
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7867984.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Pansy_Parkinson/Harry_Potter, Ambiguous_or_Implied_Relationship(s), Draco
      Malfoy/Harry_Potter
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Pansy_Parkinson, Draco_Malfoy
  Additional Tags:
      Gender_or_Sex_Swap, Genderbending, Voyeurism, Female_Harry_Potter,
      Rimming, Double_Penetration, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Revenge_Sex,
      Whipping, Bloodplay, Sex_Toys, Cunnilingus, BDSM
  Series:
      Part 2 of Sweet_Revenge
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-25 Words: 2086
****** Payback is a Bitch, but Revenge is Sweet II: The Vixen Remix ******
by Selah_Grace_(ohselah)
Summary
     Pansy decides to get revenge on Harry for all of the trouble that
     Harry has caused in Draco’s life.
Heavy eyelids opened and revealed to glazed emerald green eyes, a dark room.
Immediately, the raven-haired boy panicked, jerking forward forcefully—before
realizing that he had been chained up the wall. Harry made an incoherent noise
in the back of his throat and shivered, feeling his nipples tighten unbearably.
Blinking in surprise, Harry took a quick glance down at his chest—and screamed…
in what was definitely not his voice. Instead of his flat, toned chest, there
were two lumps there—two lumps that were not there the day before—and something
else felt different about him—well, besides the fact that he wanted to cry over
something as minuscule as not having the muscled chest that he had worked so
hard with Quidditch to achieve. "What the hell is going on here?" Harry
whispered to himself softly, and he nearly cried at his voice, which sounded so
soft, weak and feminine.

"That's a very good question, Potter…" A harsh, familiar voice flowed to his
ears, and Harry looked up in surprise. Parkinson? Parkinson did this to me?
Harry thought, and he growled quietly in contempt. Parkinson's lips curled into
a smirk and she crossed her arms over her chest. "And, I believe that I can
answer it. Well, for one thing… For the remainder of this week, the Wizarding
World will not see their precious 'saviour', because he will be here, serving
his punishment with me." Parkinson offered the brunet a smile here, taunting
though it was. "The second detail of this arrangement is… for the remainder of
this week, there will be no Boy-Who-Lived… No, it will be the Girl-Who-Lived.

"Lastly, your punishment, Potter. Don't you want to know what your punishment
will include, Potty?" Parkinson sneered. "No, I don't suppose that you would
want to know what it was, if you already knew what it was, anyway—but, you
don't know that, do you? I can see the curiosity burning in your veins, Potter.
So, I'll tell you, but only because it will make you squirm. First, I'll be
giving you something that I've been researching for the past week. Did you know
that the Muggles have some very interesting methods of inflicting pain? Well,
we'll be going through a couple of those. Next, we'll be experimenting with the
magical ways of torture. I'm an expert in this field, Potter. I suggest that
you get ready for some serious pain…" Harry's breathing quickened at the
details that flashed through his mind. She couldn't really be anexpert, could
she? "Last but certainly not least, we'll be exploring the fine arts of
pleasure—mixed with pain, of course. Because... what better than to rob the
Boy-Who-Lived of his virginity? Moreover, without his consent? It's every true
Slytherin's dream, Potter."

Harry shuddered at the way she talked. Please, please, please, don't let her do
this to me. Harry chanted in his mind, and small rivulets of tears beginning to
flow down his cheeks. "Why, Parkinson? Why are you doing this to me?"

Parkinson's face hardened, and she placed a finger under Harry's chin. "Potter,
you've made my Draco's life a living hell, from the first time that you were in
Hogwarts. That is why I'm doing this, Potter, because of last year. You went
too far, accidental though it was. Draco's mother is a veela. Did you know
that, Potter?" Harry shook his—or her, rather—head rapidly, her eyes widening
in recognition and sadness. "Well, she was… before she committed suicide. Do
you know why she committed suicide, Potter? No, I don't suppose you do." Harry
choked back a sob, bowing her head in realisation of what she had done. "She
did it because she was separated from her mate for too long. Veelas go insane
if they are separated from their mates for too long. I bet you wish you hadn't
now, don't you?"

Harry nodded her head, biting her lower lip as she trained her eyes on the
cold, stone floor. Her voice was soft and barely audible as she spoke, "I'm
sorry…"

"Tell that to Draco, Potter. Haven't you noticed that he hasn't been as
terrible to you this year?" A smirk showed on Parkinson's face, as Harry lifted
her face up. "Believe me, you'll get the chance." Harry's eyes widened at the
implications of that statement. She couldn't truly mean that… Could she?

However, the leering grin on Parkinson's face and the wicked gleam in her eyes
told Harry that she could, and she did. Harry shuddered, wondering what was
going to happen to him—her.

Suddenly, Parkinson was no longer in Harry's line of sight and she blinked,
thinking to herself. I can't have been hallucinating; after all, I am still a
girl—or rather, in a girl's body. I don't believe that I'm, literally, a girl,
since I wasn't a girl yesterday—and I won't be a girl in a week from now. But,
maybe I am a girl, but only for this temporary time…

The brunette returned a moment later, cutting off the continuance of Harry's
ramblings. However, the return wasn't exactly what Harry would call a happy one
because Parkinson was carrying in her hand a whip, a Cat O' Nine Tails to be
exact; a whip, Harry noticed, that had nine whips that were woven together—and
looked like it could be deadly. Harry licked her lips, a small, uncomfortable
feeling building in the bottom of her stomach; she strained uneasily against
the bonds, whining quietly.

Parkinson sneered at her. "Don't worry, Potter; you'll get a small moment of
release in a moment." She waved her hand at the cuffs, before she grabbed Harry
by the arm, making sure that the raven-haired girl couldn't escape. Parkinson
twisted Harry's arm around behind the 'Girl-Who-Lived's back. "No escape for
you, Potter. It'll only get worse if you try," and with that, the brunette
pushed Harry into the wall; one finger trailed down the small of Harry's back,
tracing the girl's spine and causing small shivers to run up and down her body.
The finger continued a downward path, slipping between the two mounds of flesh
that held the quivering muscles in the sable-haired girl's arse. The digit
continued in its speed, dipping lower into the dark-haired female's cunt. Harry
gasped softly, pressing back onto the wandering finger; new, unexplained
feelings burst through Harry, leaving the girl feeling breathless and
frustrated from the sensations.

Parkinson's free hand held her wand, which she waved in the standard swish-and-
flick motion that Flitwick had taught them to do in their first year. Harry was
startled when the bonds, which had fallen to the floor when Parkinson had
spelled them off the first time, suddenly locked around her wrist and tighter
than they had been the first time. The smirk was evident in Parkinson's voice
as she said. "I hope you enjoy the ride, Potter. You're in for a long one", and
then, the sound of skin slapping skin resounded throughout the room as
Parkinson's palm struck Harry's feminine arse. Harry was shocked from the
suddenness of it all—Parkinson's finger disappearing from her tingling cunt and
the way that, within a millisecond of withdrawing, the finger's nail was
digging into the skin of her ass.

Chained against the wall, backwards now, Harry groaned from the coldness of
it—this being-a-girl thing was beginning to annoy her—because it was causing
her nipples to draw up into stiff, hard peaks. It didn't help the situation any
that Parkinson was consistently pushing her against the wall, squashing her
breasts against the wall. Parkinson, however, didn't seem to mind the situation
at all—in fact, she seemed to be enjoying by the way that she ran unnaturally
sharp fingernails down the curve of Harry's arse. "Ready for the whip, Potter?"
Harry shook her head rapidly, but it was ignored. Instead, Parkinson's spoke
again, malicious intent written in her voice. "Ah, but I am, Potter. I am—and
what I say goes, in these circumstances."

The whip brushed fleetingly against the small of Harry's back—and Harry froze,
going rigid with fear and trepidation; after nothing harsher came a few seconds
later, Harry relaxed, thinking that Parkinson had decided to bail out. Then,
there was a short whistling sound as the whip came flying down. Harry cried out
in pain as the whip hit her back—and the tears followed soon afterwards. Harry
heard Parkinson chuckle coldly. "Such pretty marks this whip leaves. I'm not
sure that I can control myself..."

Then, Harry felt the other girl's fingers, spread out in a fashion that made it
able to touch both ends of the wide whip marks, brush over them. Harry sobbed
quietly as the salt sunk into his wounds, and she hissed softly, saying
something incomprehensible in Parseltongue.

"Potter," the Slytherin girl murmured warningly in response to the
Parseltongue, and the whip struck his skin—twice, this time—and then, a third.
By that time, the lashes had started to build up a steady speed, and the tears
were running, unchecked, down Harry's cheeks; the girl felt as though her back
were being split open every time the whip touched her back. Harry could hear
the brunette muttering something under her back, and just as the whip struck
again, Harry could make out part of what she was saying: "Four—". Four? Harry
thought. Was she counting? If she is, that can't be right. Maybe it was
fourteen? Yes, that must—Harry never finished her thought, because just at that
moment, the whip struck her skin again. Harry screamed—the pain that she felt
was agonizing, and Harry didn't know how much long she could take it.

However, no more lashes seemed to be forthcoming and Harry furrowed her brow in
thought. Thinking back on what Parkinson had said earlier, Harry heard her cold
voice say again in his ear, '... Next, we'll be experimenting with the magical
ways of torture. I'm an expert in this field, Potter… I suggest that you get
ready for some serious pain...' Harry shuddered; dread poured into her every
being and goose bumps ran up and down her arms and legs. "Oh, just you wait,
Potter... Your anticipation will drive you insane before I start on you—but,
Merlin, how I want to cause your pain... Draco will be very pleased with me,
Potter."

Harry whimpered and waited for the onslaught of spells to come—and she
waited—and she waited—and she waited a bit more until she could practically
feel some of the things that Parkinson could do to her. Then, Harry felt the
brunette move behind her, and Harry's muscles went taut with unease.
"10flagellare!"

A new type of whip—Harry was sure that it was a new type because it neither
hurt as badly as the Cat O' Nine Tails nor as many straps—smacked Harry's arse.
Harry cried out in pain; however, Harry could feel a pleasurable tingle in his
arse between the slaps of the whip. The movements of the whip are much
different from before when Parkinson had been flogging his arse with the Cat O'
Nine Tails, more—professional, Harry thinks. Harry hissed softly as the whip
was manoeuvred toward the front of her body and the tip of the strap stung her
nipple. This happened four times—twice to each nipple—before the whipping
stopped completely. The sable-haired female was terribly embarrassed by her
reactions to the whipping; her nipples, which had hardened before from the
coldness, were now painfully hard with her arousal.

"Exacuere wand!" Harry blanched slightly as he heard the voice from behind him.
Exacuere, Exacuere... Where have I heard that before? Then, the raven-haired
girl tensed as a sharp point was pressed against the back of her shoulder—and
Harry remembered... Death Eaters. Screaming. Children crying... "Exacuere wand.
Extenuare wand!" Cold, terrifying laughter... Harry cried in fright and twisted
in her imprisoning bonds, trying desperately to get away from the abuse that
she knew was coming.

Then, Harry could have sworn that a miracle had happened just then because a
voice came from behind her, startling Parkinson; even though the sharp object
slipped down her back, creating a long trail of blood, Harry was immensely
relieved by the interruption—until she recognised the person behind the voice.
"Stop, Pansy... I believe that it is now my turn to jump and play a little game
or so with Harriet."

Draco Malfoy had come out to play.
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