough to turn her stomach and make her see
red. "You'd use sex against me somehow, and I won't be abused by another man,
not ever again." She cringed at the memory of Tom Riddle touching her and
pushed against Zabini's tight, washboard abs, trying to get him to move away so
she could get up, get dressed, and get out before she made an epic mistake with
him. "Now get off me. You've performed both cards and we're done here."
Zabini refused to budge, however. "Who hurt you?" he growled instead, the anger
in his voice a whiplash of vehemence she'd never heard from him before. It
startled her. "That's the second time you've hinted that someone did something
awful to you. Who hurt you?"
"Nobody, I-"
"Don't you dare lie to me again, Weasley! When I touched your arse last round,
you were positively terrified. I want to know who the bastard was who raped you
there!"
Ginny's heart went cold and her body still as her world narrowed down to two
words: "raped you." No, that didn't fully describe what had been done to her.
Add the words 'and tortured you' after that, and Blaise would be in the right
neighborhood then. She thanked the heavens for the blindfold at that moment,
because hot tears suddenly burned the backs of her closed lids. "Let me go,"
she calmly—more calm than she'd thought herself capable of at that
moment—requested of him.
Her only security from the harsh reality of the world was abruptly ripped from
her head and tossed to the side a moment later. Without the darkness and cover
the blindfold provided, her sight was returned and with it, Ginny's ability to
perceive the truth and to feel the pain it inflicted. Looking up into the face
of her tormentor, she saw something then that she'd never thought she'd ever
witness: Blaise Zabini, nearly undone.
"You were raped, weren't you?" he asked in a voice as shattered as his
expression.
Oh, gods, he knew!
Unfortunately, curling up into a ball and hiding wasn't an option just then.
All she could do was stare at him and try not to cry.
"Who hurt you, love? Tell me. I'll make him pay. I swear it!"
Ginny laughed at that, the sound as ugly and bitter as the truth of the matter.
"You can't. He's already dead."
Her partner blinked, narrowed his eyes. "You killed him?"
"No, but I wish with my whole soul that I had."
"Who?" he demanded the name again.
"Why do you care?" She pressed him back just as hard as he was squeezing her
for information. "It's not as if you haven't hurt me, too!"
Far above, the ceiling changed, becoming a mass of churning, nebulous, wispy
dark grey formations that swirled around and around in growing anger. They were
storm clouds. Had she unconsciously summoned them, or was this Blaise's doing?
She didn't know who deserved the blame this time. A warm spring rain gently
began to fall. Its savagery grew, however, as the seconds ticked by, swelling
in intensity to match the rioting battle of emotions between Ginny and her
partner. The room, it seemed, could reflect the emotional turmoil of its
current occupants. At the moment, it was a squall, complete with sheets of
rain, rumbling thunder, and flashes of lightning.
Neither she nor Zabini seemed to care about the downpour that drenched them,
though, too lost in their fierce staring contest to notice.
"Give me his name," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.
Ginny was no pushover, though. "I have a better idea: go take a giant leap over
a short cliff."
Blaise's nose touched hers, and his dark eyes were incensed by her defiance.
"You will tell me, my lioness. I want the name of the man who hurt you. Dead or
alive, I would know it."
Exasperated to the point of violence, Ginny actually snarled at him behind her
clenched teeth. "It doesn't fecking matter! I told you, the bastard is dead,
and his sodding book was destroyed with him!"
"Book? What the hell does a book have to do with any of this?"
Oh, bloody hell, she'd said too much!
She clamped her lips together, refusing to give away anything else. Blaise
stared hard at her, trying to decipher the riddle, but she knew he had no
knowledge of what had transpired in her first year, as the story had been
neatly covered up by Dumbledore.
A strange glint entered his eye then. "We'll make a deal: I'll tell you another
secret if you tell me this one," he offered. "I promise you mine is as
equally…disturbing…as yours, Weasley."
"Not bloody likely," she scoffed.
Zabini tilted his head, stared her down and bared another piece of his soul to
her. "My first time, it was the end of third year, and I was raped in the
showers by two seventh-years."
Ginny pulled a sour face. "Oh, how terrible for you, getting jumped by a couple
of older, more experienced girls-"
"Lucian Bole and Peregrine Derrick," he corrected her. "I was thirteen.
Bole Imperio'd me and made me suck his cock on my hands and knees while Derrick
fucked me hard up the arse. Then they switched. Derrick didn't even have the
decency to wash himself off before shoving his dick in my mouth. Bole commanded
me to like it all, though, so I moaned in pleasure the whole time and came
right along with them. They raped me for over an hour in every position you can
think of, casting charms on themselves and me to get us all hard again and
again. When they finally tired of me, they left me bloody, lying in a puddle of
my own come, and threatened to kill me if I ever told anyone. You and Draco are
the only two people who know, and he knows only because he was the one who
found me. I'd have never told him otherwise."
He wasn't lying. There wasn't a smidge of untruth in what he'd just said.
She knew because only another survivor of brutality could relate to the haunted
expression that she currently saw on his face. The glint of shame in his eyes
was the same as the one she often saw in the mirror at home. It was followed
quickly by the inevitable fury and sense of helplessness she also knew all-too-
well.
Blaise had been raped, too. His innocence stolen as hers had been.
He'd been humiliated by his attackers just as she'd been by hers…
"Tom Riddle," she blurted, moved by his confession enough to offer her own.
The name obviously didn't register with him. "Who?"
Ginny felt her throat threatening to close, to seal away the truth once more,
as it had done for years every time the subject of the Chamber came up. "That
was his real name before he changed it…to Voldemort."
Zabini pulled away, ran a hand over his eyes, wiping away the tears that
gathered at his lashes. "As in the Voldemort, the Dark Lord who died before
either of us was ever born?"
"Yes."
Her partner threw her a dark, disbelieving look. "What the fuck, Weasley? I
just bared my soul to you!"
"I'm not lying! I swear to you on my witch's powers that it's the truth," she
insisted, putting her freed hand over his lips to shut down whatever scathing
rebuke he would give her. "Listen, please. My first year, Malfoy's father
sneaked Riddle's school diary into my bag when we bumped into him at Flourish &
Blotts while getting school supplies. I don't know how the man obtained such a
dark artifact, and I didn't know that he'd intentionally slipped it into my
possession at the time, but when I got to school, I found it. The diary was
magical. It…talked back to me when I wrote in it. I didn't know who Tom Riddle
was at the time. I thought he was just a nice ghost haunting the pages,
offering up a sympathetic ear. I told him all of my feelings, and he was kind
and understanding." Here, her voice faltered, became embittered. "He was using
me. He gained control of my mind through my vulnerability. Do you recall all of
the messages painted around the castle in blood about the Chamber of Secrets
that one year?"
Blaise's gaze turned inward as he thought back, and slowly, he nodded as the
memories returned.
"That was me, under Tom's influence. I had no memory of doing it, though," she
explained. "He also used me to open the Chamber of Secrets and to let loose the
Basilisk that was under the castle. That's why there were students who were
found petrified. Remember that?"
Again, Blaise nodded.
"It was all Tom's doing. He used me to open the Chamber," she continued. "He
wanted the Basilisk to roam free and kill. I was helpless to stop him, too much
under his power by then. But it was the last time I opened the Chamber that
Tom…got to me."
Here she faltered, never having told anyone, not even Madam Pomfrey, what Tom
had done to her that night. This ugly secret had lain across her heart for
years, tormenting her to tell it, to free it and be free of it, and yet she'd
always stumbled right here, never able to get past this part of the tale.
"Tell me," Zabini coaxed.
He'd done as much for her, relaying intimate and horrible details of his own
rape, laying himself bare for her to judge. The least she could do was show him
the same respect, the same courage.
Taking a deep breath, she let it all out. "Near the end of the term, I was
lured down to the Chamber to summon the Basilisk again. Riddle had been slowly
using my life energy all year, and as a result, was able to manifest a form for
himself, a new body that looked just as he had at the age of sixteen when he'd
created the diary. He wasn't completely solid, but it was enough, especially
after he'd rifled through my mind using Legilimency and discovered my TWN.
Using my magic against me, he'd forced me to my knees and made me suck him off.
He slammed his…thing…into my mouth. I gagged so many times, and when he came-"
She shuddered, clenching her back teeth at the memory. She could still smell
his awful scent and taste his salty, bitter seed he'd shot into her mouth. Just
the memory made her want to vomit. It took her several deep gulps of breath to
hold down the gorge that rose in her throat, to come back into her own control,
and to finish the story.
"He forced me to swallow it all. But that wasn't all. Afterward, he made me
take my knickers off and crawl around for a bit, kissing his feet and
groveling. He made me…he made me beg for him to fuck me, and then he-" A sob
escaped her throat, and her sight went hot and wavy. "He said he wasn't into
girls, but he liked a nice piece of arse, so he took me that way. And…it
hurt. Oh, Godric, it hurt so much! I screamed inside, begging him to stop, but
I couldn't move. He controlled me with my TWN. He made me say his name over and
over as he…as he thrust into me, and it burned like fire when he finally came
inside me. I was only eleven-years-old, and he raped me!"
She pressed her hands over her eyes, ashamed, wishing right then to hide away
in darkness forever and ever.
"He threw me to the ground, told me I'd been a good whore, and it was too bad
he still needed my energy to make him whole or else he'd have kept me around to
fuck. Harry killed him though. He destroyed the diary, and it killed Tom
forever. After it was all over, Dumbledore took the diary, looked at it. He
said it was ruined, its magic shattered and that Tom couldn't hurt me ever
again, but he was wrong. He still haunts me in my head, and I'll…I'll never
stop being afraid of being touched…there."
Her sobs were unstoppable now, as waves of agony and humiliation flooded every
inch of her soul.
Blaise's big hands cupped her cheeks again, and his thumbs gently wiped the
tears from them. "Look at me, Ginevra. Please, look at me, love."
She did look at him then and finally saw through the arrogance and past his
Slytherin sorting to the man underneath. And what she saw astounded her: he was
a survivor, too. He'd known the same pain she had and now he'd shared it with
another as well, someone who was a rival by accident of House affiliation.
They had more in common than she'd ever guessed.
Gently, he took her hand in his warm grasp and led it to his bared left
pectoral. He placed the palm against his heart and she noted its strong beat,
and how powerful his body was under her fingertips.
"Tell me, what's this?"
"Your heart?" she whispered the guess.
Blaise shook his head very slowly. "Try again."
They locked gazes and at that moment, Ginny's greatest fear was realized: she
couldn't hide anymore. Zabini had seen her, heard her, smelled her, felt her,
tasted her. He'd reached inside and touched her heart. Something had awoken in
her, come free of its cage, and now there was no turning it aside.
But this two-edged sword cut both ways, didn't it? He couldn't hide from her,
either. They were equally exposed, equally frightened of the ramifications of
these last few minutes.
Equal.
"My heart," she whispered the correct answer, and her partner solemnly nodded.
The idea was beautiful. It broke through the last of her icy resolve, filling
her up with a flood of warmth and joy. This was what she'd been searching
for—the passion she'd hoped to someday find! Hell of a thing that it happened
to come from her greatest school rival.
Well, if Zabini was the one to take her down, then Ginny was going to burn in
his arms…and she was going to make sure he got nice and singed from the flames,
too. Grabbing her partner by the shoulders, she pulled him down on top of her,
pressing their naked, willing bodies together. Her hungry mouth found his a
beat later, and then she sunk her claws and her tongue deep into him.
Blaise answered her need with one as equally ferocious, plunging his hands back
into her hair and falling upon her like a man starved for love.
"Touch me," she begged him between wet, heated kisses. "Fill me. Make me forget
anyone else's touch, Blaise."
"Ginny, I‒"
She stopped him from denying her with another lush kiss. "I want you to be my
memory of this place, too," she told him, rubbing her pussy up and down his
hard, taut length.
A surrendering groan left his throat, and then his hands were everywhere—in her
hair, pulling her clothes off, cupping her naked breasts, gripping her nude
hips. When Blaise further parted her thighs and thrust hard into her tight,
slick passage, Ginny cried out from the feeling of his heavy, straining shaft
stretching her open, delving into her silken depths.
God, he was so big!
She whimpered as her internal muscles gripped him, milked and massaged his cock
with uncontrollable pulsing as her body adjusted to his size, surrounding him
in her wet, welcoming heat.
"Move, please," she begged, rolling her hips in a plea for more, for
everything.
Her new lover held absolutely still though, seemingly content to stay seated
within her like this forever. "Just this much," he promised her, holding her
clasped to him, his burly arms enclosing her in safety and warmth, sheltering
her from the heavy rain that still poured down upon them from the magical
ceiling far above. "I won't ask for more than this."
Ginny dug her fingernails into his arms in a silent demand that he give in and
fuck her until she was screaming like a wildcat in heat, but Blaise was as
stubborn as she, it seemed, and refused to finish inside her. Instead, he
remained still below the waist and kissed her with sweet, adoring nips and
licks, brushing the hair from her eyes and calming her until she could feel
their heart beats slow and sync.
"Just knowing you want me, too," he whispered between soft kisses, "Just to
feel you around me once. It's enough for me."
The chimes rang out, signaling the end of this action round and breaking the
poignancy of the moment. The tinkling sound cut through the thunder and pelting
water with the same abrupt notice as glass breaking in a noisy room.
Pulling back onto his elbows, Blaise again smoothed the drenched hair from
Ginny's face with a gentle touch. "I forfeit, my lioness. You've conquered me."
Bereft of his warmth, afraid that if he walked away now, it would be over for
them, Ginny shook her head, desperate to keep him in the game. "You can't! I
want this now. You made me want this, Zabini!" She clamped her thighs around
his hips, and wrapped her arms around his neck to hold him in place. "Give me a
chance to know you, the real you."
To enslave him to the idea, she began rocking her hips up and down.
Blaise groaned and his eyes rolled back into his head. "Stop, you'll make me…
I'm too close as it is."
She didn't heed him, guiding him in and out of her body with insistent, slow
pumping.
"All right, I'll stay!" he conceded, and abruptly pulled out of her to avoid
further temptation.
Getting her first full look at his cock made Ginny's body ache to have him back
inside. He was magnificent, hung long and heavy and thick…and dripping with
desire, shiny from her juices.
Her stomach and throat both tightened with renewed desire.
"Stop looking at me like that or we're not leaving this room until we're both
satisfied," he warned her with a gentle slap to her foot. Hopping off the
soaked bed, he climbed to his feet and held his hand out for her. "Come, my
lioness. I'll play the game, just for you."
She sighed in concession, but promised her buzzing, painfully aroused libido
that it was going to be well-sated coming morning, no matter what.
Taking his hand, she let Blaise pull her up and once more into his embrace. As
they stood naked and pressed in close, she stared up at him with hunger and
need, not just for physical fulfillment, but emotional as well. "Don't burn me,
Blaise. If this is just a game to you… If you hurt me, I swear on the Founders
that I'll never forgive you."
He cupped her cheek and with slow deliberation, swiped his thumb across her
kiss-swollen lips. "I'll give you whatever you want, Ginny. I'm yours."
Shaken to her core by the naked vulnerability in his eyes, Ginny pressed her
face to his broad, bare chest and hugged him. He really did want her. And all
these years she'd thought he'd hated her, when the exact opposite seemed to be
true.
Well, shit, hadn't she just been the fool? Just think, she could have been
doing this with him all along and saved herself the headache and heartache from
Harry!
With a reluctant sigh, Zabini kissed her cheek. "We should go or we'll be late,
and be counted out."
They broke apart at the same time, and she bent and retrieved her clothes from
where her lover had discarded them. They both redressed with haste to beat the
second chime. "We'll need a drying charm when we get back out to the couches,"
she stated the obvious as she wrinkled her nose while tugging the heavy weight
of her wet velvet dress over her shoulders.
Blaise was already at the door, his outfit requiring little work to set to
rights and looking positively too enticing in his purple shirt and form-
fitting, black slacks for her sanity. Unwittingly, her eyes dropped to his
crotch.
Merlin, he really was hung!
Her partner gave a sinful chuckle, reading her thoughts in her gaze, no doubt.
He held his hand out to her. "Come, kitten, before we're both much too tempted
to want to leave."
Blushing to the roots of her hair and the tips of her toes, Ginny coughed with
embarrassment, and crossed the room to him. She slid her fingers through his as
he opened the door for them and followed his lead as he led them back to the
couches. Unrepentant about it, she openly watched his arse as they walked and
was entranced by its strong curve.
Hell, Blaise Zabini was entirely too clever and too sexy for any witch to
properly maintain her composure, she thought. He ought to come with a
disclaimer around his neck, "WARNING: this wizard will make you forget the word
'no'."
This time, this fall…it was really going to hurt, wasn't it?
All she could do was pray that wouldn't be the case and put her faith in the
game to start them off in the right direction.
***** 2E: Harry & Tracey *****
Chapter Summary
     Tracey is finally getting the dream she's always wanted -- a chance
     to date Harry Potter...
Chapter Notes
     CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: User izumizoom recommended the song,
     "It's Gonna Be Love" by Mandy Moore for Harry & Tracey this go
     around. It perfectly reflects Tracey's thoughts here. So, this
     chapter is dedicated to izumizoom - congratulations!
     Thanks again Unseenlibrarian for the beta! You rock!
 
Tracey looked about her as she stepped back into the room that she and Harry
had previously occupied. Last round, he'd kindly changed the colours to a
matching theme, hoping to put her at ease. It had been a sweet effort, but
Slytherin green, silver, and black had never actually soothed her spirit. She
hadn't wanted to ruin his gift, however.
Now she wanted to give back.
With a thought, the colour scheme changed to Gryffindor reds and oranges.
Closing the door behind her, Harry took one look around and laughed. "Nice, but
a gold leather couch? I feel like I'm in a disco lounge."
"Dis-co?" Tracey asked, shaking her head, not recognizing the word. It must be
a Muggle term. "What's that?"
Harry seemed to consider her for a moment, and then looked to the ceiling.
Suddenly, the lights went down, and a strange, rotating ball of silvery mirrors
appeared in the middle. It reflected bright shards of light as it moved,
discombobulating her for a moment. The sound of strange music filled the air
around them – music with a catchy beat that encouraged the body's natural
inclination towards gyration.
Tracey felt a smile overtake her cheeks.
"Intriguing. I assume you're meant to dance to that… noise?"
Her partner chuckled and gave her a sheepish grin. "I'm afraid it was
considered the perfect hook-up music at one time by Muggles. I think I prefer
something quieter, myself."
She nodded. "Indeed." With a thought, the weird crystal ball and music were
gone, and she replaced them with soft instrumental lounge-jazz.
Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he grinned. "Nice." He held up his
card then. "So, what did you get this time around?"
Tracey sighed and read her card:
 
FORFEIT: Stand up now and tell the whole group something true about you that is
a secret – one no one else knows.
 
"Everyone ran out before I could think up something good," she shrugged. "I'll
have to try after, I suppose."
Harry gave her a rather serious assessment, then. He lifted a hand as if to
adjust his non-existent glasses, stopped at the last second as he remembered he
wasn't wearing his spectacles, and switched his intended action, rubbing the
back of his neck instead. "Well, I suppose you could tell me here for practice,
if you wanted. I don't mind if you don't."
Tracey blushed and looked down at her feet. There was only a small handful of
secrets that she kept close to her heart, and of them all, there was only one
that she felt she could confess right here and now in front of this man without
having him think too badly of her. But would he think it too… queer? Maybe a
tad stalker-ish, even?
Now that the idea had taken root in her brain, the compulsion to tell him the
secret became overwhelming. She assumed it to be the spell upon the cards, as
she'd been warned by Malfoy earlier that they could compel you to be truthful.
Struggling for a moment to come up with the right way to say it, so it didn't
sound too odd, she pursed her lips and practiced the declaration in her head
first.
"Or not," Harry generously offered when it was clear she wasn't quite ready to
fess up yet. "You don't have to. I don't want to push you."
Oh, dear. He'd misunderstood her silence. One of Tracey's biggest perceived
flaws was her inadequacy in conveying her thoughts in a timely and proper
fashion. It seemed she'd have to correct that misconception.
"No, no, I don't mind telling you my secret. I was just thinking of a good way
to say it so you wouldn't think me… well… strange."
"Want to sit? Might make it easier," he suggested, indicating the couch with a
sweep of his hand.
Tracey nodded and headed for the sofa, resuming her previous seat. Harry took
the cushion next to her. With a silent command, the hearth lit up once more,
casting magical shadows across both of them.
She took a moment more to gather her thoughts. Could she really do this? She
swallowed down her trepidation. "All right, but you have to promise not to
think me… mad."
Harry put his right hand over his heart, and held the other up at his side,
palm towards her. "I swear I will not think you a candidate for the nuthouse."
A giggle bubbled up and burst from between her lips before she could stop it.
How was it that this wizard could always make her smile, even when she was
under pressure?
"Okay, well… you see… that is to say…" she stammered, "I wasn't supposed to be
sorted into Slytherin House."
The shocked silence that greeted that pronouncement lasted all of two seconds.
"Why not?" her partner asked.
Oh, Merlin, here it came.
"Well, um… I asked the Sorting Hat to…" She stalled, putting a hand over her
eyes in mortification. "Oh, I can't say it! You're going to think me totally
weird! Oooh, why did I pick thissecret?"
"You want one of mine instead? I've got a pocketful of them," Harry teased, and
this caused her to peek through her fingers at him. At the goofy look on his
face, she burst into nervous giggles again.
He reached into his trouser pocket and pretended to extract something, holding
it out to her. "This one here, it's going to tell you that I've always hated
the whole 'Boy Who Lived' reputation, that I never felt I'd measure up to it,
and that all I ever wanted was to be normal."
He feigned depositing the secret into her lap, then reached into the opposite
pocket and pulling out another. "This one will tell you that I don't really
want to go to the dance next Friday night with my ex-girlfriend, Ginny. Don't
get me wrong – she's a fantastic girl, but… I only asked her because she was
'safe' and familiar, and I'm sure she knows that, too. It makes me feel like
I'm using her, but I don't want to go alone, either. I don't like myself for
being so cowardly like that."
Again, he turned over into her care this private information, and reached back
into his left pocket for yet another confidential moment. "This one, it'll tell
you that I hold back when I cast spells, because I'm afraid of hurting
someone." He looked at her solemnly now, all teasing aside. "I've got darkness
in me, Tracey. Every time I lift my wand to cast an offensive spell in
D.A.D.A., I feel it fighting to get out. It takes willpower not to give in."
This time, he closed his hand around the "secret," not releasing it to her, as
if symbolically afraid of it tainting her somehow with just its revelation.
With more courage than she'd thought possible, Tracey reached out and gently
grabbed his wrist in both hands, prying open his fingers. "I'm not afraid of
that secret, Harry. You can share it with me. I promise to treat it with
respect, and not to judge you for it."
Grass-green eyes measured her sincerity. To her surprise, they contained a
vulnerability she hadn't expected, and a wariness that went soul deep. Her
heart thumped hard in her chest in response to seeing such guardedness.
Swallowing her pride, Tracey decided then and there that she would not let him
be the only one emotionally exposed tonight. He'd given up something painful,
so it was her turn to reciprocate. She could do this!
"My secret is that I asked the Sorting Hat to put me in whatever House you were
going to be assigned."
His lids flared, and his mouth dropped open in astonishment. "Me? Why?"
Feeling the heat crawl up her face, she looked down at their still-connected
hands. "It has to do with how we met. See, before school began in first year,
we bumped into each other in Diagon Alley. I don't know if you remember that?"
He shook his head.
"That's okay. I remember enough for the both of us."
She smiled at the recollection as she called up the memory, letting her
fingernail trace over the palm of his hand in nonsensical patterns in an effort
to soothe him. "You were coming out of Ollivander's, your new wand in hand, and
you were focused on it with so much happiness. I was just getting ready to go
in, but had paused at the bottom step. I was afraid to go in, because, well...
I was worried that no wand would want me." She tsk'd. "Oh, I know it's silly to
think that now, in retrospect, but at the time, my magical ability wasn't all
that great, honestly, and I thought that no wand would possibly want to be
owned by such a pathetic witch." She glanced up at him through her lashes. "But
the look on your face… you were so enraptured with your gift, Harry, like it
was the most amazing thing ever. I suddenly wanted to know that feeling, too. I
wondered if being the owner of a wand would, somehow, make me a better magic
user." She patted his hand. "Without meaning to, it was you who encouraged me
to take that first step into the shop, Harry."
"Really?" He seemed amazed at the revelation.
She chuckled softly in amusement, her smile widening as she saw he was
intrigued by her story. "Yes, really. You didn't even see me standing in your
path when you walked right into me, you know. It was one of those moments
easily forgiven and forgotten as two people pass each other. Only… I didn't
forget. It was an important moment in my life, because that was when I first
finally accepted that I could be a witch, if I wanted it enough."
"You asked the Sorting Hat to put you in my House because of that?" he asked,
somewhat awed.
Trailing her gaze up his arm to his shoulder to his throat, following the curve
of his neck to his jaw and then to his eyes – those eyes she'd fallen into time
and again without his knowledge – she felt her bravado bolstered. "No, not just
for that. I saw you again on the platform for the train later, and watched you
run through the wall to get to the right place. Again, I was afraid to do it,
it being my first time, but when I saw you try it despite your obvious
trepidation, it was like the wand shop all over again. I thought to myself, 'I
can do that, too!' So, I ran at the wall the same as you, and when I came out
the other side, there was the Hogwarts Express waiting for me!"
She shook her head in wonder. "That was twice you'd leant me your courage,
Harry, and we hadn't even been properly introduced."
With a teasing grin, Tracey let him go, sitting back into the couch, leaning
her cheek against the cushion. "I didn't know who you were until I heard Malfoy
announce your name once we got to the school, though. I admit I was a bit
starstruck. You were cute, had been something of an inspiration to me, and you
seemed so nice and courageous, sticking up for Ronald Weasley like you did, and
in the face of someone like Draco Malfoy, who had already established himself
the alpha of our year on-board the train. I realized then that I wanted to be
your friend. I thought that maybe you could teach me how to be braver, like
you."
She sighed somewhat sadly, as she comprehended that she'd never actually
learned that lesson throughout all their formative years. Being as daring and
fearless as a Gryffindor seemed a bit out of reach for her in general, even
though she'd desperately wanted to be that way in her heart.
"That's why, when my name was called by Professor McGonagall, and I went up to
the Hat before you, I was really nervous. I didn't know what House you'd be
sorted into, so I asked it to put me wherever you were going to be sent. It
wanted to send me to Hufflepuff based on my own merits, but I insisted on being
sent with you." She frowned. "I was confused and upset when it sent me to
Slytherin, because I knew you'd most likely go to Gryffindor. You were brave,
not sneaky. At the time, I thought the Hat sent me to the opposite House as a
way of punishing me for being so insistent on getting my way."
To her surprise, Harry shook his head. "The Hat was trying to send me to
Slytherin," he admitted. "And I would have gone there, except I did the same
thing you did, and insisted that the Hat send me to any House other than
Slytherin. I knew Voldemort" -Tracey cringed, hearing the cursed name- "had
come from there, and didn't want to go to the same House. I wanted to go
wherever my parents had been placed." He rubbed the back of his head and sighed
disconsolately. "But I think the Hat was right. There's a part of me that
belongs in Slytherin. If I'd kept my mouth shut, I know I would have been sent
there."
He looked at her, an apology in his gaze. "I'm sorry you ended up in the wrong
House."
Tracey considered his words and her past situation, coming to a startling
revelation in that moment. "It wasn't your fault, Harry. I think, maybe, the
Hat might have gotten it right. After all, if I hadn't been sent to Slytherin
then, I wouldn't have been invited to play this game with you now, and we
wouldn't have this opportunity to know each other better."
She smiled at him, as the truth finally hit her: yes, this was destiny.
His return smile was gentle. Slowly, he reached out for her hand, as it lay
limply on the couch between them. Holding her hand firmly as he regained his
feet, he pulled her up with him, stepping into her at the same time as he drew
her forward. Tracey's heart slammed under her ribs as she found herself
suddenly face-to-face with her wizard.
"Dance with me again," he bid, a teasing smile inching up his face. "Before you
get to tie me up and feed me dessert."
Tracey nodded at the same time as another giggle burst from between her lips.
"Is that what your card is this turn?"
He nodded, reciting his card for her verbatim from memory:
 
FORFEIT: Let your partner feed you the dessert of your choice. You must be tied
up during the feeding.
 
They both laughed and Tracey inched her arms up and around Harry's neck. "Oh,
my, I'm going to need to borrow that courage of yours again, I think."
Hesitantly, as if he were unsure of the action, Harry's fingers caressed her
cheek. "Any time."
She considered that offer, grabbed a hold of it. "Okay, then… I'm going to
choose the song this time," she decided with a measure of boldness.
Harry acquiesced easily with a slight nod.
With a single thought - she knew just the right song - a sultry beat and bass
guitar, accompanied by a lyrical, crooning woman's voice, mimicking the early
60's R&B romantic classics, began as one of Tracey's favorite romantic songs,
"The Nightingale," as sung by Julee Cruise, played from the ether about them.
 
                        The nightingale, it said to me
                         there is a love meant for me.
                        The nightingale, it flew to me
                      and told me that it found my love.
                                        
Harry's hands smoothed up her arms, over her shoulders, and then followed the
path back down, barely touching the curve of the outsides of her breasts as
they glided to her waist.
"Hold me closer this time," she whispered to him, reaching for her 'inner
lioness' - the one she had run from for far too many years.
Her partner didn't reply, but he did lick his lips, and the action drew her
attention, made her aware of how close they stood as his fingers splayed around
her back and pulled her into intimate contact with his rock-hard body. They fit
perfectly, nearly nose-to-nose.
Tracey felt she could have died in that moment a very happy witch.
 
                      He said, "One day, I'll meet you.
                  Our hearts will fly with the nightingale."
                         The nightingale, he told me
                         one day you will be with me.
                                        
"How is it that we never met before?" he murmured the question against her
cheek as he leaned forward and let his nose brush alongside hers.
"I was too shy," she replied in a hushed tone. "But I always knew you were
there, Harry. From the very start, I saw you."
 
                         The nightingale said he knew
                  that your love would find my love one day.
                     My heart flies with the nightingale,
                   through the night, all across the world.
 
"You joined this game for me, didn't you?" he asked, pulling back a bit, his
piercing emerald eyes staring into her very soul, tearing away all her
defensive walls with ease.
Tracey's cheeks grew hot, and she looked down, unable to take the intensity of
his knowing stare. "Yes." She swallowed in nervousness and closed her eyes. "I
admit that I hoped so much… that before we left here… that you would see me,
too. Just once."
 
                              I long to see you…
                                 to touch you…
                                 to love you…
                                  forever more.
 
A hand left her hip, and she despaired. He was going to step away from her now.
She'd said too much. He thought her a weird stalker now, didn't he? Just as
she'd always feared, she'd ruined this chance by not being more reserved like a
Slytherin…
Two fingers lifted her chin, forcing her not to cower. Opening her eyes to face
the music, she was shocked to see Harry's face hovering closer. "I see you now,
Tracey," he whispered. His mouth buzzed just above hers, and their eyelashes
both feathered down at the same time. "May I kiss you?"
"Yes," she sighed happily, her heart fluttering with joy.
His lips landed softly down upon hers, so chaste, gentle, and sweet. It was her
very first kiss, and it was perfect.
When he pulled back almost immediately, she followed, unwilling to let this
end, wanting more of him. "Don't stop," she pleaded on a whisper, unsure where
she was getting the mettle, but grabbing on desperately to such reckless
courage. "Kiss me again, Harry."
 
                         The nightingale said he knew
                   that your love would find my love one day.
                     My heart flies with the nightingale,
                   through the night, all across the world.
                              I long to see you…
                                 to touch you…
                                 to love you…
                                  forever more.
 
His arms wrapped around her, pulled them together until there was no space for
the light to pass, and his mouth bent to hers again. This time the kiss was
open-mouthed and filled with enticing fire. Tracey lost herself to it and him,
and they moved with a natural grace together, not awkward in the slightest,
both giving and taking beautifully as if this were something they had practiced
together a thousand times.
It felt so right.
Harry groaned, and the sound vibrated through his chest and passed into hers,
bringing a shivering thrill that caused goosebumps to stand out on her arms and
her belly to quiver with anticipation. She moaned in response, and this caused
an instant reaction in him, making him go hard against her abdomen through his
trousers. It felt wickedly delicious to feel the weight of his... thing...
rubbing the satin of her dress against the skin of her tummy.
When he French kissed her, she started, but then melted into this new
sensation, too. Tentatively, she met his tongue with her own, caressing
lightly, testing, and learning his flavour. As he swept into her mouth and
sampled every corner, she moaned and pressed the entire length of her body
against his. His tongue tangled up with hers, twining and pulling apart in an
erotic dance that left her weak-kneed.
"Oh, Merlin," he mumbled against her lips. "You taste so sweet, like
honeysuckle."
Tracey's head was whirling, swirling, dizzied as her world tipped end over end.
She thrust her hands into Harry's hair and held tight, kissing him with every
bit of feeling that she had for him in her heart, holding nothing of herself
back.
His hands were suddenly on her hips, slowly dragging and bunching her dress up,
as he pressed her core against his erection and rubbed them together.
Her startled gasp seemed to break through the haze of passion and return a bit
of sanity to the moment.
"Merlin, Tracey, you're bringing me to my knees here," he told her, pulling
back, breaking their kiss. Panting huffs of hot air blasted against her throat
as he rubbed his forehead against her shoulder. "We need to stop. I'm losing
control."
But Tracey didn't want to stop. She wanted it all. She wanted to give this man
everything she had. But she understood, too, that they were moving incredibly
fast. She wanted this thing between them to unfold slowly over the course of
the coming hours, so they could cherish every revelation of each other before
getting down to making love.
Clearly, they were as chemically compatible as she'd always hoped, though. That
was a huge relief. She'd harbored a secret fear that he wouldn't want her with
the same intensity as she felt for him, but apparently, that wouldn't be a
problem. Thank Slytherin. Or Merlin. Or whoever was responsible.
Nuzzling her nose into his neck – his cologne smelled like dark spices and the
woods, enchanting her – Tracey let out a small sigh of contentment.
Her wizard lifted his head and stared down at her, a lopsided, embarrassed grin
touching his cheeks. "Sorry. I didn't mean to push but-" He shook his head in
amazement. "Witch, you certainly know how to kiss a bloke so that he forgets
his own name! Wow."
The hidden siren within Tracey stretched and sat up in satisfaction at the
compliment to her new skill. He thought she kissed well!
Her shyness returned a moment later, though as humility took over. "Um… shall I
tie you up now?"
Harry froze, clearly taken aback. "Wh-what?"
Tracey realized how her question sounded and felt a flush of embarrassment roll
over her. Putting her hands on her cheeks, she closed her eyes. "Oh, I meant… I
didn't mean… Your card!"
Gods, could she have made any bigger a mess of that one?
Stupid, stupid!, she silently berated herself.
Her partner's chuckle was dark and rather wicked as he caught onto her meaning
in a quick minute. He closed the distance between them again and captured her
hands, pulling them away. Bending to her lips again, he murmured, "You can
certainly tie me up now. I wouldn't mind." He kissed her again, a quick, chaste
peck. "I like treacle tarts best."
I know, she thought.
He relinquished his hold on her, giving her space to breathe, and with a mental
thought, a small café table with two chairs appeared in front of the fire,
replacing the sofa. On its top sat a small, covered plate containing a small
pile of his favourite dessert pastry, a fork, a napkin… and what looked like
white velvet rope. Harry practically glided into one of the chairs and held his
wrists out to her, hands fisted together.
Tracey nearly had a heart attack at the visual of what she was about to do to
him. Could she really tie him up? A nervous giggle overtook her, and slipped
from her lips as she reached for the rope. "I can't believe I'm going to do
this," she muttered, feeling her blood rush through every vein in her body with
heat.
"You mean you've never tied a partner up before?" he asked, a little amazed.
Heat… rising…
Was it possible to faint from blushing too much?
"Um, no," she admitted quite honestly. "Is there some sort of special way to do
this?"
Harry shook his head. "Just make a normal knot, but not too tight."
As Tracey began winding the rope about his wrists, once, twice, three times and
then tied it off in a bow, he laughed.
"What? It's okay, isn't it?" she asked, self-conscious. It was, after all, her
first time lashing a man down.
"It's fine. The bow's a cute touch, though."
Oh, well, it was a tad childish, wasn't it?
"Want me to do it over?" she offered. "Or I could tie you to the chair,
instead, if you want."
Her partner's laugh came out as half choked. "Uh, no. This is fine." He looked
up at her and shook his head, giving her a goofy grin. "I think I've created a
monster."
Now he was making fun of her.
She huffed at that, looking at him through narrowed lids, and took her seat
next to him, lifting the cover on the plate. "Keep laughing at me, and I might
accidentally drop a tart into your lap, you know."
Harry busted out laughing, full and long, his face turning an interesting shade
of red. "Yeah, definitely a monster," he gasped between breaths.
It took Tracey a second to catch the double entendrein her previous words.
Tart… lap. Oh, Merlin, she really was green!
Lifting the fork, she realized that cutting the tarts would be difficult,
because of the shortbread crust. So, instead, she just lifted one with her
fingers, hoping Harry wouldn't mind, and headed for his mouth. "Oh, do quit
laughing at my naiveté and open up."
Her wizard gazed at her through mirthful, green eyes and smirked, "Yes, ma'am."
He opened up and she gently fed him his favourite treat, catching the crumbs in
his napkin, which she lifted under his chin. She watched with delight as his
eyes lit up with pleasure and his smile shifted from playfully mocking to
blissfully gratified. He let out a small moan in happiness. "Merlin, I love
this stuff!"
Whichever player had invented this Forfeits card, Tracey was infinitely
thankful to him or her in that moment.
She held out a second helping for him, and as he made quick work of it, he gave
her a devilish waggle of his eyebrows. "Wanna try some, too?"
Tracey looked at the half-bitten tart in her hand. "I suppose so."
She started raising the dessert to her lips, but his bound hands stopped her.
"That's not what I meant," he clarified, leaning forward and kissing her,
slipping his tongue into her mouth again, sharing the residual sugary decadence
of the delicacy with her. As he pulled back, he gave her a smoldering look.
"That's more like it. Every time you feed me, I'd like you to kiss me, so I can
share this with you."
Tracey's whole body was thrumming, her heart rabbiting behind her ribs. "Okay,"
she agree on a shaky breath.
They finished off the dessert just like that: her feeding him with her fingers,
then leaning forward to swipe her tongue over his lips to taste the lingering
buttery-ginger taste that was left behind. Twice he grabbed her fingers between
his lips and held on, sucking with light pressure. At some point in the middle,
he reached for her and coerced her onto his lap so that they could actually
cuddle - after getting her permission, of course.
When the chimes rang out not too long after, signaling the end of their time
together, they'd gotten though four tarts, a long series of sticky, delicious
kisses, and he even ran his fingers over her knees. For Tracey, it had been an
incredibly erotic and romantic experience overall.
As she got off his lap and untied him, Harry rose to his full height and moved
in on her before she could react. He thrust his strong hands into her long
hair, pulling her into his embrace once more. "Oh, man, I'm gonna fall for you,
aren't I?" he asked just before his lips touched down on hers again.
Although she knew it had been a rhetorical question, Tracey answered him anyway
as soon as he pulled away. "Then we'd be even," she whispered, her voice
trembling upon her admission.
"Oh, hell… I am so going to fall for you," he stated rather decisively and
lunged back in for another spine-tingling, breath-stealing snog.
In between kisses, she reminded him of their time limit. Harry grunted in
understanding, but couldn't be bothered to stop kissing her. Instead, he simply
picked her up in those powerful arms of his and walked them to the door. Tracey
held on for dear life. He set her back on her feet to reach for the door
handle, but didn't stop kissing her even as he opened the portal out of their
private chambers. He smooched her as she stepped back and out of the room, and
immediately, he pushed her into the wall on the other side, never breaking
physical contact.
It wasn't until they heard Ron and Pansy laughing as the two escaped their
quarters down the way that her partner pulled his head up. Tracey's heart beat
fiercely with joy and desire, threatening to burst sunshine rays of happiness
all over the place. What had she ever done that was so good in her life to
deserve this chance? It was like a magical miracle - a fairytale come true.
"Snogging on a second date is okay, right?" he asked, breathless.
Tracey thought her face would crack from all the smiling she was doing. "Yes,
definitely. Kissing me goodbye at the door was a nice touch. A perfect ending
to this date."
Harry kissed her yet again, then pulled back and rested his forehead against
hers. "Good. So… see you for our third date in a few minutes, then?"
She nodded eagerly and clasped his fingers in hers, giving them a light
squeeze. "Absolutely."
Inside her chest, her heart twirled and danced.
***** 2F: Theodore & Daphne *****
Chapter Summary
     Daphne exercises some of her new power over her obedient, sexy
     submissive, Theodore Nott...
Chapter Notes
     CHAPTER REVISED: 1 March, 2017
     CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: User CeriseAnouk recommended the song,
     "I Get Off" by Halestorm for Theodore & Daphne this go around. It
     perfectly reflects Daphne's thoughts here. So, this chapter is
     dedicated to CeriseAnouk - congratulations!
Daphne could feel Theo's angry stare burning into her as she headed for their
private room. Her stomach twisted in response, making her feel positively ill.
The truth was she'd thrown this last round of questions because Theo had
promised to give her his card this round. He did not understand that, however,
and in the way of Slytherins, she was not about to volunteer such information
in front of others. So, she had held her tongue on the matter, awaiting the
opportunity for them to be alone before divulging all to her partner.
It was what happened between those two points that had her tied up in knots.
As she crossed over the threshold and into their room, Daphne turned and
silently waited for Theo to catch up. In her mind, she repeated the lessons she
had learned while in Italy the summer before, allowing the mantras to serve as
a balm for her nerves:
The outer is a reflection of the inner.
A firm command and a patient hand.
Mine is the will that moves his heart.
Affecting an indifferent expression, she watched as Theo followed her into the
room and shut the door behind him. Leaning his back against it, he turned a
hardened gaze towards her.
Grabbing her courage, Daphne crossed to him and held out her hand for his card.
Would he really give it to her, or had those just been words said in the heat
of the moment? Would he renege now that he was truly angry with her, or would
he hold to his promise, despite his feelings?
She waited, anxious to see where he would go next.
Theo looked at her outstretched palm, seemed to consider the same questions she
had, but then, to her relief, he lifted his arm and dropped his card into her
waiting hand.
Not bothering to look at the gift he had just presented her, she instead
glanced up at him, concerned by his continued silence. Confusion, frustration,
and ire reflected in equal parts in his expression, and there, in the depths of
his baby blues, she read the hurt she had put there, too. Obviously, Theo had
seen her unwillingness to answer the game's question as a rejection of him, and
if there was one thing Daphne knew about Theo, it was that he did not take such
a thing well.
And why should he, really? His whole life had been one big rejection: first, by
his elderly father, who had not wanted children at all, and then by his mother,
who had never thought she would get pregnant so late and life and had resented
her son for it. Only Slytherin house had ever really given him a sense of
acceptance and belonging…but even then, there had been years when he had been
outside Draco and Blaise's circle, hovering on the edges. Alone.
She would correct his misunderstanding immediately, knowing that otherwise his
volatile temper could exacerbate the issue and drive a wedge between them
before they had even really gotten off the ground.
"Now that we are effectively dissociated from the others, my Theo, I will deign
to answer the previous Interrogations question for you," she stated, going for
poised and unruffled. Inside, her heart was pounding, however. A Dom never
explained themselves to their sub. Obedience was all that was required in such
a relationship, at least according to her tutors on the subject. In this case,
however, they had not put enough history behind them for her to demand such
trust from him, and he had not the experience to understand what a good
submissive should accept. That could only come with time…something they would
not have if she failed to earn his trust now. "You are my answer. I would
desire to have you."
Theo seemed taken aback by her forthright statement. "But…the card said you had
to name three to five people."
Shaking her head, she made her intentions as clear as possible. "No others,
just you. You are all I desire tonight."
For all nights.
"Y-you're serious," he said, as if he couldn't believe his fortune. "You'd want
only me? W-why?"
Her heart broke a little at that.
It also made her angry at the people who should have loved him enough, for he
should never have had to ask such a thing of another.
"It is not your place to question me, Theo," she replied, resuming the role of
his Dominant. Knowing it would take more than a command to convince him,
however, she wrapped herself in the act of the tigress on the prowl and stalked
across the room towards him. With a swing in her hips, she sauntered up to him
and built a cage around him of her arms. "I believe I have made my desires more
than evident to you, however. I have decided I want you…every delicious inch of
you. I want you in me, on me, and around me. I want to walk out of here tonight
thoroughly satisfied by you, not just in the pleasure you bring me, but in that
which I bring you."
Theo's eyes darkened with lust and his body trembled against her.
Knowing she—the middle daughter of a minor pure-blood household, and the least
attractive of the children to boot—could draw such need and want from the
gorgeous heir to the Nott legacy made Daphne feel powerful and beautiful. It
made her believe that the mantras she regularly spoke in her head could be a
reality, if she played her cards right. Most importantly, it gave her the
confidence she needed to follow through with her plans.
I will own all of you, my beloved, she silently promised him. And you will own
all of me.
"I would open your mind and body to the thrill of continuous, multiple orgasms
without ejaculation," she continued, nodding at his confunded expression. "Oh,
yes, my Theo, it is quite possible for a man to achieve such with the proper
training. I have witnessed it with my own eyes." She threw him her wickedest
smirk and leaned into him, so their bodies aligned just right, barely touching.
"I would also teach you the intense ecstasy and intimacy of tantric sex, and
the wonders of submission. In order to achieve such lofty goals, however, I
must first teach you the burning ache that is nurtured under the heavy hands of
patience, honesty, and restraint—three skills you fundamentally lack. It is
this that holds you back from being a fantastic lover, my Theo."
She let her gaze linger on his lips while licking her own in a suggestive
manner.
Theo's erection was suddenly pressing against her inner thigh.
"Would you like me to instruct you in such things, my beloved?" she whispered,
and slowly brought her leg upwards, gently rubbing against his hardened length
with it.
He nodded and licked his own lips. "Yes, teach me everything you know, Daphne!
Teach me how to…how to…"
"Make love?" she offered.
He seemed startled by her offer at first, but then his gaze softened and the
stiffness in his shoulders relaxed, as if her words had freed him in some
manner.
"Yes."
Softly, on tiptoe, she leaned up and very lightly brushed her mouth against
his.
"I will," she promised him, and just like that, their contract was made. "Now,
I need you to say aloud that you will let me touch you anyway I wish tonight,
with my hands or mouth or with toys." She stepped back and held his card out to
him so he could take it back from her. He did, but his fingers shook in the
trade-off. "Agree that this same proviso lasts until the end of the game, so we
will not need to repeat it each round."
He nodded, seeming much more at ease now. The anger he had carried into the
room with him was now gone, and in its place stood a young man ready to accept
the gift of love she wanted to bestow upon him. "I allow you, Daphne
Greengrass, to touch me in any way you want for the remainder of this game. I
am yours to do with as you wish."
Despite the lack of magical or oratory fanfare to accompany his claim, Daphne
knew that the cards would now respect Theo's declaration.
"Excellent, my Theo. Now, let us play."
He smiled like she had just offered him the moon.
As she read his card aloud for them both one more time, she could not help but
think that this game had been the best idea her housemate, Draco Malfoy, had
ever conceived.
 
DEED: Tie up your partner and paddle them lightly.
 
She then read her card aloud to him:
 
FORFEIT: Your partner gets to lick any part on your body of their choice. You
cannot touch them.
 
Theo's eyes lit up. "Fucking awesome!" he cheered. "Your wish is my command, My
Queen!" He got down on his knees before her and bent his head in supplication.
'My Queen,' he'd said, not 'Your Majesty.'
Slytherin's soul, she loved this man! She really did.
With a thought, Daphne conjured what she'd need for the paddling session to
come first. She had just the right thing in mind… It appeared on a small table
next to the Tantra Chair. "Stand Theo, and take your clothes off for me once
more," she commanded.
"Yes, My Queen," he humbly offered and did as she had asked.
As he removed his shirt, she walked around him in a predatory circle. "Every
action round, you will come to this room and immediately remove all of your
clothes for me," she instructed.
"Yes, My Queen."
His belt dropped atop his shirt, even as he kicked his shoes and toed off his
socks.
She walked over to the chair and stood beside it. "You will then come to this
chair and sit on the smaller hump and wait for me to join you."
"Yes, My Queen. Anything you desire."
His trousers and pants hit his ankles and he stepped out of them without
hesitation, and then he made his way towards her, undiminished by his nudity.
Daphne's mouth watered at the sight of his hard, thick cock bobbing with every
step he took towards her.
Sitting on the chair as she required, Theo kept his head down and his mouth
shut.
"This will be your starting point every time we enter this room together," she
told him. "Regardless of whether either one of us holds a Deeds card or a
Forfeits card that round, you will always present yourself to me in this
fashion, until I instruct you otherwise."
"As you will it, My Queen, I obey."
He was being such a good boy, so respectfully submissive. She was going to
reward him for it, she decided.
Moving to the small table, she picked up a small bottle of clear lubrication.
"Stand for me, my Theo."
"Yes, My Queen."
He was on his feet in a flat second.
Pouring some of the water-based lubrication into her hands, she put the bottle
back down and approached him. "Do not touch me, my Theo. Allow me to reward you
for your trust thus far."
He was just beginning to reply, but then she took his cock in hand. His reply
of, "Yes, My Queen" quickly transformed mid-sentence into, "Shit, yes!" At his
sides, his fists clenched, and he tossed his head back, revealing the long line
of his throat to her. A deep moan escaped him. "Oh, Daphne…"
Hearing Theo call out to her in such lusty tones made Daphne shiver from head
to toe. Her body went tight with need, her heart pounded. She guided her hot,
greedy hands all over his thick, hard expanse, working every inch of him, and
then she cupped his bollocks and played with those, too.
When he was straining and began pumping his hips rhythmically in time with her
hand in an unspoken demand that she finish him, Daphne pulled away. In doing
so, she was establishing to him that a good submissive never coerced anything
from their Dom, including the need for release. Their pleasure belonged to the
Dom alone, and it was she who decided when a sub could have fulfillment.
Of course, a good Dom also understood a sub's desires and attempted to give
them what they needed, when they needed it. The relationship was a two-way
street, with the power dynamic eventually, after a long time and much work,
flipping on its head once the sub and Dom had reached that level of perfected
harmony with one another's needs. In the end, it was the Dom who became the
sub's love slave.
Trust was at the centre of it all, though, and its guiding hands were patience
and honesty.
These were the lessons Daphne wanted Theo to learn. Unfortunately, it would
have to be a crash course tonight, since they were out of time now that the end
of school was here, and her future was already established elsewhere…
Theo let out a grunt of displeasure at her withdrawal, but to her satisfaction,
he bit back on any complaint. It seemed he was learning, after all. She gave
him a kiss on the cheek in reward, and then commanded him to bend over the
larger hump of the Tantra chair and stick his hind in the air. As he did so,
she reached for the paddle lying across the table. It was a small, flat board
covered with smooth, black leather on both sides.
"I am going to change up the rules of the card, my Theo," she informed him.
"Instead of tying you up and spanking you without purpose, I am going to allow
you a certain freedom of choice. I will ask you ten personal questions. If you
choose to answer any of them, you must do so honestly and completely. For every
question you answer, I will caress your shaft two times. For every question you
refuse to answer, however, I will spank you five times with this paddle in my
hand." She showed it to him. "Do you agree to play with me like this, Theo?"
He nodded. "Yes, My Queen. Hell, yes!"
"Excellent," Daphne purred next to his ear, leaning her head down to reward him
with another tiny kiss to his cheek. "Then let us begin. Question one: what is
your middle name?"
Daphne already knew this answer, but was testing his veracity.
"Darek."
He had told the truth, so Daphne gently moved her hand around his waist and
softly stroked his length up and down twice. He groaned and his cock twitched
in her hand, but she let him go immediately, not wanting him to get too close
to the point of no return.
"Question two: with how many girls have you experimented sexually, in sum
total?"
"Um, do you mean how many people have I had sex with, or do the ones I only
kissed and touched a bit count, too?" he asked.
Daphne became annoyed that there had to be a distinction. Just how many girls
had Theo touched in such a manner? "All of the above," she decided.
"Uh, well…"
She roll-tapped her nails over the paddle's handle as she waited for him to
count it up, repeating the mantras in her head to try to tone down the jealous
whispers in her head.
"Ten. No, wait, eleven. But, uh, most of them were just fooling around. You
know, snogging, getting a feel, getting head, that kind of thing. I've only had
sex with a few girls."
Daphne swiped her hand over him two more times and as she did so, she nuzzled
the hairline at the nape of his neck, making him shiver. "Eleven people," she
cooed. "My, you have been busy making the rounds, have you not?"
Did that sound too bitchy?
She took her hand off of him fast and fought back the green-eyed demon that was
riding her hard. He must not know yet that she harbored such deep feelings for
him, or the dynamics between them would change, and that could ruin everything.
Steeling her voice, she continued. "Question three: in what position did you
take the first girl with whom you had sex?"
He paused, seemed to consider an appropriate response. "I didn't take her. She
took me the first time, her on top, riding me. After that, we fucked like
rabbits all over the place in a variety of positions."
Ah, that explained why he was enjoying the idea of being submissive once more.
A person's first sexual encounter was said to set the tone for their
preferences in the bedroom throughout most of their lives.
His hips bucked as she stroked his prick again in reward. She moved slowly this
time, taking a few moments to acquaint herself with this part of his anatomy.
Having yearned for years to see and touch him just like this, now here he was
in the palm of her hand, literally, just as she had always fantasized, and she
was breathless with the need to take him into her mouth and taste his
perfection. The thick, silken flesh was slicked with his pre-cum, and the head
of him was engorged with blood and straining against her fingers. He was
beautifully shaped and incredibly responsive, and she was dying to feel him
inside her in every way.
Moving her hand away took an effort of supreme will on her part.
Theo actually growled low in his throat as their eyes met and he read her
desires. The desperate sound made her smile.
"Question four," she said, putting them both back on track. "What sexual
positions have you attempted?"
He tilted his head and his eyes grew distant as he sifted through his memories.
"The only time a girl rode me was my first time. I usually prefer me on top, or
having her from behind on her knees. I've done it once where she was bent over
at the waist and I was standing up, fucking her from behind, and another time
we were both standing up against a wall, her back to my chest. That's it,
though."
Interesting. He had allowed no other woman to ride him, despite secretly
enjoying being dominated by a female partner. Daphne wondered the reason, even
as her fingers tightened around his cock once more and guided him towards
ecstasy.
"Gods, Daphne, I need to fuck you!" he panted. "Please, please!"
Daphne stroked a gentle hand up his spine and massaged the back of his head,
scratching her nails against his scalp. "Patience, my Theo. The more you want
it, the sweeter it will be." She bent over and pressed a kiss to his temple,
before stepping back once more, returning them both to the game. "Question
five: have you ever had sex with a man, or ejaculated to the fantasy of such a
thing?"
Here, Theo stalled, and Daphne felt an odd, sinking feeling in her stomach that
told her she might have stepped on the Exploding Snap this time; perhaps she
should not want to know the answer to this one.
Theo sighed with resignation. "Paddle me."
Well, that clearly settled the matter, did it not? Theo either knew the touch
of a man or had touched himself to the idea a time or two. From what she knew
of him and recalled of his reaction to Blaise's revelation of his bi-sexuality,
she began to suspect that the two of them had done more than simply share a
dorm room.
Not that such a thing turned her off. Daphne had seen two men together before,
as well as a threesome involving two men and a woman. It had been educational,
to say the least. Not to mention highly erotic.
Despite that, the fact was Theo had not answered the question. Although Daphne
loathed having to punish him for that refusal, she also knew that in this type
of game, following through with promises was important to assuring that the
players both understood and reinforced the boundaries. Deviation could
irreconcilably damage the trust of Dom/sub that she was nurturing if she didn't
follow through. Therefore, gritting her teeth and steeling her nerves, she
raised the paddle, recalling what she'd learned about proper striking
technique.
"Very well. Five strikes."
Each full, measured hit against Theo's flesh was loud in the quiet room, and
accompanied by him exhaling hard through his nose, rather than crying out in
pain. It would seem that he either had a high tolerance for such abuse, or he
had been the victim of such in the past. Perhaps one of his former lovers had
spanked him a time or two? Or had it been done under more nefarious
circumstances?
By the fifth hard smack, Theo grunted softly, but that was all the complaint he
made.
Relieved that the chastisement was over for the moment, there was silence
between them for a few minutes as Daphne properly let the punishment sink in.
Theo's bum was rosy, but she restrained her impulse to rub a soothing apology
over it, knowing that to do so would undermine the message she'd had to impart.
This was a contest of dominance, after all.
When she felt it was appropriate to move on, Daphne asked her next query:
"Question six: if I were to fulfill your greatest wish here tonight, what would
it be?"
Her partner's face turned the same sunrise colour as his arse. "Um… You sure
you want to know this?"
"Of course," she stated, suddenly curious to know just how far he would take
this one. "Tell me your deepest, most secret fantasy."
He looked up at her as she came around the chair to face him, and in his eyes,
she saw a darkness she hadn't expected.
"It's been basically the same one for the last couple of months, ever since I
watched you reading in the common room one afternoon. I kidnap you from your
bed in the middle of night. I tie you up using magic, and Silence you, so you
can't scream. I drag you back to my room at my family's home. See, I've got
this ceiling to floor mirror in there, and I tie you up in front of it. You're
crying, mouthing pleas for me to let you go, but I can't. I want you too much."
He licked his lips, as if just speaking the fantasy was making him hungry, and
the expression on his face made Daphne's body clench, partly in fear and partly
in arousal.
"I remove the Silencing spell, but I gag you instead. I want to hear your
moans. I cut your clothes off you slowly, using a careful Slicing Hex, and when
you're naked for me, I make you watch in the mirror as I drop to my knees and
eat your pussy out. I make you come over and over again just like that, until
your legs are shaking and you're trying to talk around the gag, begging me to
stop because you're too sensitive."
Daphne glanced down and noticed he'd gone iron hard and was trying to find some
relief by rubbing against the chair. He left a sticky trail of pre-cum all over
its soft leather hide.
"I circle around behind you, pry your legs apart, and make you watch in the
mirror as I fuck you then. I use you hard, and when I come, it's a lot. It
drips out of you when I pull out. After, I leave you like that and go about my
business. I ignore you, and that forces you to look at yourself in the mirror.
You see your cunt and thighs are wet from your orgasms and my seed. You see the
evidence of what I can do to you, remember how I can make you feel, and the
longer you stare, the more you become aroused. Finally, when I know you're
dying for another go, I come back and I remove the gag. I ask you if you want
me then, and you say, 'yes'. I cut you down, remove the bonds, and we fuck
right there, in front of the mirror again. This time, you want it just as much
as I do. We watch together, and you let me fill you with come over and over
again until we're both too tired to go on. After, we just lay there in each
other's arms, looking in the mirror at each other. We both know we've met our
match."
Daphne tightened her grip on the paddle to keep her fingers from moving towards
her pussy to rub herself some relief from the pulsing ache that had suddenly
taken root there.
"So what do you think, My Queen?" He gave her a dark smile. "Do you like my
fantasy? Or does it frighten you?"
Yes, it frightened her, but not the kidnapping, not the bondage, not even the
sex part. It scared her because at the end of his fantasy, what he wanted from
her was a long-term relationship, and they only had tonight. He would have
never agreed to such a thing with her if he knew what awaited her after
graduation…
Clearing her throat, Daphne decided that the best way to handle Theo's question
was not to answer it. Instead, she asked one of her own.
"Question seven: how would you describe me, Theo? How do you see me?"
Theo's disappointment was palpable. His expression shifted, and the darkness
retreated, but his letdown was there in his face. Clearly, he had expected her
to reveal a bit of her soul to him, as he was baring himself to her…but that
was not the way Dom/sub relationships worked, and she was still Slytherin
underneath it all as well. Daphne's instincts in both positions told her that
revealing too much to him now would tip the delicate balance of power out of
her favour. It would give him the impression that he could question her as he
liked, and then from there, it would be a short hop and a jump to disobedience.
They did not have time for such games. Tonight was all they had, and if she was
to be the first to show him what love was all about—self-sacrifice and giving,
not taking—she had to be the one in charge. Theo was too desperate and selfish
to get them there on his own.
"Please answer the question or request I paddle you," she added when he had
still not replied.
"You wanna know what I think of you? I like a challenge, and you give it…in
spades," he finally admitted. "How do I see you? You're like…like one of
Draco's fancy birthday cakes, with all those layers. On the outside, everything
looks sweet and makes your mouth water, but you don't know what you're gonna
get until you take a bite. When you do, it doesn't matter what it's made of
because you get addicted right away. After that, you don't worry about the next
layer, because you want it so much that you'd risk anything to have it. It
could be poison and you wouldn't care. Still, you trust it's not, because…it's
too pretty a thing and too bloody delicious to kill you. You hope." His gaze
followed the line of her body, and there was a bit of returning heat in it.
"That's who you are to me, what you've become, Daphne. You scare and thrill me
in equal parts."
Daphne was floored by Theo's insightful and deep metaphorical exploration of
her character. And it was the most honest she had ever known a Slytherin wizard
to be. Usually, they were all innuendo and sleight-of-hand, but not her Theo.
He was ambitious for affection, not for power.
Rewarding him for such a lovely compliment seemed the least she could do.
"Merlin almighty," Theo gasped, as she stroked slowly over his hard length,
"your hands are quickly becoming my other favorite part of you, My Queen!"
When she released him, he actually whimpered.
"Do not fret, my Theo. You will have your release soon," she whispered in his
ear. "And you still have your card to perform, as you will recall." Pulling
back once more, she continued her interrogation. "Question eight: have you ever
been in love?"
Theo answered without hesitation. "No."
Strangely, this revelation brought Daphne great relief, as that meant she would
not be competing tonight with the ghost of another woman for Theo's affections.
Pressing close to him from the side, she leaned her mouth towards his ear as
her fingers very slowly and with increased pressure jerked him off twice. "You
are doing well, my beloved. I appreciate you being so direct with me. It
is…oddly arousing."
Theo groaned, turning so they were pressed together cheek-to-cheek and began
rubbing against her like a cat seeking affection. "I find I don't want to lie
to you, My Queen."
"I appreciate that, my Theo. Please continue."
His smile was enchanting. "Yes, My Queen."
She gave his prick an extra swipe in reward, eliciting from him a pleasure-
filled gasp. Then, she took her hand away and stepped back, twirling the
paddle's handle back and forth in her other palm. "Question nine: have you ever
sexually taken a person against their will?"
She assumed the answer would be negative, but one never knew what lay in the
deepest, darkest hearts of others.
"NO!" her partner shouted, seemingly shocked that she would ask such a thing.
"No, I wouldn't!"
She believed him, for there had been none of the telltale signs of a lie in his
facial features. That, at least, was a relief. Consensual violence was
acceptable, but non-consensual was one of the unforgivable sins against a
woman.
"Question ten," she began, preparing herself for the one question that had
burned in her mind for years. "How old were you when you lost your virginity
and to whom did you give it?"
She had always wondered this fact, but had never been able to discern the truth
of it. She believed it had to have been someone outside of Hogwarts, for the
rumours around the castle had made it clear that he had seemed rather
proficient.
To her surprise, Theo stalled in his reply. "I… Daphne, I don't want to answer
this one. You'll be very angry with me if I tell you. You won't understand."
She rested the paddle against his bottom in silent warning as to the
consequences should he choose not to reply, but did not attempt to further
persuade him, as this was an issue of Theo learning to open up, not to force
such compliance from him. She already knew some of the things he'd done to
other girls this last year, so why would the secret of his first initiation
into adulthood change her mind about him that much? Would it destroy her
feelings for him?
"If you wish, you may explain it so I will understand," she tried for a
compromise. "I promise to listen and will reserve judgment for after you have
finished your tale."
Theo hung his head and let out a deep, resigned breath. "Bloody hell, just…just
paddle me instead."
Daphne was truly taken aback by his unwillingness to discuss this subject. Was
it really that bad a secret? "You would truly take a punishment instead? I do
not understand. It has been my experience that many men enjoy the bragging
rights of their initial sexual conquest."
Theo looked at her over his shoulder. "Not in this case. I'd rather you hurt me
than I hurt you."
She measured his sincerity, believed it to be true, and considered her options.
There were none. She had established the rules of this little game, and now she
had to live with that choice. She was going to have to spank him again…and the
one burning question she had had for years would remain unsatisfied.
Inside her head, Daphne let out a string of expletives.
She followed it up with a round of her mantras.
"I apologize for attempting to persuade you, when clearly you were not
comfortable with the discussion," she said, once she had regained control of
her anger. "This is your secret to keep. I understand and respect that, Theo."
She held the paddle up and touched his hind with it. "Unfortunately, you did
not answer, so I must punish you now."
Theo nodded, accepting her sentence without complaint, and he waited for his
punishment to commence. His beautiful body tensed up once more in anticipation
of the pain to come. I will make this up to you, my beloved, she promised, and
proceeded to hit the paddle against his flesh five times.
Having been on the receiving end of this particularly unpleasant circumstance
herself, Daphne knew that the initial blow felt like someone was taking a bite
out of your fleshy parts, but that it faded rather quickly. It was the heat it
left behind that took some getting used to.
Theo finally made a noise on the last strike, a groan of pain, and she
immediately dropped the paddle and used her cool hands to soothe his nettled
skin.
"Do not move. Allow me to ease your pain."
Theo did as she bade with an automatic, "Yes, My Queen."
Daphne mentally summoned a chilled washcloth and placed it upon his burning
flesh. He jerked a bit as the temperature differences shocked his system at
first, but then eased down as she used the extremely soft, damp cloth to
massage away his hurt.
When she felt he was in less discomfort, she instructed him to stand up and
take a step back, so there was some space for her to squeeze between his body
and the larger hump on the chair. As she passed the table, she grabbed the
lubricant once more, and finally positioned herself in front of him.
Theo's erection was only at half-mast now, his pain taking away from his
arousal. She rubbed some of the non-greasy substance onto her hands again and
then setting it aside, she gently took his beautiful cock in her hands and
stroked him back to life.
"Hands at your sides," she commanded in a soft voice. "Allow me to provide you
release."
"Yes, My Queen."
Running her slick fingers over him, she took him in a firm grip and began
stroking up and down. Within moments, the head of his cock had swelled, turning
an aroused shade of purple-red as it filled with blood, and all along the
sides, small veins appeared, creating friction as she moved over them. Theo
moaned in pleasure and his eye lashes fluttered.
"Control your need, my Theo. Deep breath in, and back out," she coaxed him when
his chest began working harder. "Enjoy this. Pleasure is a journey, not a
race."
Theo's body quaked under her caressing hands as he struggled to do as she bade.
She could feel how he fought his natural inclinations off, putting all his
mental effort into experiencing this new, different technique, all to please
her.
His skin grew hot and his expression pained as she stroked him with a steady,
rhythmic hand.
"Daphne," he warned in a panicked voice, staring at the floor with a mortified
expression on his face. "I…I can't…"
She stopped and pressed her thumb to the base of his cock.
"Theo, look at me."
Hesitantly, he did as she asked.
"Keep your eyes on me. Do not look away. Match my breathing to your own."
He did, and a few minutes passed that way, with him slowly regaining control.
He'd deflated a bit in her hand, but their breaths were in synch when she began
stroking him again.
"Stay in the moment with me," she whispered. "Not in the fantasy in your head.
Become aware of my every breath, of how the light looks reflected in my eyes,
of the way my pulse beats against my throat. Be aware of how my pleasuring you
affects me, notyou."
He took a deep breath…and in that second, she knew that it clicked for him. His
eyes widened with sudden enlightenment.
"I've served once before," he admitted as she began gently stroking him again.
"I mean, I thought it was serving, but I know now it wasn't that. I was
just…pretending to submit while waiting for my turn. I wasn't on my knees for
them. I was there for me. What you're doing, though, it isn't about that at
all, is it?"
"No, my Theo, it is not," she agreed. "And I am pleased that you have discerned
that lesson so quickly." She cupped his heavy sac and rolled it in her fingers,
making him tremble against her. "What we do in this room to each other is not
about taking—not by either of us. It is about giving. It is about setting each
other free, finding that our own pleasure comes in service to each other."
Theo bent his mouth to her ear and whispered, "Tell me how I may do that, My
Queen. Teach me."
"I am," she told him, and proceeded to stroke him until he was on the edge and
ready to spill all over her hand. "Come now, my Theo. Let go and give us both
the pleasure of witnessing you doing so."
With a cry of her name, Theo tossed his head back and thrust his hips upwards.
His body tensed and released as his climax splashed in waves across his skin,
saturating the dark trail of hair that led from his bellybutton downwards.
"For you," he said, as he came down from his high, shivering from head to toe.
"I come for you."
"Yes, my Theo." With a non-verbal spell, Daphne magicked away the mess upon his
quivering muscles, and then took her beloved in her arms and guided him down
onto the Tantra Chair. He lay back against the middle hump, naked and sated and
a little sweaty. "And I give you that euphoria, because I care for you."
He stared at her for a long while in silence, eyes heavy lidded with satiation,
but sparkling with deeper thoughts.
"We haven't performed your card yet," he finally told her.
Daphne met his eye, noted the naughty gleam in it.
"Do you wish to taste me?" she asked.
His gaze dropped to her hips and his lips quirked as he fought a triumphant
smirk. "If that is your wish, My Queen."
His impertinence made her laugh. "You have learned your lesson a bit too well,
it seems." Conjuring a towel, she wiped her hands of his sticky residue and
then leaned against the Tantra chair's larger hump. Skimming her dress up and
over her waist, she presented her body for his use. "Come, lick my cunt, Theo.
Please your Mistress and earn her favour."
Theo wasted no time, slipping her panties from her legs and tossing them aside.
As she leaned further back onto the chair's padded curve, he made room for his
body between her split thighs and parted her lower lips with his thumbs.
"You're so beautiful," he sighed with longing as he looked upon her for the
first time, and leaned forward to place a small kiss on her mons. "I want to
please you so much, sweetheart."
"You will," she assured him, and closed her eyes as he took his first taste of
her.
Gently, his tongue met her damp flesh, delving inside.
They both moaned.
Daphne had been eaten before as part of her training, but this was one of her
particularly favourite things to have done to her, and the fact that it was her
Theo finally doing it to her now only made the sensations even more exquisite.
Lying fully back upon the chair's swell, she let her head tip back and imagined
how sexy a picture she and Theo made in such a position. She pinched the nipple
of one breast as he suckled softly upon her clit. "Ooh," she sighed in response
to the lovely feeling, and Theo hummed, pleased by her response. The deep,
resonating vibration shot up her body, making her shiver.
She bent her leg and placed a bare foot upon his shoulder, and he shifted to
his knees and drew her closer with a hand on her hip. "Do I please you?" he
whispered as he placed open-mouthed kisses to her slick, naked flesh. "Do you
want me as much as I want you, My Queen?"
"Yes, yes!" she chanted as he thrust his tongue deep into her, rhythmically
fucking her with it. "Oh, Theo!"
A shattered cry left her mouth as she peaked swiftly, and her thighs quaked
with the force of her unexpected climax. It had come upon her faster than she
had ever experienced before, and Daphne was left gasping for oxygen and a
little dizzy in the aftermath.
Staring up at the white ceiling far above, she marveled at the experiences of
this round. So much had changed between them, and in such a short time. He had
come to understand what it was she was attempting to give them both tonight,
and he had accepted her offer.
Could they sustain this emotional symmetry, however, when they had no control
over the direction of the cards?
Her lover continued to enjoy his fill from between her legs, lapping slowly and
gently through her folds like a great cat. His attentions were more relaxed,
almost lazy as he took his time to really savour her. Daphne allowed it, until
the chimes rang out, announcing the end of the round.
Without being commanded, Theo helped her back into her knickers, and from there
into a sitting position. Stroking his cheek softly, she smiled at him. "That
was truly wondrous, my Theo. You are quite gifted with your tongue. Thank you."
He smiled and his expression was one of deep contentment. "I'm happy to serve
you, My Queen."
She helped him to redress, and then they headed for the door together, hand in
hand. Before they left, he stopped her at the door. "May I kiss you now, My
Queen? Just a quick kiss on the cheek, I promise."
Daphne smiled at such a charming offer. "I would like that very much, beloved."
When his lips brushed her cheek, somehow that felt more intimate and romantic a
gesture than the whole last fifty minutes between them, and it left Daphne with
a warm flutter in her belly. She returned the gesture, and then they wasted
another few moments silently staring into each other's eyes.
Finally, Theo opened the door for them, and indicated she should go before him,
as was proper. "After you, sweetheart."
Turning from him reluctantly to walk back towards the couches, Daphne felt a
sweet tugging in her heart, and knew that deep inside, at just that precise
moment, another piece of her soul became the property of one Theodore Nott.
***** The 3rd Question *****
Chapter Summary
     Round Two shocked everyone. What will Round Three hold in store for
     our two teams?
Chapter Notes
     CONTEST WINNERS THIS CHAPTER: Users EllieMay Duncan & Evenstar
     Dreamer recommended the song, "Wicked Game" by Chris Issak for this
     chapter. So, this chapter is dedicated to EllieMay Duncan & Evenstar
     Dreamer - congratulations!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                        CHAPTER FOUR: THE 3rd QUESTION
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
                              Room of Requirement
                       Saturday, June 13, 1998 (9:30pm)
Hermione and her partner were the first ones out to the couches this time
around, which made her decidedly nervous. There would be a lot of dead air
between them until someone else put in an appearance. Maybe she should say
something?
"Thank you again," she offered, feeling the heat crawling up her cheeks. "For
the meal. It really was quite lovely. And the beach scene was a nice touch."
Malfoy crossed his legs casually, European style, and leaned back into the
cushions of the sofa, staring at her with those enigmatic grey eyes of his. In
her chest, her heart thumped extra hard in response. "You're welcome, Granger.
I liked sharing that with you."
She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because I got the impression that you'd have
liked a more… physical… action card."
His smirk was automatic, not in the least bit chagrined that she had surmised
the truth. "Maybe we'll get lucky this round, hmmm?"
She felt her cheeks flame to life, and cleared her throat behind a closed fist.
"Yes, well, so far, I've been enjoying myself." She narrowed her eyes at him.
"I hope you don't plan to spoil it by getting raunchy."
Teeth showed now as his grin expanded, and one golden eyebrow twitched up. "You
don't like raunchy? So, I take it vulgar, crude, and bawdy are also off the
list as well?"
Now he was teasing her. Hermione found herself grinning at his words, despite
her earlier misgivings. She shook her head, amused, and declared, "You really
are undisciplined and perverse."
Draco didn't seem in the least bit offended by her assessment, nor did he seem
ready to let this matter rest, either. "Not even bawdy, then? Hmmm… How about
arousing, provocative or sensual instead? Could I do anything of that sort to
you and still be considered a gentleman later?"
Hermione's core temperature rose by several degrees, she was sure, and she felt
a fluttering in her stomach again as they stared at each other in silence for
long heartbeats. "Perhaps," she allowed, knowing that establishing such a mood
in advance would only encourage him. However, if she could set the tone for
their future private sessions now, perhaps it would keep him from doing
anything truly uncomfortable to her later when they were alone. If he knew she
would be interested in anything sexual between them being gentle and tender, he
might just give her that instead of a "wham-bam-thank you-Quidditch-fan" series
of liaisons.
Malfoy seemed decidedly interested, as his gaze smoldered behind half-lids and
his smile fell back into something less jesting, more enticing.
Before they could talk more, Harry and Tracey came out of their room… climbing
all over each other right outside their door! They were snogging passionately,
their lips locked together fiercely, as if breathing was a mere luxury, not a
necessity.
Well, wasn't that just… odd. Her best male friend was usually the epitome of
chivalry and courtesy with women. Pawing all over a girl in public was
something he considered… well, gauche… yet, there he stood, his mitts thrust
into Tracey's hair as he kissed her like it was his last opportunity in all the
world. It seemed terribly out of character for him, and made Hermione wonder
just what had happened behind closed doors in the last fifty minutes to make
such a drastic change possible in her friend's behavior.
Seamus and Lavender came out next (Harry and Tracey didn't even come up for air
to notice), hesitantly holding hands as they exited their private room – which
looked vaguely like a replica of the Gryffindor Common Room from the brief
glimpse Hermione caught before the door closed - and made their way silently
towards the couches. Holy Horklumps, they'd either shagged or come close; it
was obvious by the guilty look on her roommate's features. Didn't Lavender
still harbor resentment towards Seamus for hurting her years ago when he'd
taken her virginity? (Living in the same dorm room meant there was a lotof such
gossip to be heard, and their other roommate, Pavarti, had filled in Hermione
on the quick and ugly version of what had happened that night.) Yet, somehow it
seemed Brown and her ex- had made amends – at least, enough for both of them to
be touching and to appear fashionably rumpled, anyway (her hair was a bit
disarranged and she was missing her silver heart charm bracelet, and he was no
longer wearing his jacket and vest, and his shirt had distinct creases). They
took their seats on the end of the couch, continuing to hold hands silently.
She noted Seamus' thumb brush absently up and down against Lavender's, as if he
were nervous that what they were doing was going to be taken away at any
minute. It was charming, if not a little strange.
A very boisterously laughing Parkinson and Ron ran out of their room and raced
for the sofas next (this caught Harry's attention finally, as he lifted his
mouth off of Tracey's – although he continued to whisper softly to her, their
faces very close). Pansy tagged the edge of the couches first, but it was
obvious her partner let her get there before him (he did have the longer
stride, after all). "I win!" Slytherin's Queen boasted and gave Hermione's ex-
boyfriend an impish grin. "You owe me again, Weasley!"
Picking her up and twirling her around, making her squeal in delight, the
ginger-haired wizard laughed. "You can collect any time you want, baby!" he
teased, waggling his eyebrows at her and caressing her bum lovingly.
Hermione's jaw dropped. What had happened to the undemonstrative in bed,
fumbling, sexually uneasy and boorish Ron she'd known? He hadn't changed
thatmuch when he'd been with Lavender (again, according to the gossip),
preferring to let his partner take control in bed. Surely, Pansy
Parkinsoncouldn't be the reason he'd morphed into this fun-loving, sexually
domineering, exuberant man before her… could she?
Putting her forehead against Ron's, Pansy smirked wickedly at her partner.
"I'll remember you said that," she vowed, then pressed a small kiss to his lips
and squirmed out of his embrace, racing around the couch to take her spot.
"Beat you again!" she sing-songed, as he made his way around to his side of the
'arena,' stretching happily and whistling.
Bloody hell. That was just… too strange.
Hermione sank back into the sofa and tried not to sulk, intentionally sneaking
a peek in Malfoy's direction to see his reaction. Ah, good, he was just as
astonished over her ex's behavior as she was. Apparently, she wasn't the only
one who was flabbergasted to the point of nausea. Well, at least misery would
have company in this case.
Theo and Daphne were trading mysterious smiles as they took their seats at
about the same time as Ron and Pansy, although their entrance had been
decidedly less obvious. It wasn't until Nott came around the front of the
couch, though, that she noted that he was barefoot and beltless, and his shirt
was loose. Greengrass' hair was nicely mussed and her necklace was a bit
crooked as well. Well, clearly they'd gotten it on, too.
Was there anyone here excepting her that wasn't getting any?
Oh, that's right, Malfoy wasn't that lucky either. Not that she wanted him to
be – not at all!
…
Still, a little snogging might not hurt. It wasn't like she wasn'tattracted to
him. He was quite an impressive-looking specimen, after all. If they kissed,
he'd probably look even better as his mouth would be shut.
…
Actually, that wasn't fair. These last two rounds, he'd been absolutely
fascinating to talk with.
That thought disturbed her more than the idea of kissing him had, and she
pondered it in silence, as Zabini and Ginny finally put in their appearance.
The two rivals were also holding hands (sure, why not fit right in with the
current motif?) and strangely, they were soaked to the bone. Her friend's face
was also a brilliant red and she was walking a little funny, which could only
mean one thing… Merlin's left testicle! Had her friend really fucked Zabini?
"Hurricane come through when I wasn't looking, sis?" Ron asked, grinning and
shaking his head.
Gin flipped him off with her free hand. "You're just jealous you're not wet,"
she countered and snickered at the double meaning. To Hermione's absolute
shock, though, her ex- glanced across the aisle at his new partner and winked
at her, but didn't reply. Pansy threw him an air kiss back and grinned.
Holy cat-a-moli, could she expect to see Satan skiing to work this evening,
too?
Although, it pained Hermione to even think the idea, obviously Ron had either
shagged or come really close to shagging Pansy Parkinson already - and
apparently, they'd both liked whatever it was they'd done so far.
What was happening to the world? Had she entered some sort of warped parallel
dimension where her ex-boyfriend and her best guy friend were really repressed
slavering, adept sex gods, finally coming out of the closet?
"Is it really hot in here, or is it just me?" she asked fanning herself with
her hand suddenly. "Because, I could swear the heat is on. Malfoy, go check,"
she shoo'd him with one hand.
Her partner threw her an exasperated look. "Granger, the Room of Requirement is
set to the ideal temperature." He gave her a lascivious look. "If you're hot,
take something off."
"Bite me," she automatically replied, only to wince, realizing she'd left him
the perfect opening. "Forget it. I take it back."
Malfoy's grin was shark-like, all pointed teeth and evil. "The cards are
starting to get you to open up to your real desires, I see."
"You wish," she mouthed to him in a very soft whisper that she knew he could
still hear across the short distance.
He waggled his eyebrows. "Yeah, so?" he mouthed back.
With a snarl of frustration, she sat back in the sofa cushions and folded her
arms over her chest, refusing to look at her partner or talk to him again. She
crossed her legs at the knee and began jiggling one leg in annoyance.
As she and Malfoy bantered, Hermione noted from the corner of her eye that
Zabini silently Accio'd his wand to his hand from the table in the center and
cast a drying charm on Ginny first (making sure to get her hair combed out
nicely at the same time), then himself. As she focused more of her attention on
them (so she could ignore Ferret-Face), to her shock and awe, the tall, dark,
and very sexy wizard took her best girl friend's hand in his and kissed the
back of the knuckles before letting her take her seat next to Hermione.
Wait… weren't those two fighting just last round?
Oh, that's right, they'd had sex so now everything was a-okay.
That was the last straw. Hermione was officially vomiting at any moment.
"Harry, do you think we could start now that everyone's here?" she yelled
across the room at her best guy friend, who had stopped to snog Davis one more
time before taking her hand and leading her to the couches.
"Yeah, Potter, any lifetime now," Malfoy shot over his shoulder, then turned
his attention back to her. "Some of us are eager for the next action round." He
cast a knowing smirk her direction, and Hermione did something terribly
childish then – she stuck out her tongue at him and turned up her nose.
Slytherin's Prince let out a dark, rich chuckle that made things inside her
guts churn like butter, but she resolutely refused to rise to the bait.
Harry escorted Tracey to her spot at the sofa, seemingly reluctant to let her
go, and then rushed to his side of the couch and threw his arse down rather
cheerfully. "Your turn to navigate, Draco," he chirpily informed, crossing his
legs American-style, placing an ankle on one knee.
Malfoy looked annoyed that Harry would dare to use his given name so freely.
"Oh, wait!" Tracey chimed in, holding up her card. "You all left before I could
perform my card. It requires me to do so in front of the group." Theo wolf-
whistled playfully and every girl in the group rolled her eyes, knowing that's
what you could expect from Nott. Undeterred, Davis continued. "It says that I
have to tell you a secret about myself," the pretty blonde explained, then put
her card down on the table before her. "All right, my secret is that I asked
the Sorting Hat to put me in whatever House Harry Potter was going to be sent
to. That's how I ended up in Slytherin. The Hat wanted to put me in Hufflepuff
instead."
"I KNEW IT!" Pansy screeched, pointing at her girl friend. "Didn't I always say
your heart was too sweet for Slytherin?"
Malfoy uncrossed his legs and leaned forward slowly, as if coming to a
conclusion that wasn't palatable in the least. "That makes no sense. You should
have ended up in Gryffindor, unless…" He went silent, his gaze zeroing in on
Harry and narrowing as he understood the unspoken implication of Tracey's
secret. "No fucking way."
Everyone was looking at Harry then, Hermione included. "Harry…"
Her friend shook his head, keeping his eyes on Tracey. He didn't seem angry in
the least that something this personal had been unwittingly revealed about him;
in fact, he seemed almost relieved. "No discussion over the cards," he reminded
them. "Tracey was required to tell you her secret and she did. Her card's
fulfilled."
To everyone's amazement, the card magically picked itself up and whipped back
into the Forfeits deck, when then reshuffled itself in front of them.
"Wicked," Ron breathed in awe.
Hermione had seen a lot of interesting magic in her day, but the spell on these
cards went beyond anything she'd ever heard of before. The deck itself seemed
almost sentient – and apparently able to override Gamp's Law. Food was one of
the few commodities wizards and witches couldn't bespell into existence (the
others being money, life, love and knowledge), and yet this last round, she'd
shared an entire meal with Malfoy. How was that possible? She puzzled it
through her head, staring at the cards as Slytherin's Captain instructed Daphne
to pick up the third Interrogations card of the game and begin.
Greengrass adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose to read the card:
 
"If you had to be submissive in bed because your partner wanted it, would you
have the courage to submit to their every whim without crying foul or making
any complaint?"
 
Play began with Blaise.
He said only one word, with firm emphasis: "Absolutely."
He reached for a Deeds card as his gaze connected with his partner's across the
way.
Hermione felt Ginny's tension, as they sat only inches from each other, but
couldn't decipher whether it was fear or nervous anxiety that had set her small
shoulders rigid. Would her friend be all right? Zabini was still dangerous for
all his earlier charm, wasn't he?
Davis was speaking then, so she turned her attention back to the game. "… don't
think I feel comfortable with this question, either. I'll forfeit answering
again." She reached for a blue card.
Oh, joy of joys, it was Malfoy's turn again.
Reluctantly, she swung her eyes in his direction, and was not surprised to see
them turned heatedly upon her. "Ahhh, one of my questions," he grinned
sinfully. "So, let me see here…would I be submissive in every way if you wanted
me to be, Granger? Hmmm…" He pretended to consider the issue, tapping one long,
perfectly manicured finger on his knee. "Would I get down on my knees and
worship you if you wanted me to? Would I let you undress me and put a collar on
me if it would make you happy? Would I bathe every inch of your skin slowly
with a sponge if it would bring you pleasure? Would I cook gourmet meals for
you and give you full body oil massages to help ease your tension? Would I fuck
you for hours, in every position you demanded until we both passed out from
exhaustion?" His finger suddenly stopped tapping, and he went very still. His
gaze smoldered with blatant lust. "Hell. Yes."
As he reached for a red card, Hermione wondered if anyone had ever considered
the possibility of patenting a miniature air conditioner for one's knickers –
one with tiny electrodes that could wirelessly tell the temp of your clit from
five meters so it could activate itself in case of emergencies like this one.
Mentally, she conjured a fan instead, and the Room provided for her. Malfoy
belted out a rich laugh and Hermione's face lit up like a Filibuster firework
as she fanned herself off furiously.
Play moved on to Seamus without further ado, despite the curses Hermione was
throwing at her partner inside her head.
"Well, I ain't as loquacious as our Slytherin Capt'n here, but I would
definitely be yer sub if ya wanted that o' me, sweet angel," Finnigan spoke
quietly for Lavender only. His free hand reached out and tipped her chin up,
forcing her to meet his gaze. The look he gave Hermione's roommate was…wow…why
couldn't a man look at her like that? "If ya ever want ta try, yeah?"
From her angle, Hermione couldn't see Lavender's expression, but she did see
the girl's open hand reach out and place itself on top of their entwined
fingers.
"Take a card, Finnigan," Malfoy reminded him dryly.
Seamus reached for a Deeds card.
Lavender spoke quickly, looking down. "I'm more comfortable being a Dom,
honestly, but…I could learn, I suppose. I don't think I'd flinch."
"Good enough for me," Harry ruled, looking at Malfoy for a judge's call. "You
can't expect a person to know for sure how they'd act if they've never done
something before. A best guess is fine, I think."
Malfoy considered it, and nodded in agreement. "Brown, take a red card."
The girl did as bade, and then it was Ron's turn. He was already leaning far
back in the cushions, his gaze locked onto Pansy's across the way, his booted
ankles crossed, and his head resting comfortably on his entwined hands.
"Oh, definitely. I'd love to service your every desire, baby," he answered
without pause. "Your wish is my command."
He was grinning like a fool.
Pansy shook her head and smiled, but Hermione could tell the woman was very
pleased with the answer. Maybe she'd been wrong about her ex- and Slytherin's
femme fatale. They seemed to genuinely like each other…or, maybe they just
liked the sex. Who the fuck knew anymore?
"Granger, your turn," Malfoy informed her, looking a little annoyed with her
distraction as he drew her out of her thoughts. "Weasley just took an action
card."
Her turn? Oh!
She cleared her throat behind her hand. "Well…I suppose…"
"Just take the forfeit, so play can move on," her partner sardonically mused.
He was back to tapping that finger on his knee again.
Hermione's knickers got into a twist at the sarcastic, deprecating tone he used
with her. "Are you insinuating that I don't have the guts to answer this
question, Malfoy?"
Her partner looked at her with mocking amusement and snorted indelicately.
"Please. You didn't answer the last one, and that was in the same 'alternative
lifestyle' ballpark. Do us all a favor and don't front."
Clenching her jaw, she narrowed her eyes and reached for a red card. "For your
information, Mr. Smarmy Pants, I wouldn't be a bit afraid of being a sub to the
right person. You are not he, though. I know you'd totally take advantage of
me, and I don't relish the idea of kneeling at your feet and puffing up your
arrogance."
Malfoy stared at her hard at first, but then broke into a grin. "Mr. Smarmy
Pants? You come up with that one all on your own, Granger, or did you borrow
that from some first year witchy-poo in Hufflepuff?"
"Chauvinistic prat," she threw out.
"Frigid school marm," he shot back with no heat, all play. "Hit the mark that
time, did I?" he continued to rile her, crossing his legs again and thoroughly
enjoying the verbal sparring.
Hermione opened her mouth to chew Malfoy a new arse when Harry brought her up
short. "Enough you two, please. No discussion – and that includes trading
insults," her friend cut in, ending the name-calling session.
Deprived of her come back, Hermione satisfied herself with glaring across the
space at her blonde-haired, rodent-faced partner instead.
He wasn't fazed in the least, however, much to her consternation.
That was okay, she'd just get the toad-faced chode back in their private room
later.
Ginny was answering next, looking earnestly across the coffee table at Zabini,
her hands playing with the hem of her fancy, embroidered jacket nervously. "I
don't think I'd like to be anyone'ssub. You know why." Her partner nodded once
in acceptance, his face carefully shielded from giving away any emotion. "I'm
sorry."
Blaise shook his head with easy capitulation. "Don't be."
Some sort of silent message passed between them, and then Ginny nodded in what
appeared to be thanks, as she reached for a red card.
Harry squinted and squinched his nose up, as if he were trying to adjust
invisible glasses on his face without his hands, and then he reached for a blue
card. "Same reason as you," he informed his partner on the other couch. Tracey
smiled in a shared understanding with him.
Theo looked around Pansy at Daphne then. "I think we both already know the
answer to this one," he smirked ridiculously, and reached for a red card.
"Unequivocally, yes."
Parkinson looked across at Ron, and there seemed to be a silent conversation
going on between the two of them. Ron looked at the piles of cards, the same as
she did, and then nudged his chin almost imperceptibly towards the Forfeits
deck.
"I…think I don't want to answer," she announced with a grin and grabbed a blue
card.
Harry and Malfoy traded a look that seemed to agree that they understood what
Parkinson and Ron had just done, but it was allowed by the rules. If Pansy
didn't want to answer, she didn't have to. Anyone could "throw" a round if they
wanted to at any time, as long as they understood a forfeit action card was
attached to that decision.
Play finally came to rest on Greengrass again. The beautiful blonde re-adjusted
her glasses, put the Interrogationscard down on the table, and reached for a
Forfeits card. She glanced over at Theo as she leaned back into the sofa, and
whatever it was they shared, he seemed agreeable as he nodded in acceptance.
There was no angry explosion from him this time, no resentful sulking.
Apparently, they'd come to an understanding in private of what had happened
last round's questioning, because Nott seemed content to let Daphne's refusal
to answer slide.
Boy, there sure was a lot of silent communication going on between partners
this round. Since when did everyone get so bloody close that they could engage
in such intimate exchanges anyway? It was only the third round of questions!
The way people were acting, you'd think they'd been seeing each other for a few
weeks, at least.
Weird.
The Interrogations card that Daphne had read magically erased itself, as that
card was now completed. The letters faded away into oblivion, leaving only a
cream-colored, blank template for the next game's players to use, Hermione
noted.
She wondered who those people would be…
Malfoy stood up. "Everyone read your cards now. If you need to perform an
action to the group, say it before we break up in a minute."
Hermione turned her card over and read it. Oh…well…that didn't sound so bad! In
fact, it seemed downright wonderful! Thank goodness! She looked up at her
partner just as he finished reading his card. When his eyes met hers, a
devilish smirk crawled up his cheek and his eyes flattened out like a predator
on the prowl.
Shit, what did thatmean?
She begged to the cosmos that he hadn't gotten a card that forced her to do
something truly humiliating. What if he was allowed to strip her clothes off
her? Or worse, what if she had to perform oral sex on him?
Oh please, oh please, oh please - NO!
He waggled his eyebrows at her mischievously, as if sensing her internal panic.
Bloody hell! Was there no justice in the universe? Hadn't she racked up enough
good karma points from knitting all those tiny house elf hats? Oh, Goddess,
what if this was anti-karma for all the times she did Ron's homework for him?
Oh, Merlin, had she cancelled out all of her good deeds by helping that git ex-
boyfriend of hers?
"I have to go to the bathroom!" she announced the excuse, jumping to her feet,
needing to get away from her partner's reptilian ogling, even if just for a few
minutes.
"Me, too," Gin piped in from the side.
Lavender nodded and gained her feet. "We'll go together."
Hermione groaned. She'd wanted to be alone so she could throw a tiny tissy fit
in privacy before being forced to deal with her situation. Sometimes she did
that just before exams; it always seemed to help her focus better.
"We should all go," Pansy announced, standing too.
Oh, great. The Slytherins were joining the field trip. Why not invite a gaggle
of Cornish pixies to come join the fun while they were at it? She was sure
Lockhart had left some behind all those years ago…
Harry stepped over to Malfoy. "A twenty-minute break? Maybe some water for
everyone? Snacks?"
Draco nodded, summoning Dobby, who had agreed to help tonight at Harry's
request. On the other side of the room, two doors appeared: one with the
universal symbol for girls, the other for boys. Hermione grabbed her wand from
the table and didn't even look back as she took off for the women's.
To her surprise, the loo looked a lot like any of the others to be found around
the castle: green-painted stalls, utilitarian mirrors, a row of white, ceramic
sinks, clean, white towels on circular racks next to each mirror. The six women
filed into the room together and all of them went for a stall. As the doors
shut and the sounds of peeing could be heard, Pansy started talking.
"I'm loving this game," she announced cheerfully. "Who knew Weasley was so
fucking hot?"
"Ewww," Gin called from the stall next to Hermione's. "Gross! T.M.I."
Pansy tsk'd. "Sorry. Seriously, though, your brother is totally wicked!"
"Is he really?" Hermione asked without thought, and then slapped a hand over
her mouth.
What the hell was she saying? She didn't want to know what Parkinson and her
ex- were doing behind closed doors.
Quickly finishing up her business, she flushed and made her way out to the
sinks to wash her hands. Taking a look in the mirror, she used her wand to
adjust her make-up and hair, setting it back perfectly, smoothing her dress
down as well. Pansy was at her side in a moment, washing up and primping, too.
"Well, yeah, I've never known a man so into a woman's pleasure," the witch
carried on without concern, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.
Lavender took the sink to Hermione's right. "That's odd. I always found Ron to
be rather submissive in bed."
Hermione nodded. "Me, too." She turned to Parkinson. "Looks like you brought
out the lion in him or something." She shrugged outwardly while mentally
gagging on the visual internally.
Pansy stopped and looked in the mirror, but it was obvious her mind was a
million miles away. She smiled gently, her dark eyes shimmering with softness.
"Did I?"
Hermione looked at the other woman's reflection. Pansy seemed totally sincere.
"Do you really like Ron? I thought you hated him before this game started.
You've done nothing but antagonize each other for seven years."
Blinking out of her reverie, Slytherin's Queen considered her words, matching
her stare in the reflective surface. "It's funny, isn't it? But you know, now
that I think about it, I was just letting House prejudice get in the way. I
mean, Weasley's really rather handsome, he's fit, and he definitely knows how
to use that body."
She apologized quickly as Ginny came up alongside and pulled a face at the
thought.
"It's just that, well, he was a Gryffindor," the dark-haired witch continued.
"For that reason, it was open season on him at any chance, you know?" Pansy
looked down at her hands running under the cool water, her face suddenly a
little sad. "It's too bad I let twisted rivalry between our Houses keep me from
knowing him sooner. I wish…"
She didn't finish the thought as she turned the faucet off and reached for a
towel to dry her hands. Her eyes met Hermione's in the mirror again.
"And what about you and Drake? It's the same story, isn't it?"
Hermione blinked, taken aback. "What about Malfoy and me?" Putting her back up,
she bristled. "There's absolutely nothing going on between me and that slimy,
git snake! I'm hoping the cards will keep it that way, too, and I can get out
of here with nothing worse than maybe a grope or two."
Daphne joined them, followed by Tracey. Both blondes made for the empty sinks
on the end. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Greengrass quoted
Hamlet, washing her hands well with soap.
"I do not," Hermione objected, and immediately stopped, having proved
Greengrass' point. "Whatever. I'm in the game to win. I'm not looking for a
one-off, much less a boyfriend. And I am not attracted to Draco Ferret-
FaceMalfoy."
Pansy smirked knowingly. "That fan work for you, Granger? Because I still
haven't cooled down from Malfoy's offer to let the woman of his dreams collar
him, much less him fuck her for hours and pleasure her in every way possible."
She pretend shivered. "The imagery alone makes me sweaty." She stepped closer,
lowered her voice as if imparting a wicked secret. "His cock is amazingly
beautiful, and he knows how to use it, I promise you."
Hermione swallowed, feeling things low in her belly clench. "How…how do you
know?"
Parkinson smirked nefariously. "He broke me in. It hurt so good. I begged him
for more."
I will not be intimidated, Hermione determined, holding Pansy's knowing, dark
stare. "Good for you," she managed to sound unaffected. Bully for her.
Tracey giggled. "Oh, stop, Pans. Let her figure it out on her own. That's the
fun part."
Parkinson pointed at Davis. "And you – I knew you smelled like one of those
hedgehogs."
"Hufflepuff's insignia is a badger, actually," Daphne pointed out, adjusting
her glasses, using her wand to adjust her own skin and hair applications as
well.
"And snogging Potter like that!" the brunette continued to tease. "That was
some hot lip-lock, witch! Tell me, was he good in bed?"
Tracey blushed. "We've only kissed," she admitted. "Although this round…" She
tilted her head and smiled guiltily. "I can't wait!"
"Oooh, you've got it bad," Lavender piped in, shocked. "I recognize the signs."
Ginny elbowed her gently. "You're one to talk. Is Seamus a la mode back on the
menu?"
Lavender looked down at her toes. "I…suppose. I'm giving him a chance to make
it up to me."
"Make what up?" Davis asked, her eyes as clear and trusting as a doe's.
She really wasn't Slytherin material at all, was she? Everything about the girl
screamed 'innocent.' Given that, it surprised Hermione to think that Tracey had
joined a game like this one; she didn't seem a bit 'worldly' about sexual
matters, so why had she been chosen for Slytherin's team?
Lavender shrugged. "We dated once, two years ago. It didn't work out. It was a
bad break-up. He says he wants to win my heart back, though."
Tracey positively gushed, and she practically bounced over to Brown's side, her
hands pressed together over her heart. "Oh, that is so romantic! He really
loves you, then?"
Before Lavender could answer, Daphne took a step closer, whispering
conspiratorily. "I have heard rumors about Mr. Finnegan's…well-known
endowment…from the female students of my House. His is supposedly the longest
and widest penis in school. I have heard it described as 'enormous' in fact."
"It is," Ginny, Lavender, and Pansy all confirmed unanimously, and then looked
at each other in shock.
Ginny broke into giggles. "Oh, dear. Well."
"Blaise is no small joke, either, you know," Pansy knowingly threw Gin the
hint.
Ginny's face reddened and an angry glint came to her eye. Was that…jealousy?
She turned away to control her temper. "Yeah, well…we'll see, I guess."
Hermione thought she knew better, but took that as a good place for the
conversation to end. There had been entirely too much sharing and probing for
her comfort. "We're probably up on the twenty minutes by now. Everyone ready?"
"Oh! Pregnancy and disease charms!" Pansy reminded them, and every girl cast
the proper spell on themselves.
"Thanks," Hermione said. Gods, if Malfoy did have a sex card this time… 
Once they were ready, the ladies exited back into the main room. The men were
waiting for them, some of them sitting on the couches, others standing around
talking, hands in pockets or arms crossed.
"Clock's ticking, witches," Malfoy reminded them. "Water and snacks on the
table, if you want them." The women moved about helping themselves, as
Slytherin's team leader kept talking. "So, does anyone have an action to
perform before the group? Last chance." Shaking heads all around indicated they
were free to move on. "Time, Potter?" Slytherin's leader asked.
"It's a minute past ten," Gryffindor's Captain replied, replacing his fob in
his pocket.
"You've got until ten fifty-one, folks. Have fun," Malfoy grinned wickedly. "I
know I will."
With that, he turned on his heel and made for the room he and Hermione had
claimed as their own, not looking back once.
"What an unbelievable git," Gin sighed from where she stood at Hermione's
shoulder. She placed a hand on her arm. "Good luck, 'Mione."
As her friend made her way to Zabini's side, she raised a glass of water to her
lips as she walked and took his outstretched fingers in her free hand, Hermione
exhaled deeply, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart. "You, too, Gin. Luck
to us both."
Grabbing her own glass, not hungry in the slightest, she made her way to her
private chambers where Draco was already waiting.
Chapter End Notes
     I realise some of our readers are foreign speakers, and have been
     asked to translate some of Seamus' accented speech for them, so I'll
     endeavour to do so from now on when new words/phrases are introduced
     that might be difficult for non-native English speakers to interpret:
     Seamus speak key:
     ain't = aren't
     Capt'n = Captain
     o' = of
     ya = you
     ta = to
***** 3A: Blaise & Ginny *****
Chapter Notes
     CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: User "emilyneal" recommended the song,
     "The Touch, The Taste" by Asteria for Blaise & Ginny this go around.
     So, this chapter is dedicated to emilyneal - congratulations!
     Chapter revised (revision 2.0) on 20 March, 2018.
 
===============================================================================
 
 
With a thought, the private room Blaise shared with his partner was purged of
all moisture and the storm dissipated, leaving behind a blank, white ceiling.
With a second, the room's décor morphed. The furniture, walls, and accessories
all remained the same, but they were suddenly displaying a vibrant array of
blues and whites, colours that were neither Slytherin or Gryffindor and which
Blaise hoped would interject an ocean of calm into an otherwise tempestuous
situation.
He also added a few more pillows to the bed for good measure, since it was a
foregone conclusion that they would end up there again soon.
Ginny had remained mute since the end of this last question round, and she
gripped her water glass a little too tightly, he noted. Obviously, she was
nervous as to where they went from here.
She wasn't the only one.
He shut the door behind them and led her to the bed to sit. Taking her glass
from her hand and placing it on the floor by their feet, he then sat next to
her.
"Are you sure you want to continue, Ginevra? My card's very sexual."
He read it to her:
DEED: Lick any one part on your partner's body. Your choice.
His lioness took a deep breath, let it out nice and slow, and then read her own
card to him:
DEED: Caress every inch of your partner's naked body, on the outside.
"I think we're pretty even this round," she replied, biting her bottom lip in
clear consternation and lowering her eyes to the floor. A pretty blush
highlighted her freckles upon the bridge of her nose.
Gods, she was lovely!
Didn't she realise yet how much he worshiped her, and that he would never hurt
her purposefully? Hadn't he made it clear to her during this last round of
questioning that he would get on his knees to prove it? How could she be at all
afraid of him, when all he'd ever wanted was to serve her pleasure and thus
sate his own?
The spanking she'd received from him must be why. It had been the wrong move,
setting them off on the wrong foot. He'd just been so angry at her continued
refusal to even consider him because of his Slytherin sorting, and he'd been
jealous as all fucking hell at her obvious attraction to her teammate,
Finnigan. That she'd admitted she'd been hoping for the Irish for her partner
tonight had set him off, and that had made him meaner than he'd ever wanted to
be with her.
Then he'd done worse the last action round: he'd blindfolded her, taken away
her sight, and expected her to trust him, the man who had roughed up her bum
less than an hour earlier. Yes, he'd been gentle, but he'd also coerced their
first kiss, taken it with dubious consent. Like the Slytherin he'd been trained
to be, he'd put her in a defenseless, exposed position and then had ruthlessly
exploited her emotional vulnerability to gain her physical interest and glean
her darkest secrets.
But she was Gryffindor, not a member of his House, and his manipulations
wouldn't garner him any grudging respect from her. They would make her wary of
trusting him, though.
He'd approached this all wrong, hadn't he?
With two fingers under her chin, Blaise tilted her face up, forcing her to meet
his eyes and decided upon honesty. She seemed to react well to that. "Perhaps
we should start over. Would you prefer we try that?"
"No."
Her answer startled him and he dropped his hand. "No?"
She frowned. "I mean, I don't want to pretend that last round didn't happen. I
liked it."
His chest went tight…as did his trousers.
Fuck, she could kill him with the simplest words.
"Then what do you want? Do you want us to play out our cards this round or quit
and see where things take us naturally?"
"What do you want?" she asked while looking up at him through the fringe of her
long lashes.
Blaise shook his head. "I asked you first. You decide this round, as last round
was mine. I'll do as you wish."
Her dark gaze reflected a myriad of emotions in response to his offer,
including a brief moment of doubt, but behind it all was curiosity and the
familiar gleam of lust. Patiently, he waited for her decision. This one was all
on her, and he had to let it happen naturally, or risk her slipping through his
fingers, or worse, resenting him.
Shoring up her courage, Ginny finally said, "I want to know more about you,
Blaise Alessandro Zabini. And I want you to touch me. Preferably, both at the
same time, if possible. Because I really want your hands and mouth on me again.
In fact, I think I'll die if you don't kiss me soon."
Bloody hell, but that brassy mouth of hers never failed to arouse, astound, and
amuse him!
"Then, I'd like to perform my card first," he explained as he turned to her and
undid the buttons on her overcoat once more. "I want your pleasure, Ginevra.
I'll find mine through yours."
Trembling with what he sensed was both nervousness and anticipation, his fiery
partner allowed him to make her naked again, all except her stockings, which
were too time-consuming to keep removing, and then he followed her into the
middle of the bed as she crawled backward, lying flat. Looming over her, he
paused slightly to take in her open, hopeful expression. It was clear she was
frightened, but the fear wasn't for him so much as the fact that she was once
more in a physically vulnerable position under him.
"I won't hurt you."
"I'm counting on that promise," she said with a wry smirk. "Besides, I can
always TWN your arse all over this school if you do."
He chuckled. "You're a wicked woman, Red."
"Yeah, well, I think you like me for that."
"I think you're right." He reached up and ran a hand slowly just above her
skin, careful not to touch her yet. "If you're serious about anything happening
between us, however, I need your permission to freely touch you everywhere, as
the cards are specific about that point. Will you grant me that privilege, my
lioness?"
Without hesitation, she nodded. "God, yes, touch me! I mean, I give you
official, formal permission to touch me and use your mouth on me, from now
until the end of the game."
Talk about shockers! That was definitely showing him unearned trust. He'd have
to be equally as generous, so she wouldn't feel so exposed.
"And I give you official, formal permission to touch me and use your mouth on
me, from now until the end of the game as well, Ginevra."
He felt her relieved exhale of hot breath against his skin and heard her
mumbled, "thank Godric" in reply, and laughed at her insane amount of courage.
"You won't be chuckling in a minute," she told him as her lids lowered and a
sultry glint entered her eyes. She licked her lips and purred, "Take your
clothes off and join me."
Sorely tempted, Blaise had to mentally put the iron shackles on that idea,
because he knew the minute his trousers came off, he'd be up inside her,
fucking her as hard as she was begging him to do to her. He'd made a commitment
to earning the trust she'd just given him so freely, and the only way to do
that was to show her how much he cherished her.
"Not yet, Ginevra."
Denying her was a difficult thing, especially when she looked up at him with
that adorable, sullen expression on her face. He leaned down and kissed her
pouting lips as sweetly as possible, though, to make up for it.
And all the while, he was fighting off the little devil on his shoulder egging
him on to just do what she'd wanted.
"Let me show you how much I…care…for you," he murmured against her mouth. "I
want you to enjoy being with me, to forget everything else we've done to each
other before this moment and to know this, right here, is our beginning."
Tears filled her beautiful, brown eyes as she stared up at him in wonder.
"Okay," she agreed in a ragged whisper.
When he kissed her this time, it was with his whole love for her in his mouth.
He knew it would overwhelm her, and yet as she'd always done with him, she
didn't back down. She gave back as good as she got, her response passionate and
honest.
Once more, a golden light flashed behind his eyelids, the same as had happened
the last action round. Following it came a wave of arousal that swept him up
and pulled him under its spell.
Until tonight, that had never happened to him. The closest had been when his
inner beast had awoken that first time in the boy's showers, the afternoon Bole
and Derrick had given him his first sexual experiences, and then again after,
in his bed with Theo... That day, it had been a gleaming silver light bathing
him in its radiance, followed by an uncontrollable and animalistic need to come
over and over again and to feed on the strength from his partners climaxing
right along with him. That had been pure lust, sharp and hungry and angry for
fulfillment. This golden wave of desire was a different feeling, though. It was
warmer, brighter, filled with joy and the promise of satisfaction.
There was something about Ginny that was different...
His lips caressed hers with soft takings and his tongue swept into the crevasse
of her mouth to feast upon her rich flavour. Gods, she was so sweet! Drowning
in her taste at the same time as burning up in her arms, Blaise struggled to
maintain control, to be careful, to hold tight to the leash of the beast within
to keep that darker side of his nature from hurting her. With more patience
than he'd ever shown a lover before, he took his time licking, nipping, coaxing
Ginny into giving up her control so he could slowly begin to bring down the
barriers that still existed between them. Perhaps trusting him with her body
was key to gaining access to her heart.
And he wanted that access so very much, he was finding out.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered around kisses, loving the way her body felt
beneath his, all soft and willing. Slipping his fingers through the silken
curtain of her hair he grabbed hold, never wanting to let go. "So spirited, so
sexy." He gently worried her bottom lip with his teeth, then kissed it to
soothe away any possible ache he'd made. "You're my kind of trouble, Ginevra."
She chuckled. "I could say the same, Zabini."
"Blaise," he bade her call him. Zabini was also Lorenzo's last name, after all,
and he would not share even that much of her with his brother. Or anyone else,
really. "Say my name again, as you did earlier."
She sighed in pleasure as he lightly rubbed his lips over hers, teasing and
daring her to speak his name aloud again, testing her. "Blaise Alessandro," she
finally whispered, kneading her fingernails into his shoulders like a contented
kitten. "Blasius."
"Cyne Sovrano," he coaxed her to continue, feeling his magical aura tighten up
and prepare for lockdown as she said his TWN again. She could force him to heel
if she continued and said the rest. Would she do it? Gambling his freedom and
will against her silly Gryffindor honour was playing with fire, and yet there
was only one way to really know for sure whether or not he needed to take steps
now to protect himself in the future. Besotted with his little lioness he might
be, but Blaise couldn't afford anyone ever taking control of him again. "Say
it, and you could command me to serve you with every pleasure tonight."
To his relief, she refused to play the game, clearly unwilling to wield his
True Wizarding Name against him. Instead, she pulled him in even tighter and
kissed him, attempting to seduce him the old-fashioned way. "You will anyway,"
she told him with a sly grin against his mouth when they finally came up for
air. "That is if the cards are in my favour."
Tricky witch! She'd dodged the jinx with a cleverly considered charm.
"You're amazing," he told her with some measure of real awe.
Her hand smoothed down his chest, rounded his hip, and possessively grabbed his
arse, however, startling him. "And you have the most luscious bum I've ever
seen on a man. I swear, everything about you was made to tempt a girl."
She had no idea.
"You have your own charms, Ginevra," he pointed out, sliding a hand up the side
of her waist to cup her breast. He rubbed a thumb over one soft, cherry-red
nipple and felt it harden. She trembled against him, and he went from a state
of lazy arousal to a hot, throbbing need just like that. "And I want to taste
them. All of them. Now."
He ducked his head and without further ado, wrapped his lips around the erect
little nipple and claimed it as his own. Such a perfect, lush breast, so
sensitive... Ginny gasped in pleasure and arched her back to give him better
access, for once surrendering to his desires without a fight or fear. She
writhed under him, encouraging him not to stop, to take and tease harder. He
licked and sucked and tugged at the tiny bud with blunted teeth, driving them
both mad with want.
"Blaise," she sighed with pleasure, silently pleading for more, and he suddenly
needed to taste every inch of her, driven on by her siren's call to serve her
every need.
She clutched him to her as he worked a path back towards her mouth, pausing
under her chin to nip and place open-mouthed kisses along the jawline. At her
soft, pale throat, he licked like a cat over the place where her blood ran
closest to the surface, his gums tingling as he clamped down on the flesh there
and sucked, leaving an obvious love bite behind.
"Yes," she cried and tilted her head back and to the side, offering him more,
trusting him with everything. The small concession had Blaise running fever-hot
with need. Some of his infamous control slipped, and he bit down harder at her
throat, the move instinctual and undeniable.
In the back of his head, somewhere where reason still lingered, he knew he was
marking her. Not hurting her, but making it clear to all in a way that was
semi-permanent that she was his.
A tiny whimper escaped her swollen, red lips and suddenly Blaise needed her
kiss more than air. He recaptured it, swallowed her gasp as he pinched the
neglected breast's hard, peaked tip.
"Oh, god," she gasped, arching even further into him. "I can't...think."
"Don't", he said, his voice low and growling as he bent his mouth to that ripe,
little nipple and engulfed it in the heat of his mouth. If he was going to burn
up from want, he was taking her with him.
Her thighs rose off the bed, wrapping around his hips, cradling him against her
core and Blaise felt how slick she'd become from just this little bit of
attention. She was as exquisitely receptive to him as he'd always dreamed.
Sneaking a hand between them, he touched all that glorious, wet heat, petted
and caressed her soft, damp flesh until she was on the edge of bliss. With
shiny eyes and red cheeks, she looked up at him like he was both her saviour
and her greatest tormentor as Blaise gently rubbed her small, swollen clit.
"Will you come for me like this?"
She bit her bottom lip. "I need you inside me."
He slid a long finger deep into her, then a second. He curled them, found that
perfect spot and teased it.
"Your mouth," she implored. "I need your kiss."
"As my lady commands."
He slipped down her body and pressed his lips to her sex, kissing the soft,
pink flesh while thrusting his fingers deep into her again and again. Her
thighs fell open, offering him everything and he gratefully accepted, licking
the juice-laden slit and suckling upon her little clit.
"Oh, my god!" she cried out as he tasted his fill and relentlessly drove her
towards climax with his hands and tongue.
"Look down," he sinfully purred up at her. "Watch."
Ginny sat up on her elbows to take in the view of him feasting upon her with
wide, dark eyes.
"You taste like the sweetest pleasure," he told her. "Like temptation and sin,
and everything a man could ever want."
Her lips parted at that and her chest worked hard as she suddenly fought for
air. Her nipples pebbled. Blaise felt her inner depths trembling, tightening,
going molten hot.
"Come, love," he breathed against her perfect flesh. "Come for me."
The muscles in her thighs quaked as she tumbled over the edge of reason. With a
scream of pleasure, she threw her head back and let go, soaring for the
heavens, diving straight into the storm.
From between her legs, Blaise looked up...and thought her the most beautiful
woman he'd ever seen at that moment.
He wasn't going to stop. He was going to have her tonight, again and again,
until they were both too sore to move, too sated to do more than sleep. He was
going to make her his, and to hell with the consequences tomorrow. But not yet.
There was still so much he wanted to do to her, and she looked rather exhausted
all of the sudden. He'd need her rejuvenated and relaxed enough for them to
come together because he knew that when it finally happened, she was going to
be right there with him, leaping into the firestorm at his side.
Coaxing her into laying back down, he lapped up her juices, letting his tongue
wander down to rim the tiny rosette below as well. He felt her go tense, but
softly petted her pussy and kept his touches light so as not to scare her.
Eventually, she relaxed a bit, until he'd decided she'd had enough and returned
to kissing her sweet, wet cunt.
"I've dreamed of making you come like that," he murmured against the gently
throbbing flesh, slowly working his way back up her body. "Thank you."
She tiredly laughed. "I should be thanking you. I've never come that hard in my
life, not even with my own hand. My head's still spinning."
Blaise chuckled and rimmed her belly button with his tongue. "Don't cry ill
now, my lioness. We've only just begun."
Weakly, she pulled at him to come back up so they were even once more. He
followed her lead. "My card said I get to touch you everywhere next," she told
him.
"If you want."
She flashed him a naughty grin. "I want."
With nimble fingers, she had his shirt unbuttoned and off his shoulders quicker
than he'd expected, given her state of post-orgasm bliss. A few adjustments and
it was on the floor next to her clothes. Next, her hands tore at his belt,
flipping it open. She unbuttoned his slacks and unzipped his fly, tearing at
his trousers and pants, jerking them down. "Off," she commanded, pulling them
past his hips. "All the way off."
He sat up and removed the remainder of his clothes, tossing them aside without
care.
"We're not going to fuck, not yet," he warned her and she actually pouted at
that. Brushing the hair back from her face again, he tenderly told her,
"There's more to sex than intercourse. I want to seduce you, Ginevra, to show
you depths of sensuality you've never even guessed existed."
Again, she looked up at him with a bit of trepidation, and that concerned him.
He knew the trust thing was still fragile, still being earned, but he had the
nagging feeling that her fear had little to do with him, and more to do with
what had happened to her in the past. He kissed her, gently, pulling her onto
his lap. She straddled him, and it was hell feeling her wet core slide up
against his hard, overly-eager cock. Cupping her bum, he held her still right
there, with them pressed together, and he looked into her dark, shimmery eyes.
"You're never going to forget tonight," he told her, very assured of that fact.
He intended to imprint himself and their night together on her memory for all
time. "I won't let you."
With a careful hand, she traced over his lips, and in those silent moments,
he'd have given anything to know her thoughts.
Finally, she met his eye again. "I think you're right."
They kissed, letting the moment wash over them and past, and then she was all
business again. "But I want to make you come, too," she told him and rocked her
hips so her pussy slid against his aching length.
He let her go and leaned back on his hands. "Then take me in your hand and
bring me relief."
That wicked gleam entered her eye again and she slid off his lap. "Spread your
knees," she told him and he did. "Wider."
Demanding little thing, wasn't she?
He inched his knees further apart, giving her unfettered access, just as she
had him.
Again, with a careful touch, she told hold of him. "Geez, I can barely get my
fingers around you," she whispered with awe as she slowly stroked up and down
the taut length, and Blaise felt a bit of masculine pride at that. He knew he
was hung, had won the prize there, and fortunately, he'd been well-trained how
to use it, too. That Ginny clearly liked it was a bene. He couldn't wait to
show her all the ways he could use it to bring her unrivaled pleasure, too.
Her focus was wholly riveted on what was happening at his hips as pre-cum
beaded at the tip and wept down the side. He watched her lick her lips as if
she was trying to decide whether to continue stroking or begin tasting.
Anticipation for either built inside him, had him growing thicker, his abs
trembling.
Gods, she'd hardly touched him and he was so swollen and hard... It wasn't
going to take long at this rate.
"Ginny, I want to come like this, with you watching."
She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. "I want to taste you."
"Next round," he promised her. "I want you to see how just your touch can set
me off. Think of it as empowering you," he teased and then gasped as she gave
him a hard swipe up and down. "Oh, fuck, that's so good. What you do to me,
woman!"
She reached down and cupped his balls with her other hand and rolled them in
her palm and Blaise groaned from the pleasure. His thighs strained, bunched as
she sped up her hand's movements, and he began thrusting his hips upwards into
the tight, velvet grip of her hand, reaching for that satisfying ending.
"Harder," he begged her. "Just a little harder. I like the edge."
Her fingernails lightly scratched his sensitive sac, making them pulse and his
hips kick uncontrollably. "I'm... Merda,I'm close!"
"Come on me," she offered and arranged her body and his cock so the angle would
allow him to spill all over her abdomen and breasts.
"Oh, fucking hell, yes," he swore, as the visual of that seared itself into his
brain and behind his eyelids. His hot cum, dripping off her nipples... With a
roar, he released, thrusting his hips out to ensure his climax hit her square
where they both wanted. He watched as spurt after hot spurt covered her,
painting her beautiful, pale, freckled skin in his essence.
Something possessive and animalistic grabbed a hold of him and shook him hard,
then. Before he could stop himself, he had Ginny on her back once more, his
mouth latched onto her throat, his still releasing cock sliding between her
smooth pussy lips. His hands gripped her hips, his body's width split her
thighs wide, and it was only with the last bit of mental will that he avoided
impaling her on his dick and fucking her into the mattress.
Breathing hard into her throat, he slid their wet, slick bodies together,
knowing it was his cum being rubbed into her skin. His scent covered her, was
saturating into her, and soon...very soon, it would fill her as well.
"Fuck me," she murmured the temptation into his ear. "God, I need you to fuck
me!"
Blaise shook from head to toe, but with greater strength than he knew he had,
he held still again and forced his jaw to release its hold upon her throat.
"Not yet," he growled, fighting the thing inside him for possession. It seemed
really out of control tonight, despite all he'd done in preparation for this
game to assure that part of him would remain on lockdown for the duration. Yet
here he was, hovering bare inches from losing all restraint. If he gave in to
its demands now, he feared he could really hurt Red, whom he now could admit he
loved beyond measure. He didn't want to lose her, not now that they were so
close...
Calm down, calm down.
Beneath him, Ginny whimpered. "Blaise?"
Deep breath. Again.
He kissed her throat with soft reverence. "So good," he whispered and petted
her hair, letting the action calm him down as well. "You made me feel so good,
my lioness. You made me nearly lose control. Do you see what you do to me?"
What you've always done to me?
They were quiet for a bit after that, just holding onto each other. Finally, he
put some space between them, lifting his heavier body off hers to prevent
crushing her. Staring into her caramel-coloured eyes, he asked, "Did I hurt
you?"
She shook her head and gave him a small, hesitant smile. "I thought I might
have hurt you."
He reassured her with a grin. "If that's your version of pain, kitten, sign me
up."
They shared a laugh and that broke the ice, moving them past the awkwardness.
Carefully, Blaise sat up. Ginny's belly and chest glistened with his cum, where
their rubbing bodies had slathered it all over her. The beast inside Blaise
purred at seeing that mark upon her. "Sorry," he said, because it was the thing
to say, not because he actually meant it. The fact was he was pleased to see
his jizz all over her, too. He conjured a towel and cleaned her up nonetheless.
"Let me."
"I don't mind," she admitted as he wiped her down.
"You'll need a shower."
She shrugged. "You'll just have to soap me up and rinse me off, then."
"Shall I do it on my knees?"
"Of course."
He chuckled at her audacity. "I can do that for you if you wish."
With a sultry, lazy stretch, she moved towards him, pushing the towel aside and
taking his mouth like it was her due. "Thank you for…caring…for me, Blaise, and
for making me feel so good." She nibbled her way down his chin, stopping over
his pulse to give it a warm, open-mouthed kiss. He gasped as tiny electric
shocks raced up his spine where her lips and tongue were pressed. "Also, for
letting me see you lose control."
"Thank you for the same," he said as she pulled away, reluctant to let her go.
He wanted her mouth back on him, wanted her marking his throat as he'd marked
hers. He had given her quite the love bite, it seemed...
The beast inside him curled up and smiled in satisfaction at that.
Unable to restrain the impulse, he reached for her and pulled her back into his
arms, dragging her into his lap. For the remaining few minutes, they held each
other in silence, touching each other with gentle, slow, exploratory fingers.
It was a sweet learning that profoundly moved Blaise's heart. The depth of his
feelings for Ginevra left him floating on an unfathomable sea of emotion.
This, whatever it was, it transcended love. He would give her anything she
desired, he would hold nothing back from her.
I am yours, he spoke to her with his soul.
The chimes rang just then. Without a word, they moved to re-dress, helping each
other. When they were both properly attired again, they held hands as they
walked to the exit, smiling shyly at each other. Ginny opened the door, and
they headed for the couches. As she made to let him go to take her seat, Blaise
felt a momentary stab in his chest, as if letting her go even for a few minutes
was too long. Tugging her back into his arms, he lowered his lips and collected
her kiss again, uncaring of any voyeurs.
Mine, a voice in his head triumphantly declared.
He would never let her go.
***** 3B: Theodore & Daphne *****
Chapter Notes
     CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: User "PhoenixPixie" recommended the
     song, "Rollacosta" by Robin Thicke & Estelle for Theo & Daphne this
     go around. So, this chapter is dedicated to PhoenixPixie -
     congratulations!
 
 
Theo practically skipped into the private room he shared with Daphne,
immediately dragging his shirt over his head and tossing it onto the white-on-
white bedspread nearby even before his partner had closed the door behind her.
He hurriedly unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks, and scrambled to drag them and
his pants down at the same time, kicking them off and leaving them where they
lay on the floor while hurriedly making his way over to the Tantra Chair (he
had to get one of these things for his flat once he moved into his own place
this August). Sitting in the position his lover wanted, Theo waited, head
bowed, hands resting on his thighs, his action card held securely under his
left palm, face-down against his skin.
Daphne's soft slippered feet approached from the side, and instantly, Theo's
erection hardened in anticipation. He didn't even try to hide it, knowing from
the glimmer in her eye last round that she thought his cock was good meat. And
it was. Not that he was boasting (okay, maybe a little), but he'd compared
himself to others in the showers (what bloke didn't?), and he knew where he
stood – above average length and width, nice looking foreskin and tip, tight
balls, not too hairy. Yeah, he was quite happy with his boy… and he could tell
Daphne liked it as well.
"Stand, Theo, and recite the text on your card for me," his sexy witch
commanded him in a soft voice.
"Yes, My Queen."
He got his feet under him and turned the red card over.
 
DEED: Your partner must list out loud at least 10 good things about you.
 
"Personally, I was hoping for an oral sex one," he grinned, shrugging. "But
this could be fun, too. Or would you rather take my card this round as well? I
don't mind."
Daphne straddled the chair behind him, wrapping her arms about him lovingly.
"Your gift is again very generous, beloved. I accept it. In reward, you'll have
this to look forward to." She brought her card up so he could read it himself:
 
FORFEIT: Kiss your partner as if they were your whole world. Put your entire
experience, heart and soul into the effort.
 
Theo's heart did a little jig.
Oh, yeah, they were going to hardcore snog finally! He'd been looking forward
to that since the beginning of last round, when Daphne had admitted to him in
private that she'd wanted him as her partner in bed and no other.
"Your heart is beating faster, my Theo," she purred in his ear seductively.
"Are you looking forward to our kiss then?"
He nodded enthusiastically and tilted his head back so that he lay against her
soft shoulder. "Hell, yeah, My Queen. I want your lips all over me. Your hands,
too." He shut his eyes and sighed in longing. "I want you to tear into me,
Daphne. I want you."
"Do you?" She nuzzled his temple with her nose. "And why is that, precisely?
Expound upon your analysis, as your card requires."
Inhaling deeply, letting himself fall back fully into her embrace, Theo relaxed
and thought of all the reasons why he wanted this witch for his own. "To start,
you have the most entrancing eyes, My Queen."
Her lips rested upon the shell of his ear. "In what way?" she whispered the
question, making electric tingles race up and down his spine.
Theo hummed in pleasure at the sensation and let his inner poet peek out for a
bit (sure, even he could be romantic at times - when he could be bothered to
try). "They're not quite grey, not perfectly blue, but something in between,
like…the waters of the lake outside the castle. They're mysterious and deep.
Sometimes I wonder what goes on behind them."
His Queen's fingers drew light circles over the skin on his bared pecks. The
sensation was lulling and comfortable. "I was not aware that you were acutely
attentive to such small physical nuances, Theo," his partner admitted.
"I'm Slytherin," he replied nonchalantly. "I do notice things – like you
staring at me all this last week when you didn't think I was looking."
Daphne hummed in consideration. "I see I have underestimated you. Interesting.
That's one down; however, and you still have nine more to go," she reminded him
in a playfully sultry tone.
"You're dedicated and meticulous to detail," he pointed out with a grin,
purposefully picking a learned skill to counter her innate physical beauty. "I
don't know how you can perform all of the duties of a Prefect, and help to plan
the various dances and events for the students on top of studying for N.E.W.T.s
and helping to tutor your sister. I'm surprised you're not mental from such a
busy schedule and such pressure."
He felt Daphne's slender shoulder shrug. "It is no different from your learning
a surfeit of Quidditch tactical maneuvers, perfecting them, training your body
for long hours to assure you are in peak physical shape, as well as studying
for your N.E.W.T.s – all of which you accomplished this year, Theo."
He frowned slightly. He'd never thought of anything he'd had to do for
Quidditch as work. It had always just been fun. Now that he thought about it,
though, he realized it could be seen in such a light. On average, he'd spent
ten hours a week on the back of his broom, zooming about the pitch with the
team. And he, Malfoy, and Zabini went to the weight room to work-out every
other night for two hours at a time, spotting each other at weights, and
challenging each other in crunches, pulls, and fast rope skipping.
"All right, that one kind of fizzled. How about this: you've got the sexiest
vocabulary I've ever encountered," he grinned cheekily, glancing at her over
his shoulder. "I think you're the smartest girl in school, honestly - even more
so than Granger. That dictionary you carry around in your head and spout out in
normal conversation makes me super hard for you."
His partner's laugh was elated. "Indeed? Then you may consider that I perform
for your auditory pleasure, if it further amplifies your fascination in my
person."
Theo shut his eyes again and moaned. "That's what I'm talking about!" He
gripped his cock in his hand and began stroking slowly up and down. "See what
you do to me, My Queen? Just your voice…" He hissed and opened his eyes,
watching his fingers glide over his length expertly. "You make me want to come
just listening to you, Daphne."
A gentle kiss touched his cheek, and her eyelashes tickled him softly in
passing. "I will give you permission to bring yourself, my Theo…but only after
you have concluded your inventory of my attributes." He hummed a small,
frustrated, defeated sigh and let go of himself, only to have Daphne's hand
wrap around his and brought them together back to his dick a moment later. "You
may continue stroking your cock, my lovely wizard. I am a natural voyeur for
your activities, as you well know."
"Ahhh…thank you, My beautiful, luscious Queen," he sighed in deep satisfaction,
allowing his hand to caress back over his length leisurely, careful not to
build up his excitement too fast, for he had a list to finish first. Daphne let
him go, her arms returning to cradle him, to gently glide over the flesh of his
hard abs and chest.
"Pray, continue," she dictated authoritatively, and Theo couldn't help the
smirk that crawled up his face at her imperious tone. Gods, he could seriously
fall for this woman!
He considered all he knew of Daphne from watching her on and off for the last
few months. "You move more gracefully than any woman I've ever known. When you
crossed the room to me last round, you just seemed to glide, and your hips…" He
shook his head in amazement. "Fucking sexy, My Queen."
"Mmmm… I like that observation in particular," his lover purred, stroking over
his nipples, causing the heat in his balls to burn. "Do go on."
Swiping his thumb over his crown to smear some of the pre-cum up and down,
making his stroking easier, Theo settled back even more heavily into his woman.
"Your perfume is exotic and tempts me to want to get closer. Every time I smell
it, I just want to press my nose into your throat and inhale while fucking you
nice and slow against the wall in a dark corner."
Her lips inched around his cheek, placing soft kisses. "Perhaps I will give you
that opportunity during this game, my Theo."
His hand on his todger unconsciously tightened and he shoved through his
fingers, urged on by a surge of his hips. "Oh, yeah, I'd love to shag you just
like that once in my life. I'd go nice and deep inside you…" He moaned and
watched himself wanking, building up slowly.
"Focus, my sexy wizard," Daphne reminded him, tapping his heart with a
fingernail. "Six more compliments are due."
Theo chuckled. "Sorry, My Queen. I'm aching to get off. I'll try to do better
to control myself."
"Yes, Theo, impulse control is a skill you will perfect during this game," she
submitted matter-of-factly, putting her hand back over his, slowing his rhythm
down to a crawl. "This is your first lesson. Take your time fostering your
orgasm. Enjoy every petite sensation, experience it fully. It will make the
culmination all the sweeter, I promise."
He grunted. "This is the longest I've gone with wood without taking care of it.
It's difficult."
Her lips were back at his ear, coaxing with that husky, sexy voice of hers, her
hand continuing to move right along with his. "Your partner will believe you to
be the most tender and fantastic lover in the universe if you can sustain
yourself within the confines of her welcoming pussy. You could bring her
multiple times in a single session, as well as yourself, if you follow the rule
of patience and restraint. Sex will be wholly, unreservedly fulfilling if you
have faith in my instruction in this matter. Do you entrust your education to
me, my Theo?"
Swallowing hard, Theo tried to picture making a woman orgasm multiple times for
him. He'd never accomplished it, usually too fast to find his own release. He'd
love to reach that level of control and nodded earnestly. "I trust you, My
Queen. I'll do whatever you want."
Her hand allowed a few more mutual passes over his length before it removed
itself again, returning to its previous resting spot. "Continue with your
accolades of my qualities, and do not increase the pace of your stroking. I
command it."
Shit, hearing her say it that way made sweat break out on his upper lip. He
loved when she bossed him around!
Focusing on his list, he tried to ignore what his hand was doing (could he ask
for anything more impossible to accomplish?), and came up with his next
flattery. "Hell, your sexual knowledge is unprecedented. How in Merlin's
mystery did you learn this stuff? I read PlayWitch, and I've never even heard
of tantric sex or multiple orgasms for a bloke!"
"Perhaps I will have an opportunity to enlighten you on the subject during this
game, if the cards allow," she furtively answered.
"I hope so," he grinned. "I'd love to go to whatever school you went to for
this stuff. Maybe you could take me there sometime?"
When she didn't say anything in return, an awkward silence ensued, and it
finally occurred to him that he'd just made an offer for them to have something
outside of the game… something she'd been crystal clear about not wanting to
pursue from the beginning. That thought pained him some, making his erection
droop a bit. As if sensing his sudden distress, Daphne's hand moved
purposefully to wrap about his once more, helping him to regain what he'd lost.
Focusing on the motion of her tiny fingers around his cock, trying to force his
attention back to the here and now, to enjoy what he could get from her, Theo
attempted to shut out everything else for the moment. He shut his eyes, tilting
his neck back, and sighed forlornly.
"Daphne…"
"What other worth do I hold in your eyes, beloved?" she asked quickly, trying
to bring them back to the topic and avoid a discussion of the subject, he knew.
Giving in for the moment, he thought up another item. "You're the most self-
possessed woman I've ever met. You know what you want and aren't afraid to ask
for it. That confidence is bloody sexy." Opening his eyes, chewing his bottom
lip as they stroked together a little faster and his erection was fully
renewed, hard and ready, he thought up another one. "You're magically powerful.
I've seen you cast hexes in D.A.D.A. and Charms that amaze me with your
strength. I think this one and your confidence go hand-in-hand actually."
Out of the corner of his eyes, Daphne adjusted her glasses with her free hand,
then replaced it immediately over his peck and swirled her fingers lazily over
his nipple. "They do. The secret to being a powerful witch or wizard is having
the utmost confidence that the spell you will cast is going to perform
exceptionally well. This is especially true for wandless magic. Most
practitioners fail to master such spells because they feel the loss of their
wand, and forget that the magic comes from within them. The wand is merely a
focus, endowed with properties to aid in the centering of one's energies, but
one's hand can perform the same service just as easily with practice."
He glanced up over his shoulder at her. "No shit?"
Daphne's smirk became positively wicked. The hand on his cock stilled, her
fingers wiggled and sotto voce, she murmured a spell. Instantly, Theo's dick
tingled with gentle warmth that caused his bollocks to tighten and his dick to
weep pre-seminal fluid. "Oh, fuck!" he moaned in bliss. "What was that?"
"A lust spell," she evenly informed him. "Would you like me to nullify it?"
Bloody hell, his cock was throbbing with the need to reach its completion. "I
thought you wanted me to learn self-control and restraint," he panted, taking
both of their hands off of his prick. "I can't learn that if you make me jizz
everywhere so quickly. So…yeah, reverse it quick or I'm going to come any
second."
Daphne kissed his sweaty forehead. "You have pleased me exceedingly with your
response, beloved." Wiggling her fingers again, his partner invalidated the
spell upon him, and immediately, Theo's urgency to climax eased back. He was
still painfully hard, but not on the edge any longer, much to his relief. "Your
willingness to master this test makes me want to reward you. When you are ready
to ejaculate, I will recast the spell. Your orgasm will be amazingly
delicious." Her hand aided his in once more returning to gripping his cock and
stroking. "Finish your final admirations and I will set you free, my dearest."
Enjoying their joint fondling of his privates immensely, Theo bit back on the
longing to increase their pace, wanting to learn the secrets to being a good
lover. He planned on cramming as many of Daphne's lessons into his brain as he
could during the next several hours, and to perfect as many of them as possible
so he could use them on her later when he tried to convince her that they
belonged together.
He had firmly decided to pursue her when this game was over, regardless of his
previous promise, because now that he knew her better, he found that he really
dug on her. Greengrass was an awesome catch – smart, beautiful, of good stock,
sexually adventuresome, and he intuitively knew that she had a sleeve full of
tricks to keep him interested for a long time.
Yep, she was the girl for him - hands down. No fighting it anymore.
Now, he only needed to convince her to allow his suit…
Closing his eyes again, he grit his teeth, ignoring the building burn at the
base of his shaft. "We'd make cute, pure-blood Slytherin babies. My snobby
family would heartily approve. I think yours would, too."
Her hand faltered a bit. "Theo…"
A first warning.
Knowing he was in trouble, Theo cut off the inevitable chastisement with his
final veneration: "You, My Queen, are extremely caring. Remember how stressed
Astoria was during her O.W.L examinations? That small bouquet of wildflowers
you conjured for her on the fly to cheer her up...it was lovely. That was one
of my most favorite uses of magic, ever."
Daphne's hands on him completely stilled and her voice was strangely soft,
almost hesitant. "One of your favorites? Truly?"
It was the first time he'd ever heard Daphne Greengrass sound less than
confident. He paused in his self-pleasuring to consider that and looked again
over his shoulder to meet her eye. "Yes. It really was quite a thoughtful and
beautiful display of magic. Most people use magic for selfish reasons – to get
something done they don't want to do, or to fix a mistake they've made, or to
give them some sort of advantage. You used it simply out of love for your
sister."
Assessing cornflower-colored eyes measured his sincerity, even as two blooms of
red blossomed in Daphne's cheeks. "Thank you…for saying that."
Her voice strove to be even and controlled, but at the end, there was a slight
trembling vulnerability in the tone.
Something shifted between them in that moment and Theo felt emboldened to take
advantage. Turning completely around in his seat, dislodging her hands from his
body in the process, he reached up to remove Daphne's glasses.
"Theo…" she warned a second time on a growl, her features tightening up with
shocked anger, but he silenced her with a finger across her lips, dropping her
lenses carefully to the white carpeted floor.
"I want that kiss now, My Queen. Your card says you have to do it, and I want
it."
Grabbing the undersides of her legs, he yanked her forward and onto his lap,
wrapping his arms about her securely. The hem of her dress rode up, and with
one hand, he skimmed it up even further, gripping her rounded hip. He pulled
her a little roughly into intimate contact with his body. Separated only by the
satin of her knickers, Theo's cock begged for instantaneous fulfillment.
"Call it my belated birthday gift," he breathed, buzzing her lips, staring her
in the eyes through a half-lidded gaze. He had turned eighteen just this last
month.
Huffing quick breaths against her cheek, he watched her carefully, waiting. Her
card was specific – she had to initiate the kissing part - but she seemed
frozen between her justified anger at him and the lust for him that he could
feel burning through him in her stare.
"Slap me now if you need to," he offered in a pleading voice, hoping to
override her ire with a little begging. "Hate me for forcing this, punish me
later, but I've gotto have you, Daphne. Please, give me your kiss."
It took half a minute more before his witch made her choice not to walk out the
door on him, much to his HUGE relief! It had been touch and go there for those
long, nerve-wracking seconds, but when her frown gradually transformed, tilting
upwards at the edges with grudging approval and admiration for his audacity,
Theo knew he'd won her over. Relenting fully to his impudent request, her hands
smoothed up his chest, over his shoulders, and her fingers tangled in his hair
instead. Gripping tightly, causing his blood to rush through him from head to
toe, she regained her confident command of the situation, staring him down with
wicked determination.
"Happy Birthday, beloved."
With that, she closed her eyes and sealed the miniscule distance between them.
The kiss was the most perfect Theo had ever received. It was hot, demanding,
wet and wanton. It held nothing back, gave and took all, and impossibly
promised even more with every pull of lips. He gasped into Daphne's mouth, his
mouth smacking against hers with fierce, wild desire. Her tongue thrust crazily
in between the gap and tangled up with his, possessing him, boldly declaring
that he was hers, that she would rock his world inside out, and at the same
time, stated unequivocally that he was her whole world back.
He whimpered, tightening his arms about her, and slamming his fingers through
her long, soft hair, holding on.
Her fingers wiggled against his skull and she whispered something a second
before a volcano erupted through his blood, shooting straight through his
center. Throwing his head back as his whole body arched from the currents of
electricity firing down his spine, Theo shouted Daphne's name as his cock
exploded with pleasure. His come burst out of him in pulse after pulse of hot,
throbbing gushes that saturated the front of her panties and her lower abdomen,
staining her dress. He could hardly breathe from the pressure as his chest
squeezed tightly and behind his eyelids, fireworks exploded in a myriad of
colors.
It took at least ten seconds for him to come down off the initial high, and
then another half a minute for his body to stop squirting seed everywhere. His
balls ached.
"Daphne… oh, God, Daphne…"
He clung to her, pressing his nose into her neck, inhaling her sexy, sultry
perfume just as he'd wanted. His lungs felt grated, his throat raw.
"Sweetheart…"
He dragged his mouth over her skin, slamming it down over hers again, kissing
her with passion and need.
They kissed for a long time – well, long for Theo, who had never spent more
than a few minutes on foreplay of any kind with a woman. The act itself was
physically and emotionally satisfying, and he realized in those moments what
he'd been missing, craving in his sexual conquests for so long: a connection.
He'd found it with Daphne.
Pulling back, he touched her cheeks softly and gave her his most melting smile.
"You were right: amazingly delicious." Looking down at his flaccid, tired
member, and the mess he'd made all over them both, he couldn't help but grin
wide. "Oops."
Daphne laughed again, and it was a pretty sound, drawing his attention back to
her face. Her eyebrow was arched. "You have an astounding ability to assert the
obvious with a concision of words, Theo."
He waggled his eyebrows back at her. "And you do just the opposite, My Queen."
"Impudent man," she chided him gently, and stood, shucking her dress and
undergarments and shoes, heading towards the opposite wall of the room where
there appeared a shower. She looked over her shoulder at him as the water began
falling over her body. "Surely, you do not intend to present yourself to the
group looking so bedraggled, beloved? Come, join me. We have ten minutes
remaining until call."
Jumping up like a puppy after an enticing squeaky toy, Theo joined his witch
under the shower, allowing her to clean him off with a soft cloth and body soap
that was scented the same as his cologne.
As she finished washing him down, switching to a soap that carried her own
scent (gods, he loved this room!), he sniffed both small bottles of the liquid
soaps and looked at her with curiosity.
"Your cologne is exotic, Theo, and tempts me to want to get closer," she used
his words back at him with a naughty, enticing smile. "Every time I smell it, I
just want to press my nose into your throat and inhale while fucking you nice
and slow against the wall in a dark corner."
He gave her a slow, evil smile in return. "Perhaps I will give you that
opportunity during this game, sweetheart."
With that, they hopped out and dried each other off. Theo threw on his clothes
quickly and ran out into the common area just as the chimes rang, grabbed his
wand off the table and returned to his private room to Scourgify the mess off
from Daphne's clothes, and drying both of their hair with a quick spell.
When she was re-dressed, he boldly took her hand and guided her out into the
main room, asserting in public his claim over Daphne by kissing her quickly
before sitting back into the sofa. To his wonder, she blushed while readjusting
her glasses, apparently forgetting to give him his third warning for daring to
step over the line again.
***** 3C: Harry & Tracey *****
Chapter Notes
     CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: User "heeroxduo1to2" recommended the
     song, "Smile" by Uncle Kracker for Harry & Tracey this go around. So,
     this chapter is dedicated to heeroxduo1to2 - congratulations!
 
 
 
As soon as they'd hopped up from the sofas and met again, Harry had taken a
hold of Tracey's hand and dragged her back into their private room. Shutting
the door quickly, he spun on her, amped to touch her again.
"Say it's okay to hug and kiss you again," he begged, his heart leaping madly
in his chest.
Tracey's beautiful smile lit up her face. "It's okay to hug and kiss me again,"
she parroted him, stepping closer to him. "Now you say the same," she bid.
Harry nodded excitedly. "Heck, yes! Hug and kiss me!"
His girl's arms wrapped about his waist and their bodies collided as she melted
into him. Dropping his card to the floor and thrusting his hands into her hair,
Harry bent his head to capture her affection again.
There was no gentleness this time; he started out strong with intention. His
tongue licked over hers, stroking at her lips boldly, possessively. Tracey
gasped, tipped herself closer, encouraging his ravaging hunger for her taste.
As her confidence in their melding grew, her mouth fought for more of his kiss,
and Harry felt his witch's carefully contained wildness spilling out in the
grip of her hands through his hair and the passion of her response. The little
whimpers escaping her throat between the pulling of their lips and the writhing
of her lithe body against his drove him mad, made his higher brain fuzz out as
instinct took over. She was so soft, pliable, and as eager as he…
As they came up for air finally, Harry's heart was beating madly in his chest.
He pressed his cheek to Tracey's and rubbed gently against her. "I really like
doing this with you," he confessed. "I don't even know you all that well, but I
feel like…" He nuzzled into her throat. "This is a good thing we have going
here. Do you feel the same?"
"Yes," she whispered softly in his ear as she turned her head and nestled
closer. Her fingers caressed him over his shirt, causing tingles to run up and
down his spine. "Harry, I really like you a lot."
His stomach turning somersaults in giddiness, Harry swallowed heavily against
the emotion that crept up his throat. All his young life, he'd been alone. Yes,
he had excellent, loyal, companionable friends and a godfather who doted on
him, and they had all filled the role of his lost family, but he still felt the
distinct lack of a deeper, more elusive and meaningful connection.
From the moment he'd first known the truth about his parents' relationship, his
greatest wish had been for his heart to be filled up with the kind of love
James and Lily Potter had had for each other. To be cared about for the man he
had grown into, to prove that he was worthy of such a gift, to give of himself
fully and without reservation to someone who could accept him with equal
feeling – that was his most profound desire.
Had he found it at last in this witch? Was this where his heart could truly
lie?
There was only one way to find out; he would play this game through with
courage and honesty, and allow himself to hope.
"Are you thirsty or hungry?" he asked, pulling back slightly, keeping his arms
about her, still needing that important contact.
Tracey shook her head. "I'm good for now. Thank you." Shyly, she brought her
arms around and up between them to play with the collar and top buttons of his
shirt. "Perhaps, though, we should begin? I don't want us to lose the game
because we forgot to perform our cards." Her teasing smile was adorable, and
lit up her hazel eyes with glimmers of mischief.
Harry cleared his throat, having read his card earlier and feeling a tad
nervous about her reaction. "My card this turn is a bit, um…well…you're going
to laugh at me," he admitted, reciting from memory his action this round:
 
FORFEIT: You must sing a romantic song to your partner.
 
Tracey gave a tinkling, sweet laugh. "That sounds like fun, actually!"
Feeling the heat crawl up his cheeks, Harry shook his head. "Good thing we all
invested in earmuffs for Sprout's class, because you're going to need them this
round. I sound like a juvenile Mandrake when I sing."
Leaning up on tiptoes, Tracey gave him a small, quick kiss with her eyes locked
onto his. "You said your dancing was terrible, too, but I found it to be rather
enjoyable."
Ooh, boy. Yep, he was definitely losing the argument between his heart and mind
to take things slowly.
There was no denying it; a few more innocent remarks and kisses like that and
he was going to be head over heels in love.
"So, um, what about your card?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation
rolling.
Now it was his partner's turn to blush, but the smile she tried to hide by
pursing her lips made things in his belly crawl about with eagerness.
Apparently, her card was either going to be completely silly like his or…
Pulling herself from his arms and stooping to pick up the card she, too, had
let fall to the floor when they'd embraced, she read it to him:
 
FORFEIT: Your partner gets to lick any part on your body of their choice. You
cannot touch them.
 
His tongue on her body…anywhere he wanted?
Harry's 'friend' in his pants jerked awake.
Bloody hell, he really should have wanked before coming to the game, like Ron
had suggested. It had been weeks since he'd been with a woman, and now he was
here with this irresistible, very attractive witch (who smelled entirely too
tempting, and smiled with her whole being, and made him feel alive), and the
first blatantly sexual act between them was going to probably make him come in
his pants.
Darn, he had better control than this!
Maybe.
He hoped.
Tracey stepped away from him and drifted towards the couch. Harry suddenly felt
worried by her reaction. He hurried to her side, took a seat next to her on the
sofa and took her hand in his. "We don't have to do this if you don't want," he
offered, his heart slamming under his ribs in anxiety. "We can trade cards,
or…I'll forfeit. I don't want to push you into something you're not comfortable
with."
His partner looked up at him with wide, surprised eyes. "What makes you think I
don't want your mouth on me?"
Harry's jaw dropped open.
Holy lords above, did she really just say that?
Realizing how bawdy she'd just sounded, Tracey tried to backtrack. "I…I mean…I
like your tongue. It's a nice tongue," she stammered, her face positively
radiating crimson.
He couldn't help it – Harry started laughing. "Well, I'm glad we've established
that," he finally managed. "So, it's okay for me to perform my card on you
then?"
Tracey nodded. "I'd like that… For you to lick me…" As if realizing after the
fact how sexual that sounded, she slapped her knee with her free hand. "Oh,
foot! You know what I mean!" She shut her eyes and sighed deeply, shaking her
head in frustration. "Why are you the only person on the planet I find myself
tongue-tied around?"
Tenderness welled in Harry's heart, even as a wide grin overtook his face.
Cupping her jaw, he turned her towards him and her eyelids fluttered open to
zero in on his again. "Tell you what, I'll put my mouth on you only where you
want. You tell me, okay?"
Her hand in his, still resting on her lap, trembled slightly, but she nodded.
"Okay. But…can you go first? I think…I'm a little too nervous right this
second."
Leaning forward, Harry placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "All right." He sat
back and let her hand go, tugging at the collar of his shirt, uneasy with the
idea of belting out a song for her. Recalling a trip he'd taken last summer
into Muggle Soho for a night of wacky fun with Fred, George, Charlie, Ron and
Hermione, an idea suddenly struck him. "Hey, do you know what Karaoke is?"
Tracey shook her head. "A Muggle invention, I'm guessing?"
He nodded. "It's interactive music that you can sing a song to. The words
appear on a television screen – remember what that is from Muggle Studies?"
Tracey lit up. "Yes, I'm half-blood, remember? My mother was Muggle-born. We
had an old black and white telly in my house when I was a child, but it kept
breaking because of the magical interference from Mum's spells." She frowned
suddenly. "How are you going to make it work here?"
Harry, who had the idea already forming in his head as to how to make it work,
waggled his eyebrows at her. "Watch the wizard work his magic," he joked, then
concentrated on what he wanted to appear on the far wall.
A giant movie picture screen unfolded, the canvas flopping to the ground.
With another thought, he had the couch rotating to face the screen. Tracey
laughed in surprise and lifted her legs as the sofa righted itself.
Next, he conjured a karaoke projector, commanding that the item be able to work
magically. Hey, if the fireplace could do it, why not this? Maybe he'd even
just invented something new!
He summoned a microphone and surround-sound speakers to sit all about the room
to work with the projector.
Last, he considered the musical selection. Something fun, but romantic…
Ah, a little Harry Connick Jr. would do the trick! 
"Don't laugh," he warned his date as the sound of a jazz piano began, followed
by a full big band orchestra. On the screen before them in black letters
against a light blue backdrop, a series of words appeared. As the words changed
colour to cue him, Harry began singing.
 
                  A little bit of me and a whole lot of you.
                Add a dash of starlight and a dozen roses, too.
                 Then let it rise for a hundred years or two,
                    And that's the recipe for making love.
               It doesn't need sugar 'cause it's already sweet.
            It doesn't need an oven 'cause it's got a lot of heat.
              Just add a dash of kisses to make it all complete,
                    And that's the recipe for making love.
                 And if you've made it right you'll know it…
                  It's not like anything you've made before.
                 And if you've made it wrong you'll know it…
                'Cause it won't keep you coming back for more.
            I didn't get it from my grandma's book upon the shelf.
               I didn't get it from a magical and culinary elf.
          No, a little birdie told me you can't make it by yourself.
                    And that's the recipe for making love.
                                        
During the interlude, Tracey nudged him with her shoulder. "Liar! You sing
really well!"
Harry cleared his throat, feeling the stifling heat rise up his cheeks again,
and finished up the song.
 
                  It's not like anything you've made before…
              No, 'cause it won't keep you coming back for more…
          No, I didn't get it from my grandma's book upon the shelf.
                Didn't get it from a magical and culinary elf.
       No, a little birdie told me that you can't make it by yourself.
                           And that's the recipe...
                            Ooh, that's the recipe…
                    And that's the recipe for making love!
 
Tracey clapped enthusiastically at the end and threw her arms about his neck,
kissing him soundly on the lips. "That was marvelous!"
Harry's face heated up; even his ears felt hot. "Uh, thanks." To cover his
momentary ineptitude, he leaned forward and kissed Tracey back. "Want to give
it a try?" he offered her the mic.
Tracey bit her lip. "I…don't know too many Muggle songs."
Harry shrugged. "Just pick something you do know and might be able to sing
without sounding like a croaking toad, and then laugh about it afterwards." He
winked at her and gave her a cheesy grin. "That's the secret to getting through
karaoke."
Tracey hesitantly took the microphone. "I just sing into this?" she asked,
bringing it to her lips and jerking back as her voice echoed loudly throughout
the room. "Oh, well, this seems easy. Okay, a song… Oh! I know!"
She gave him a sly look from the corner of her eye, her lids lowering to half-
mast and a wicked smile illuminating her features, making Harry's prick stand
up and take serious notice again.
"So, do I just tell the machine to play the song I want and ask for the lyrics
to appear on the screen then?"
He swallowed and nodded, wondering what she was up to. His partner looked, in
that moment, like the cat that had swallowed the proverbial canary.
"All right then, you asked for it…" she warned.
A jazz trumpet began, and when the words immediately appeared on the screen
before them, Harry nearly fell over in astonishment, a hearty laugh bubbling
forth from his lips even as Tracey began singing:
 
                              I am here to state…
                              I'm here to relate…
                                  To explain…
                            and make it plain that:
                          I'm just wild about Harry,
                          and Harry's wild about me!
                      The heavenly blisses of his kisses
                             fill me with ecstasy.
                       He's sweet like chocolate candy,
                        and just like honey from a bee!
                        Oh, I'm just wild about Harry,
                         and he's just wild about me!
                        Oh, I'm just wild about Harry,
                           and he's just wild about…
                              Cannot do without…
                           He's just wild about me!
 
Tracey joined in the laughter as soon as the last note hit, her face
practically glowing from embarrassment.
Harry applauded, shaking his head and continuing to chuckle. "Brava! You
sounded just like Judy Garland, too!" He leaned over and kissed her smiling
cheek.
"Can we do it again?" she asked, her eyes positively radiant.
How could Harry possibly say 'no' to that? "Want to go or shall I?"
Tracey handed the mic back. "Your turn. Sing something fun to me, señor."
Considering his next song already, he took the proffered device and mock-bowed.
"As you command, mistress mine."
He sang "I Saw Her Standing There" by The Beatles to her next, turning it into
something totally silly by intentionally singing it campy. To his delight,
Tracey knew this song, and she even half-danced in her seat, bopping back and
forth and snapping and clapping in time to the beat.
On her turn, she sang Lesley Gore's version of "Sunshine, Lollipops and
Rainbows" to him. She was such an amazingly good singer, even better than the
original artist in his opinion, her melodic voice turning even a fast-paced,
fun song into something adorably sultry. It made him want to throw her into the
couch and snog her senseless.
They ended the set with a slow, romantic tune of Harry's choosing - one of his
favourite songs from the previous decade: "I Want To Know What Love Is" by
Foreigner. It seemed like that song perfectly reflected his feelings for her in
that moment, and he wanted to share this with her, knowing she probably hadn't
ever heard this song before, since her knowledge of Muggle music seemed to end
with the 1960's. Grabbing her hand, he stood and pulled her up into his
embrace.
Harry slow-danced with her again, softly singing along with the original
vocalist, Lou Gramm, in her ear as he held her close.
 
                          I gotta take a little time…
                      A little time to think things over.
                       I better read between the lines,
                       In case I need it when I'm older.
                       Now this mountain I must climb,
                   Feels like the world upon my shoulders.
                   And through the clouds I see love shine…
                    It keeps me warm as life grows colder.
                 In my life there's been heartache and pain,
                    I don't know if I can face it again...
                    Can't stop now - I've traveled so far
                          To change this lonely life.
                          I wanna know what love is,
                            I want you to show me.
                          I wanna feel what love is,
                            I know you can show me.
 
Pressing kisses against her ear, moving down her throat, Harry decided that now
would be the perfect time to perform her card.
Suckling a little hard against her pulse, he began his seduction of her senses,
whispering the words to the song at each parting of his lips from her skin.
 
                         I'm gonna take a little time,
                       A little time to look around me.
                        I've got nowhere left to hide…
                   It looks like love has finally found me.
 
Tracey melted into him, turning her neck fully, giving him complete, unfettered
access, trusting him to guide her through this moment. Her fingernails scraped
through his hair as he nibbled and licked, running his tongue all up and down
her throat.
 
                  In my life there's been heartache and pain,
                     I don't know if I can face it again…
                    I can't stop now - I've traveled so far
                          To change this lonely life.
 
Gripping her hips tightly, Harry held her still as he let his mouth explore the
skin of her neck and the dip of her shoulder thoroughly.
"So sweet," he murmured in her ear as he took her lobe between his teeth,
nipping it.
 
                          I wanna know what love is,
                            I want you to show me.
                          I wanna feel what love is,
                            I know you can show me.
                          I wanna know what love is,
                            I want you to show me.
                And I wanna feel, I want to feel what love is,
                      And I know, I know you can show me.
 
His witch moaned and gasped, pressing her body into his completely, her left
leg running slowly up the outside of his.
Smoothing his hand down her hip, around the curve of her bum, down her leg, he
gripped her under her knee and pulled the leg up, wrapping it around his thigh,
groaning as her sweet spot pressed and rubbed against his throbbing erection.
 
                            Let's talk about love…
          (I wanna know what love is) The love that you feel inside.
               (I want you to show me) I'm feeling so much love.
             (I wanna feel what love is) No, you just cannot hide.
                           (I know you can show me)
 
Harry ravished Tracey's lips, slipping his tongue into the slit of her mouth
and teased hers into playing with him again. They lapped at each other, kissed
with wet, fierce emotion, equal in their shared ardor and passion.
Merlin Almighty, he wanted this girl!
 
               I wanna know what love is, let's talk about love…
                 (I want you to show me) I wanna feel it too.
               (I wanna feel what love is) I wanna feel it too.
                And I know, and I know, I know you can show me.
                             Show me what is real,
                                 Yeah, I know.
 
Grabbing his witch's long, soft hair and lightly tugging, he tilted her neck
all the way back, and traced the curve of her chin with the tip of his tongue,
over her bared throat, down to the heart-shaped centre of her collarbone,
continuing further until his lips and tongue fell into the valley of her
breasts. She cried out in a husky moan as his mouth circled her left nipple
through her dress and bra.
 
          (I wanna know what love is) Hey I wanna know what love is.
       (I want you to show me) I wanna know, I wanna know, want to know…
              (I wanna feel what love is) Hey, I wanna feel love.
                            I know you can show me.
 
It occurred to him that things were moving really fast as the last notes of the
song faded out.
He pulled back slightly, ran his mouth back up her throat to her ear. "Is this
okay?" he murmured, not wanting to scare her off with his need to have her, but
desperate for just a little more. She'd become his tempting Eve, with her
perfectly shaped body, and her alluring, sincere eyes, and those painted lips
of hers that tasted like sweet, summer melon. "Can I touch you like this with
my hands and my mouth?"
He felt himself drowning in her scent, seduced by her heat.
Nuzzling against her hairline, he pressed wet lips to the shell of her ear.
"Will you let me lick your nipples, Tracey? Let me taste you?"
Against his cheek, he felt Tracey's heart pounding as fiercely as his own, the
erratic beat exciting the blood in his veins to a fierce tempo. She nodded to
his request. "Yes," she sighed, her fingernails pressing into his shoulders.
"Put your mouth on me anywhere you want, Harry."
His lower abdomen clenched tight at her daring, carte blanche offer, and Harry
had to remind himself to take it slow; not to rush headlong into the sensations
that recklessly pounded through his blood.
With slightly trembling fingers, he hooked his fingers under one shoulder strap
of her dress and slid it down her arm, along with her bra, dropping it as far
as it could go. Gliding across the fabric, he found and cupped her breast,
pushing up gently, his mouth latching back onto the pulse of her neck and
biting softly at the same time. Tracey moaned again in that same low, longing
tone, and Harry felt her rising desire in her hitching breath, heard her softly
elicited, mewling demands for more of the bliss he was providing, and a wave of
scorching heat passed through him, slamming into his gut. Her need drove him
onward, overrode his control measures.
Sliding the material of her dress down in the front, pulling the cup of her bra
with it, he traveled back downward, letting his tongue trace circles over the
exposed flesh as it was revealed. When one perfectly pink, erect nipple finally
appeared, Harry groaned, and dipped his head immediately, taking it between his
lips. It was absolute heaven, suckling on her pert, responsive breast, tasting
the salty-sweetness of her skin.
"Oh, Harry!" Tracey gasped in bliss and arched her back even further to give
him as much of herself as possible. "Harry!"
Hearing his voice said in that tone made Harry harder than he could ever
remember being. If things kept going as they were…
He laved over her nipple with wet, insistent strokes of his tongue, pulling it
back between his lips to nurse hard, dragging her further and further into the
storm along with him.
He shifted his arms, tugged the other side of her dress and bra down, bared
that breast as well, and turned his head to cherish it with similar heat. She
had the prettiest nipples – of medium size, with beige areolas the size of
galleons, dusky-coloured at the tips, and begging for his attention. He gave
her what she wanted with ardor, both ravishing and worshipping at the same
time.
Nibbling his way back up the other side of her throat, he lapped over every
place his teeth had paused to bite, before he worked his way back up to her
ear.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.
He swallowed, breathing hard, trying to regain control and to do the right
thing, even as her face turned into his and recaptured his lips while one of
her hands sought his at her waist, smoothing them together up over her torso
until the roundness of her breast was cupped in his palm.
Tracey shook her head, her long, satiny hair brushing against his cheek. "No,"
she whispered somewhat firmly, and that was his undoing.
With a deep moan conveying his burning need, he ran his thumb over her wet
nipple, rubbing back and forth, driving them both to new levels of insanity.
"Then we won't," he told her, feeling the darker, dominant side of his
masculine nature switch on. "We won't until you beg."
Turning them about, dropping her leg from around him, he tumbled them onto the
couch, lay her back against the cushions, and bent his head to take an exposed,
straining peak once more into his mouth. Tracey's supple body writhed against
his to the chorus of her approval as he sucked and nipped her tit.
"They're beautiful," he murmured in between licks. "The prettiest breasts I've
ever seen and tasted. Pretty like you…" He moved to the other side, lapping,
teasing her nip to stand to full attention. "You're perfect, Tracey. In every
way, so perfect."
Raising his head, he reached for her lips again, continuing to tell her the
thoughts in his heart amid kisses and stolen breaths.
"I've waited for someone like you. Just like the song said - waited so long.
Will you be my girlfriend? I want you to be mine. Not just for the game, but
after. I want you after, too. Three dates is enough time to know that, right?"
Tracey nodded, gasping as his fingers pinched her nipples, rolled them. "Yes!
Oh, Harry, yes!"
Harry's mind was fuzzy with compelling lust, and he moved on instinct now,
losing himself in the touch, taste, feel and scent of his witch. Davis was
gorgeous, and willing, and the most powerful aphrodisiac in the world right
then to his starved senses.
One of his hands slid down her waist to begin bunching up the hem of her dress.
When he could reach easily under the fabric, he caressed her over her panties;
they were damp with desire. When she undulated her hips into the heel of his
hand, pressing what he knew to be her clit against him, he felt his heart leap
straight into his throat. He nearly lost what remained of his sanity, then.
Slipping his hand over the top band of her knickers, he quickly shoved his
fingers under and touched her soft, wet curls for the first time. Tracey gasped
in surprise, then moaned as he began running his fingertips through the hair,
tickling, stroking, familiarizing his tactile senses with her texture, scenting
her musky arousal in the air between them.
His dick was so hard he ached clear to his very centre; he longed to rip those
panties off and thrust into her, to bury his iron-hard length all the way up
into her. Instead, he satisfied himself with slipping between her slit with his
middle finger and lightly caressing her clit.
"Oh, Merlin!" Tracey cried out, arching into him. "That feels so good! I've
never… Oh!"
Her innocent words slammed into his brain, hard-core and as heavy as a
sledgehammer, and they jolted Harry out of the moment and made him realize just
how far they'd progressed.
Godric's bones, he was fingering her!
Pulling away, he hurriedly lowered her dress again, trying to give her a
modicum of respect, despite having shown her great disrespect in pushing for
things so fast. "I'm sorry! I just…lost control." He looked into those wide,
shocked, multi-coloured eyes of hers and felt remorse so great that his heart
wanted to cower. "I didn't mean to push things so far, this quickly. I'm so
sorry, Tracey."
Tracey's fingers on his lips shut him up immediately, and it was then that he
recognized that she didn't seem to be in the least upset by what had
transpired. In fact, she looked like being snogged properly and felt up was
just what she'd always wanted; her swollen lips were parted by excited breath,
her gaze shimmering with lust, a light sheen of perspiration on her forehead
and cheeks indicated desire…
"Harry, I liked all of it. Please don't apologize," she shyly whispered,
pulling his hand up slowly and letting it rest on the bared flesh of her breast
once more. "Here, touch me again."
Licking his lips, Harry did as she bade, watching her face the whole time. She
closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure, smiling, and the reaction was so honest
and sincere, that it made him wonder again how it was she could be in this
game. She seemed so innocent. But he knew she couldn't be; Malfoy made it clear
that everyone playing had to be sexually aware.
"Kiss me again, Harry," she enticed, glancing at him through a half-lidded
stare that called him to obey.
Melding their mouths together in a long, sensual kiss, bracing himself on his
elbows and being careful not to press his erection too hard between her legs,
Harry let his fingers gently, leisurely caress her nipples, this time in a more
exploratory manner than a blatantly sexual one. In this way, he learned the
feel of her breasts; noted that her right was a bit heavier than her left, that
the left side was more sensitive to pinching, and that Tracey loved it when he
moved them together in a counter-clockwise circular motion. He also learned
that she loved her lower lip to be lightly bitten and that she enjoyed sucking
on his tongue softly, while they mimicked the sex act with their mouths.
The chimes rang out eventually, signaling an end to this round's discoveries,
much to their mutual disappointment. With deep sighs of regret, but also
contentment, the two of them sat up together. With tenderness and care, Harry
helped her to replace her clothes, giving her right nipple a naughty, final
lick and kiss before covering it with her bra. Tracey's light whimper in his
ear just then almost made him reconsider re-dressing her, and for half a
second, he had the wickedest thought of simply undressing her again and this
time, letting the two of them completely forget the game in favour of hours-
worth of love-making.
Reality crashed in, however, when Tracey giggled. "I would never have pegged
you for liking The Beatles."
This was the last thing he'd expected her to say, but strangely, it was the
best thing she could have to pull him out of his wayward thoughts. Harry
chuckled and affected a thick Liverpool accent. "I'm British. Of course I like
The Beatles! Doesn't everybody?"
He offered her a hand up, righted her clothes one final time, as well as his
own, then smoothed down her hair.
As they headed for the exit, Tracey chuckled. "I'm quite sure Malfoy doesn't."
Harry rolled his eyes as he reached for the handle, cracking the door. "Yeah,
well, let me amend my earlier statement: only utter prats don't like The
Beatles."
A thought occurred and he shut the door again. Turning to her, he took her back
into his arms and kissed her again, tasting her slowly. "I meant what I said
earlier – about you being my girl. I want that very much, but you don't have to
answer yet. Think about it this next question round, and then let me know the
next time we're in here. Okay?"
Tracey looked at him with some amusement, her teasing smile telling him he was
being silly to make her wait, as it was clear she intended upon answering in
the positive to his suit, but she conceded easily enough. 
He kissed the tip of her nose, her cheek and her lips again.
"Thanks for a fantastic third date, by the way. Can't say I've ever had
anything quite like it. Want to do it again really soon?"
Tracey gave him a mysteriously sinful smile. "Hmmm…I'm not sure. You'll have to
convince me by kissing me some more."
He chuckled, feigning resignation. "Oh, well…if I must."
Opening the door all the way, he lifted her off the floor bridal style with
relative ease (she didn't really weigh all that much, honestly), and snogged
her enthusiastically all the way back to the couches, taking his sweet time
getting there.
As he put his stunningly gorgeous partner down a step away from the coffee
table, his smile was brilliant.
"Right. So, see you for our fourth date in a few minutes then."
Davis nodded, grinning mischievously. "Mmm… I expect flowers next time, Mr.
Potter."
He chuckled and kissed her one more time, rubbing his cheek against hers
lovingly. "Yes, mistress mine. Flowers you want, flowers you shall receive."
***** 3D: Draco & Hermione *****
Chapter Notes
     CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: User "sass1234" recommended the song,
     "Say It" by Ne-Yo for Draco & Hermione this go around. So, this
     chapter is dedicated to sass1234 - congratulations!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 
Draco's heart was pounding with anticipation by the time his partner walked
past him. The clack of her heels on the stone floor was muted by the thick
Aubusson carpet he'd summoned the moment he'd stepped into the room and changed
the decor. Romantic patterns in a Greek style were highlighted in beige and
creams against an olive green backdrop, and were in stark contrast to the
large, black leather couch which sat upon the carpet as the lone piece of
furniture in the room. A magically lit hearth set against the back wall
provided the only light in the room, creating a sensual ambiance. Hermione
seemed oblivious to the changes, however, as her eyes were locked onto his as
they slid past each other. He made sure to give her an extra heated look and a
tiny smirk just to perturb her further.
It worked, earning him a twitched eyebrow and a steely glare. He snickered in
satisfaction as he shut the door behind her. He trailed her across the floor,
but instead of standing before the fire, he took a seat on the couch, the soft,
supple leather crinkling and molding around him. From this angle, he could
watch her profile as she stood before the magical flames, see how distracted
and disturbed she was by the far-away look in her bronzed eyes as she absently
raised her drink to her mouth and took a sip, by the small crease above her
brow and by the way she bit her coral-coloured bottom lip as she pulled her
glass away. Even worried, she was magnificent.
Distracting himself from lusty thoughts, he held his card up and read it aloud,
deciding to take the initiative:
 
DEED: Set your wand to vibrate and use it on your partner any way you want.
 
Granger froze with her glass of water half-way to her mouth, her eyes widening
perceptively. He saw the fear pass like a shadow over her face and felt a
moment of disheartenment. Sure, they'd fallen back on slinging insults in the
common area outside, but he'd thought they'd made real progress during the last
action round. Hadn't they mentally 'clicked' over the meal? He knew he hadn't
imagined the mirroring lust in her eyes as he'd leaned over to tease her,
either.
"What does your card say?" he asked in an even, soft voice, trying to move past
the awkward moment, hoping to get her to open up a bit, relax a little more.
Her lids lowered as she slowly raised her card to her eyes and she read it for
him:
 
DEED: Your partner must give you a sensual foot and leg massage with a nice
scented oil of your choice.
 
Ah, perfect. This gave them the ideal beginning, allowing them an opportunity
to ease into things. "You can go first," he graciously offered, setting his
card aside along with his wand (which he'd scooped up off the table before
leaving the main room earlier), and got to his feet. "I don't mind."
Dark, measuring orbs shot to his, and he saw clear mistrust reflected there.
Draco sighed in exasperation and held out his hand. "Come, Granger, we don't
have all night. You wouldn't forfeit over something so simple as a foot rub,
would you?" He willed a small end table into existence at the end of the couch,
directing it to contain two soft hand towels. He toed off his shoes and knelt
down by the table, looking at her over his shoulder. "Well?"
Looking between him, the table and the sofa, Granger made her decision to stay
and play this round out, much to his great relief. Crossing to the couch, she
took a seat, placing her half-full water glass on the table. "You wanted to be
submissive," she growled at him. "Here's your chance to prove it, Malfoy."
He smirked lazily. "Oh, I intend to." Reaching for her right foot, he grabbed
it up and began taking off her golden sandal before she had time to react. When
her foot twitched, as if she would draw it away, he held on tighter and pinched
her big toe lightly. "Stop. I'm not lifting your dress, just taking off your
shoes. Geez, Granger, you're so jumpy."
A sigh of frustration escaped her lips. "Do you honestly blame me? Prior to
today, you've practically considered me less than the stuff on the bottom of
those shoes."
"I have not," he countered, smoothly extricating her foot from her sandal and
placing it on the floor next to him. He then started on her left foot. "Quit
exaggerating."
"You have so!" she argued, her voice rising in pitch. "Why else would you call
me a 'Mudblood'?"
As he gently removed her heel and toes from her shoe and put it next to its
mate, he looked up at her evenly. "When's the last time I even uttered that
word?"
Granger opened her mouth, seemed to consider it, and shut her lips again,
looking away in confusion. "I… can't recall."
Kneeling upright, Draco placed his hands on either side of her legs on the
couch and stuck his face next to hers on purpose, looking her right in the eye.
"Fourth Year, just before the Yule Ball. Now, ask me why that specific event."
She blinked, shocked to find them so close together, and leaned all the way
back into the couch to put some distance between them. "Why?"
Draco's heart was literally hammering now under his ribs. He was going to
reveal a little bit more of himself to her, and he feared the fallout would
most likely be that she'd withdraw as soon as she heard the truth, but this was
an important barrier of misconception between them that needed to be smashed
down in order for them to move forward. He'd take the hit to his pride if it
meant making progress. "Because you took my breath away that night, in that
pretty, little periwinkle dress you were wearing." He smirked a little bitterly
at her astonished look. "Oh, yes, I know the colour choice was purposeful, and
I even know what it meant - unlike your oaf of a date that night."
The acidic ire and jealousy that shot to the surface as he thought of Krum
touching her came and went quickly, replaced by a strange melancholy.
"I couldn't take my eyes off of you the whole evening. Every time I tried to
distance myself, there you were in the corner of my vision, smiling and
laughing - dancing freely, like nothing in the world could hurt you. You were
fearless in the face of all that jealousy aimed at you by the rest of us in
that room, Granger. And for the first time in the three and a half years I'd
known you, you were truly uninhibited. It was… beautiful."
Unwittingly, his eyes were drawn to those painted lips of hers, and he found
himself wondering for the hundredth time what they tasted like.
"That's when everything changed. That's when I started doubting the beliefs my
father had instilled in me. Because everything I was taught told me that a
Mudblood shouldn't be so… exquisitely transcendent." He forced himself to look
back up into her eyes. "I haven't said that word since, until this exact
conversation."
Granger stared at him like he was half-mad - a wild animal gone tame, as if she
wasn't quite sure she could trust it enough not to bite her hand off yet.
Feeling a little vulnerable, Draco tore himself away, sitting back on his
haunches again, and reached for a towel, busying his hands and mind. He placed
it under her feet, and the second one across his lap. "So, do you have a
preferred scent or shall I choose one?"
"What?" Hermione asked, clearly thrown by the sudden change in subject. "Scent?
Oh…" She seemed to recover her composure rather quickly. "Um, no. You choose."
He'd totally thrown her, knew he'd really pushed her comfort levels this time.
Hell, he'd shattered his own, so why the fuck not put them on equal footing?
With a deep sigh, he thought up an appropriate scent for the massage, settling
on a warm blend of black cherries, crème anglaise and sandalwood. A bottle
popped into existence on the table next to him, and he swept it up, opened it,
inhaled to assure himself of the selection (yes, it would be perfect), and then
set about pouring it into his hands. "You'll have to lift the dress to your
knees, both front and backside," he instructed. "I don't want to stain it with
the oil."
Granger complied, and when her bared calves and ankles came into view, he
forced himself to concentrate on putting the bottle back on the table and not
spilling the oil warming up in the cup of his palm. He'd only ever seen her
feet and legs bared that one time during the Yule Ball; every other time, they
were covered, either by knee-high socks or slacks or those Muggle jeans she
sometimes wore. The sight of those petite ankles, the slim width of her feet
and their pretty arches, along with those adorably painted toenails made him
uncomfortably aware of his growing erection.
Shit, he'd never been a 'foot man' before, but he had the feeling that after
this massage, he was going to be a convert to the cause.
Taking up her left side first, he began by smoothing the slippery liquid over
the golden skin on the top. Once the foot was good and coated, he pressed his
thumbs into the bottom of her arch and gently, but with firm pressure, worked
his way upwards. His partner moaned. Draco tried to ignore how that made his
cock jump to attention, focusing on the task – the goal of relaxing her -
instead. Otherwise, the second he touched her with his wand, she was either
going to freak or beat his arse. He repeated the motion with his thumbs three
times, working out the immediate kinks before concentrating on kneading her
heel next.
"You've done this often," she stated with certainty.
Draco shrugged. "I've done it on occasion."
"Semantics," she challenged.
"What do you really want to know?" he tested her, reading the implied statement
behind her initial one. "Are you asking if I give women foot massages as part
of my normal sexual repertoire?"
She was quiet a moment as his thumbs ran circles up the edge of her foot.
"Well, do you?"
Draco smirked. "No. Only the special ones get this kind of treatment."
"And the others?" she snapped with accusation.
His grin widened as he looked up at her, catching her eye as his fingers teased
the sensitive skin between her toes, knowing the reaction that would cause.
"Hard, fast fucking in whatever position is most convenient for the time
allotted or the space permitted."
She licked her lips and bravely held his stare. "You have a lot of one-offs
then?"
He shrugged again, letting his thumbs rub the pad of her big toe in circles.
"You're looking for numbers," he stated. "All right, I'll tell if you do."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, considering the deal. "You go first."
Draco chuckled. "Fine, I'm not ashamed of my sex life, Granger. I've slept with
nine women."
There was a short pause as she seemed to digest that information. "Any men?"
The question made him snicker as he shook his head. "No, sorry." He tossed her
a cheeky grin. "You're not into that sort of thing, are you? 'Cause if we ever
do a ménage a trois, beautiful, it has to be you and another female. I don't do
apes."
She chuckled. "No, I'm straight and I prefer my men to be as well."
"How many men are we talking about here?" he asked, continuing to play with her
toes, not moving the massage further yet, liking where this discussion was
going and stalling to stretch his time out.
Granger paused, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I've slept with two
men."
Draco felt his stomach tighten. Two? He'd only known about one. Who was the
other bloke? "The Weasel everyone knows about. Was Finnigan the other?" His
heart burned like fire in his chest at the thought of that cock-sucking Irish
touching his girl…
Granger looked at him with sincere concern. "Oh. My. God!" She burst out
laughing and pointed one perfectly manicured finger in his face. "You're
jealous of Seamus!" Her smile became positively wicked, making his dick harder
than granite. "Heard the rumours, have you, about how he's cut?"
Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck!
Draco did his best to hide his ire away, playing it off as simple penis envy.
"Jealous? Hardly. The guy's some kind of mutant. Seriously, how could any girl
get pleasure from being ripped in half?"
Granger actually giggled, and this time without the influence of alcohol.
"Welllll…" She exaggerated the pause. Draco pinched her calf, making her squeal
and erupt into full-out peals of laughter. "Calm down, Malfoy. No, I never
slept with Sea," she reassured him, patting his head with fondness, still
smiling.
Despite the tiny annoyance he felt at being patronized, Draco actually felt
relief overtake all other emotions at the moment. That tight knot in his chest
eased. "So, who's fellow number two, then? Please don't tell me it's Saint
Potter?"
She was quiet for a few moments, and Draco knew that she was debating over
telling him more. Technically, she didn't have to divulge personal information
to him. She didn't even have to talk to him, in fact, until she picked a card
that required such an act.
"Charlie Weasley," she finally confessed. "Last Christmas. It was just once.
Rebound sex for both of us."
Draco's jaw hit the floor. "Do my ears deceive me? You had a one-off with your
ex-boyfriend's older brother? You? I would never have figured you for that kind
of kinky."
His partner looked at him with disgust. "Honestly, it wasn't that life-altering
an event. It was nice, but he was still in love with his ex-girlfriend, and
there was the issue of Ron hanging between us, even though he and I had been
broken up for over four months by then."
"Would you fuck him again if you could?"
The question was out of his mouth before he'd even realized he was going to ask
it. Biting back his mounting jealousy again, Draco tried to cover by sounding
sensitive, like one of those gossip columnists in PlayWitch. It wouldn't do to
keep tipping his hand as he had been; he had to get better control of his
internal green-eyed monster.
"Now that there's been almost a year of separation, and you and the Weasel are
amicable, would you resume a relationship with Charlie if you could?"
Hermione appeared to give the question some serious thought, and that pit in
Draco's stomach opened up again, this time threatening to drop him in without
hope of rescue. Why could he never keep his mouth shut around this woman?
Seriously, she drove him absolutely barmy!
"No, I don't think I could," she admitted, much to Draco's relief. "It was nice
but, Charlie was a bit… overwhelming."
Draco massaged her sexy, toned calf with slow, rhythmic kneading, making sure
to manipulate each stroke so it felt not just relaxing, but was also blatantly
sexual. "Overwhelming in what way? Was it the 'fast and sweaty, up against a
wall' kind of exciting, or a 'sweet and slow, and emotionally intense to the
point where it left you broken-hearted' flavour of devastation we're talking
about here?"
His witch blinked, truly blushing now. "Malfoy, I'm not sure it's such a good
idea-"
He narrowed his eyes in defiance. "Bok, bok, bok,Granger." She'd opened this
can of worms, so she could bloody well finish the discussion, as far as he was
concerned. He wasn't sure he could take knowing any of this stuff later,
anyway, especially after he'd had her. No, it was better to get it out of the
way now, so he could stew properly and then try to put it behind him.
Hermione's mouth dropped open in astonishment. "Oh, you did not just give me
the chicken, Malfoy! I'm a Gryffindor, for Godric's sake!"
He gave her his best Cheshire Cat grin, intentionally provoking her despite the
fact she'd inadvertently incited him. "BOK. BOK. BOK," he tossed back in
challenge.
Huffing with righteous indignation, the bookworm crossed her arms under her
perky, unbound breasts and glared at him. "It was in a bed, for sixteen hours.
He made love to me in every position you can imagine. I cried for more."
Draco felt a scorching flash of fury overtake him, and then he abruptly caught
the tell-tale glint in her eye, and the small twitch at the corner of her mouth
and he knew he'd been fooled. "You're making that up." He spanked her on the
leg. "Tell me true or not at all."
The gig was clearly up, so his sassy partner started laughing and threw her
hands up in surrender. "I thought the cards wouldn't let me get away with
telling you a bald-face lie, but I had you going there, didn't I?" She looked
inordinately smug about pulling one over on him.
A tiny bit of relief washed over him, and he took a deep, cleansing breath,
working his way back down her leg, preparing to switch over. It was completely
hypocritical of him, but the idea of her making love to any man –much less for
more than half a day- made him see red.
"So, not sixteen hours. Still a Weasel though?"
She nodded. "Yes, still Charlie. I was visiting The Burrow – the Weasley family
home," she clarified when he didn't recognize the term. "Everyone always goes
home for the Christmas break, and Harry and I are always invited, too. I
usually come in to stay a few days before the New Year. It was in the middle of
the afternoon, and everyone was already outside playing in the snow. I'd gone
back inside to get my scarf from the room I'd been assigned, and Charlie
followed me up. We'd been flirting for a few days at that point, but I hadn't
thought anything about it until just that moment when the door locked. The next
thing… Well, you know what happened. It was, as you so crudely put it, fast and
sweaty, hanging off the edge of Ginny's bed and with only half our clothes off.
I think I still had my Chullo on, in fact, and the whole affair lasted maybe
ten minutes - but then that's about average for an illicit rendezvous, I
believe."
Draco stopped cold right as he picked up her other foot, shocked by her story.
"Let me get this straight: First, you did it in a borrowed bed? Eww. Second,
you wore a knitted hat while getting fucked? Mint! Even I haven't done that!
Third, that's only the average amount of time you'd spend if you're in it for a
quickie, not an 'affair.' And fourth, did you orgasm? I noticed you left that
important detail out."
She slapped him on the shoulder as he began massaging her right foot in a
mirror pattern to its twin. "I'm not telling you that! That's private!"
His eyebrows rose into his hairline with incredulity. "Are you serious? You
could tell me that you were wearing outdoor skull apparel while riding the wild
sausage on top of used bed sheets, but not whether you actually liked the
experience or not?"
Personally, Draco thought that was his best use of colourful metaphor to
describe the act of sex ever, but his partner obviously didn't share his humor.
Her cheeks flamed brilliant crimson, and her eyes narrowed with distaste.
"You are the crudest prat I have ever had the misfortune of knowing," she
accused.
He shrugged, undaunted, his cheek muscles positively smarting from all of the
grinning he'd enjoyed this session. He hadn't had this much fun in years!
"Admit it: you like me being this way, Granger. It gives you someone to measure
your prudishness against."
His partner was silent a moment, then cleared her throat. "Moving on now, have
I answered all of your other questions to your satisfaction, Mister Curiosity?"
Well, that was a step-up from 'Mister Smarmy Pants,' at least.
Draco shook his head. "No, but I'll let you off the hook for now. Why don't you
tell me what you know about Asian plants?"
He switched subjects on a whim, giving her a break from the sex talk for the
moment… all while he rubbed the bottom of her foot in slow circles, being sure
to press on the reflexology spot that was said to stimulate the reproductive
organs. Well, he had been sorted into Slytherin, after all.
Hermione spent the remaining ten minutes of her massage time cramming as much
useless information into his brain as possible. He tried to retain it, but
realized that he was much too preoccupied with the question of whether she'd
come for Charlie Weasley or not to really care about anything else. Besides,
he'd have all of this information available to him later, when he actually
cared enough to need it.
As he finished up the massage, he put her foot down, wiped his hands off with
the towel in his lap, then rose back up on his knees and loomed over her again.
Once more, she tipped back an equidistant amount until the leather cushion of
the couch would allow her to move no further.
"You have the prettiest feet and legs, Granger, and I could rub them for hours
listening to that amazing mouth of yours spew out facts that most of us would
find impossible to recall –except maybe Longbottom, who's as hard-up for plants
as you appear to be- but we are on a time limit here, beautiful, and I'd really
like to get to my card done now."
Granger's eyes widened with sudden panic. "Right. Your card." She looked down
at her hands in her lap. "Could I make a request before you begin, please?"
What, like not doing it at all, he bitterly assumed, grumbling at the thought.
"Sure," he drawled instead. "I'll listen to any reasonable supplication."
She swallowed and forced her gaze to meet his. "Can you please not stick your
wand inside my body in any capacity? I don't even use… toys… if you understand
my meaning. It would be disgusting for me."
Truthfully, that wasn't too unexpected an entreaty from her, and so it didn't
disappoint him in the least. He didn't want to scare Granger off, after all.
What he ultimately wanted was her willing, squirming, wet and wild, not cursing
him out, crying, or quitting the game on him. If this was one of her taboos, he
could live with it.
"I can respect that and agree. I promise only sensual touching over the clothes
with the wand. We'll make this just another type of massage."
Cinnamon eyes watched him warily as he picked up his wand and set it to very
lightly, silently vibrate. Moving to the seat next to her on the couch without
further delay, Draco slowly brought the wooden rod to Hermione's cheek. He
stroked her flesh with the rounded end, moving in small, tight circles.
Instantly, she twitched and began giggling.
"It tickles."
Her shoulders, he noted, relaxed some at that revelation, as if she'd expected
it to prickle or hurt, but had instead discovered the sensation to be quite
enjoyable. He moved the gently pulsing baton to the bottom of her jaw and
lazily traced the line up and down.
His partner giggled again. "This isn't so bad."
When he moved it over to her ear next, tracing the shell around the back, then
over the front to her lobe, working his way down the curve of her neck, her
smile disappeared, however. Shivering as he slowly worked the trembling tip
over her pulse point, she jerked a bit as the wand traced over one bared
shoulder and down the inside of her arm to the bend in her elbow. Draco paused
there to allow the wand to instigate desire, and then he let it travel down her
forearm to the inside of her wrist, where it did the same.
Hermione's breathing quickened as he moved the quivering wood between each of
her fingers, lingering with sensual intention against the fleshy, sensitive
skin at the joint of each 'vee' and along the curve between index finger and
thumb.
"Feel good?" he leaned his mouth towards her cheek, speaking softly.
Reluctantly, Hermione nodded. "It's… acceptable."
"Relax," he whispered as smoothly as the Devil, himself. "I won't hurt you,
Granger. I'll only bring you pleasure, as promised."
Glancing down at the wand's path as it traveled across both her exposed knees
to the other hand, and followed a reverse course up her right arm, over her
shoulder, across her neck, Draco brought it around her jaw towards her lips,
lightly pressing it against the bottom of her chin and stroking back and forth.
"I'll be gentle," he vowed in a low, lulling tone, placing his lips mere inches
from her ear. "Gentle and obliging, just like you wanted."
Her body began shuddering against him, as her breath hitched. She kept her eyes
forward with stubborn insistence, however, as if trying to convince herself
that what he was doing to her wouldn't affect her.
There was no way in hell he was going to let her avoid what he made her feel!
Pressing the lightly buzzing wand against her mouth, he very gently traced the
shape. "Have I told you that you have the perfect mouth, Granger? A plump,
bottom lip and a small, heart-shaped bow at the top." He nuzzled his face
closer, careful not to touch her with his mouth without her permission. "I
could kiss that mouth for hours, beautiful."
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "You're exaggerating."
Tracing a path over her chin again and down the center of her throat, causing
her to tilt her head back, Draco smirked. "No, beautiful, I would cherish that
mouth of yours, if you'd let me. I'd suckle your bottom lip and lap at your
slit until you let me in. I'd coax your tongue to come out and play with mine.
I'd nibble your fleshy bits with my teeth. I'd linger over each melding of our
lips, sharing my breath and flavour with you. I'd sweep into your mouth and
learn you the same way. It would be like sharing a little bit of our souls." He
lowered his eyelids and gave her a sultry, promising expression. "I love
kissing, Granger." The wand was tracing a path from shoulder to shoulder now,
crossing over the halter. "Tell me true: has anyone ever taken the time to kiss
you like that?"
Her eyes were wide, and in them, he saw the sad reality. Clearly, Granger was
in need of a little T.L.C.
"You know I'm going to do that to you sometime before this game ends, don't
you?" He used his wand against her jaw to turn her head towards him and stared
her blatantly in the eye. "If nothing else, I'm going to kiss you as I've
wanted to for years. You'll never forget my kiss when this whole thing is over.
I'm going to make sure of it." He let his eyes move down her face to her lips,
and back, saw the skepticism in her gaze and felt the challenge stir his blood.
"Don't believe me?"
She looked him square in the eye, her doubt evident. "No man can kiss that
good."
Still so fearless! He wanted to take those pillowed lips of hers right there
–fuck her bones into the very couch, in fact- but the Slytherin within
cautioned patience. He would only win her willingness by going slowly. "We'll
see," he simply replied, letting his wand drop back down her neck, letting his
eyes follow the tracing path.
He let the head of his fluttering wand travel down between her breasts next,
and her reaction was immediate: she drew in a deep, short breath.
"You said nothing sexual," she reminded him, angry now.
"No, I promised I would do nothing disgusting, and to keep the wand over your
clothes. I did caveat this whole thing as a sensual experience, however." He
rubbed the wand over the round top of her breasts. "This is not gross in the
least. It's provocative, without being nasty, and it's pleasurable for both of
us." He tilted his chin to the couch arm. "Lay back."
His partner's eyes widened and she shook her head.
He nodded in return just as fervently.
"My card," he reminded her. "My need this time." At the stubborn glint in her
eye, Draco growled in frustration. "Granger, you know I won't do anything to
you that you don't want me to. I've already promised not to hurt you. I want
this to be fun for both of us, so stop fighting me. Just cooperate and we can
get this over with faster."
She considered his request for a full minute at least. "Nothing I don't want
you to do?" she required of him to vow again.
Draco checked his impulse to sigh and nodded. "Swear it on my magic. You say,
'stop,' we stop. No questions asked."
The vow on his powers seemed to convince her, and she flowed downward somewhat
awkwardly into the wide couch cushions, resting her head and shoulders flat on
the soft, leather pad. Draco crowded in between her inert body and the couch
backing, leaning up on an elbow. The two of them squirmed to adjust to each
other's comfort, and finally fit nicely into the space. He loomed a bit over
her as a result, looking down into her face, and it was suddenly a very erotic
pose, as if he were mounting her for sex.
Dark cider-coloured eyes looked earnestly up at him, and in that moment, Draco
felt his heart leap into his throat and constrict. He swallowed past the lump,
fought off the urge to nuzzle her, and instead let his wand come to rest back
in between her breasts once more. "Relax," he again coached. "Close your eyes
if you want. It's just a sensual massage."
With a deep sigh of surrender and a grumbled, "Fine," her long, dark eyelashes
fluttered down and her lids shut. "I can't relax so easily, though. Speak to me
again," she requested. "Like the first massage."
Grabbing onto that idea, Draco slowly moved his wand up and down her sternum,
tracing a path clear to her belly button and back up, leaning his mouth to her
ear. He purposefully spoke in a low, honeyed tone, trying to both ease and
ensnare her senses. "The room is dark. The only light comes from gentle slivers
of silver beams from the moonlight drifting through an open window, casting
shadows in the corners. The air is warm, a little sultry. You stand before the
casement, magnificently dressed in a shimmering black, silken nightgown that
caresses your skin with every movement."
He let the wand begin to slowly drag concentric circles all over her belly and
waist.
"What am I doing here?" she whispered the question, as if this innocent act of
participation was somehow too naughty for anyone else to hear.
Draco licked his lips, liking her partaking in her own seduction, continuing
his lazily drawn rings around her dress, touching bared skin where the edges
aligned.
"You're waiting," he replied in the same, enticing tone. "For your lover. He's
promised to come to you soon."
"Where is he?" she asked in that same hesitant voice.
He couldn't have been served up a better line if he'd written this script
himself. Leaning his mouth closer to her ear, he answered. "I'm here,
beautiful. In the shadowy corner, watching you, where I've always been."
There was a significant pause of half a minute while she bit her lip, clearly
considering how to reply. "Why are you hiding?" she finally murmured, turning
her cheek into his.
Whoa, she was really getting into this! That astounded him, while at the same
time, attracted him all the more to his partner. Role-play was one of Draco's
favorite things to do, but who'd have guessed Miss Bookworm had such a
fantastical fetish, too? It seemed he would have to reassess his assumptions
about Hermione Granger when all of this was said and done.
"Not hiding, beautiful," he corrected her gently. "Waiting… for you to be ready
for me." He moved the wand around until he was circling the underside of one
perfect breast. "Are you ready now, do you think?" The wand trailed up and
around one of her nipples, finding its outline through the dress, careful not
to touch quite yet. The sensation on her areola, however, he knew would drive
Hermione wild.
As expected, she gasped, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Yes," she sighed.
"I'm ready."
"Then take your nightdress off for me," he required, his mouth lingering so
close to her skin that he could practically taste the strawberries scenting her
hair product. "Stay in the moonlight just like that so I can see every inch of
your delicious skin." He paused to give them both time to visualize it, then
hummed in her ear. "Mmmm… your body makes me weak, beautiful. Your breasts are
so ripe, with such pretty nipples." He let the buzzing wand finally caress the
tiny bud he'd been teasing. "I could suck on these forever. Do you like my
mouth here?"
Granger's mouth parted on a sexy, low moan that made his cock beg for release.
"Yes, your mouth feels so good right there! Lick me all over. Use your teeth…
gently."
Circe's holy tits, did she really just say that?
He pressed his wand down a little harder as it ran over her in wide circle,
narrowed into the center and then back out again. "Shall I mark both sides
equally?"
She gave him permission with a whimpering nod and he moved the wand across to
the neglected breast and repeated his performance. The juts of her tiny nips
were hard points against the fabric of her dress, making his mouth simply
water. "I worship you, beautiful," he venerated her with his voice. "I love
touching you. I never want to stop."
To his utter surprise, her right hand came up and lightly gripped his wrist
holding the wand. She guided him down her abdomen, towards her womb. "Then
don't. I've wanted you to touch me like this for a long time." The wand tip
reached the summit of her thighs and pressed down gently. "Don't stop."
Draco groaned, seriously fighting off the urge to stroke himself against her
leg, where his obvious erection was now pressing. "Let me take you on the bed,
beautiful." He closed his eyes and played out the sexy scenario in his mind as
well. "Let me love you against those black, satin sheets. I want to see those
rose petals all around your gorgeous body."
Hermione nodded. "Yes, take me there. Love me there."
He imagined taking her hand and walking the few steps to the bed of their
shared dream, of laying her back, riding her down, bending over her as his
lower body pressed against hers. He described it for her in detail, leaving his
wand exactly where she'd left it off. "Can you feel me resting between your
soaking, wet lips, beautiful? Feel how much I want you, how you drive me to
this state every time you so much as look my way?" He was dying from the fire
burning through his veins, caught up in the fantasy now, too. "Let me put my
mouth on yours. Let me taste you while I work my way inside."
She paused, and he felt her swallow hard, and then she nodded. "Yes, I want to
taste you, too."
That was all the encouragement Draco needed. Slowly, he dragged his lips over
her jaw and cheek, until they hovered over hers. He opened his eyes, found hers
still closed. "Look at me, beautiful," he coaxed. "I want you to know me."
Granger's whole body was shaking now, almost violently, as she dragged her
lashes up, and her eyes opened to behold him. They stayed that way for long
seconds, neither moving. "Say it again, now," he appealed, praying she wouldn't
back down. He wanted this, but only if she knew who she was asking and only if
she meant it. He wouldn't take this without consent. "Tell me to kiss you."
Hermione blinked once, twice, and then licked her lips. "Kiss me."
With infinitesimally patient, careful motion, Draco gave them their first kiss.
He closed his eyes only once she did, and then it was to deepen the pressing of
their lips together. As his tongue darted out to lightly lick, to entice her to
open wider for him, the wand began stroking her slowly down between her legs,
working into the groove of her slit and pressing against her core.
Hermione gasped at the pleasure he was provoking in her delicate clit, and the
moment her mouth parted, he thrust his tongue in fully, reaching for hers. They
both moaned at the sensation of stroking against the other, even as he
cherished her lips at the same time. At the first small separation for breath,
she let go of his wrist and thrust her fingers into his hair, pulling his face
into hers, at the same time as grabbing his shirt with her freed hand and
holding on.
"Beautiful," he murmured, moving back in to feast some more upon her luscious
mouth. "You're so fucking beautiful, Granger." He groaned, losing himself in
the singing of his blood from her touch and flavour, even as her hips began to
gyrate against his wand in time to his stroking.
He kissed her as he promised he would earlier, giving her every bit of his
skill to make this an unforgettable moment. She moaned into his mouth as her
pelvis continued to pick up pace. "Malfoy… Oh, God! More!"
Holding nothing back from those kisses, Draco gave until his mind was so fuzzy
that thinking was moot, and there was only action. He could feel her body
tensing under his, knew she was close to finding her release, and all he could
do was urge her on, desperate himself to hear and see and know he'd brought
her. "Come on, beautiful," he cajoled between thrusts of his tongue into her
apple-scented mouth and kisses that ended with his teeth lightly tugging on her
bottom lip. He tasted the salt of perspiration dotting her top lip as he dove
back in for more. "That's it. Reach for what I'm giving you, love. Come apart
for me."
Her eyes flew open as she crested the wave, as if she'd never known such
pleasure could exist, and then they squeezed tight and she arched her back and
found her bliss. Clamping her legs together around his hand, she cried out in
release, her face and body and voice unchecked - completely uninhibited. She
gave him everything, and it was the most honest thing he'd ever seen.
"So beautiful," he murmured softly in awe, pressing his lips to hers once
again, capturing the last of her scream, taming it and claiming it for his own.
Granger whimpered into his mouth and held onto him tight, trembling from head
to toe even in the aftershocks. Finally, when sensation became too much, she
took her hand from his hair, smoothing it down his arm, and silently requested
he remove the stimulation from between her legs. He complied easily, refusing
to break off from the kiss quite yet, however. Wanting more…
The chimes rang out, and he groaned in disappointment.
Fucking time limit!
Pulling away reluctantly, he looked down at her. There were tears in her eyes.
Her quaking hand was still holding onto his wrist and she was struggling to
regain control. Obdurate, steadfast, tenacious Hermione Granger had been moved
by what they'd done! With cherry-coloured cheeks, shimmering chocolate orbs for
eyes, and candied lips, she looked positively edible… and scared half to death.
"You've never done that before," he softly made the realization. "With a
partner, I mean."
White teeth bit into her bottom lip as her shaking increased. "No."
He blinked in confusion, putting together what she was implying. "You've only
ever made yourself climax."
Anger stirred in the dark depths that held his. "Don't laugh," she hissed low,
but he could sense the pain lurking underneath.
Was it possible that neither Weasel had been able to make her come? Had he
really been the first man to make her orgasm? His heart took off madly, ripping
itself free from the confines of his body and heading straight into the
heavens. He'd been the first man to bring Hermione Granger - to experience her
strumming the high note! Now, she'd never be able to forget him!
Lost momentarily in these revelations, leaning over her on one arm, he had
absently begun twirling amber and earthen strands of her hair with that hand.
Now he focussed again on her face. "I won't laugh or tease," he promised,
lowering his lips to hers, locking their gazes. "It'll be our secret."
A glimmer of relief passed over her, before she lifted her mouth for his kiss.
"Thank you."
Letting his wand drop to the floor, he allowed himself to come over her fully
and shoved his fingers into her hair, claiming her lips in a final, blazing
pull. She answered with equal ardor, running her fingers along the back of his
neck, letting her nails massage his skull, tickling him. It was the sexiest,
most luscious kiss he'd ever experienced, their tongues sparring and
entangling, desperate for a last minute taste.
He made himself pull back, forced the reminder on them both that they needed to
get moving or else they'd forfeit the chance to do this again next round. "Time
to go."
Granger simply nodded, as he rolled to his feet and collected his shoes. He
waited patiently for her to slip her sandals back into place and cinch them up,
and then offered her a hand up. She took it without a second thought, pressing
her palm into his as she made her feet, but he didn't let go immediately,
instead tugging her back into his arms. As he held her against him, there was
no hiding his lust for her; he didn't even try.
"Did you like your massages?"
Despite the moment of wariness he caught sliding through her eyes, she slipped
her arms around his neck. "Very much. Thank you again."
Time for the big question: "Was the kiss as I promised? Could you forget it so
easily?"
An impish glint appeared in her gaze, followed by a very wicked, sultry smirk.
"What kiss?"
Draco blinked in astonished exasperation.
She did not just say that!
"Did we kiss?" she kidded, pressing up on tiptoes to bring her mouth into
alignment with his, becoming the aggressor now. "Hmm, seems I've forgotten
already. I think you're going to have to remind me… Draco."
Draco narrowed his eyes, considered her change in mood, a smile tugging at his
lips. "You've never forgotten a thing in your life, and you know it… Hermione."
He dipped his head until his mouth buzzed hers. "Tricky witch."
Her snicker was cut off as he snogged her senseless once more, thrusting his
tongue against hers, tasting every crevice of her mouth, embracing her against
his pounding heart. She gave as good as she got, too. Slytherin Almighty,
Gryffindor's Princess really knew how to kiss!
Reluctantly, she pulled away after a minute or two. He tried following her,
tried to keep their lips melded together, but she broke off the kiss. Even
then, however, neither seemed willing to move away completely. Her fingertips
tickled his jaw line and cheeks, as his hands rubbed circles over the sway of
her hind. Resting his forehead against hers, running down her cheek as he tried
to rein in his desire, Draco sniffed in astonishment and smirked at his own
foolishness. "Too tempting," he sighed in longing. "I want to shag you right
here and now, all bloody night long. The game can go hang."
Melting out of his arms, his partner quickly headed for the door, leaving him
standing there with the erection of the century. Eying his trousers as she made
the door and turned to flash a look at him over her shoulder, her smirk was
positively sinful.
"Sorry, but no forfeiting for me yet. I'd like to know what opportunities the
cards will offer us next."
With that, she turned the knob and stepped back into the common area without a
backward glance.
"Evil siren," he grumbled after her, adjusted his cock in his pants. Draco took
another minute to regain composure, thinking of cold and unpleasant things to
get his raging hard-on deflated, and then headed out after his witch, secretly
eager for the next round, too.
Chapter End Notes
     Draco Malfoy's last time calling Hermione Granger a Mudblood in the
     novels to coincide with the timeline we've established here for this
     fic (remember, Cedric didn't die and Voldemort was never resurrected
     in this Alternate Universe), was just before the Yule Ball.
     Specifically, he said this: 'You're not telling me someone's asked
     that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood!' ('Goblet Of Fire',
     Chapter 23).
     Periwinkle = A de-saturated colour of the blue/indigo/violet family.
     The flower itself (of the same name) means "early friendship" when
     given.
     The scent of black cherries, crème anglaise and sandalwood is the
     designer scent attributed to Victoria's Secret's "Amber Romance" line
     of bath products. It sounded heavenly and something that would be
     both alluring and soothing, when I went online and looked for an
     appropriate massage oil scent.
***** 3E: Seamus & Lavender *****
Chapter Notes
     CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: EL-EL-EL recommended the song, "(You
     Want To) Make A Memory" by Bon Jovi for Seamus & Lavender this go
     around. So, this chapter is dedicated to El-El-El - congratulations!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Seamus allowed Lavender to take the lead and guide him over to the couch in
their private room once the door had been shut behind him. For once, she sat
next to him without being coerced by the game's requirements, and he thought
that to be a solid step forward. Her palm against his was a wee bit damp from
nerves, however.
"Are ya sure ya wanna continue with the game, angel?" he asked, trying to give
her one more chance to opt-out. "This'll be the last time I'll ask ya."
According to an old Irish proverb, a three-time refusal really, truly meant
that you were sincere, rather than simply being polite. It's why he tended to
ask the truly important questions, like this one, in triplicate.
His partner stared at her card for a moment in silence, re-reading it. Her
indecision and consternation were stamped into her features; her frown was
heavy and her eyes filled with uncertainty.
For a long minute, Seamus held his breath, afraid she'd simply decide to call
the whole thing off, wish him a good road, and walk out of his life. To his
great relief, though, she took a deep breath and mustered her courage in the
Gryffindor way, handing him her card without a word. He read it.
 
DEED: You get to ask your partner any five questions you want about them and
they must answer wholly and truthfully.
 
Feck. This whole shite had the potential to go downhill fast if she asked him
something really uncomfortable. He had secrets - two really big ones in
particular - and he wasn't sure how she'd handle hearing them. Hell, they'd
probably scare her off. He didn't want that, but he didn't want to lie to her
either. He felt torn.
Trying to keep his face as neutral as possible so he didn't give away his
concerns, Seamus simply nodded his acceptance of the card's requirements, and
offered his card for her to read.
 
DEED: Your partner must dance with you – however you want.
 
A very feminine blush bloomed across Lavender's cheeks.
"We can do yers first, if ya want," he offered, leaving himself wide open for
what he knew would be the flaying of his life. He was sure she was going to use
her questions to probe his feelings and memories, and to discover the secrets
that he wasn't sure she'd be prepared to handle. "I don't mind being honest
wit' ya, Lavender. I only hope ya can be accepting of me, tho' – the good and
ugly alike." He cupped her chin and tilted it so she would have to meet his
gaze. "I've been no angel in me short life, as ya know, but remember that all
the mess made me who I am today, ya? And, I'd like ta think I'm not a bad
bloke." His partner assessed him in silence, measuring his sincerity. Knowing
that this was a make-it-or-break-it moment, Seamus dropped his defences and
spoke from the heart. "I want ya, so even if ya ask me somethin' that stings or
hurts deep, I'll always tell ya true – card game or no. No lies a'tween us,
Lavender. Not from me. Can ya handle that?"
His witch considered his offer, and then nodded, letting out a deep breath.
"Merlin knows, I haven't exactly been an angel either, Sea. There might be
things you learn about me during this game that will change your opinion of me,
too. But…I'll try not to be a hypocrite and judge. I'll try."
He nodded in accord, releasing her chin and flowed back into the sofa. "Then,
ask away, angel. Ask me as many questions as ya have need. Just save me a
handful o' minutes at the end for our dance, yeah?"
Adjusting her position on the couch so she took the corner and could stare at
him without having to be uncomfortable, she crossed her ankles and rested them
on top of his thighs. Her right hand smoothed across the satin of her dress, as
she considered her first question.
Seamus mentally girded himself up for absolutely anything to pop out of her
mouth.
"How did you really feel about me back then?" she asked, hitting hard right out
of the gate. There was no question about which time period she was speaking.
"I fancied ya, a hell of a lot," Seamus admitted. "I meant what I said a'fore:
I wanted ya fer me girl, serious-like, doncha know?" He tilted his head and
gave her a shy smile, letting one hand smooth over her ankle in a tentative
caress. "Ya were me first true love, sweet angel."
Lavender blinked at him in astonishment, her face turning a darker shade of
red.
"Steam's comin' outta yer ears, me witch," he teased, chuckling, continuing to
stroke the hollow area right below her ankle bone - a place he knew was an
erotic spot for most women. "Have I said somethin' ya didn't wanna know?"
His ex cleared her throat, trying to compose her features by looking down at
her hand resting on her thigh. "The night we had sex-"
"Made love," he interrupted.
She glanced back up at him, clearly confused. "You didn't really love me then -
it was just...infatuation, and it was over too quick to be called love-making."
He took the pot shot to his ego and sighed, shaking his head. "It was as close
as I could'a come then ta such a feeling, given me age and lack of experience.
Ya were never a one-off fer me, though. It wasn't just sex ta me either. I felt
a...strong connection to ya, even then. I'd wanted our first time ta be good.
Bloody hell, I'd been stalkin' ya since after the Yule Ball the year a'fore,
thinkin' o' ways to get ya attention so ya'd want ta be mine."
His partner's mouth gaped open. "You were?"
He huffed in exasperation. "Are ya that daft, woman? Why'd ya think I'd asked
ya ta be me study partner after the Christmas break, and ta go ta Hogsmeade
wit' me? And why'd ya think I sent ya chocolates on Valentine's?"
Her expression shifted again, molding into lines of anger. "Because you'd made
a bet with Dean that you'd get in my knickers before the school year ended!"
Seamus cut short the counter that leapt to his lips and instead grinned,
knowing he'd been found out. "Well, ya, I'll cop ta havin' made that bet, but
that's not really why I asked ya. I was hopin' ta win ya by then, ya see, and
I'd planned ta use the money ta buy ya somethin' nice or ta take ya ta Madam
Puddifoot's. It was jus' a bit o' locker room braggin' ta cover up me long-term
plans fer ya. Besides, I rather liked th' idea o' Dean payin' fer a nice date
fer us. Question is, lass, how did yaknow about it?"
Lavender rolled her eyes. "Did you forget that my best friend is the Queen of
Gossip around this place? I knew that same afternoon."
He laughed. "Ya intentionally shot me down then? Just so I'd lose?"
His partner tweaked one golden eyebrow up and smirked at him. "It was fun
seeing what hoops you'd jump through. You'd gotten increasingly desperate and
more creative there near the end of second term, as the school year was coming
to a close, I noticed."
"As I recall, ya were hangin' wit' tha' ponce from Durmstrang more often by
then, ya?" he chuckled, just then figuring out he'd been played right back by
his feisty, gutsy witch.
His partner's lips were stretched wide, and a knowing, mischievous glimmer
appeared in her eye. "You mean Tolga, Krum's best friend?" She faux breathed a
sigh of longing and batted her eyelashes. "Ah, yes, he was quite the gentleman
- strong, handsome, and respectful. His kisses tasted like fine-"
Seamus' humor melted away in an instant and he couldn't help the jealous growl
that rumbled through his chest and escaped through his tightly closed lips.
Krum's mate had been his nemesis that year, appearing at their side during the
Yule Ball to cut-in for a dance, and then honing in on Lavender while Seamus
had stepped away for a few minutes to hit the loo. After that, for the rest of
the year, the guy would randomly stop at Gryffindor's table in the Great Hall
to speak with Brown, playfully flirting with her. Being reminded of how his
witch had fawned all over the other man made things in Seamus' guts tighten.
In a move he knew would surprise her, he pounced, knocking Lavender's legs to
the side and receiving unfettered access to her belly. Relentlessly, he moved
in for the kill… His partner was helpless under the assault of his tickling
fingers, laughing uncontrollably as he showed her no mercy.
"Tell me my kisses are better, or I'll tickle ya 'til ya pee," he playfully
threatened, tucking away his dark possessiveness so as not to frighten her off.
"You…wouldn't…dare!" his ex challenged, gasping for breath, giggling
uproariously and squirming like crazy under him.
He leered at her. "I'd been willin' ta bet on gettin' into ya knickers, and ya
stilldoubt there are levels I wouldn't stoop ta get what I want?"
"All right, I give!" she surrendered, putting her hands on his chest to push
him off. "I'll tell you."
His fingers paused, and he waited, a part of him mistrustful of her easy
capitulation.
Looking up at him, Lavender's lips twitched with mischief. "I'll tell
you…that…he snogged me under the-"
Her comment was cut off by his renewed assault on her ribs until tears streamed
from her eyes and she was begging. Seamus finally stopped when she wailed that
she was sorry. "How sorry are ya, angel?" he asked, bracing his hands behind
her on the arm of the couch, capturing her between them. He leaned his face
down, stopping inches from her lips, feeling a strong compulsion to make her
melt under his mouth's attentions and forget the fact that other men even
existed. "Sorry enough ta let me try ta out-kiss yer Bulgarian Bon-Bon?"
Panting for breath, her facial features alive with excitement and daring, she
twitched her eyebrow at him again. "I doubt you could."
"Oh?" he asked, angling his head closer. "Wanna bet on it?"
Tilting her head, she considered the proposition, narrowing her eyes at him.
"What's the bet?"
Seamus' heart took off like a rabbit. He was going to get a chance to kiss her
this round after all! "If yer hands touch me during the kissin', I get yer card
next round, in addition to me own."
"Okay, but if I win, I want yours."
He smirked, feeling assured of the outcome. "Sure thing, angel."
Lavender put her hands under her bottom and smirked back, equally as confident.
"Then I give permission for you to snog away, Finnigan. Do your worst."
"Intend to," he whispered as his lips crushed into hers.
Na síogaí,he loved the taste of this witch! She was so sweet, like...honey. He
was drawn in to kiss deeper, harder, desperate for more of her luscious
flavour.
Gripping the nape of her neck, Seamus tilted his lover's face back to gain a
more advantageous position, opening her up with passionate force. His fingers
sifted through the silky, golden strands of her hair, securing her, assuring
she couldn't turn away from the all-consuming burn he intended on working over
her. Ravenous for her kiss, he gave her all of the fire within his heart,
rasping velvety licks over her sweet, soft lips, thrusting into the warm, wet
cavern of her mouth in a rhythm to mimic the unconscious swaying of his hips as
he knelt over her quivering form. He lapped and coaxed, teasing her one moment,
only to sweep in with fierce, resolute possession the next. In this way, he let
her know that he wanted her; wanted to win her back, no matter the cost.
As he melded them together, enticing her with grasping, greedy pulls of lips,
he touched her face with his free hand, softly caressing the skin with his
fingertips and knuckles. He stroked her jaw, traced the shell of her ear, and
sensuously flicked the lobe with his thumb, brushing it with a barely-there
touch.
Gods alive, how could he have denied himself this pleasure for two whole years?
How had he stayed away from her?
The kiss did as intended: it melted Lavender's resolve. With a low, husky moan,
her hands flew into his hair and grabbed hold. There was no room for exultation
at the conquest, however, as Seamus was fully engrossed in pleasing his woman.
They clung to each other, and he was careful not to rub his body against hers,
wanting this time only for kissing; wanting to make up for all the kisses he'd
failed to give her that one night, two years ago. There was gasping and
groaning and moaning, but no words. He gave her pure, uninterrupted devotion.
It was Lavender who broke the kiss. Pulling her mouth away and turning her
cheek into his, she held him, trembling in his embrace. "I lose," she
capitulated with a sigh.
Seamus drew back, stared down into those lovely baby blues of hers. "Is it such
a bad thing, wantin' me?"
With a fingertip, she traced his lips, letting her eyes linger over her gentle
movements. "It's so hard to forget, Sea. I was hurt so deeply by you. I'd
fancied myself in love with you since the Yule Ball, but then I heard about
that stupid bet, and I was sure you were just playing me so you could brag on
winning. The next year, I took a chance on trusting you anyway." She let all
her breath out and closed her eyes. "When you left right after we…made love…I
felt so used. I thought you'd only slept with me to prove that you could,
especially after not winning the bet the year before."
Her lids fluttered open and she pressed her fingertips with some small pressure
to prevent him from speaking in his defence just yet. Seamus shut up,
determined to let her finish, promising to hear her through. His Lavender was
talking to him finally, and he wouldn't blow this opportunity to know her
thoughts and feelings again.
"Even though I understand now why you left me there alone afterwards, and that
you didn't mean to hurt me, it's still hard to forget. You broke my heart."
With more bravery than he'd given her credit for, she stared him in the eye
once more. "I'm scared to trust you again. It's been two years, but…I've heard
the rumours. I know you've been around, and how you make women feel. Every girl
I know whom you've ever slept with still pines for another chance with you. I
hear them talk in the loo or in the dorms or in the corners of the courtyards."
She seemed genuinely distressed again. "I can't be like that again, Sea. I
cried for weeks and weeks, and every time I saw you with a girl for the next
eight months, I felt such hatred for you…and for myself, for being so jealous."
Her frown ruined her beauty, he decided. He never wanted to see it again.
Removing her fingers from his lips, he finally decided to have his say.
"Lavender, I know I don't deserve another go wit' ya, but…I been watchin' ya on
and off ever since ya stopped talkin' ta me two years ago, wonderin' if I'd
ever get a chance ta make things up ta ya." He smoothed the hair back from her
forehead. "I'm askin' ya to please give us this chance…and not just fer the
game, as I tol' ya already." Pressing his forehead to hers, he closed his eyes
and spoke from the heart. "Ya, I've taken a lot o' witches to me bed, lass, but
it's true that ya never ferget yer first love. I know it sounds like a line,
but all I can do is promise ya on me bones that it isn't."
He peeked through his lashes to be speared on her frightened gaze; she was
biting her bottom lip so hard it was reddened. It was time to pull back, to
give her some breathing space so she could consider his proposal.
Letting her go, he slowly scooted back on the sofa to resume the seat he'd
vacated earlier, lifting her legs with care and placing them back across his
lap exactly as they had been earlier in the round.
"I'll make ya another wager, angel," he offered, wanting to ease her fears,
"startin' next round, ya can put ta me any one question ya'd like answered
during the game, at any time, and I have ta answer it truthfully, no evadin'.
After I've given up the answer, tho', I want a kiss from ya in reward fer
puttin' me through the ringer. In exchange, ya'll do the same fer me. This way,
we get ta know each other without pretense." He held up a finger to cut off her
obvious protest. "I promise here and now not ta ask ya yer True Witch's Name.
If ya want ta tell me it fer free, then I'm all ears, but I won't force that
from ya ever. But anything else goes. What say ya?"
Uneasily, she nodded. "Okay, but I get to ask the first question next time."
Seamus readily agreed, even knowing that it meant she could find out his
darkest secrets. He'd take the chance for another shot with her. "Fine by me."
He gave her what he hoped was a warming, encouraging smile. "So, ye've still
got four more questions this round ta ask. Fire away, love."
Lavender's gaze strayed to the magically lit hearth nearby as she puzzled out
her next query, and he watched the fire change the color of her irises to a
purplish hue. Entranced by her profile, he followed the curve of her cheek,
noting the perfection of her jaw and nose and lips. Her golden lashes were dark
with mascara and liner, but the makeup didn't prevent her natural beauty from
showing through.
Lands alive, he really wanted to touch her!
"I only have one more question I want to ask this round, and I'll give up the
rest," she finally decided, swinging her face back his way. "How many women
have you had, exactly?"
Seamus took a deep breath and looked down at the perfection of her feet,
tracing the pearl buttons on her anklet strap. This one was going to be hard.
"Off the top o' me head, I don't know," he replied honestly. "O'er twenty at
least, and most o' them have been here at school. But some have been during
breaks, back in Ireland – especially during summer and winter hols." He glanced
up at her through his sooty lashes. "Do ya need names?"
Lavender's hand stroked back and forth over the fabric of her dress in a
nervous gesture. "No… Yes. Yes, I think I need to know."
His attention fixated on her ankles again. "Okay, but I'll be askin' ya not to
be angry wit' some o' them. Firewhisky and parties and other such crike can
make people do crazy shite, as ya know." He started his list for her then,
trying to be as accurate as possible: Pansy Parkinson, then Lavender next,
followed by Angelina Johnson, Julie Parkes, Natalie Fairbourne, Rachael Codnor,
Vicky Frobisher, Katie Bell, Fay Dunbar, Parvati and Padma Patil both, Romilda
Vane, Ginny Weasley, Marietta Edgecombe, Lisa Turpin, Mandy Brocklehurst, Morag
MacDougal, Su Li, Maxine O'Flaherty, Tamsin Applebee, Megan Jones, three girls
around their own age from his home town – all of them Muggles, and two of those
girls' divorced, late 30-something/early 40-something mothers, Lynna O'Connor
and Maddy Fletcher.
"I knew about Parvati, but you shagged Padma, too?" his partner asked in what
looked to be hurt shock.
Seamus felt the heat rising in his cheeks. "Ah…technically…we all did it
together."
Lavender's jaw hit the floor. "You had a threesome with my best friend and her
twin sister?"
He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his pounding heart,
feeling the sweat break out on his forehead and lip, and under his arms. "Su
and Tamsin were there, too. And…there were two blokes involved – Blaise Zabini
and Anthony Rickett. We were all pissed on this drink Tam smuggled in her trunk
ta school. It was an aphrodisiac tea made from Kava Kava. And Rickett had some
Muggle Wingers we all tried, too. The combo made us all mad for a serious ride.
We were hard and sniping for hours - outta our feckin' minds. It was like…ya
ever been totally uninhibited? No? Well, tha's what we were. Thank the Founders
tha' Su cast the charm against pregnancy and disease on all o' us a'fore the
party really started."
He gave her a regretful grimace and shook his head. His accent was really thick
now, but try as he might, he was too nervous to control it.
"I didn't bugger any bloke or let 'em bugger me - I swear it on me ma's good
name, but…I did all the girls, and not gentle-like, ya know? Even took 'em with
the other fellas at the same time. Ya know, two or three pene at once. After, I
felt sick in me guts and never did anythin' like it again. But it's not
somethin' ya can go back and change now it's over, can ya?"
He leaned his head back against the sofa and stared up at the ceiling, feeling
a dark, hollow pit open up in his belly. "I wish I could take it back, tho'. It
scunders me now, tellin' it ta ya, knowin' you're sitting there thinkin' me
some twisted breed o' skanger."
Lavender was silent for several minutes, digesting what he'd said. Hell, she
was probably envisioning it, too.
Merlin, why had he been such a man-slag? Yeah, he knew his Mam's blood was
mostly responsible, as the nature of her family's magical lineage was one of
flighty, fickle, sexual beings, but still, he knew he could have reined his
lusts in a little better. Unlike a Sex-Warlock, he wasn't compelled towards
fucking everything that moved. He just...was a bit on the randy side. Sex
wasn't necessary, but he sure craved it, like a really pure, sweet honey. It
had gotten him into a bit of a fix as a result...
"I had sex with Ron when he was still with Hermione."
Seamus sat upright in absolute astonishment. His whole attention fixated on his
ex-girlfriend in that second, as her confession of disloyalty and infidelity
slammed between them like an audible slap across the face and blew him away.
His own problems were shoved to the side for the moment.
Lavender cheated with Ron against her very good friend? She willinglybetrayed
Hermione?
Perhaps it was a product of his upbringing, but even Seamus had never stepped
over such sacred lines, believing friendship was not something to abuse. As his
Da always said, you never walked in another man's (or in this case, woman's)
garden without permission, or you risked getting manure all over you.
There had to be a rational explanation.
Quietly, he evaluated his ex's demeanor and words, giving her the opportunity
to explain, not wanting to judge without the facts.
"It was a one-off, after seeing him at a Chudley Cannons' game last summer,"
she admitted, and the shame was apparent all over her features, especially when
she lowered her eyes to the hem of her garment once more. "Hermione didn't go
with him; it was just he and his older brother, Charlie, me, and my older
brother, Thomas. We went to a pub to celebrate the Cannons' win, but Charlie
and Thomas went home after a few rounds. Ron and I stayed and got to talking.
We spent hours chatting each other up and got on famously, it turned out."
She paused to pluck at a piece of lint off the sofa, but Seamus could tell it
was so she could gather her courage. He patiently waited her out.
"It was crazy really – probably because we'd had one too many Butterbeers - but
on a spur of the moment, we went back to the stadium to see if we could get an
autograph from any of the players to commemorate the rare win. The place was
cleared out, though. We stuck around, walking up and down the stands, and
talked some more. I told him about what happened between you and me, and Ron
confided that he and Hermione were at the end of their relationship. They'd
both been dancing around the subject for a few weeks, but he said he knew it
wasn't working out, because they fought all the time, and he didn't feel that
special bond with her anymore. He was really broken up about it, because she'd
been his first true love."
She smiled somewhat sadly then. "I guess…I felt a connection with him – with
his suffering. I could relate to getting your heart broken, you know? The next
thing, we knew, we were kissing and it got out of hand. We ended up doing it in
the bleachers."
A small crease appeared in her forehead as her face took on an aspect of
regret. "It was comfort sex, for both of us. It helped to reaffirm in our own
minds that we were still worthy people, and that it was just the situations
we'd been stuck in that were bad. I think hooking up like that was what helped
us both to move on with our lives."
She rubbed her hand over her face in mortification. "He broke it off with
Hermione a week later; he'd finally got the guts to say, 'I'm done.' Two weeks
after school started, he approached me again in the library to talk. We've been
seeing each other on and off, in a casual way, ever since."
She glanced back up at him nervously, her face firm with resolve. "Hermione can
never know, Sea. It kills me to walk around every day and lie straight to her
face, but she wouldn't understand. It wasn't intentional what happened between
Ron and me; we didn't expect to have sex. And even though she and he were all
but finished by then, that doesn't change the fact that what he and I did was
wrong. But to tell her would only hurt everyone involved more – especially
Hermione. I'll live with the guilt eating me up before I shatter her self-
confidence like that."
"Ya carry the stress o' regret around in yer eyes," he noted. "It's there, if
ya look close enough."
Lavender nodded. "I regret what we did very much. I will for the rest of my
life. It eats me up to know I betrayed a friend, especially for selfish
reasons. But like you said, a person can't take back their actions. You just
learn to live with the sins and move on, and you promise never to do it again."
Seamus considered all she'd said, as well as what he knew of Lavender, Ron, and
Hermione, and nodded, accepting that sometimes people made really big, stupid
mistakes that later they lamented (boy, didn't he know it!). Besides, this
wasn't his secret to share, as it had been given over in confidence, and also,
Lavender was right - what would it accomplish now to tell Granger the truth?
All it would do is destroy the peace, ruin three friendships, and break the
Head Girl's heart. Some skeletons were best left hanging in the closet and
taken to the grave. This was one such carcass.
He stared at his ex-girlfriend and suddenly realized that she was a lot more
mature than he'd previously thought. Some women, he knew from experience, had
no compunction about taking what they wanted, no matter who it hurt, and they
lacked the heart to feel any guilt about such a wrongdoing. It wasn't that he
was excusing her behavior – cheating was a big no-no in his book – but he'd
done some pretty rotten things himself, and so was in no position to be
throwing stones.
Lavender gave him a sad, apologetic smile. "See? Not so sweet or angelic after
all."
Seamus trailed a hand up her leg, smoothing it back and forth to try to soothe
her. "Lav, we both have pasts, but that doesn't change me opinion of ya. Ta me,
I see a beautiful woman, inside and out, when I look at ye." He let his eyes
drop to her slightly parted lips, felt a stirring of lust rise to the surface.
He let his gaze roam down her body, then back up to catch her face. "A sweet
angel with the body o' a succubus, that makes me harder 'n granite."
Damn, but this was heading into territory he knew she wasn't ready for…
He stood up to put a bit of space between them so he could cool down, feeling
uncomfortable and overheated in his long-sleeved dress shirt. What had he been
thinking wearing such a thing in the beginning of June anyway? He unbuttoned it
in quick succession, stripped it off, and tossed it onto the couch. His white,
cotton tank underneath gave him some semblance of modesty, so he wouldn't scare
Lavender terribly by such an unexpected move, at least.
"Sea?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "Just…give me a sec, love. Got meself goin'
there."
She was quiet for a few minutes, while he worked to calm his erection.
"Maybe we should do your card soon," she offered. "Time's almost up, I think."
His card. Yeah, right, he still hadn't received his reward this round. And
dancing was safe, but affectionate. It would be a nice way to end this session.
With an easy thought, he darkened the room so that only the magically-lit fire
provided light, creating a romantic ambiance. He then offered her his hand.
"May I have this dance, me Sweet Lass?"
Hesitantly, Lavender put her palm in his and he helped her to her feet. He
manoeuvered them into a slow dance position, one arm wrapping about her waist,
pulling her in close, while the other lightly gripped hers out away from their
bodies, in the traditional waltz stance he'd been taught for the Yule Ball by
McGonagall. In a flash of inspiration, he knew just the song he wanted to hear:
"Come A Little Closer" by Dierks Bentley, a young, up-and-coming American
country music singer that his older sister – a huge fan of Muggle music - had
introduced him to when she'd taken him by Side-along Apparation to Nashville,
Tennessee for a concert this last summer.
By magic, literally, the music started, and Seamus drew his witch into him so
close that their bodies rubbed against each other as they swayed, and his cheek
was pressed to her temple.
 
                         Come a little closer, baby.
                          I feel like layin' you down
                         on a bed of sweet surrender,
                         where we can work it all out.
                   There ain't nothing that love can't fix.
                   Girl, it's right here at our fingertips.
                        So, come a little closer, baby.
                          I feel like layin' you down.
                                        
He turned his head a bit, and inhaled the enticing scent of her shampoo –
citrusy, with a very light lavender scent behind it. It calmed his racing
heart, made him relax a bit, reminded him that this dance wasn't about sex, but
about intimacy. He wanted to build that up between them. He needed her to be
comfortable with their contact, because he could feel her tension every time
they touched.
 
                         Come a little closer, baby.
                            I feel like lettin' go
                     of everything that stands between us,
                         and the love we used to know.
                   I wanna touch you like a cleansing rain.
                        Let it wash all the hurt away.
                        So, come a little closer, baby.
                             I feel like lettin' go.
 
She didn't speak yet, but seemed to hear the words of the song, as he'd
intended – words he felt could have been stolen from his heart for this moment.
With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes and listened, too.
 
                          If there's still a chance,
                              then take my hand,
                             and we'll steal away
                              off into the night,
                          'till we make things right.
                      The sun's gonna rise on a better day.
 
Lavender's skin was so warm against his, and her light breath tickled his neck
on each exhale, and it was hard not to want more, feeling her breasts pressed
against his chest.
Tilting his head down, Seamus nuzzled her hairline and breathed in her scent
once more. He sighed anew, and prayed she'd fall for him as he was already
falling for her again.
 
                         Come a little closer, baby.
                         I feel like strippin' it down
                       back to the basics of you and me,
                      and what makes the world go round.
                      Every inch of you against my skin.
                   I wanna be stronger than we've ever been.
                        So, come a little closer, baby.
                         I feel like strippin' it down.
                                        
The lyrics of this song were entirely too provocative.
He fought off his cock's stiffening reaction to the idea of stripping her down
and feeling every inch of her bare skin, but that was a monumentally difficult
task with her scent in his nose, and her lithe body swaying in time with his.
This was bad; he was going tight and hard against her thigh. Surely, she could
feel it!
 
                         Come a little closer, baby.
                        Just a little bit closer, baby.
                          Come a little closer, baby.
                          I feel like layin' you down.
 
Shite, lying down with her…and licking those pretty breasts as he pressed
against her wet, aching core…
No! Fuck! This moment was about rebuilding trust, and for once in his feckin'
life where a woman was concerned, he wasn't going to make this about sex!
He angled his hips away, knowing she would feel what he couldn't control, and
broke off the dance with a kiss to her warm cheek, trying to distract her from
looking down. "Thank ya fer the dance, sweet angel - and fer telling me yer
secret. I promise not ta tell a soul."
Those hauntingly beautiful, baby blues, glowing with flickering firelight,
captured him again. "Thank you, for listening, and your promise, and for the
dance…" Her free hand around his neck, slipped down his chest, caressing his
right nipple in passing, moving down over his abs, and cupped his obvious
arousal. Seamus groaned and closed his eyes against the pleasure her fingers
evoked as she stroked him up and down a few times. "And for trying so hard not
to scare me with this."
"Lavender-" he gently warned, stepping back.
She flowed with him however, pressing her body into his again, so close he
could practically taste the sugar of her tempting lips. "Next round, I want a
chance to pleasure you," she purred through half-lids, her fingers increasing
their pressure, causing his cock to pulse, ache…crowd his bloody shorts to the
point of pain.
"Angel," he growled, reaching to grab her wrist to stop her. "I didna want this
ta be about sex. I wanna earn yer trust back."
Pressing her mouth to his for a slow, lingering, entirely too-shattering kiss,
Seamus was surprised by the whimper that escaped his throat.
"I want both," she lightly bit his bottom lip, making him pant in response.
Restraining her had only seemed to make Lavender more determined. Stroking her
fingernails up and down his stiff length as they kissed, she boldly stared him
in the eye, making it clear that she would not let him dictate the direction of
their new relationship. She'd been up-front in stating that she was a dominant
in bed, and evidently, she needed to assert control in their new relationship
to feel completely comfortable trusting him again. Since that was Seamus'
ultimate goal, he decided he could let her have this much right now, if it
would help his case.
Letting her wrist go, he allowed Lavender free roam over his covered shaft,
trusting her not to mistreat the most sensitive area on his body.
Desire flared through his veins as her tongue sought his and he allowed her to
take the lead. As they kissed, her hand never stopped its exploratory
memorization of his shape, stroking him from tip to bollocks through his
trousers. Her soft moan of surprise as she realized his true size made him
almost lose his resolve; it was enough of an enticement, in fact, to allow her
to unbuckle his belt, to unbutton and unzip his slacks, and to reach down to
touch him. His cock was so hard that he stood well above the waist band of his
pants - naked to her eye should she choose to look.
Unrestrained, she ran smooth caresses over the wet, hot head, swiping his pre-
come all over the crown with a thumb. Seamus groaned and thrust his hips once
in a silent cue for her to grip him. She did exactly as he wished, but stilled
with him resting in her palm, feeling the weight of him, discovering his girth.
The light, investigating fingers were driving him wild, and when she stroked
rather boldly up and down his length twice, to his surprise, he realized he
wasn't going to last much longer. Lavender's touch had unmade him faster than
any other woman he'd been with before.
He needed to halt this before things got out of control.
"Lavender, me love, we should stop here, a'fore I lose me sanity," he gently
murmured against her lips. "I wanna make love ta ya – proper, like ya deserve -
but we're not ready yet for tha' step, I think." He gently moved her hand off
his steel dick and brought it to his mouth for a small kiss. "We should slow
down a bit. We've got time."
Lavender acquiesced with a sigh and a nod, but looked up at him with lustful
fire, burning him to his centre with her need. "Next round, though, Sea, I'm in
control."
The chimes rang out, but they didn't move, too caught up in the silent tug-of-
war going on between them.
If he gave her what she wanted, he wasn't sure he could stop himself from
trying to fuck her. But if he didn't… She'd told him she liked being a dominant
in bed. That meant he'd have to curb his natural inclinations and accept being
her submissive. He'd told her he could do it - would do it, should she want -
and now she wanted, so he'd have to put his money where his mouth was.
"Fine, lass, I'll be what ya need," he consented with another small kiss,
almost chaste, to her lips, hovering over them as he pulled away, peeking at
her through his lashes. "Just…don't hurt me either, ya?"
She stroked his shaved cheek with tentative fingers. "I'll try not to."
With a shuddering breath, he nodded and then stepped away. He fixed his pants,
adjusting and tucking himself back inside with some small amount of pain before
zipping and buttoning back up, then turned to collect his shirt, slipping back
into it, but leaving it unbuttoned.
As he reclaimed her hand in his to walk them back out to the main room, opening
the door and letting her through ahead of him with a display of perfect
manners, Seamus couldn't help but feel intense relief. They'd reach an accord,
finally. It was the breakthrough he been hoping and praying for – specifically,
her agreement not only to allow him to try to win her heart, but that she would
reciprocate.
They had that second chance he'd so desperately wanted. Now, he just had to
make sure he didn't screw it up again - which meant, making love to allof her
this time - mentally, spiritually, and physically. That was something he
honestly thought that, for the first time, he could do with a woman.
Chapter End Notes
     - All of the girls named in Seamus' list are actual students at
     Hogwarts (compiled from the books and "Harry Potter" video game
     characters).
     - Tolga is actually the name of the real life actor who played Viktor
     Krum's aide in the movie (since the character he portrayed was never
     actually named). I borrowed it for this fic.
     - Kava Kava is obtained from the shrub Piper methysticum, which is
     native to the Polynesian Islands. It has been used by the Islanders
     as a religious and visionary herb and aphrodisiac for most of their
     history. Since none of the active ingredients of Kava Kava are water
     soluble, the natives would pre-chew the roots and then blend this
     saliva/root mixture with coconut milk. The resulting liquid was then
     fermented to produce a potent beverage that was used for important
     rituals. The effect of the drink is to relax spinal activity,
     producing an euphoric state of relaxation but without impairing
     mental activity. Some subjects also experience a tingling feeling in
     the genitalia, producing all the ingredients for an interesting
     sexual experience (it is known to direct increase sexual desire and
     prowess, even increasing the intensity of the sensations felt during
     orgasm).Over use of Kava Kava has been known to cause dangerous
     respiratory and skin problems. Source: www . altnature . com.
     - Wingers = Ecstasy (the drug)
     - I am aware that "Come A Little Closer" by Dierks Bentley didn't
     come out until 2005, and this fic takes place in 1998. However, I did
     point out that Dierks was an "up and coming" country star at the time
     this story takes place, and according to my research on the song
     itself, it was written back in 1996 as one of his first attempts. I'm
     going with creative license and saying he performed the song a few
     times live before it was "officially" released when he was
     contracted, and that Seamus had seen that performance with his
     sister. Stretching it, I know, but… this is fanfic, right?
     - Translator for "Seamus speak":
     'Em = Them
     'N = Than
     A'tween = Between
     A'fore = Before
     A ride = Slang for 'having sexual intercourse'
     Bugger = Slang for 'anal intercourse'
     Could'a = Could have
     Crike = Slang for "crazy life experiences"
     Doncha = Don't you
     Feck/Freckin' = Slang for "fuck" (specifically used to mean: "this
     situation is really, really bad and I'm not happy about it at all";
     not used for the verb to mean "having sex").
     Fellas = Fellows (guys)
     Hols = Holidays
     Mad = Slang for 'desperate,' in this particular connotation
     Me = My
     MILFs = Crude acronymn for "Mothers I'd Like to Fuck"
     Na síogaí = (pronounced "na shee-ogue-ee") Means "Fairy folk" in
     Gaelic. Encompasses a large grouping of hominid beings with ties to
     nature and who feature an exceptional beauty.
     O'er = Over
     Outta = Out of
     Pissed = Slang for "drunk"
     Scunders = Slang for "embarrasses"
     Skanger = Slang for "scumbag"
     Sniping = Slang for "gaining sexual knowledge about people who are
     your friends" (particularly after a night at the local pub with one-
     too-many drinks under your belt)
     Tha' = That
     Tha's = That's
     Tho' = Though
     Took 'em = Slang for "had sex with"
     Two or Three pene = Slang for "double or triple sexual penetration"
     Wanna = Want to
     Ya = You
     Ye'll = You will
     Yers = Yours
     Wit' = With
***** 3F: Ron & Pansy *****
Chapter Notes
     CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: MyChemicalRomance70 recommended the
     song, "Superhuman Touch" by Athelete for Ron & Pansy this go around.
     So, this chapter is dedicated to MyChemicalRomance70 -
     congratulations!
 
Pansy was in a frisky mood, racing Ron once more to their private room.
He let her win again, because it made him happy to see her laughing.
"Let's see," she put her hands on her hips in a rather sexy pose, as he shut
the door behind them. "That's three now you owe me."
Ron shook his head, leaning back against the door and crossing his arms. This
sassy woman in front of him now was so different from the Parkinson he'd known
before; he'd never have guessed that he'd once believed her to be the cold
Bitch Queen of Slytherin. Where had that woman gone? "Four," he corrected her
with a wide-stretching grin. "Two at the couches, one here, and one last
round."
Her giggle was downright naughty and suggestive. "Well, far be it from me to
argue with my astute partner," she easily conceded, and Ron found he liked her
better this way – playful, unregulated, and exuberant.
"Wanna collect now?" he asked, dropping his arms and stalking her towards the
bed. Every step he took forward, she took one back, her eyes glimmering with
renewing desire.
She stopped suddenly and held her hands out, her card held in one of them.
"Wait, wait! Cards." She waggled hers back and forth in front of him. "What's
yours say?"
Ron lifted his in his left hand and read it aloud:
 
DEED: Your partner has to kiss your neck, ears, face and lips as you instruct
them.
 
Pansy sighed in happiness, but her smiled slipped as she turned her own card
over and read it:
 
FORFEIT: Apologize to your partner for any mean things you've ever done to
them.
 
"We could be here all night on my punishment alone," she wryly commented,
wincing with sincere regret. "There are a lot of things to be sorry for." She
looked down at the ground, her good humor lost in an instant.
The reality of their particular situation really struck home then, and Ron
realized that he'd been purposefully ignoring their past, shunting it from his
mind because the sex stuff had felt too good, and honestly, he didn't want it
to stop. But there was a lot between he and Pansy that couldn't be ignored -
and all of it had been bad. In fact, prior to two and a half hours ago, he was
quite sure this woman would have happily spit in his face rather than let him
touch her. Now… everything had changed. Now they wanted each other with an
almost desperate need.
How in the hell did that happen - especially to someone like him, who had never
had very good luck with women?
The truth was Ron had always felt a bit like a fish out of water in bed.
There'd been 'Mione, a one-off with Lavender that had become quite regular
after that (despite being casual), and for a month in between last September
and now, there had been Romilda Vane in his bed. In all three cases, though,
he'd never felt completely free to enjoy himself sexually, as he'd always been
worried about his technique and whether he was actually making the girls come
(he suspected 'Mione, at least, had faked it throughout their relationship so
as not to hurt his feelings). It had put him off, held him back, and had made
him feel inadequate as a lover as a result.
Until Parkinson, that was.
Her reactions to his touches were honest. He knew she orgasmed for him. There
was absolutely no doubt in his mind that she liked what he did to her. She
might have been able to sham the cries of pleasure, but she couldn't fake the
rush of her body's juices that had coated his lips and fingers when she came.
She couldn't simulate her nipples tightening or the blood flushing through her
cheeks at the moment she peaked her bliss. She couldn't falsify the way her
pupils dilated, or how her clit quivered against his tongue.
Pansy didn't make him feel incompetent as a lover at all, and that did more for
his self-confidence than anything else could. It also made him want – no, need
- to touch and taste her often, as if she were some addiction he had no will to
deny.
Speaking of which…
"I'll just go ahead and give you permission to touch me anyway and anywhere you
want to for the rest of the game," he stated with a leer, taking one step
forward, smirking wickedly and licking his lips. "Your turn."
Parkinson's eyes glittered with growing desire. "I give you permission… to
touch me anyway and anywhere you want for the rest of the game," she repeated
his words to him, taking one step closer. They were now less than a foot apart,
gazing at each other with hunger.
Ron stepped the final, short distance between them to plant himself directly
against her. Reaching out, he cupped Pansy's jaw, tilted her head back a bit,
and looked into her shimmering, dark eyes. Despite being shorter and much
slighter of build (he was the second tallest student in school, coming in at
three inches above six feet and Parkinson was about average for a girl, about
the same height as Hermione and Lavender both – maybe five and a half feet
tall), his witch had a commanding presence that made him conscious of her in a
way he had never previously been aware of a woman. It was something in the way
she held herself, with straight back and shoulders, a tilted chin and direct
stare that could pin you in place, like his mum when she was upset, and
features that were striking enough to notice from a distance, like a
supermodel. She appeared strong, someone you couldn't intimidate easily, a
fighter. He respected her all the more for such bite.
And yet, despite that, he was willing to give her an out, knowing from
experience how she would straighten her spine and extend her claws when backed
into a corner. "I don't mind switching cards, if you want."
Pansy's eyes widened in surprise (as if she hadn't expected such a bloody nice
offer), but she shook her head firmly in answer to the proposition. Dropping
her card, she wrapped her arms about his neck, locking her gaze onto his
fervently. "No, I want to act out my card. I need to… before things go all the
way between us… so you'll know I'm not playing you."
Despite how Hermione or Harry might believe him completely incapable of
fathoming the opposite sex, Ron understood exactly what Pansy was saying in
that moment. He didn't want there to be any lingering doubts or resentments
when he finally had her, either; nothing to contaminate the sex, to keep it
from being fun and wild. And there was absolutely no question any longer that
he was going to have Pansy Parkinson at some point during this game. To hear
her admit it, however – to know she wanted it, too – made his chest tighten and
his dick jerk awake in his pants.
He nodded in agreement to her reasoning, letting her jaw go, slipping that same
hand down her back to hold her close. "Why don't we do the cards together?" He
gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "For each apology we give, we
kiss."
Pansy's eyes lit up and the shadows of dread left her features entirely,
replaced by relief and appreciation. "You'd really do that… apologize to me
back?"
He nodded sincerely. Having grown up with a mother as dominating as his, Ron
understood the importance of saying you were sorry to a witch if you wanted to
keep your balls. Sure, he faltered all the time with 'Mione, but that's because
she was… well… 'Mione (as soon as they'd broken up and the romantic feelings
had passed on, his ex- had been mentally shifted right back into the 'buddy'
category alongside Harry, and saying 'I'm sorry' to your mates was done
differently than with your girl - usually without words, maybe a grunt or two
and a handshake, and an offer to buy a round). He'd treated Lavender and
Romilda like a love interest should, though, and frequently apologized (when
the girls deemed it necessary, usually indicated by a frown or an arched brow
of disapproval). "Sure. I haven't exactly been nice to you either, yeah?" He
waggled his eyebrows at her teasingly, trying to put her in a better mood.
"'Sides, it's free kisses!"
Playfully smacking him lightly, Pansy chuckled. "Is that all you think about?
My mouth on you?"
Ron bumped his forehead into hers and stared her down with a naughty grin. "Not
the onlything, no. Imagining your mouth all over me definitely gets me hard,
but..." He rubbed his nose along hers, then down her cheek seductively,
pressing his lips to her ear. "…the thought of my cock up inside you, fucking
you so good that you cry out for more, making you come for me continually until
you pass out from exhaustion… that's the real prize, baby," he whispered, as if
it were a secret just for the two of them alone.
His partner's lids fluttered closed as she groaned, reacting instantly to the
desire he'd ignited just by planting that vision into her mind. Her body twined
itself around his rather sinuously, one leg lifting to wrap about his, her arms
snaking around his neck, her fingers thrusting into his hair. "You're making it
difficult to concentrate," she sighed in a sing-song voice, letting her cheek
rub cat-like against his.
"That's the plan," he murmured and chuckled, letting his hands rub circles over
her bum. "Here's an even betteridea for you: if we both forfeit, we could bang
about for the next several hours, and I'll let you apologize to me that way
instead. Whaddaya say?"
His witch actually considered it, biting her bottom lip, but finally shook her
head. "Not yet. I really like this game. It's helping me to know the real you."
She opened her eyes and stared at him with some consternation combined with a
touch of wary anger. "Or is sex all you're interested in from me?"
Rubbing one scarred set of knuckles against the soft skin of Pansy's cheek, he
considered her question. What did he want from Parkinson? "Well, I'd be lying
if I said I didn't want to shag you senseless," he admitted with a wry smile.
"But that's not all I want, no." He wasn't sure where the words came from, but
he felt his heart beating faster as he spoke them, recognizing them instantly
as truth. "I… I likeyou, Parkinson. Didn't think I ever would, but there it is.
You're funny and affectionate and you're so fucking hot. This whole thing
between us has blown me away and, well… I kind of like it. You're… gods, you're
an amazing chick." With his free hand, he pressed against the sway of her back,
bringing his revived erection prominently against her abdomen to prove his
words. "I'm glad now that I got you for my partner."
Pansy looked like she was on the verge of crying. "Ron…" she sobbed and buried
her face into his shoulder and held on tight, her thin shoulders slightly
shaking. He returned her embrace with equal pressure, nuzzled his nose into her
fragrant hair, inhaling and letting her soft and sensual scent – a fragrance
that reminded him of the sunshine, oak bark, honey flower and amber resin of an
English forest in summer - override his mind's whirling thoughts.
He didn't know how long they stood like that, but it was nice to feel her
warmth against him. Ron had never been the hugging type (mostly because the
three women he'd dated previously weren't the hugging types either, and hugs
from family members were boisterous and hard, not soft), but with Pansy, it
didn't feel so odd. He rather liked it. He thought he wouldn't mind spending
another couple of minutes just like this, in fact, but his witch had taken
those moments to compose herself once more and stepped back, dropping her leg
from around him. Her dark eyes glimmered wetly. "Um… so, I should go first, I
guess, since it was my card."
Taking her hand, Ron led her to sit on the bed next to him where they could be
more comfortable. She entwined the fingers of those clasped hands on her lap,
and stroked across his rough knuckles with her free hand, tracing the patterns
of his scars and still-healing cuts tenderly. "I guess I should start with the
first insult I ever threw at you," she forlornly stated, sniffing delicately.
"Do you remember it?"
Ron tried to think back. When was the first time he'd met Pansy Parkinson? Oh,
that's right – at King's Cross Station. Harry had already arranged for his
trunk to be taken by the porter and stowed, and he was awaiting his turn when a
girl with dark hair and very fine robes cut in front of him, placing her
trolley directly before the porter. He'd made some comment to the effect that
she was splinching lines, and she'd turned to look at him with disdain and
anger.
"First Year, Hogwarts Express platform. You told me that you'd been waiting in
line for the porter, and that I had to have been mistaken in calling you out
for a line cutter," he smirked, recalling how adorably irate (although he
hadn't thought so at the time; he'd thought her a shrew then) she'd been at the
accusation.
Pansy looked up at him. "I had been waiting in line. He'd ignored me, however,
when Potter appeared. Just dropped me flat in favor of The Boy Who Lived."
Ron blinked in surprise. "Really? I didn't know that."
Parkinson nodded. "The game won't let me lie, remember?"
"Shit," Ron breathed out heavily. "Then… fuck, I owe you the apology."
His partner shrugged. "As I recall, I started the insulting first."
He thought about it. What had she said to him? "Didn't you shriek something to
the effect that the hand-out line for the poor started around the corner?"
Pansy's lips twitched with amusement that she quickly stamped out by pursing
them. "Something like that, yes." She shook her head. "I was really quite angry
with the porter for ignoring me as he had, and then you for insinuating that I
was cutting the line. I took it out on you, though, because it was easier – you
weren't an adult." She looked up at him with chagrin. "I'm sorry for that
cruelty."
Ron's eyebrow twitched and he tsk'd, feigning shocked disappointment. "Eleven
year olds these days… Shocking little blighters!" He grinned cheesily. "Gimme a
kiss and I suppose I'll forgive you, though."
His witch did let her smile break through then, and leaned forward, tilting her
face to him. Her lips touched down gently on his, pulling softly. It was only a
second or two, but man, it got his dick harder than rock, because he felt the
sincerity behind the action. "Your turn," she nudged him in a low, teasing
voice.
"Um… I apologize for calling you a bossy, blind bint that day," he traded, and
pressed his mouth down on her, mimicking her performance with a quick pull of
lips.
Wow, who'd thought that such small kisses would be so… nice?
Pansy bit her bottom lip as she pulled away. Seemingly embarrassed with her
next thought, she looked down at the collar of his embroidered jacket and let
the fingers of her free hand come up and fiddle with it, straightening,
smoothing it down so it lay correctly over his bulky shoulders. "I'm sorry for
saying you were an ungraceful clod in Second Year."
Ron laughed. "You've always called me that."
His partner withdrew her hand and fanned herself off with it instead. "That was
the first time I said it to you, actually. It was in the Alley, and we were
going into Flourish & Blotts for Lockhart's book signing before the term began;
you bumped into me as you were rushing past, remember? You nearly knocked me
over."
"Oh, yeah," he remembered, his gaze focusing inwardly on the past for a second.
"You were there with your mum?"
Parkinson hummed in concurrence. "When you bumped me, it had a domino effect. I
knocked into her, and she fell into my aunt, who nearly landed in a crate of
worm-rot apples that some street vendor was selling." She kissed him again,
staring at him through half-closed lids as she pulled away. "Sorry for shouting
that after you as you ran past."
Ron leaned forward and took his kiss before speaking. "Sorry for bumping into
you and rushing off so rudely. We were looking for Harry. He'd Floo'd into
Knockturn Alley by mistake. Rough neighborhood. We were worried."
Pansy accepted the apology with a nod. He kissed her again, grinning
mischievously, knowing he'd overstepped the game to sneak in a second reward.
"Cheater," she accused gently, smiling as well.
He shrugged. "You'll live."
His partner leaned back in the bed, facing the ceiling. Ron followed her down,
lying next to her on his side, leaning up on an elbow to see her better. She
was concentrating again, biting her lower lip. "I'm sorry for the incident in
the storage cupboard during Double Potions in Third Year. You know, when we got
locked in."
Ron considered that memory. "Are you sorry for insulting me or for slapping me
that time? Or for getting us locked in there in the first place?"
She turned her head and looked at him earnestly. "All of the above."
"Then, I'm sorry for dumping the whole bottle of Glop of Pixie Sperm all over
your head for hauling off on me," he yielded. Internally, he congratulated
himself for saying that with a straight face.
Pansy scrunched up like she'd bitten into sour lemons. "I still don't see how
something so small can produce something so foul-smelling," she rhetorically
stated, then poked him in the chest. "Well, it serves you right that you had to
breathe the fumes with me until Snape let us out. What were you thinking,
opening such nasty tripe in an enclosed space?"
Ron shrugged, also scrunching up his brow and cheeks in a grimace. "I was
thirteen and thought it would be a laugh. I had no idea it would stink so bad."
He made a defensive gesture with his free hand. "Hey, it's not like they tell
you such things in Third Year Potions textbooks. And besides, who'd milk the
wee folk for their sperm? It'd have to be some dodgy head case, because the
idea is totally mental to start. Can you imagine trying to wank them off? How
would you accomplish that even? They're so small!"
Parkinson burst into hysterics, her face glowing with fuchsia merriment.
"Maybe… they buy 'em… a subscription to… WeeWitch," she gushed while wiping
away tears from the corners of her eyes. "And give them… a shot glass."
Ron chortled. "Cute. Naked pixies whacking off tiny erections to little, blue
centerfolds… I think my mind is permanently fried now."
"What do you mean now?" his girl mocked, grinning like that bloody cat from
Alice in Wonderland. "You've always been brain-damaged, Weasley."
"Cheeky skirt," he accused, shaking his head with jest. His hand shot out and
grabbed a hold of her left boob and honked it twice. He feigned innocence. "Oh,
I'm so sorry, Miss, but you see, my cooked skull can't seem to manage my limbs
anymore." He started massaging her breast. "I hate when this happens. This
here's a reflex impulse - completely uncontrollable."
Pansy giggled, but as the seconds ticked by, her smile fell once more and she
grew strangely quiet, her eyes narrowing in thought. Such concentration made an
adorable dent in her forehead, but caused his hand to stop in its fun for the
moment, unsure as to whether such groping would be further tolerated. "You
know… speaking of spontaneous response," she stated, making a cute moue with
her lips. "Now that I reflect on it, I might have done that on purpose. Locked
us in that day, I mean. Unconsciously, of course."
Bewildered by such a contradictory statement, Ron gave her a skeptical
expression. "That doesn't make a lick of sense, woman. How can you do something
intentionally, but without meaning to?"
Shaking her head and snuffing in amusement, Pansy snickered under her breath.
"I mean, I had hold of the handle and was leaving, but you said something and I
just had to turn back and retort. I let go of the door. I knew it locked from
the outside, so why did I do that? I'm not usually prone to such…
thoughtlessness."
"Ah, gotcha." He chuckled, waggling his eyebrows, trying to regain some of the
earlier silliness. "Maybe because I'm mint at firing you off?"
Parkinson caved with a snigger. "Yes, you are at that." Leaning up, and using
her free hand to tug him down with pressure on his jacket, she snogged him a
good one, slipping her tongue into the mix, lapping against and between his
lips wantonly and evocatively. "You definitely fire me off, Mr. Weasley."
He sighed in longing. "Bloody hell, woman, I'm as hard as a rock from just
that! Look what you do to me." He grabbed her hand off the lapel of his coat
and yanked it down to feel the bulge between his legs. His erection was very
prominent.
Recognizing his desire for her, Pansy seriously contemplated him for a few
heartbeats in silence, before saying something that quite honestly floored him.
"We are like Malfoy and Granger, aren't we? How weird."
Ron leaned up off his hand, raising himself higher on his elbow. "Whaddaya
mean?"
His partner's fingers began rubbing his cock gently, absently. He didn't dare
say anything to make her stop, enjoying her stroking too much, despite his
curiosity. "I mean, it's obvious now that I look at it. Just like them, we've
always antagonized each other. I've been rather obsessed with it, honestly. I
don't feel the need to go out of my way to insult Potter, or even Granger, like
I do you. You're… special."
Scoffing in amusement, he helped her hand along by guiding it all up and down
his length, spreading his top leg wide open, letting the knee bend upright.
"Special enough to insult? That's kinda wack."
His partner shook that dark chestnut hair of hers back and forth, swishing it
rather attractively from side to side, all the while never pausing in her
caressing of his steel-hard nine iron. "No, special enough to pay attention to
you, and to want you to pay attention to me back – even if that awareness was
negative." She tilted her head, her gaze traveling over his face, assessing it
carefully. "It was… like foreplay, or something. I got off on yanking your
chain as often as possible."
The imagery combined with her hand's action was too much. Pushing her hand down
onto the mattress, Ron pounced, pressing Pansy back into the bed, straddling
her with his heavier form. "I get off on you yanking my chain as well," he
grinned slyly, running fingers through that silky, shiny hair of hers. "So…
you're saying that we really were attracted to each other all this time?"
His partner shrugged daintily and hummed in agreement. "Rich girl, poor boy.
Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Wrong side of the tracks for both of us." She
grinned impishly. "It was fated that we'd want to fuck."
Inside his pants, Ron's cock was now swelling to proportions that were painful.
"Say that last part again," he dared her, leaning forward until their lips were
barely touching.
Pansy's lids lowered with sultry languidness as she stared up at him. Licking
her painted lips, she gave him a wicked smirk. "It was fated that I'd want to
take your hard, tasty cock into my desperate mouth, Ron, and that you'd want to
lick my wet, begging pussy, and that we'd want to fuck sweetly and strong, and
that after, you'd want to kiss me until I died."
His heart practically stopped at her lurid descriptions. Swallowing hard, Ron
felt an unnamed emotion well up inside, pulsing its way up his throat and into
his mouth. "Fuck, baby, say you want us to do that right now or I'm gonna pop."
Small fingers traced a line over his hip, across his waistband, and dipped to
trace his hardened length under his tight trousers again. "Oh, yes, I want us
to tear each other's clothes off and fuck each other into the mattress… but not
yet. If we do, this game ends for both of us. You know we'll have to forfeit,
because I don't think once will be enough for either of us. It certainly won't
be for me. I'll want you for hours, Ron. I'm not exaggerating, and I know a
spell that will give us that. Daphne taught it to me." She leaned up to kiss
him just once as her hand stroked over his sack and one finger trailed
naughtily over that spot right underneath that made him jerk with need.
"There's still so much we can do with the cards – things we can explore about
each other. I want to try it all with you. I want to tie you up and feed you, I
want you to play with me with toys, I want to massage you and have you massage
me, I want you to spank me nicely, and I want to bathe with you… I want us to
play and enjoy this time together. I want us to talk and get to know each other
better so that when we do have sex, it'll be so good, because we'll know what
the other likes." She looked up at him sincerely. "If we rush it, we'll miss
all of that."
Shit… this all sounded like a dream come true for a bloke: a beautiful witch
wanted him to pleasure her fully, and to give it right back to him. Talk about
something right out of the story pages of PlayWitch! "Right. You're abso-
fucking-lutely right, baby," he agreed, swallowing back his animalistic needs.
"I want all of that, too."
She teased him only a moment or two more with those sinful fingers of hers,
before moving her hand away. Underneath him, she stretched in a very kittenish
manner, her mood switching instantaneously to that of the rascal. "Then you go
again," she smartly challenged, being sure she thrust her breasts into his
chest with a provocative arch of her back. "I rather like hearing you apologize
to me, my sexy wizard."
Sighing with partial disappointment, partial pain, Ron sat up on his knees and
adjusted his "package" purposefully in front of her, sticking his hand down his
pants and moving his stiff prick to a more comfortable position. Parkinson's
eyes, he noted, followed his every move like a snake entranced by a flute
player. She even stuck her pink tongue out and wetted her lips, and in her
eyes, he saw the promise of more sucking of his jolly stick in the very near
future.
He moved off of her, laying back into the same position at her side as he'd
been earlier, trying to calm his racing blood. He ached clear through to his
bollocks. It was time to get back in the game, which would serve as a good
distraction from his thoughts of soaping up Pansy's breasts… "Okay, so, uh… my
turn. Right. I'm sorry for…" He thought about his history with this girl again,
digging for an appropriate instance where they'd clashed. "Ah, I know: for
saying you and your dress looked ugly at the Yule Ball in Fourth Year."
Pansy frowned. "You mean on the staircase?"
He nodded, still squirming, having trouble finding a "cozy spot" in his pants.
He was throbbingwith need. "Yeah, remember Cedric called Harry away, and you
were at the top of the landing on the Second Floor – what were you doing there
anyway? I went on up to get back to the dorms without him, and we passed each
other on the stairs and you said…"
"'Evening, Weasley. I see your date abandoned you. Why am I not surprised?'"
she quoted verbatim. "I went to use the loo. Second Floor girl's bath is the
closest to the Entrance Hall."
"Oh, well, yeah," he understood finally. "And I said in reply…"
"'You're looking particularly ugly tonight, Parkinson. With all of dad's money,
you couldn't find a dress to flatter?'" she remembered, snuffing now at the
silliness of that exchange.
Ron felt the blush creep up his cheeks. "Uh, yeah. Wow, you have a good
memory."
She snickered, claiming her kiss. "I'm not in the top ten of the class for
nothing, you know."
His jaw hit the mattress. "Wha…? Seriously?" Now, Ron realized that sentiment
had come out all wrong – the sounding shocked part, specifically – but it was
his gut reaction and he didn't curb it in time. Wincing, he hoped she wouldn't
slap him into next week.
Pansy snorted, looking particularly proud of herself. "I'm no Granger, Malfoy,
Greengrass or MacMillan – all of whom seem to have an almost freak ability to
remember the tiniest facts - but I've always been able to hold my own at
homework and tests. I like to read and study."
Pushing up on his elbow, he leaned over Slytherin's Queen Bee, incredulity
plastered to his features. "I didn't know that!"
His partner's dark, delicate eyebrow arched at him with amusement. "Yes, you
did," she countered, walking her fingers up his arm and back down again,
apparently just for the pleasure of touching him. "Think back - how many times
have we had an altercation while I was reading?"
Frowning, Ron sat up, leaning an arm on one bent knee. How many times had they
sniped at each other over the years? Too many to count (as Pansy had rightly
said, they could be there all night apologizing to each other). As he
considered it now, though, he realized she was right. He frequently saw her in
the library, and would pass by with a snide comment before moving on to find
'Mione. She had a favorite window perch in the Charms corridor where she'd
sometimes sit to look out at the view… and she'd always be reading, wouldn't
she? And those times during the late spring when he'd catch her and her
Slytherin girl friends sunbathing or picnicking on blankets outside in the
grassy area near the Quidditch Pitch… she always had a book in her hand or
tucked under her arm, didn't she? Why hadn't he put it together before?
"So, what do you like to read?" he asked, realizing he'd terribly misjudged her
for years (thinking her more concerned with fashion and gossip and making
people miserable than engaging in more intelligent pursuits, and feeling rather
foolish about that presumption). "What's your favorite subject?"
Pansy didn't answer immediately, and he turned his head to find out why. She
was biting her lip again, and her blush ran from her neck to her forehead.
"You'll laugh at me."
Maybe the old Ron might have, yeah, but the Ron that was here with her now… no.
He didn't believe he had it in him anymore to laugh at her expense. Twisting
about and situating himself over her, straddling her body, he petted her soft
cheeks with his fingers. "Promise I won't," he swore sincerely, capturing her
gaze. "I'll even tell you mine."
His partner gave him an assessing look. "You love Quidditch," she stated rather
perceptively. "You hate Potions and Divination, and could give or take the rest
with equal indifference."
Surprised by her rather accurate assessment of his character, Ron grinned
slyly. "Guess which of those tolerable subjects I like best, though."
Tilting her head, her short, dark hair fanning over the white coverlet as a
result, his girl mulled it over for half a minute more. "Care of Magical
Creatures."
He grinned, silently acknowledging her answer with a curt nod. "Very good. And
youlike Herbology best, Potions second."
A soft gasp was torn from her chest and she looked at him with flummoxed
surprise. "How… how did you know?"
He beamed down at her lightheartedly. "Well, that's easy, innit? You're in
Advanced Herbology, and I heard what Snape said to you this week in your
Advanced Potions interview – you've got a knack for the subject. I'm betting
your N.E.W.T.s for those subjects were the easiest, huh?"
"Oh," she replied in wonder, seeming at a loss for words. "Yeah. I… I think I
did well with them. We'll find out Monday or Tuesday, right?"
He nodded. "So, how'd you know about me and C.M.C.?"
Shrugging again, she looked at him as if it were obvious. "You helped your
brother out during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, packing the dragons up after the
First Task. Looked like you enjoyed it."
"Yeah, I did, but… how'd you know?" he asked with some suspicion. "Were you
spying on me?"
Pansy giggled and blushed. "Actually, I was spying on your brother. We all were
– every girl in our year from Slytherin, half the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws,
and more than a few Gryffindors."
"Gah!" Ron huffed in righteous indignation and flipped over onto his back
again, throwing his arms to the air. "Why is it that every woman digs on
Charlie? I just don't get it!"
Pansy sat up on her elbows, chortling merrily. "It's the scars." She reached
for his hand, flipping herself around, this time straddling him and pulled his
hand up between them. Kissing and licking his Quidditch-battered knuckles, she
playfully wiggled herself right over his erection. "We chicks dig scars, Ron.
Didn't you know?" She sucked one finger into her mouth rather suggestively, and
he felt a bolt of electricity shoot straight down his spine and into his cock.
Groaning, he pressed his hips upwards in time to her slow humping.
"I've got scars," he smiled coyly. "Wanna see?"
"I've already seen," his partner reminded him in a sinfully seductive voice,
dragging her center slowly over him and back down. "I'm sure I'll see again,
too."
"Count on it," Ron growled, taking his hand from hers, grabbing her hips and
thrusting up against her roughly.
Pansy squealed in delight. Her face lit up like the sun, her smile so brilliant
and true it almost hurt to look upon it. Ron's heart pounded in his chest in
counterpoint. He rubbed their bodies together for several minutes, watching her
face transform into lustful desperation. "Damn, baby, you make it hard for a
man to keep his wits." He let his hot hands roam up and down her thighs,
pushing up her dress. He wanted at her!
"Stop, stop," she breathlessly surrendered, trying to be serious, but failing
miserably as she kept giggling. "We need to finish this before time's up."
With a deep sigh, Ron stopped bouncing his girl up and down on his lap (much to
his profound disappointment), but he did settle her on top of his dick firmly,
anchoring her in place with a grip he maintained on her hips. This he would not
give up – the sensation of her sweet spot nestling against his through her
knickers and his slacks. It was too good a feeling. "All right then, keep
apologizing, wench, before I decide to forget myself and throw you down to shag
you rotten." He couched the demand with an arrogant smirk, and was tapped
lightly on the cheek for his brazen attitude.
"Impatient git," Parkinson cheeked fondly, but in the next second, her smile
faded and she became rather solemn. "Okay, I've got another one. I'm sorry for
the time in Fifth Year that I screamed at you for the 'owl incident.' Remember
that?"
Reluctantly, he nodded, feeling heat crawl up his cheeks at the memory, but
unable to keep himself from snickering. Oh, man… The 'owl incident.' Damn, he
should have known that would come up at some point. Yeah, that had been one of
the most embarrassing moments of his life.
They'd gotten into a blazing row at the Owlery when they'd accidentally bumped
into each other (her leaving, him coming in), and in a fit of immaturity, he'd
grabbed up the package in Pansy's hands, opened it and taunted her once he
caught a gander of what was inside. Holding her specialty, catalogue-ordered
thong knickers above her head and out of her reach, making her jump for them,
had been (at the time) rather amusing. How was he supposed to know that
Malfoy's Eagle Owl would find the enticement of green satin and lace to be an
irresistible snack item?
Trying not to laugh as well, Parkinson distracted herself by watching her
hands, which were once again smoothing his jacket, removing specks of imaginary
lint. Apparently, that was a nervous habit of hers. "Mum was angry with me when
she found out I'd been ordering sexy lingerie through the post at only fifteen,
but that was nothing to her fury over having to go apologize to Lady Malfoy for
causing her owl's death as a result of it choking on the bloody things."
Unable to stop himself, imagining the look on any of the Malfoys' faces when
they'd been told the news, Ron burst into cackling laughter. Tears, literally,
poured from his eyes and he howled in amusement. Pansy swatted him again.
"Stop," she chastised sternly (although her grin kept the reprimand from being
truly effective). "I lost a perfectly good pair of knickers that cost me my
month's allowance, and the ability to keep secretly ordering the things because
of you, you great prat!"
Grabbing ahold of her and pulling her down, he rolled her onto her back and
loomed over her, continuing to bawl with hysterical glee into her shoulder.
Pansy tsk'd in annoyance… which only made him crack up into another round of
laughter. Eventually, she joined him in the hilarity of the situation.
"Bloody bird," she chortled. "Although, I guess suffocation by panties isn't a
bad way to go."
Ron had never laughed so hard or so long in his life. If he hadn't been
kneeling on a mattress already, he'd have been falling down and pissing his
shorts. "Holy… hells…" he managed to gasp between pants for air. "We've done
some… crazy shite... together, yeah?"
"I suppose," his woman snickered, seductively sliding her legs up the outside
of his to wrap around his waist. "I'd like to do even more, though."
Ron's erection shot back to life, and the sudden crowding in his boxers made
him groan. Unable to prevent himself, he tipped forward and hotly slid his lips
over hers in a kiss designed to ignite them both. With a low growl in his
throat, he kissed her until she was breathless and straining against him. Only
then did he pull away.
They stared at each other in silence, and Ron realized right then and there
that he wanted Pansy – not just for the sex (although that was tits up, too),
but because she was a great catch. "You're so beautiful, so smart, so much fun,
so fucking sexy… baby, you're it," he heard himself spouting off like some
lovesick puppy, unable to stop the words tumbling from his mouth, drawn
directly from the depths of his heart and mind. "I'm sorry I purposefully
splashed you with rain earlier this year when I ran past you and hit a puddle,
and for accidentally blowing up your cauldron in Second Year Potions, and for
intentionally slipping a ground-up Puking Pastille into your soup last year
when you were distracted…"
Pansy's jaw opened wide. "That was you? Why, you little snake!"
He kissed her three times for those three confessions, letting his lips buzz
over hers as he pulled away gently. "And I'm sorry for always hurting your
feelings – especially that day in the Transfiguration corridor earlier this
week." He brushed her bangs to the side of her forehead softly. "I didn't know
you were there, honest. And what I said…"
His witch finally shut him down with fingertips over his lips. "I pushed that
fight. I'm sorry for that. For all of it, Ron. For seven years of cruel barbs,
and slaps and shoves and getting you into trouble with teachers… I'm sorry."
Her hand lightly brushed across his cheek, and he could feel the smoothness of
her touch rub away all of the bad feelings between them. Unexpected tears
slipped down her cheeks to fall into her hairline. "Really sorry."
Drawing him towards her with pressure against the back of his head, Pansy
kissed him with a sweetness that melted Ron down to his bones. Their tongues
and lips lingered over each other's, sampling with leisurely measure,
prolonging pleasure, nurturing a connection that he could feel slowly
liquefying itself into his skin, through his muscles, and into his heart.
Merlin help him, he was falling for Pansy Parkinson.
He let himself mull over that thought as they continued to savor each other's
mouths, as her fingers continued to stroke the back of his neck, and as he
caressed her thick, straight hair off her face and around the back of her ear
with trembling fingers.
When the chimes rang out moments later, neither one was prepared to immediately
break up their exploring. That took another five minutes-worth of soul-stealing
kisses before it was possible to accomplish.
***** The 4th Question *****
              Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland
                              Room of Requirement
                      Saturday, June 13, 1998 (11:00 pm)
                                        
By the time Draco and his partner made it back to the couches in the main area,
two couples were already out there waiting – Finnigan and Brown, and Pansy with
the Weasel.
The Irish and his blonde bombshell were holding hands, sitting next to each
other on the sofa, turned slightly towards each other, her head resting on his
shoulder. How…darling. He almost lost his dinner right there.
As for Pans, she and her redheaded beau were leaning against the back of the
furniture on Slytherin's side, her bum perched on the top of the sofa, Ron
holding her with arms entwined about her waist. They were talking quietly,
staring into each other's eyes, and Draco stopped cold, floored by the emotion
so nakedly displayed across his ex-girlfriend's features. He'd never seen
Parkinson so sincerely happy or unrestrained with a man before – and he'd been
privy to more than one public display by her with a guy over the years. The
smile on her lips, the blush on her cheeks, the loving way her fingers lightly
caressed Ronald Weasley's arms, shoulders and throat were all indicative of one
thing: massive infatuation. There was no feint in her demeanor, either, to make
him think that she might be faking.
"Can't believe it either, huh?" Granger's voice at his right shoulder brought
him around. "It seems odd to me, too. I mean, they were so openly hateful of
each other before the first action round. It's the same with Ginny and your
friend, Zabini, and even Lavender with Seamus. They all had bad histories that
were…well…weirdly forgotten as soon as sex came into the equation."
Draco considered how best to reply to turn the strange circumstances into some
sort of personal advantage, per typical Slytherin modus operandi.
Tilting his head, he looked down from his greater height into the eyes of his
partner. "Us, too."
Two words, so very powerful. They got the expected response.
Granger blushed prettily, her eyes searching his face for hidden clues about
his feelings. Draco was careful to craft his mask to prevent too far a probe,
however. "So, your opinion has changed now?"
Slowly, carefully, he lifted a hand and stroked his fingertips lightly down her
left cheek. "Now, I think it's safe to say the transformation is for the better
– for all of us. Don't you agree?"
Dark bronze stared into his very heart, measuring, calculating in seconds
whether to believe him or not. "I think it's nice, yes. But
definitely…peculiar."
Slipping his hand down to hers to entwine them together, he gently guided her
to his side and walked them about the room, away from the seating area, talking
to her as they went so as to distract her from their touching. "What's got you
so suspicious? Don't you think it's possible for physical intimacy to alter the
nature of a relationship?"
His ploy worked; his witch was too caught up in contemplating and discussing
the topic to pay much attention to her hand clasped in his, to his long fingers
rubbing seductively over hers. "Yes, it's possible, of course, and the game
certainly gives such an opportunity to create cozy moments between partners. I
have read the cards for my side, after all. But, it's almost like…" She
floundered for the answer, which seemed to remain just out of her reach.
Shaking her head in frustration, her brow lowered in concern. "It just feels
strange. Not a natural development."
As they reached the stone-masonry of the back wall, they made their way around
it, following the angles. "You suspect the magic of the cards is somehow
influencing us to feel stronger…affection…for each other than would be normal?"
he plucked the thought seamlessly from her supposition.
Halting her steps, bringing him to a stop at her side as well, Hermione glanced
over at the table between the two couches on the other side of the room and
stared at the piles of cards lying unobtrusively on the surface. Watching her
profile carefully, he could practically read the thoughts flittering through
her brain as they reflected in her eyes. She was most definitely concerned,
although Draco could not understand why. "We know the cards are forcing us to
tell the truth and to perform the actions," she murmured in a low voice so they
wouldn't be overheard, even with the obvious distance between them and the
others. "What else are they forcing upon us? And how?" She glanced up at him
from beneath painted lashes. "Where did you get this particular set?"
Draco shifted uncomfortably. "From some place I know you'll wholly disapprove,"
he stated frankly, knowing her character.
She narrowed her eyes in deliberation. "Knockturn Alley. Borgin & Burkes?"
Draco shook his head. "Correct on the general location, wrong about the
storefront. They came from a few doors down, actually."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Don't tell me you got them from Madam Aset?"
Surprise flashed through him. "Been patronizing the seedier parts of town, have
we?" he snickered, astonished to discover his bookworm wasn't quite as innocent
as he'd always assumed. "And how would you know about a Sex-Witch Shoppe,
hmmm?"
"How would you?" she countered, slightly miffed at him (whether for knowing
about the Sex-Witch or buying a questionable deck of magical cards, Draco
couldn't rightly tell), and they continued walking, heading towards the couches
now.
Leaning his mouth towards her ear as they walked, he whispered naughtily to
her. "The owner taught me everything I know."
Jerking back from him as if slapped, she stopped again and stared at him with
incredulity. "You paid for sex with a known whore?"
It was Draco's turn to be annoyed now. "First of all, it's a right-of-passage
for all pureblood men of my status to be broken in by a Sex-Witch who's been
properly trained and certified by the Ministry." At the look of horror on her
face, he tsk'd at her naivety. "I told you that the titled wizarding elite
follow ancient customs that the rest of the world can't fathom. That one's a
hold-over. That I lost my virginity outside that convention and earlier than
expected – and to a half-blood, regardless of her ties to the Zabinis -
infuriated my father to no end…which was the point then, because I was angry at
him for the lifetime of brainwashing he'd heaped upon me." He tugged her a
little harshly so that she was forced back into his close quarters, their faces
only inches apart. "You can congratulate yourself for unwittingly empowering
that rebellious streak within me, by the way, since I'd only started thinking
that way after the Yule Ball just days before."
Having caught Granger flat-footed (and as open-mouthed as a fish out of water)
was a major triumph for sure, but her candidly registered shock still wasn't
enough to assuage Draco's rising temper now that he was on a roll. He barreled
onward, intent on calling her out for the doffing hypocrite she was at that
moment.
"Second, you're smarter than to call a practitioner of the craft of intimacy
something as cheap and common as a 'whore,' princess. As well-read as you are,
you should know by now that a Sex-Witch or Warlock can't help what they are
anymore than you can help being a witch. They're born with the power to bring
pleasure to others, much as you're innately good at Charms."
He sniffed in disdain, letting her hand go, stepping away.
"I'd have thought someone like you, who'd been on the receiving end of
prejudice more than once, would know better than to judge others for the
parameters of their birth."
Granger looked stricken suddenly, as if the thought had never occurred to her
that she was, in fact, being an unmitigated, two-faced snob regarding this
subject. He fired his point home with a final shot. "And for your information,
Ms. Sabrina is nota whore. She's actually quite a lovely and refined lady who
cares for her patrons. It was she who taught me how to respect a woman in bed -
how to show her the proper attention and how to pleasure her perfectly every
time." He smirked rather arrogantly down at his partner. "Something you're
going to benefit from very generously as the game progresses, princess, so I
wouldn't make too much of a fuss about my visitations with her if I were you."
He walked away then, giving Gryffindor's sovereign space and time to think
about what he'd said. To his amazement, after only a few steps, he felt her
hand grab his, and tug him to a definitive stop. He turned to give his partner
his full attention, aware (now that he'd spied the group in its entirety across
the room, waiting upon them) of the eyes watching their lackluster performance.
They hadn't even raised their voices this time! He was sure that was
disappointing to some of them.
"You're right. I was judging without considering all of the facts," Hermione
admitted, bending to the logic, appearing properly censured by shame. "I
apologize if I've insulted you or your…friend. Or your…traditions."
Well, this had to be a first: Granger was apologizing to him, admitting she was
wrong about something. He wanted to shout, "Quick, someone take a picture so it
can't be denied later!" but thought that would probably be a really immature
thing to do given the circumstances. That meant there was only one acceptable
recourse left to him…
"You're forgiven, Granger. Let's just get back to the game."
She didn't let go of his hand though, even as he made to turn and go. Instead,
she stepped in closer and held him fast, and for an instant (just a tiny one),
he thought perhaps she was moving in to kiss him in apology as well. His
internal animal wagged its tail at the thought.
"I'm still concerned about the cards and their influence, though," she
whispered, eyes darting over his shoulder to look at the entire cast of
players. "What if it's dark magic of some kind? Did your Madam Aset tell you
anything at all about them, or perhaps hint at anything in passing?"
Draco's beast calmed on all fronts as he pondered the question and reviewed the
facts within his command. "She made it clear that the game belonged to a friend
of hers, and that there's a charm already on it that will send it back to her
automatically once the game is finished."
"How did you find out about the game to begin with?" his partner pressed,
clearly unwilling to let this go for now. "Did she show it to you when you went
to…visit…her? Or was it advertised for sale and you went to procure it that
way?"
Now he found himself in a quandary with no good options for getting out - which
also put him in the position of becoming a potential victim of his own
conniving plot. On the one hand, if he told Granger that he'd been planning to
seduce her well in advance of tonight, and that he'd acquired this game solely
for that purpose (once Sabrina had mentioned it to him, of course), Hermione
would most likely quit the game permanently, thinking him a smidge obsessed.
On the other hand, his partner would mostly likely hound the living hell out of
him for answers throughout the rest of the game, turning over and over every
one of his words in that amazing brain of hers until she puzzled the whole
thing out on her own – which would then frag her off, because she'd know he'd
hidden the truth from her from the start.
If there was one thing he had discovered about Hermione Granger over the last
three years, it was that she despised liars and schemers.
Shame, really, otherwise they'd have got on famously long ago.
Sighing in frustration, knowing he'd have to work this situation over
delicately so that he wouldn't be necessarily lying, but so that he wouldn't
give his hand away too soon either, he turned his back to the group and spoke
low, for her ears only. "I wanted to try the game out after Madam described it
to me over tea one afternoon," he stated, then rolled his eyes at her look of
doubt regarding the last part of his statement. "I can't believe I'm about to
say this, but yes, Granger, it's not always about sex. I went only for a social
visit that time."
Which was absolutely true; so far, he hadn't lied a bit. He'd omitted, but not
lied. What good would it serve if he explained that he'd specifically gone to
Sabrina that day for her advice on love games so he could ensnare this
infuriatingly nosey witch standing before him now and claim her for his own, if
only just once?
"She gave me the basic rundown on the rules then, and explained that the game
belonged to her friend and she could acquire it for me and have it sent to me
here. The only other thing she said was that the cards have been around for
over two hundred years, and that they originally belonged to some suicidal
courtesan in a gentleman's establishment."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Suicidal?"
Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "Apparently." Not that it mattered. What did a
bint who lived two centuries ago have to do with the price of tea in India,
anyway? "The game's been passed down in Madam Aset's family ever since. They're
something of an heirloom, as I understand it."
Granger's faced did that thing it was wont to do when she was turning an enigma
around in her head – it scrunched up and made her look like a garden gnome.
Politely, Draco coughed behind his hand to hide a laugh.
"If they're that important," she wondered aloud, "why loan them out to just
anybody, then? I mean, I wouldn't lend something that sentimental out to you."
He gave her an irked frown. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
She shook her head. "No, you misunderstand. I mean, what are you to Madam Aset
aside from just another client?"
Now he was becoming personally offended. Raising an eyebrow, he scowled at his
witch. "You say that like I'm some forgettable street urchin with cheap coin
whom she tolerates darkening her doorstep."
Wisely, Granger did not rise to the bait. Instead, she gave him a flat stare.
"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. You're not the Sex-Witch's
relation in any fashion, nor did you indicate that you knew or were on solid
speaking terms with her friend, so why on Earth would she and her friend deign
to loan out a priceless family treasure to a mere acquaintance, business or
otherwise? It makes absolutely no sense."
His hackles were rising. "Maybe because I'm a fantastic fuck," he crudely
sniped.
One delicate, dark brown eyebrow twitched coolly. "We'll see," was all his
partner replied.
With her own powerful two-word sentence, it was as if Hermione had flipped a
switch suddenly, and Draco felt rather pleased that she'd conceded to the idea
that he would shag her rotten at some point in the next twenty-some-odd hours,
and he forgot all about the mood of doom that had been hovering like a storm
bank over them both.
He threw her a sly smirk. "Come on, Granger," he coerced, taking her hand again
gently and tucking it into his arm as if he were escorting her to a formal
occasion, "You can burn out your brain on your own time. Right now, everyone's
waiting for us."
That jarred her right out of her internalized space and, guiltily, she looked
over at the seating area and noted the other couples all waiting patiently for
them to finish their spat.
"Foot," she said with a sigh, "is it time to head back into the fray?"
Draco grinned, deciding to change the topic to cheer her up. He'd like where
they'd left things this last round, and was hoping for more of a breakthrough
this time. "Afraid so. And speaking of, perhaps this time you'll have to
massage my feet." He sighed in melodramatic teasing. "Ahhh, you on your knees
before me, washing my toes and rubbing them sensuously… I could really come to
like that."
His princess chuckled. "I will never bend a knee to you, Draco Malfoy."
"We'll see," he arrogantly smirked. "You might just find you'll enjoy the eye-
level view in that position."
He'd timed that shot to purposefully coincide with them reaching the sphere of
the sofas, and so his partner had been unable to reply, knowing the others
would hear. Instead, she sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He let
her go so she could take her place, but only after he'd pressed a rather
chivalric kiss to the back of her knuckles, making her blush as crimson as an
Allentide apple.
"Sorry for the delay everyone," Granger announced, making their excuses when
Draco felt none were necessary. He said nothing, however, resuming his seat and
crossing his legs, getting comfortable. It was Potter's turn to conduct this
round, and he indicated with a nod to his contemporary that he was ready to
begin once his partner resumed her spot across the way.
Potter clapped his hands together and rubbed them, as happy as a gay lark.
"Right, so I hope everyone had a nice time last round. And…you're up, Blaise,"
he indicated the pile of green cards on the table.
Zabini rolled his eyes at the man's chirpy optimism, and, reaching forward,
grabbed the top card of the Interrogations pile and read it aloud:
 
"If you had to count how often you wanked in an average week, what would that
number be today?"
 
No one said anything, although there was some shifting immediately to Blaise's
left. Tracey was clearly uncomfortable with answering the question (like that
was any surprise).
"Sorry," she apologized curtly to everyone and quickly grabbed a Forfeits card,
her face blooming with twin cherries on each cheek.
Draco was beginning to suspect that perhaps Davis was either incredibly shy, or
an outright liar about her experience. Which would suck for her if she was
still a virgin and Potter got one of Draco's Forfeits or Deeds cards, because
that meant that the girl was good and screwed, literally.
However, since Pans had been the one to say her roommate could play in the
first place, and he'd entrusted the recruitment of the Slytherin women to
Parkinson, he really had no say in the matter.
Besides, it was too late to do anything about it.
It was his turn now.
Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the ceiling. "Let's see here…" he
playfully stalled, knowing Granger was probably hanging on his every word,
although she'd most likely be pretending not to be in the least bit interested.
"How many times on average a week do I stroke it? Hmmm…Whose card was this
anyway? I need clarification on something."
It was no surprise when Weasley grinned. "Guilty as charged."
"Figures," Draco snarked. "Okay, so are you talking about wanking to
completion, or just touching yourself for pleasure, but maybe not coming?"
The redheaded git snorted and shook his head. "Who the hell strokes their dick
but doesn't come?"
Draco gave him a rather amused smirk. "You mean to tell me that you've never
whipped it out and touched yourself in class just to see if you could get away
with it?"
Finnigan started laughing then and slapped his knee. "Holy shit, I thought I
was the only one ta do that."
All right, the Irish just went up a tiny notch in Draco's esteem for admitting
to something that he knew most of the guys had done at one time or another
throughout their Hogwarts career.
Theo snickered and looked across at the Weasel, who was decidedly
uncomfortable. "Admit it, you've done it. Hell, I've done it." He grinned
without shame. "Almost got caught by Snape stroking the ol' pickle in fifth
year."
"That would have been quite the disaster," Granger piped in, an amused giggle
escaping her lips. "Can you imagine what the detention would have been?"
There were a few shared chuckles around the circle.
"I have no compunction about admitting to such pleasurable activities while in
the classroom for instruction," Daphne stated rather calmly, lifting her
glasses from her nose, breathing on the lenses and rubbing them with the edge
of Blaise's shirt tail. "I have twice indulged in such diversions while in
Muggle Studies, twice in Divination, and once in Defense Against The Dark
Arts."
Even Draco's jaw dropped at that.
Everyone stared at Greengrass like she'd just grown another head.
"Fuck. Me," Theo breathed out, jumped out of his seat and knelt before his
partner, his face awed. "I think I'm officially in love with you, my Queen."
Replacing her rather sensible yet fashionable spectacles upon the bridge of her
nose, Daphne looked down at her beau, and to everyone's surprise, she reached
out gently and fondly ruffled his hair. "I will give you the opportunity to
illustrate the depths of such feeling next round, if you conduct yourself
agreeably, my Theo."
The smile he threw her was one of utter adoration, and in that moment, Draco
started to doubt his earlier skepticism of Granger's assessment of the cards.
He glanced over at his partner, and clearly, she was sharing the same
foreboding concern, her gaze traveling over Daphne and Theo before locking onto
his.
"So, the question remains," he managed to draw the group back on topic, and
Theo resumed his seat, "how did you define 'wanking,' Weasley, when you wrote
up the card?"
Ron shrugged his broad shoulders. "I guess I meant you had to come at the end
of it."
Draco nodded, his attention turning to the curly-haired witch at Weasley's left
shoulder. "Then my answer would have to be every day, at least once, sometimes
two or three times, depending upon how much time I have to waste, and whether
I'm in a relationship or not."
"Why should that last part matter?"
That from Hermione, who stared right back at him in challenge.
Gods, he loved her sassy, fearless mouth!
"Because if I'm fucking a woman regularly, I don't need to get myself off so
often," he replied matter-of-factly. "I'm more satisfied with a woman's touch
than my own."
Potter cleared his throat. "Um, no questioning someone's answer, remember?"
Gryffindor's Princess nodded her concession. "Sorry for interrupting." She
didn't look very sorry, though. She looked downright intrigued by Draco's
answer – which was working miracles on renewing his erection. He had to bite
back his excitement, otherwise he'd be tent-poling for the whole group to see.
Instead, he reached for a red card.
The Irish was next. Chuckling, the guy leaned forward and grabbed the next
Deedscard off the stack in advance, then laid his head back into the sofa
cushions and shut his eyes. "Usually it's every day fer me, but sometimes, I'm
good for a day or two a'tween."
To his left, Brown looked like she was debating answering, but then looked at
her partner out of the corner of her eye and shrugged. "At least three times a
week," she admitted and grabbed a red card.
Next to her Finnigan grinned, leaned in, and whispered something in her ear
that made the blonde smile brightly and elbow him.
The Weasel was next. He took a deep breath, leaning back against his clasped
hands, settling deeper into the cushions and grinned wickedly at Pansy. "As
soon as I wake up every day, like clockwork, I give it a palm either in bed or
the showers," he said.
Draco's former girlfriend waggled her eyebrows at her partner once and licked
her lips, which made the Weasel King's shit-eating grin take up the expanse of
his face.
All right, maybe Granger's idea wasn't as crazy as he'd thought…
Thinking of, it was now her turn.
"You won't tell," he dared her from across the few feet separating them,
purposefully staring at her through laughing eyes.
As predictable as a sunrise, she sniffed in disdain and met his challenge head-
on. "At least twice a week." She threw him a mischievous leer. "I tend to pick
a random spot in the castle to do it, too. This week, it was the fifth floor
corridor, behind one of the arches, in front of a window. That was Wednesday.
Yesterday, it was in the boathouse."
Draco's circulatory and respiratory systems temporarily stopped working. So did
the neuropathic relays in his brain.
"You're kidding!" the She-Weasel squawked, turning an incredulous look on her
best girlfriend.
Hermione shook her head, while keeping eye contact with him. "Not kidding."
Theo burst out laughing, and it sounded different from his usual gaiety –
sharper, definitely biting. "Who knew the Head Girl wasn't as virtuous as
everyone thought? Sneaking about the grounds, fingering her pussy, right under
everyone's noses!"
Hermione's brow lowered in disappointment. "I didn't figure you to be so crude,
Teddy."
Nott's eyes narrowed into serpentine slits and he frowned. "I could say the
same thing…'Mione."
The two glared at each other across the table – he with sullen hostility, she
with dismay and disgust. Everyone else was silent, watching the confrontation
unfold, questions about the nature of this previously unknown 'relationship'
between the two combatants evident in every eye.
"No discussion," Draco growled angrily, not liking the antagonism aimed towards
his girl from his best friend. He knew Theo had a slightly darker side to his
typically charming, witty personality that he was very careful not to let slip
out, but now it was rearing its ugly head, and aimed right at Granger in what
appeared to be indignant resentment.
Clearly, the reason Theo had expressed an interest earlier this week in
sticking it to Granger prior to the game starting had nothing to do with the
reason his friend had professed. There was history here that no one aside from
the two of them seemed to know. She hadn't slept with Nott; he hadn't been one
of her two men…but the cards had let her lie last round to him, hadn't they?
She'd said Charlie Weasley had made love to her for sixteen hours, and that had
been a blatant lie. He'd been able to suss that out easily. Had she also lied
about the number of lovers she'd had?
Suddenly, her reasons for adding Theo to the list of men she'd fantasized about
made a little more sense now, too.
How much of what she'd told him tonight was truth at all?
"Granger, take a Deeds," he snapped the command in a hard voice, ignoring
Potter's turn to Captain entirely, his jealousy making itself known and making
him crazy. Better to move this along quickly, so he and his curly-haired
partner could have a little discussion behind closed doors about her levels of
honesty before things went any further. "Go, She-Weasel."
That worked to break the moment, although the tension in the air still existed.
As Granger took her card, little Weasley looked around, locked eyes with
Blaise, and then put her hands on her cheeks and groaned. "I can't believe… All
right, four or five times a week, okay?" Her face was as orangey-red as her
jacket. "I blame stress and not enough chocolate reserves in the whole of
England."
That made Tracey giggle and blush. "You should just convince someone to loan
you money so you can invest in Willy Wonka's factory, then," the pretty blonde
joked.
Potter looked over in surprise at his partner. "Or she could just pray for a
Golden Ticket and get her hands on the stock for free."
Hermione tittered. "Steer clear of Oompa Loompas and blue chewing gum, though!"
The three of them laughed at their weirdly private joke. Personally, Draco
thought they were speaking a foreign language for crazy people.
"Excuse me, but what in bloody Merlin's armpit are you talking about?" Pansy
finally asked, raising one perfectly rounded eyebrow at the three jesters with
questioning concern. "Have you three been dipping too frequently into
Lovegood's drink recently?"
That crack only served to make the three snigger harder.
Parkinson tsk'd and gave them all a look that said they belonged on the nut
farm.
"All right, all right," Potter finally waved off the chuckling. "I'm not going
to answer this one either, out of respect for my date." He reached for a blue
card.
Davis stopped him. "You don't have to do that on my account, Harry. If you want
to answer, I won't be offended."
Everyone gaped at the reserved blonde in astonishment, even Blaise, who was
usually unfazed by just about everything, minus the She-Weasel.
Tracey's cheeks were brilliant red, but she purposefully kept her eyes on her
partner, ignoring the gawking. "But only if you want to."
Potter's eyes did something then Draco thought (prayed, actually) he'd never
see – they heated up with blatant, wild lust. "Every other day at least,
sometimes every day," the man announced, much to everyone's shock. His eyes
never left Davis' face as he confessed, either, and her response was a hitch to
her breathing that drew attention to her chest. Her nipples were hard and erect
through the fabric.
Draco looked away. His blonde housemate was cute, but she wasn't where his
interest lay. He much preferred brunettes.
He re-focused on the group only when Theo started talking a few moments later.
"I'd have to say once a day, minimum," his friend confessed. "Sometimes twice,
though. I'm not discerning about where I do it, either."
Although the man's eyes remained on the stack of cards in the centre of the
table, as he reached forward to grab a red one, Draco felt the jab had been
directed at Hermione, and once more, his protectiveness and suspicion warred.
Pansy answered the question next. "Three to five times a week, I'd say," she
mused, tapping one perfectly manicured fingernail against her bottom lip. Her
eyes slid to Weasley. "A vibrating wand is a girl's best friend."
Draco smirked as Hermione shifted embarrassedly at the associated memory that
statement conjured.
"Bloody hell," her redheaded partner swore, sitting up, his eyes lit with fire.
"I'm gonna need a cold shower after this."
Pansy opened her mouth to reply what would undoubtedly be a rather suggestive
offer, but Potter cut her off with a loud throat clearing. With an impish grin,
Draco's ex- reached for a red card and sat back, smirking triumphantly
nonetheless, knowing she'd won her new interest's complete attention.
Greengrass shrugged, reaching forward for a Deedscard from the stack and
answering at the same time. "I have already admitted my interest in self-
pleasuring, not only in private, but in public. As for a statistical average, I
would fathom a guess of five times per every seven days." She adjusted her
glasses again on her nose. "Masturbation alleviates stress and is a rather
positive hobby for one's overall heart health. I also find nothing whatsoever
shameful in the act itself. To enjoy one's life fully, one must be willing to
appreciate all that brings joy."
Theo gave a rousing cheer and looked up at the ceiling. "Founders, THANK YOU!"
he shouted in elation.
Everyone, even Draco, couldn't help but chuckle at such natural enthusiasm.
The round ended where it began – on Blaise. His best friend looked over at his
partner and grinned slyly. "Every day or two, and with always the same fantasy
girl."
The little Weasel girl sniffed in amusement and shook her head, rolling her
eyes. "Sweet talker," she accused playfully, and Zabini waggled his eyebrows
twice, smirking, as he reached for a red card.
"You can now turn your cards over," Potter instructed the group. "If you have
to act something out now, say so."
Draco flipped his card and felt his cock jerk to life in excitement.
Now this was more like it! Finally, he had a card that would allow for a little
skin to show!
Across the way, Granger looked up at him and licked her lips, her expression
was one of nervous anticipation. Well, well…it seemed her card was going to
require her to do something she wanted, but was anxious to perform. He wondered
what that would be.
No one stood up to perform a card, but Draco did need to excuse himself for the
loo. Potter and Weasley followed.
As he hit the door to the men's head, he heard Granger remind the women to cast
the C&DC on themselves again. At least he could count on the ladies monitoring
themselves.
As they stood at the urinals, not looking anywhere but straight ahead, Potter
began whistling happily. After a few seconds of that tripe, it got on Draco's
last nerve.
"Could you please not do that? It makes it crawl back up."
The Weasel burst out laughing, zipped and flushed, then went to the sink.
"Yeah, Harry, what's got you grinning like the Sphinx?"
Draco and Potter flushed at the same time. They stopped and looked at each
other warily, but both of them zipped up and walked to the sinks without a
comment on their timing.
"What's got you?" Potter asked his friend, instead.
Ron splashed cold water over his face and the back of his neck. "I think I…" He
looked quickly at Draco, then back into the mirror, readjusting his jacket and
shirt. "Nothing."
"I thought Gryffindors like orange and red, not yellow," Draco taunted.
Weasley's face predictably turned a nice shade of puce.
"If you like Pans, just say so. She certainly seems to be taken with you –
although I have absolutely no idea why."
As he was half-way to the door, a large, pale, slightly freckled hand grabbed
him lightly to stop him. Draco looked at the offending limb holding onto him,
then up the two inches into Weasley's eyes. "Do you…seriously, Malfoy…do you
think she does?"
Oh, the options! Draco had the opportunity to totally crush the most annoying
man he'd ever met, to emotionally squash him like a bug under his heel right
then and there if he so chose. Two things held him back, however: one, Pansy's
ultimate happiness, and two, Hermione's potential displeasure with him.
With careful, precise movements, he extricated the Weasel's hold on him. "I
certainly think she's off her fucking rocker for you." He turned so that he was
face-to-face with the Gryffindor he'd spent the last seven years tormenting
with great pleasure. "If you break her heart, Weasley, I'll see you suffer a
rather dissatisfying sex life for the remainder of your time on this Earth. Are
we clear?"
Weasley's face went purple again, but his eyes glittered with fire. "Back at
you if you hurt 'Mione."
"Yeah, what he said." Potter stepped up to his friend's side. "'Mione's our
best friend, Malfoy, and why she seems to like you is beyond me, but neither of
us is going to let you hurt her."
Draco arched an eyebrow at both men, looking down his nose at both in a well-
practiced manner. "If hurting her was my aim, Saint Potter, do you really think
I'd have gone through all the trouble of setting this game up and trying to
arrange it for
her and me to be partnered? I could have simply seduced her and dumped her on
her arse in front of the whole school, if a cheap one-off and a malicious laugh
was all I wanted from her."
The three men shared one of those enlightened 'guy moments' then, and Draco
knew both of his rivals finally understood what he'd been after for the last
few years. Weasley's eyes nearly bugged from his head, and Potter was doing a
great impression of stone.
Draco shifted, pulling his shoulders back to ease the tension in them, refusing
to be cowed. "Don't interfere," he warned them both flatly. "Just keep your
noses on your own love-smitten girlfriends, and leave Hermione to make up her
own mind about me."
Threats issued properly, Draco turned on his heel and kept walking to the exit.
Back in the main common area, he shoved his hands in his pockets and took out
his action card, strolling over to the door of the private suite he shared with
Granger while re-reading every word to make sure he understood how far the card
would allow things to go, knowing what he did of Granger's outfit. Throwing
open the door to their private suite, he entered without a glance back, not
even bothering to check the time.
"You have until thirty-seven past twelve to return here," he heard Potter call
out as Draco threw himself down on the couch before the fire and leaned back,
placing his card in the center of his chest, face-up so his partner could read
it when she showed up.
Folding his fingers over his abdomen and closing his eyes to rest them, he
waited patiently, smiling with sadistic glee.
This next round was going to rock…provided Granger gave him the truthful
answers he wanted regarding her history with Theo first. That matter was one
that needed an understanding between them before he'd touch her again.
***** 4A: Ron & Pansy *****
Chapter Notes
     CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: Ms. Louis Cordice Zabini recommended the
     song, "Fallin' For You" by Colbie Caillat this go around. So, this
     chapter is dedicated to Ms. Louis Cordice Zabini - congratulations!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 
Ron was clearly distracted by a thought that appeared to disturb him, Pansy
noted as they entered their private suite. He'd been wearing the same sour,
pensive expression since he'd exited the loo earlier behind Potter and Malfoy.
Since they'd given each other permission to touch without limitation last
round, she took advantage of that offer now, winding herself around him
sinuously.
"What's got you so preoccupied, lover boy?" she whispered against his ear.
His arms came around her as naturally as if they belonged there and had been
doing so for years. He held her close and nuzzled against her temple. "I think
you were right about Malfoy," he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"He's…well, I think he's in love with 'Mione."
Pansy's eyebrows hit the roof. "In lust, yes, obviously. In love, though?" She
swung her head around to look him in the eye and smiled playfully. "Did he say
something to you when you took a field trip into the boy's earlier? I thought
gossiping in the loo was something only women did?"
Azure eyes studied her with sincere, weighty deliberation for a moment, and
then she was lifted into her partner's brawny arms, carried over to the bed and
dropped onto it. Ron leaned over her immediately, covering her body with his
own and proceeded to kiss her breath away, cradling her into his embrace at the
same time. Pansy's brain shut down and her hormones ramped up as his tongue
lapped at her lips with deliberate, luscious strokes.
"You bring me to my knees with wanting you, Pansy," he murmured between kisses,
thrusting his hands into her hair and holding tight. "What have you done to
me?"
Her fingernails scraped through his hair and held on. Her thighs wrapped around
his waist. Both actions were instinctual, as if this were the natural state of
rest for her limbs; as if they belonged upon Ron's body in such a fashion.
"You've done the same to me," she admitted, dipping back in to nibble on his
bottom lip. "I have never wanted a man as I do you."
His hot mouth trailed a path over her cheek to her throat, where he proceeded
to leave a love bruise upon her pulse point, suckling deep and hard, biting
with just enough pressure to leave his mark upon her. "We're gonna do something
about it now," he told her matter-of-factly, reaching for the buttons on her
dress and removing the chains. "Don't try to talk either of us out of it this
time."
Pansy bit her lip, her tummy rioting with both fear and anticipation. Was she
ready for this? Would it be a mistake? Even though there hadn't been much of an
opportunity to develop stronger feelings yet, she still wanted Ron to respect
her, and not to treat sex between them as a one-off.
"Would it be…strange…if I said I was a little nervous?" she asked, reaching for
the buttons on his jacket and undoing the top few.
Wet, unhurried swipes up and down her throat ended with his lips poised over
her ear. "Me, too," he surprisingly admitted with all sincerity. "But it's not
gonna stop me from making you mine."
Heart singing with the thrill of his words, Pansy continued down the line of
buttons until his embroidered coat was opened, and she shoved it from his
broad, burly shoulders. "I cast the C&DC just before coming in here," she told
him, just to assure there was full disclosure between them.
"I know," he murmured as he peppered light nips along the bottom of her jaw. "I
heard. Flip onto your stomach for me," he growled dominantly, recapturing her
lips for a series of brief, but charged kisses. "I'm taking this pretty dress
and that collar off of you."
This was it. If she did as he asked, there was no way they wouldn't be shagging
in a few minutes. Her blood pulsing through her veins like erupting lava, her
body tightening and moistening with need, still Pansy found herself stalling.
"My card says I get to dance with you however I want," she rasped, tremblingly
touching his lips with her fingertips. "I really wanted us to dance."
Ron smoothed her short fringe over her forehead. "We will be. I won't be
fucking you. I'll be making love to you," he tenderly whispered, kissing her
nose. "The ultimate dance, right? Now turn over, baby, please."
His poignant request, the tenderness in his gaze, the softness of his tone made
her chest squeeze tightly.
Closing her eyes, Pansy took a deep breath, let it out, and then did as he'd
asked.
Ron shifted so he was straddling her on his knees as he unbuttoned her collar
and slipped it out from under her, and then unzipped her dress. He scooted down
the bed and removed her shoes one at a time next. She heard some shifting, and
guessed he was removing his own clothes, and then he touched her ankles.
"Sit up so I can undress you slowly."
She got on her knees and began to turn, but Ron was behind her in a moment, his
hands on her shoulders, holding her still.
"Stay like that for now," he bid, and then his calloused, scarred fingers
slowly, very gently slid the dress off her shoulders.
As he slipped the fabric over her bra, he moved into her, his face appearing
over her right shoulder, watching as he stripped her of all defenses. He
pressed sweet kisses to her temple, her cheek, and her neck as he slipped the
dress off her waist and hips, down her thighs, where it pooled on the bed at
her knees.
"I love your lingerie," he murmured in her ear, "but it's coming off."
Pansy's breath hitched and her heart took off like a fluttering butterfly as he
smoothed his hands along a reverse path back up her body, following the curve
of her bra to the clasp at her back. She felt the hooks loosen, and then he was
removing her strapless, French mini-corset, dropping it off the white, satin-
sheeted bed onto the white, shag carpeted floor.
"You have the most beautiful nipples," he whispered, letting his hands roam
over her breasts, pinching and rolling her buds into prominence. "So fucking
pretty." He trailed kisses up this side of her throat now, while his hands
cupped her large breasts and rolled them. "Would you like my mouth on them
while I'm sinking my cock into you?" he asked, and it was then that she felt
his naked length pressed into her back. "Tell me."
Pansy whimpered and nodded, reaching back and grabbing hold of his naked,
lightly furred thighs. "God, yes. Just...go slow. I want to remember this."
His hands stroked her flared hips and abdomen. "However you want me, baby, I'm
yours. You set the pace."
Her chest ached at his touching offer. No man had ever said that to her before,
all of them taking what they'd wanted, how they'd wanted, some even when and
where they'd wanted with little regard to her feelings. "Slow then," she
reasserted. "I want to feel every inch of you come into me."
With surprisingly nimble movements, her garters were unlatched from their
stockings. "What position?" he asked, pressing kisses all up and down her
shoulder. "Do you want to be on top?"
"What do you like?" she asked, wiggling her bottom seductively against him,
feeling the solid length of him pressing back.
He shook his head. "You tell me how you want me to take you, baby."
She felt like crying. Never had she been treated with so much sweetness and
consideration in bed. It made her want to give selflessly back.
"I want you above me. I want to see your face when you come inside me for the
first time."
He groaned directly against her skin, causing lightning to arc from that spot
and pool with electric heat straight in her womb.
With deliberate, slow action, he slid her knickers down her legs. He kept her
still with a hand on her hip as he manoeuvered her legs in such a way as to get
the panties past each knee, one at a time, then down her calves and past her
ankles. When they cleared her feet, he let them drop with the rest of her
clothing to the carpet.
Aside from her lacy stockings, she was now completely nude for him.
Keeping her as she'd been, on her knees at the edge of the mattress and facing
away from him, he wedged a thick, muscled thigh between her legs to widen her
stance and leaned her body back into his embrace. She with shudder, she let go
and allowed herself to go limp in his arms.
"That's it, baby. Give yourself to me."
Pansy moaned as his fingers curved around her hip and dipped low, deftly
stroking between the lips of her sex.
"Fuck, you're so wet," he rumbled, his voice gone low and husky. "I love how
ready you are for me."
Piercing her with two fingers and moving them slowly in and out of her body, he
made her tremble and gasp aloud then, all restraint gone. She felt like some
inexperienced virgin, incapable of controlling her reactions. Moans and pleas
escaped her lips as he thrust his fingers faster into her. Her body fired with
sensation wherever he touched. All she could do was hold onto the arm that was
now banded across her middle, holding her in place, as his other hand had its
wicked way with her.
"I love going down on you," he admitted in a whisper in her ear, continuing to
stroke harder, faster into her, to fan her desire. "You taste like Sugared
Butterfly Wings, the white ones – so sweet, with a little salt. No other girl
has ever tasted so good to me." He placed a small kiss on her earlobe, then
nibbled it. A shiver ran up Pansy's spine and her hips bucked, forcing him
deeper into her. "I'm sorry, I don't have the patience to do that right now,
though. I need to be inside you." Leaning into her, he rubbed his cheek against
hers and sighed in longing. "Tell me you want that, too."
Sweat beading her brow and upper lip, Pansy's whole body quivered on the edge
of orgasm. "I want that so much," she admitted, letting all her barriers down
for the first time, both terrified and elated by the feeling of letting go. It
was like flying, she thought.
Like being free.
His fingers gave a final thrust and a small swipe over her clit as he released
her from the torment, only to turn her and lay her back onto the mattress to
prepare her for an entirely different kind of ache. As he mounted her, he
braced his weight easily on those impressive arms, every muscle going taut,
showing off its strength.
Merlin, he was beautifully built, she thought, running her palms over all that
power. And for now, it was all hers!
His cock slid between her folds as she widened her legs to accommodate his
body. He paused then, and their gazes locked as he paused at her entrance. His
blue eyes burned with his intense need, and yet his body remained poised and
awaiting her signal.
She gave it with a silent nod.
"Watch me sink inside you, baby," he bid. "Watch me love you."
He pushed forward, flexing his hips and joining their bodies in a slow, easy
glide that took him deep into her. Pansy's toes curled from the pleasure. She
sunk her fingernails into Ron's shoulders, seeking to anchor herself to him. "I
feel you – every inch," she whispered, her eyes rolling back in her head, the
exquisite sensation of their bodies becoming one nearly stealing her breath.
Being with him like this was too much, it made her too vulnerable...
"Don't look away," he murmured against her lips, wrapping his arms around her
and pulling her into his warm embrace. "Be with me, Pansy, right here and now.
Be with me."
In truth, Pansy was terrified of what she was feeling right then, afraid it
would show in her eyes. Ron did things to her, not just to her body, but to her
heart, and she was having a hard time shoring back up her walls, keeping
herself disconnected.
Remembering that this was only for tonight, that it couldn't be more, thanks to
her meddling parents.
"Be with me," he whispered again, kissing her nipples and her mouth. "Let me
see you."
"I'm scared," she whispered back.
He kissed her again. "Me, too," he admitted.
That shocked her into opening her eyes. "Really?" she asked, surprised to know
she wasn't alone in feeling such strong things for her partner.
He teased her mouth with soft, small kisses. "Really. But I'm not gonna hide
from you. Not after everything we've been through." He gave her a naughty grin.
"'Sides, I've blown up your cauldron once already. Reckon I can do it again."
She couldn't help but giggle at that, as it was such an outrageous thing to
say.
...And just like that, Pansy felt relaxed, more comfortable with who they were
together and what they were doing. It suddenly seemed very normal to be lying
under him, to feel him sheathed deep inside her, as if they'd done this before,
and would do it again many, many more times.
"Only if you move," she pointed out, noting he'd stopped the hip action.
Curling her pelvis, she made it abundantly clear what she wanted.
Ron groaned and dropped his forehead to her breast. "Woman, you're killing me."
A wicked, throaty laugh erupted from Pansy's mouth unexpectedly. "I'm hoping
not. At least, not until you make me come again."
He raised his head, blue eyes twinkling with mischief, and he lunged for her
mouth, capturing it as he began that same, slow rhythm with his hips.
It was a revelation, feeling him move over and in her. Pansy had been fucked by
many men since she'd lost her virginity, but none of them had brought tears to
her eyes during the act...at least, not in a good way. Now, her gaze was wavy
and her heart filled with such joy that it seemed impossible to rectify that
this was really happening to her.
Ron was making love to her as tenderly as she'd asked, carefully and
controlled. His pace was easy and their fit was perfect. There was no pain,
only pleasure, as waves of ecstasy rolled over her with each thrust.
Her knees bent of their own volition then to allow him deeper penetration, and
as he slid home with her ankles locked around his waist, he paused. One breath,
two, three. Panting into her throat, he was shaking, clearly attempting to
stave off his own orgasm so she could experience hers first.
"See me," she requested, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to meet her gaze.
"See the real me, Ron."
With a deep breath, Ron did as she asked. Their eyes met, locked, and in their
depths, she glimpsed a flash of emotion that both frightened and called to her.
Pansy felt her heart pound in response, and the return of her earlier anxiety.
She ran her thumb over his bottom lip, scared by her instinctual reaction to
answer his unspoken feelings.
Should couldn't have this, not after this weekend. It wasn't...in the cards.
As if reading her trepidation, he leaned into her caress, his lashes fluttering
as he shuttered his eyes and glanced at her through them.
"I'll have all of you," he vowed. "I have to."
Adjusting his knees and gripping her hips, he withdrew his cock and then thrust
so deep she could feel him in her heart.
"You're giving into this, Pansy. Like I have." Leaning down, his mouth nipped
as hers as he thrust again. "Give into it."
She cried out as she shattered in his arms, in the gentlest, most loving
bringing she'd ever experienced. "Oh, god," she whimpered, her tears slipping
free. "Ron!"
He was there, in the midst of the storm, holding her, calming her, grounding
her after her fall. "Was that what you wanted?" he asked somewhat shyly,
nuzzling into her throat once her breathing returned to normal and she'd
quieted. "Was it good?"
Feeling ridiculous for her emotional outburst, Pansy quickly wiped at her eyes.
"It was perfect," she reassured him, attempting to steady her shaking nerves
and her pounding heart. Slytherin women didn't cry in public, but this was the
third time she'd shown her hidden face to this man. How weak he must think her!
She plastered a smile onto her face. "It was beautiful."
Relief bloomed across his crimson cheeks, his light dusting of freckles across
the bridge of his nose prominent with his flush of happiness. "So, you liked
our dance, then?" he tenderly teased, rubbing his nose against hers.
Merlin, he had pretty lashes for a guy. And a genuine smile that was
infectious.
In fact, his good mood had a way of dissolving her darker thoughts, drawing her
into the light, and making her want to reciprocate. Which was absolutely not
the Slytherin thing to do...
Wiggling her hips, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.
He was still hard inside her, she noted, which meant there was an opportunity
here to exploit. "I did. Very much. I'd love a second one, if you're...up...for
it."
His grin was positively beaming. "That won't be a problem."
Adjusting his weight on his knees and sliding his hands to her hips again, he
used that incredible strength in his arms, hips and thighs to pull her up and
off the mattress. Vertical now, she clung to him as he held her in the air and
began thrusting, fucking into her hard and fast from below.
Now, this was more like it! She'd loved the feel of his cock gently taking her,
but this…
"Come on, Pansy, ride me. Pump those sexy hips and moan for me."
She moved as he wanted, meeting his thrusts with her own force, clit throbbing,
cunt clenching. Soon, their skin was slicked with their combined sweat, and the
air became too hot to breathe. Pansy panted like an animal in heat, digging in
and riding hard, giving as good as she got. That second high, the one she'd
never before been able to reach was right there, and she was
tipping...surrendering to its power...
"That's it, baby love, come for me again," Ron demanded, fucking her so hard
little detonations of light snapped and exploded behind her closed lids. "Give.
In."
His words released her from the last of her emotional bondage. With a scream of
his name, Pansy arched her back and flew once more, surrendering both her body
and her heart at that same moment. No pleasure had ever been greater, as for
the first time, she held nothing of herself back from a man during sex. Nothing
will ever be the same, she thought as she clung to Ron, feeling her sex tremble
and clench around him, drawing his release from him at that same moment. This,
tonight...he had changed her, forever.
Utterly spent, Pansy fell into her lover's arms, collapsing against the shelter
of his strength, her body floating on an ocean of pure, physical contentment.
All the while, her heart and mind were at bitter war with each other:
You can't keep him. You have to let him go, the Slytherin within admonished.
I...can't, her woman's heart protested.
Because she had fallen in love, for real this time, and it hurt too much to
think of what that would mean outside of this room, especially once the truth
of her circumstances finally came out in the Prophet's Pink Column.
With a groan, Ron crashed onto the mattress, turning at the last moment so he
ended up beneath her. His lungs sawed in and out as he struggled for breath,
and his shoulders and arms were bleeding a bit from where her nails had dug in,
but the smile on his face spoke of a bone-deep satisfaction.
"Fucking…brilliant," he wheezed, and turned his head to place a big kiss on her
mouth. "Oh, Merlin, you were…amazing, baby. I think…I can die happy now, love."
Fighting back another round of tears at the use of his sweet endearment, Pansy
cuddled with her lover instead, trying to enjoy the afterglow.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I'll never forget this moment. Not ever." She
peeked up at him through the strands of her disheveled hair that had fallen
into her face. "I never thought of this act as beautiful before, only fun. This
is both."
Scarred knuckles stroked her cheek and calloused fingers ran through her hair
as Ron's breathing calmed, and the powerful beat of his heart, which she could
feel vibrating through her chest as she lay atop him, slowly receded. He
covered a yawn in her shoulder by turning his head. "Did you like it enough to
want to do again?" he asked with a snicker, his tired, flaccid member finally
sliding out of her as he adjusted them so they could lie on their sides, facing
each other. "I mean, once we've recovered from the best sex of our lives."
Dreamy, smiling blue orbs of mischief and a sexy, lazy smile challenged her.
Pansy pretended to think about it, shunting aside her painful, melancholy
thoughts for now. She would give them this time, as she'd vowed earlier, and
wouldn't dwell on anything beyond these hours with him. She had fallen in love,
and her heart would be destroyed by it, but she would never regret this
decision.
"I could be persuaded," she teased, letting her fingers stroke the ridge of his
collarbone. "But didn't I wear you out?"
He snorted. "Hardly. I think I could go again in…maybe half an hour." His
fingers lightly caressed her hip, then reached up to fondle a breast. He palmed
it, massaging it in a manner that aroused, despite her exhaustion. When his
thumb stroked over the tender nipple, it went tight immediately. "Actually, I'm
getting a little hard again now."
Sure enough, his wizard's staff was already half-erect.
Feeling naughty, Pansy trailed her nails lightly down his hairless chest,
heading for trouble and looking forward to the repercussions. "So, what was
your card anyway?" she asked, pretending she wasn't about to grip his cock and
give it a good, long stroking.
Ron huffed in amusement. "Are you kidding? You still want to play the game?"
She nodded and he sighed in surrender, rolling his eyes.
"I'm supposed to tell you ten good things about you."
With a wicked laugh, Pansy gripped his growing erection and began lightly
rubbing her thumb nail under the wet head, in the spot she knew most men were
sensitive. "Well, why don't you just get started on that list, then, while I
busy myself with other wicked pursuits."
His cock twitched, growing harder by the second, especially when she nudged his
leg up and over hers, and gently cupped his balls, caressing them.
"Oh, fuck," he sighed, closing his eyes and letting out a shaking breath. "Um,
you're the best sex I've ever had. You just made me come so hard my head is
pounding. Both of them."
"Truly?"
Nodding in agreement, Ron continued his fondling of her breast.
Reaching, she stroked that ultra-sensitive path of skin directly under his
balls. "Tell me more," she coaxed.
He shuddered and his cock jerked, getting harder, rising to full mast. "Jesus,
the things you do to me," he moaned as she gripped his cock in one hand and
rubbed over his perineum with the other. "Uh, I already said you suck cock like
a dream, which you do. Fuck, do you! And you're gorgeous, Parkinson. Every inch
of you is perfect." He gasped as she pressed a finger against his back
entrance, but it wasn't the sound of rejection so she rubbed there, too,
feeling him go impossibly hard again in her other hand. "And I love that
fucking cute mole on your hip," he sighed. "Fuck, that feels good."
Wanting to reward his flattery, she shimmied down the bed and took the head of
him between her lips, lightly sucking. "Go on," she enticed, lapping at the
pre-come that was once more weeping from his slit.
"Y-y-you're so much f-f-fun to be with," he stammered, watching as she suckled
upon him like a lolly. He was careful not to thrust, however, letting her do as
she willed. "And I love the playfulness, and that for a Slytherin, you're
amazingly sincere."
Mmmm, she'd liked his list so far.
Stretching her mouth wide, Pansy dropped down on his iron-hard erection, taking
him all the way into her throat.
To her surprise, Ron hissed in pleasure, sounding just like a snake. "Oh, yeah,
baby, just like that." Now he gently thrust his hips up. "Suck hard. Let me
fuck that pretty mouth again."
Bloody hell, she loved the way he talked to her. It was crude, but done in such
a loving, reverent tone, as if he was praying to a goddess for her blessing.
And to be truthful, his words got her all hot and bothered again.
Reaching between her legs, she flicked her clit once, felt it a tad sore, but
that electrifying spark of need burst into life once more at her touch, so she
started rubbing it as she liked, working them both back up together.
"Keep going," she coerced as she lifted off him and lapped at the swollen, red
head held still in her fist. "You're doing so well."
Ron lay back and stared up at the ceiling, letting her have her way with him as
he finished his list. Clearly, he'd copped to her plan of being in control this
time around and didn't have a problem with that, which was something she found
incredibly sexy. A man who didn't mind being submissive when asked, and who
didn't feel his masculinity was threatened by that was rare…and hot.
"You're so smart, baby," he went on, fingers clenching the bed covers and
kneading as she kept him in a constant state of arousal. "How come I never
noticed how bloody brilliant you are? It's not like it wasn't staring me in the
face all these years. I mean…I really dig that you read books outside of class
assignments. Just for the fun of it."
She lightly nibbled on the flared head of him, making him gasp and start
swearing again.
"Hell, Pans, I like everything about you, I think. You're not afraid to sit out
on the grass in the spring to get a suntan like other girls, you wear pretty
clothes, and you smell so fucking good, all the time. Godric's bane, I even
love the way you mouth off to me when we're fighting!"
His breathing picked up as she took him back into her throat and allowed it to
close around him as she pulled back. Against her calves, she felt his toes
curl.
"Merlin's rod, Pansy, stop torturing me! I want to be back inside you now. You
win."
Soaking wet from her own ministrations, there was absolutely no discomfort as
Pansy stalked up his body, gripped him tight in hand and lowered herself onto
his cock once more. They both sucked a lungful of air in at the sensation, and
then let it out simultaneously in relief when she sat fully down upon him.
Ron's hands gripped her wrists and he licked his lips, swallowing heavily as he
began to move her over him. "You are amazing, baby. You sure you're not hurting
too much? I wasn't exactly gentle the last time."
He hadn't been, but then, that's what she'd wanted then. Now, she wanted
something else.
"We'll take it easy this time," she told him, sliding over him to an
uncomplicated, smooth rhythm.
Ron's hands glided up her body to cup both breasts, and he played with them as
they leisurely fucked. "I love that you didn't quit this game when you
could've. That's not just about being stubborn, but being brave, too, you
know," he murmured, continuing his list as she moved him in and out of her
slick sex. "I love that I get you this wet. I love the way your pussy tastes
and that you like me fucking you like this." He pushed her upright and looked
down between them as he sunk into her over and over again. "I love this view. I
love knowing you're giving yourself to me right now, without fear, despite
everything that's gone between us." He glanced up into her eyes. "I'm gonna
come."
"Come," she said, knowing she didn't have enough in her to climax for a third
time, but more than happy to feel him do so inside her again.
Given permission to let go, Ron gripped her hips and began pumping into her,
not hard, but with a Gryffindor's determination to meet his end, soon. She
grabbed onto his wrists and rolled into every one of his thrusts, giving him
her body to find his ultimate pleasure within.
"Your turn," she whispered. "Give in and let go."
His gaze never left hers as he began to come deep within her.
"I love you, Pansy." He pulled her down so that his mouth met hers. "You, you,
you, you, you," he chanted as he jerked and released again and again, grinding
her down onto him, keeping them sealed together as tightly as possible until he
was done.
Reeling from his confession, Pansy was taken completely aback. He loved her?
How? Why?
Suddenly, Ron rolled them over and began kissing her as if he was starved for
her taste. "I love you," he panted against her lips in between pulls of his
mouth. "Gods, I fucking love you, you maddening witch!" He laughed, and it was
a joyous sound that bordered on insane, she thought. "All these years, you've
driven me absolutely barmy," he cheerfully said. "I get it. Finally, I get it!
And I'm giving in to it."
"You love me?" she asked, blinking up at him in confusion.
He kissed her again. "Yes."
"But…"
A floodgate of emotion poured out of Pansy then and she burst into tears for a
fourth time in front of this man. Too much… It was too much in too short a time
to take in. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. This was all happening too
fast, pulling her under, drowning her in doubts and renewed fear. She'd lost
all of her honed calculating rationality, all common sense.
You can't keep him!
Ron pulled back and looked down at her, his face betraying how completely
vulnerable he felt in the face of her tears, and from bearing his heart to her
as he had. With five words, you could ruin him, the Slytherin within Pansy
reminded her as she stared up into his handsome face. She knew she could break
this wizard's heart right now, smash it to bits. All she'd have to do was
reply, "I don't feel the same," and she could send him spiraling into fits of
depression, destroying that lovely smile and turning his shimmering eyes into
cold lumps of blue coal.
Hell, it would probably be the right thing to do, knowing what the future held.
It would make her noble or some shit if she let him go now. He'd hate her, but
in the end, it would be for his own good.
But it would also be the evilest lie to ever pass her lips…and a part of her
would die in the telling.
I can't do it. I can't let you go. I'm too selfish, I'm sorry!
"I love you, Ron," she admitted, gently brushing his lips with her fingertips.
"I finally get it, too."
"Serious?"
He seemed doubtful.
She wiped the tears from her eyes. "Yes, and…" She sighed. "I'm giving into it,
too." She pointed a finger his face in warning, however. "Just don't hurt me,
Ronald Weasley, or so help me, I'll kill you dead. With poison. And many sharp
knives."
Whooping in joy, Ron wrapped his arms about her and they rolled around on the
gigantic white bed, giggling like two young people in love, letting the wonder
and delight of their discovery overtake them.
When the chimes rang out, they debated continuing the game, agreeing to do so
at the last minute. It was Pansy who convinced him to stay so they could try
out some of the more risqué cards together.
Quickly they cleaned up and dressed, then headed out to the common area.
On the way to the couches, Pansy leaped onto Ron's back and shouted, "giddy
up!" and he whisked her around the room in circles making her dizzy, refusing
to let her go as the others took their seats and watched them playfully
misbehave. Draco, in particular, gave her a disapproving frown.
Oh, pah! Who cared what those nobs thought anyway?
For the first time in her life, Pansy didn't feel the need to behave within the
tightly held constraints that had guided her all her life. The rules that her
parents had shackled her to when she'd been but a small child did not exist
within the confines of this room, not tonight while they were playing 'Eros &
Psyche'. So, for the moment, she could behave more lion, less snake, and that
was okay.
She'd let herself have this one night of happiness, and accept the consequences
later.
I will love you for as long as I can,she silently promised her partner, hugging
him tightly to her.
And she would. She absolutely would.
Chapter End Notes
     Sugared Butterfly Wings - A wizarding sweet manufactured by Madam
     Borboleta Candies Ltd. They are presumably real butterfly wings
     coated in sugar (they are all different colors, types and flavored
     differently). Honeydukes Sweetshop in Hogsmeade sold Sugared
     Butterfly Wings. These candies are featured in the Honeydukes Virtual
     Tour online.
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