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hpkinkfestPart One
Part Two
Pansy Parkinson Life Lesson #1: Never trust a Muggle magazine to do a witch’s job
In the five years since the Yule Ball, Pansy’s life had begun a slow devolution into a tragic mess. She hadn’t realized it at first. With the Inquisitorial Squad keeping her busy for most of her fifth year, Pansy had figured that she was on the fast track for success. Being named prefect had been exciting. But when Umbridge began her slow takeover of Hogwarts, Pansy knew she had found an opportunity for real power. She was the one who had suggested the idea to Umbridge and she had been the one to pick out the group. If Umbridge hadn’t turned out to be an incompetent fool, Pansy would have been able to live out her dream of complete Hogwarts domination.
By the end of her fifth year, things had already started getting worse. The Inquisitorial Squad was disbanded, Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts, and worst of all, Draco’s father had been sent to Azkaban. Pansy had tried to maintain faith in the great Cosmo during her times of trouble, voraciously tearing through the pages for anything that could help her. But while learning the 32 ways to make her butt sexier had been a helpful distraction, it did nothing to fix the real issues. At times, she was tempted to write in for more direct advice.
Dear Cosmo,
I think my boyfriend is being sent on a suicide mission by the Dark Lord, but he won’t tell me anything about it. How do I help him avoid almost certain death?
-Worried Witch
Dear Cosmo,
My boyfriend is pulling away from me. He doesn’t eat or sleep much, and he doesn’t seem interested in sex anymore. He spends most of his days brooding in the girl’s loo. Whenever I see him, his eyes are red as if he’s been crying. He even bought a beautiful necklace, but I think he used it to hex a girl instead of giving it to me. I just want to help him, but he keeps turning me away. How do I get through to him?
-Helpless in Hogwarts
Dear Cosmo,
My boyfriend tried to kill our headmaster. Ever since then, a dark wizard has taken control of the wizarding world. All the death and destruction has put a damper on our relationship. How do you balance love with terror?
-Trying to have it all
But Cosmo didn’t have any helpful advice for any of these dilemmas. Pansy didn’t have to send them in to know that. They’d probably tell her to give Draco a blow job so that he felt like a man—as if she hadn’t tried that already. By the time the war ended, Pansy had found her interest in Cosmo’s suggestions waning.
The final straw came soon after the celebrations ended. Draco dumped her. Well, the dumping wasn’t the real issue. Pansy was upset about the end of their relationship, but after two years of Draco retreating into himself, she wasn’t surprised. No, what really pissed Pansy off was that Draco had dumped her for Astoria Greengrass.
Astoria had never done anything to hurt Pansy. When Pansy looked back on her seven years at Hogwarts, the younger girl barely even registered in her memory. And that was what Pansy found so offensive about Draco’s new relationship. How could Draco dump her—Pansy Parkinson, queen of Slytherin—for some inoffensive, useless human being. Astoria was pretty in the bland way that girls with uninteresting features were pretty. The only worthy aspect to her was the wealth and connections her family provided. Of course, these were probably important factors to the Malfoys, who were eager to rehabilitate their image from power-hungry Death Eaters to something a bit cuddlier.
Insult had already been added to injury, but life insisted on finding more ways to try and ruin Pansy. During this time, she realized that no Muggle magazine would be able to help her. All of the connections she had so strenuously acquired in Hogwarts were failing her. Now, a year after graduation, all she had to show for her hard work was a crappy apartment paid for with a crappier job. After weeks of lowering her expectations, she had been able to scrounge up employment as a sort of secretary-for-hire, sent to wherever she was directed so that she could file papers and send out owls.
She was not excited for her most recent assignment: Gringotts. Draco had started working there thanks to some exceptional manipulation on Lucius’ part. She had been tempted to turn down the assignment, but Pansy wasn’t about to allow a silly thing like ex-boyfriends ruin her chance at a few Galleons. As she put on the drab Gringotts uniform, she mentally ran through a list of things she could say if she ran into him. So far, “Draco? Sorry, I didn’t recognize you with your receding hairline,” was high on the list.
The bank hadn’t opened yet when she arrived, but there was already a flurry of activity as goblins bustled through the main hallway. Witches and wizards were engaged in serious discussions about the value of Galleons as they hurried across the floor. Sighing, Pansy made her way through the room until she reached a door that opened up to reveal a suite of offices.
She hadn’t been told anything about her assignment except that she was to wait in the reception area for further instruction. She sat down on the black couches, watching a tank full of fish that changed colors and went invisible when provoked. An old witch was hunched over the reception desk, scratching a quill methodically over a piece of parchment. She raised her head slightly and noted Pansy’s presence. “Are you Pansy?” she asked dryly.
“Yes.”
Without saying another word, the old lady took a new piece of parchment and scribbled a note on it. Tapping the parchment with her wand, the note folded into a paper plane and promptly flew off.
Whenever Pansy heard the sound of a door opening or footsteps approaching, she prepared herself for the possibility that she would run into Draco. With every witch and wizard who passed by, Pansy’s relief grew.
A sharp sound of heels clicking down a hallway stuck out from the background noise. The sound maintained a strict beat, the kind heard from women who treat heels as a way of life. The sound kept coming towards her, but unlike all the other witches and wizards who had kept walking by, the wearer of the shoes stopped abruptly in front of the reception area. Pansy stared at the shoes first, and as her gaze slowly drifted upwards, a mixture of dread and excitement filled her.
“Fleur?”
Fleur grinned and walked towards Pansy, leaning forward to lightly kiss her on both cheeks in greeting. In the corner, the old witch grunted and shook her head in disapproval. Pansy could swear she heard her muttering, “Damn French.”
Pansy followed Fleur in a daze. She hadn’t talked to the other woman since the Yule Ball. But even though they didn’t talk to each other, Fleur had managed to make her presence known through the rest of her stay. Whenever Pansy saw her, Fleur would smile slyly at her, her eyes running over Pansy so that she felt exposed. And if Draco was with her, Fleur would move silkily around them in a way that Pansy knew was all for her.
She had wanted to hate Fleur. Sometimes, she almost did. But in those moments, the desire to punch Fleur turned into a need that Pansy would never admit to.
Now, she felt inadequate next to Fleur. Fleur was still beautiful, perhaps even more than she had been five years before. Her uniform was crisp on her body, her shirt pinching in where her waist was its most slender. Her skirt fit close to her, moving perfectly with the sway of her hips. And the simple wedding band completed her outfit, reaffirming just how together everything in Fleur’s life was. Next to her, Pansy was just some glum secretary wearing an ill-fitting uniform and boring shoes.
Fleur was chattering excitedly about the tasks she needed Pansy to carry out that day. There were documents to be sorted and owls to be sent and all sorts of mundane tasks that sounded almost exciting when listed in Fleur’s voice. At one point, they passed an office with a plaque reading, “Draco Malfoy.” Pansy paused for a second and looked over the closed door. She wondered if Draco was in there at that moment. He probably had some dumb picture of him and Astoria exchanging sappy glances on his desk.
When she started moving again, she realized that Fleur was staring at her with an unreadable expression. She made no reference to the name on the plaque or Pansy’s pause. Instead, she kept walking briskly, silently urging Pansy to move on with her.
Compared to some assignments Pansy had, working for Fleur was actually quite nice. On one job, she had been asked to clean up an office full of Doxy droppings. If it weren’t for the fabulous black pumps she had been saving up for, Pansy would have walked away. The pumps had been worth it though. On the few occasions she went out, wearing those shoes ensured that she didn’t have to spend a Knut on drinks.
But all the tasks she had to do for Fleur were—at worst—boring. There were at least fifty things she would rather be doing, but sitting in a comfortable office while reading and responding to owls wasn’t a terrible way to spend a day. From what Pansy gathered, Fleur’s job involved acting as a liaison between Gringotts and several banks in France. While Pansy stayed at her desk, Fleur was constantly moving in and out of the office. The times that she stayed in the office for longer periods of time, it was to engage in Floo conversations that Pansy didn’t have the French skills to understand. She was also too distracted by the sight of Fleur bent over a fireplace to process anything she was saying.
When it came time for her lunch break, Pansy quietly ate her sandwich at her desk. After she finished, she stared around the room in silence. After her break, she was supposed to wait for Fleur to get back so that she could go through the next list of tasks. Pansy wasn’t sure how to occupy her time until then.
She left the office, walking slowly down the hallway and judging the décor she saw in the open office. This time, when she reached Draco’s office, she contemplated her options. She could keep walking and pretend he didn’t exist, but that seemed like she was running. Pansy wasn’t some stupidly brave Gryffindor, but she wasn’t about to run away from a challenge either.
So she did the next best thing. She knocked. When no one answered, she tapped the door knob with her wand and slowly eased the door open. The room was dark, a problem that Pansy easily solved with a wave of her wand.
The office was small, but it had promise. Pansy would have moved the couch to a different wall, and maybe rearranged the desk, but it seemed that Draco had at least learned something in his years with her. She ran her fingers over the desk, trying to figure out just what she expected to get out of this intrusion. She picked up a picture frame, which contained—as she had expected—a rather disgusting picture of Draco and Astoria rubbing their noses against each other. At that moment, Pansy began to contemplate the various forms of revenge that she could enact in his office. She could always conjure up some excess Doxy droppings or transfigure some of his supplies into mini hippogriff figurines.
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the sound of Fleur’s shoes approaching the room. It was the scent of her perfume that gave her away. Pansy turned to face her, flushing in embarrassment.
Closing the door behind her, Fleur looked critically around the room. “Hiz taste iz not as good as yours, no?” She glanced back at Pansy, an eyebrow arched imperiously.
“I..um…I just stopped in,” Pansy said guiltily, unsure of how to respond.
Pansy felt her heart racing as Fleur walked towards her. Was she going to be fired? She couldn’t afford to lose this assignment—not with her rent due so soon.
“I do not like zis new girlfriend of Draco’s,” Fleur said, taking the picture from Pansy’s hand. She rolled her eyes as the Astoria in the photograph offered her nose to Draco again. “She iz so boring. Not like you.” She looked up at Pansy and set the picture back down.
Pansy’s throat had gone completely dry. Breathing had become increasingly difficult with each of Fleur’s approaching steps. “Yeah,” she finally managed to say. “Well, you can’t win them all.”
“Really?” Fleur was staring at her with an inquisitive look. “I never though zat you were a girl who accepts defeat.”
Pansy straightened her back. “Whatever, Frenchy. Zat is just ze way thingz are,” she shot back in a terrible impression of Fleur’s accent.
Fleur’s expression remained calm as she stepped closer to Pansy. “You should know zat I don’t accept defeat either.”
“Of course you don’t,” Pansy grumbled. “When’s the last time you didn’t get what you wanted?”
“I think zat we both ze answer….”
Fleur moved in closer, forcing Pansy to back up onto the desk. “Aren’t you married?” she asked, glancing down at the band on Fleur’s ring finger.
“Yes.” Fleur raised her hand slightly to look at the ring. She smiled as she gazed lovingly at it. “But Bill iz always travelling. He and I have…arrangements.”
Pansy’s hands were gripping the edge of the desk. She tried to focus on the hard edge of the wood painfully pressing into her palms—anything to keep her mind off the smooth skin of Fleur’s neck. “That’s great and all, but I should probably go—“
Fleur cut off Pansy’s pathetic attempt at escape. “What were you going to do?”
“Huh?”
“To his office? You were going to do something, yes? For revenge.”
Pansy cringed, embarrassed that her thought process was so obvious. “I couldn’t think of anything,” she finally admitted. “I mean, I did think of some things, but nothing good enough.”
“May I offer a suggestion?” Fleur said, lightly stroking Pansy’s cheek.
Pansy yanked her head away. “I already told you. I don’t like girls.” She tried to limit her breathing, afraid of the closeness of their bodies as her chest rose.
“Ah, yes, of course.” Fleur pressed in further. She extended a hand to the desk so that it both supported her and made it impossible for Pansy to move away. She drew a finger slowly down towards the top of Pansy’s blouse. “But you see, I’m not a girl anymore. And neither, it seems, are you.”
She was toying with the top button, turning it between her fingers. Pansy tensed up, but she said nothing when Fleur released the button from the confines of the buttonhole. Her eyes were trained on Pansy’s as she continued to trail her finger down, slowly undoing each button until the shirt was un-tucked and hiding nothing. Only then did Fleur break eye contact, her gaze shifting down. When she looked back up, a predatory look glinted in the bright blue of her eyes.
But Pansy was nobody’s prey. Grabbing Fleur’s blouse in one hand, she pulled the other woman towards her. Their lips clashed hungrily against each other. As the taste of Fleur filled her, Pansy finally admitted to herself just how much she had craved this. There was no Draco to hold her back, no need to cling to a misguided sense of her own desires. This was the first moment in so long that she could have something she wanted, and nothing would stop her from claiming it.
She made quick work of Fleur’s blouse, tossing it off to the side. Fleur’s hands were running across her skin, teasing her as they skimmed over the top of her breasts and then down her abdomen. Her hand rested on Pansy’s thigh, an intoxicating warmth that she could feel through the fabric of her skirt. She pressed her body against Fleur’s, wanting to feel the other woman against every inch of her.
Fleur broke the kiss to trail her lips down Pansy’s neck. Pansy tilted her head back to allow her greater access. As the heat of Fleur’s mouth cut an intense path across her skin, Pansy realized that she was staring at her shoulders. The image of Fleur’s bare back played in her head again, and before she knew what she was doing, Pansy reached out and swept an intrusive bra strap off a shoulder. She ran her hand along the smooth ridges of muscle and bone, reliving the memory of Fleur’s wet skin underneath her hands. There was such an exhilarating sense of relief to finally giving in to this desire.
The path of Fleur’s lips was became more demanding, her tongue sweeping over the skin that covered Pansy’s pulse. When her teeth scraped against that area, Pansy let out a gasp that turned into a moan as the pressure increased. She wove her hand through thick blonde hair, urging Fleur to continue. With her free hand, she unhooked Fleur’s bra. The feeling of Fleur’s exposed breasts pressing urgently into her was so different from her previous experience, so strange compared to hardness of a man’s chest. And yet there something in it that was so much more satisfying than Pansy could have imagined.
Fleur went on her knees as she continued her masterful work down Pansy’s chest and abdomen. Her hand pushed up Pansy’s skirt, teasing the band of her knickers. Pansy watched, mesmerized by the sight of Fleur kneeling before her. She gasped when Fleur’s lips began a tortuously slow path up the inside of her thighs. Her hips bucked slightly when she felt teeth against the patch of skin next to her knickers. If she thought Fleur had been teasing her at Hogwarts, that was nothing compared to what she was being put through now.
She felt a finger taunting her through the fabric of her panties. Relaxing into the touch, she moaned when Fleur finally pulled the knickers down and let her finger weave delicately back and forth through Pansy’s folds. With every touch, Pansy could feel herself become wetter around Fleur’s finger, which made the next touch even more pleasurable.
Fleur’s tongue began to trace the same path, giving her fingers freedom to explore elsewhere. Pansy reached down to run her hand through Fleur’s hair again, afraid that Fleur might suddenly decide to stop. The slow, steady path of her tongue was matched by the pace of her finger inside of Pansy, working in tandem to bring her closer and closer to the edge. The pace began to increase as her tongue localized around Pansy’s clitoris. And just as she thought she had reached her limit, Fleur slipped in another finger. The combined sensation inside of her and against her body was overwhelming, and Pansy cried out softly, begging Fleur not to stop. She felt her orgasm building up inside of her until it finally took over, her hips bucking against the last strokes of Fleur’s tongue.
But Pansy had put this off for five years, and she needed more. She took a few deep breaths as Fleur stood up. Fleur’s lips were still moist as they locked with Pansy’s, but neither woman was concerned with that. It was much more important that they make it to the black couch. As Pansy directed Fleur backwards, she reached under her skirt to remove Fleur’s knickers. When Fleur’s calves were flush with the couch, they managed to settle down onto the cushions.
Pansy looked down at the sight of Fleur, her bare breasts heaving in expectation as her eyes glazed over in desire. Pansy leaned down to flick her tongue across one nipple, her thumb caressing the other breast. Fleur arched her back into the touch, moaning as Pansy nipped at responsive skin.
The couch was not quite large enough to accommodate them, and they both had a leg hanging off the couch. Pansy didn’t realize at first that Fleur’s skirt had been riding up, or that she could feel Fleur’s thigh between her legs. But when the firm muscle pushed higher and higher, an overwhelming longing to push back took over Pansy. She began to ride her hips forward so that she was rubbing against the bare skin, throwing her head back as each thrust sent an intense heat through her entire body.
Fleur was grinding back against her, but it wasn’t enough. Sitting upright, she adjusted their positions so that the legs still on the couch were wrapped around each other’s bodies. She wrapped her other leg on top of Pansy’s so that they were effectively scissored against each other. The position wasn’t entirely comfortable thanks to the confines of the couch—and there was nothing decorous the way their skirts bunch around their waists. But none of that became relevant when their vulvas made contact.
Pansy had worked hard since she was fourteen to make sure that she always knew what to do during sex—a much easier task when she was with Draco. This was the first time she felt unsure of what to do, but the sense of discovery was enthralling. She pieced together the mechanics by gauging Fleur’s reactions, moving her hips until she had found the way to draw out a breathy moan. As she eased into a steady tempo, taking in the very new sensation of a being in such intimate contact with another woman, she started wondering why she hadn’t tried this before. They were practically clinging to each other at this point, their lips meeting in between short bursts of breath.
When Pansy looked into Fleur’s eyes, the blue of her irises took on a lustful haze. They were both pressing against each other, locked in a rhythm of mutual need. Fleur cried out, but she quickly muffled the sound by groaning into another grueling kiss. When she released Pansy’s lips, she whispered a series of French commands that Pansy could only hope she was adhering to.
They were becoming sticky with sweat as they both sought the friction between their bodies. Fleur’s breath was becoming shorter as every exhalation became a punctuated moan. When her climax came, Pansy could feel it in the rough undulation of Fleur’s hips into hers. And still, Fleur kept going, her nails digging into Pansy’s back as they rocked hard against each other. Pansy felt another climax building inside of her, and just when she reached the moment of release—
“Pansy! What the hell?!”
Pansy was confused at first. Why was someone else in the room? Didn’t they know it was rude to interrupt an orgasm? But then she looked over and saw Draco, and that’s when she remembered where he was.
Still, he could have knocked.
From behind him emerged Astoria, a very frightened look on her face. “Dray-dray, what’s going on?”
Pansy snickered when she heard, “Dray-dray.”
“Astoria, why don’t you go wait outside?” he said, ushering her out into the hallway. When he came back in, Pansy and Fleur had already started scouting the room for their clothes. “What the hell, Pansy? Is this your idea of revenge?”
“No,” she said calmly as she buttoned up her blouse. “This is my idea of having a good shag.” She imagined most women would be embarrassed if their ex-boyfriend caught them having sex with their female boss—especially if they were on his couch. But really, what did she have to be ashamed of? She’d taken Draco’s virginity. As far as she was concerned, he owed her an office for her sexual escapades.
Draco looked between her and Fleur in complete shock. He clearly didn’t know how to process the scene he had walked in on. “You know, I can make it so that you don’t get work here again.”
Fleur laughed brightly. “No, no. I like Panzy. And I believe that I am your superior, Draco. You may be a Malfoy, but you do not speek French well enough to replace me.” She was straightening out her skirt, generally unconcerned with Draco’s threats. “Oh,” she added sweetly. “Your couch—it is quite lovely. Thank you for allowing us to use eet.”
She crossed the room to the door, leaving Pansy still standing and feeling annoyed with Draco for his intrusion. Draco was bright red in anger. As Pansy looked over his business suit and recalled the insipid photo of him and Astoria, she almost felt pity for him. For once, she realized that she had things better off than him. Sure, she had a job she didn’t like and an apartment she wanted to leave, but she’d be able to find a way out of this situation. Draco would always be dependent on his parents to figure out his choices for him. They had chosen his side in the war, and now they chose his job and his girlfriend. But no one chose for Pansy.
Draco was glaring at her. “Pansy, you can’t be this desperate for attention.”
“Trust me, Draco,” she replied. “The last thing I wanted a few minutes ago was your attention.”
“We should talk,” he said through gritted teeth. “You can’t just come into my office and have sex on my couch!”
“Well, I’d hate to find out how you feel about me having sex on your desk then,” she said innocently.
Draco’s eyes widened as he looked between her and the table. “We really need to discuss this.”
“Perhaps it can wait,” Fleur said, grabbing Pansy’s hand and dragging her towards the door. Grinning suggestively at Draco, she added, “After all, I ‘ave a long list of tasks that I need Panzy to do.”
When Pansy got back to her apartment that night, plans and schemes for her second rise to power filled her head. There were no magazines to seek advice from or boyfriends to drag along.
And really, she thought, isn’t that the way it should have been all along?
Part Two
Pansy Parkinson Life Lesson #1: Never trust a Muggle magazine to do a witch’s job
In the five years since the Yule Ball, Pansy’s life had begun a slow devolution into a tragic mess. She hadn’t realized it at first. With the Inquisitorial Squad keeping her busy for most of her fifth year, Pansy had figured that she was on the fast track for success. Being named prefect had been exciting. But when Umbridge began her slow takeover of Hogwarts, Pansy knew she had found an opportunity for real power. She was the one who had suggested the idea to Umbridge and she had been the one to pick out the group. If Umbridge hadn’t turned out to be an incompetent fool, Pansy would have been able to live out her dream of complete Hogwarts domination.
By the end of her fifth year, things had already started getting worse. The Inquisitorial Squad was disbanded, Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts, and worst of all, Draco’s father had been sent to Azkaban. Pansy had tried to maintain faith in the great Cosmo during her times of trouble, voraciously tearing through the pages for anything that could help her. But while learning the 32 ways to make her butt sexier had been a helpful distraction, it did nothing to fix the real issues. At times, she was tempted to write in for more direct advice.
Dear Cosmo,
I think my boyfriend is being sent on a suicide mission by the Dark Lord, but he won’t tell me anything about it. How do I help him avoid almost certain death?
-Worried Witch
Dear Cosmo,
My boyfriend is pulling away from me. He doesn’t eat or sleep much, and he doesn’t seem interested in sex anymore. He spends most of his days brooding in the girl’s loo. Whenever I see him, his eyes are red as if he’s been crying. He even bought a beautiful necklace, but I think he used it to hex a girl instead of giving it to me. I just want to help him, but he keeps turning me away. How do I get through to him?
-Helpless in Hogwarts
Dear Cosmo,
My boyfriend tried to kill our headmaster. Ever since then, a dark wizard has taken control of the wizarding world. All the death and destruction has put a damper on our relationship. How do you balance love with terror?
-Trying to have it all
But Cosmo didn’t have any helpful advice for any of these dilemmas. Pansy didn’t have to send them in to know that. They’d probably tell her to give Draco a blow job so that he felt like a man—as if she hadn’t tried that already. By the time the war ended, Pansy had found her interest in Cosmo’s suggestions waning.
The final straw came soon after the celebrations ended. Draco dumped her. Well, the dumping wasn’t the real issue. Pansy was upset about the end of their relationship, but after two years of Draco retreating into himself, she wasn’t surprised. No, what really pissed Pansy off was that Draco had dumped her for Astoria Greengrass.
Astoria had never done anything to hurt Pansy. When Pansy looked back on her seven years at Hogwarts, the younger girl barely even registered in her memory. And that was what Pansy found so offensive about Draco’s new relationship. How could Draco dump her—Pansy Parkinson, queen of Slytherin—for some inoffensive, useless human being. Astoria was pretty in the bland way that girls with uninteresting features were pretty. The only worthy aspect to her was the wealth and connections her family provided. Of course, these were probably important factors to the Malfoys, who were eager to rehabilitate their image from power-hungry Death Eaters to something a bit cuddlier.
Insult had already been added to injury, but life insisted on finding more ways to try and ruin Pansy. During this time, she realized that no Muggle magazine would be able to help her. All of the connections she had so strenuously acquired in Hogwarts were failing her. Now, a year after graduation, all she had to show for her hard work was a crappy apartment paid for with a crappier job. After weeks of lowering her expectations, she had been able to scrounge up employment as a sort of secretary-for-hire, sent to wherever she was directed so that she could file papers and send out owls.
She was not excited for her most recent assignment: Gringotts. Draco had started working there thanks to some exceptional manipulation on Lucius’ part. She had been tempted to turn down the assignment, but Pansy wasn’t about to allow a silly thing like ex-boyfriends ruin her chance at a few Galleons. As she put on the drab Gringotts uniform, she mentally ran through a list of things she could say if she ran into him. So far, “Draco? Sorry, I didn’t recognize you with your receding hairline,” was high on the list.
The bank hadn’t opened yet when she arrived, but there was already a flurry of activity as goblins bustled through the main hallway. Witches and wizards were engaged in serious discussions about the value of Galleons as they hurried across the floor. Sighing, Pansy made her way through the room until she reached a door that opened up to reveal a suite of offices.
She hadn’t been told anything about her assignment except that she was to wait in the reception area for further instruction. She sat down on the black couches, watching a tank full of fish that changed colors and went invisible when provoked. An old witch was hunched over the reception desk, scratching a quill methodically over a piece of parchment. She raised her head slightly and noted Pansy’s presence. “Are you Pansy?” she asked dryly.
“Yes.”
Without saying another word, the old lady took a new piece of parchment and scribbled a note on it. Tapping the parchment with her wand, the note folded into a paper plane and promptly flew off.
Whenever Pansy heard the sound of a door opening or footsteps approaching, she prepared herself for the possibility that she would run into Draco. With every witch and wizard who passed by, Pansy’s relief grew.
A sharp sound of heels clicking down a hallway stuck out from the background noise. The sound maintained a strict beat, the kind heard from women who treat heels as a way of life. The sound kept coming towards her, but unlike all the other witches and wizards who had kept walking by, the wearer of the shoes stopped abruptly in front of the reception area. Pansy stared at the shoes first, and as her gaze slowly drifted upwards, a mixture of dread and excitement filled her.
“Fleur?”
Fleur grinned and walked towards Pansy, leaning forward to lightly kiss her on both cheeks in greeting. In the corner, the old witch grunted and shook her head in disapproval. Pansy could swear she heard her muttering, “Damn French.”
Pansy followed Fleur in a daze. She hadn’t talked to the other woman since the Yule Ball. But even though they didn’t talk to each other, Fleur had managed to make her presence known through the rest of her stay. Whenever Pansy saw her, Fleur would smile slyly at her, her eyes running over Pansy so that she felt exposed. And if Draco was with her, Fleur would move silkily around them in a way that Pansy knew was all for her.
She had wanted to hate Fleur. Sometimes, she almost did. But in those moments, the desire to punch Fleur turned into a need that Pansy would never admit to.
Now, she felt inadequate next to Fleur. Fleur was still beautiful, perhaps even more than she had been five years before. Her uniform was crisp on her body, her shirt pinching in where her waist was its most slender. Her skirt fit close to her, moving perfectly with the sway of her hips. And the simple wedding band completed her outfit, reaffirming just how together everything in Fleur’s life was. Next to her, Pansy was just some glum secretary wearing an ill-fitting uniform and boring shoes.
Fleur was chattering excitedly about the tasks she needed Pansy to carry out that day. There were documents to be sorted and owls to be sent and all sorts of mundane tasks that sounded almost exciting when listed in Fleur’s voice. At one point, they passed an office with a plaque reading, “Draco Malfoy.” Pansy paused for a second and looked over the closed door. She wondered if Draco was in there at that moment. He probably had some dumb picture of him and Astoria exchanging sappy glances on his desk.
When she started moving again, she realized that Fleur was staring at her with an unreadable expression. She made no reference to the name on the plaque or Pansy’s pause. Instead, she kept walking briskly, silently urging Pansy to move on with her.
Compared to some assignments Pansy had, working for Fleur was actually quite nice. On one job, she had been asked to clean up an office full of Doxy droppings. If it weren’t for the fabulous black pumps she had been saving up for, Pansy would have walked away. The pumps had been worth it though. On the few occasions she went out, wearing those shoes ensured that she didn’t have to spend a Knut on drinks.
But all the tasks she had to do for Fleur were—at worst—boring. There were at least fifty things she would rather be doing, but sitting in a comfortable office while reading and responding to owls wasn’t a terrible way to spend a day. From what Pansy gathered, Fleur’s job involved acting as a liaison between Gringotts and several banks in France. While Pansy stayed at her desk, Fleur was constantly moving in and out of the office. The times that she stayed in the office for longer periods of time, it was to engage in Floo conversations that Pansy didn’t have the French skills to understand. She was also too distracted by the sight of Fleur bent over a fireplace to process anything she was saying.
When it came time for her lunch break, Pansy quietly ate her sandwich at her desk. After she finished, she stared around the room in silence. After her break, she was supposed to wait for Fleur to get back so that she could go through the next list of tasks. Pansy wasn’t sure how to occupy her time until then.
She left the office, walking slowly down the hallway and judging the décor she saw in the open office. This time, when she reached Draco’s office, she contemplated her options. She could keep walking and pretend he didn’t exist, but that seemed like she was running. Pansy wasn’t some stupidly brave Gryffindor, but she wasn’t about to run away from a challenge either.
So she did the next best thing. She knocked. When no one answered, she tapped the door knob with her wand and slowly eased the door open. The room was dark, a problem that Pansy easily solved with a wave of her wand.
The office was small, but it had promise. Pansy would have moved the couch to a different wall, and maybe rearranged the desk, but it seemed that Draco had at least learned something in his years with her. She ran her fingers over the desk, trying to figure out just what she expected to get out of this intrusion. She picked up a picture frame, which contained—as she had expected—a rather disgusting picture of Draco and Astoria rubbing their noses against each other. At that moment, Pansy began to contemplate the various forms of revenge that she could enact in his office. She could always conjure up some excess Doxy droppings or transfigure some of his supplies into mini hippogriff figurines.
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the sound of Fleur’s shoes approaching the room. It was the scent of her perfume that gave her away. Pansy turned to face her, flushing in embarrassment.
Closing the door behind her, Fleur looked critically around the room. “Hiz taste iz not as good as yours, no?” She glanced back at Pansy, an eyebrow arched imperiously.
“I..um…I just stopped in,” Pansy said guiltily, unsure of how to respond.
Pansy felt her heart racing as Fleur walked towards her. Was she going to be fired? She couldn’t afford to lose this assignment—not with her rent due so soon.
“I do not like zis new girlfriend of Draco’s,” Fleur said, taking the picture from Pansy’s hand. She rolled her eyes as the Astoria in the photograph offered her nose to Draco again. “She iz so boring. Not like you.” She looked up at Pansy and set the picture back down.
Pansy’s throat had gone completely dry. Breathing had become increasingly difficult with each of Fleur’s approaching steps. “Yeah,” she finally managed to say. “Well, you can’t win them all.”
“Really?” Fleur was staring at her with an inquisitive look. “I never though zat you were a girl who accepts defeat.”
Pansy straightened her back. “Whatever, Frenchy. Zat is just ze way thingz are,” she shot back in a terrible impression of Fleur’s accent.
Fleur’s expression remained calm as she stepped closer to Pansy. “You should know zat I don’t accept defeat either.”
“Of course you don’t,” Pansy grumbled. “When’s the last time you didn’t get what you wanted?”
“I think zat we both ze answer….”
Fleur moved in closer, forcing Pansy to back up onto the desk. “Aren’t you married?” she asked, glancing down at the band on Fleur’s ring finger.
“Yes.” Fleur raised her hand slightly to look at the ring. She smiled as she gazed lovingly at it. “But Bill iz always travelling. He and I have…arrangements.”
Pansy’s hands were gripping the edge of the desk. She tried to focus on the hard edge of the wood painfully pressing into her palms—anything to keep her mind off the smooth skin of Fleur’s neck. “That’s great and all, but I should probably go—“
Fleur cut off Pansy’s pathetic attempt at escape. “What were you going to do?”
“Huh?”
“To his office? You were going to do something, yes? For revenge.”
Pansy cringed, embarrassed that her thought process was so obvious. “I couldn’t think of anything,” she finally admitted. “I mean, I did think of some things, but nothing good enough.”
“May I offer a suggestion?” Fleur said, lightly stroking Pansy’s cheek.
Pansy yanked her head away. “I already told you. I don’t like girls.” She tried to limit her breathing, afraid of the closeness of their bodies as her chest rose.
“Ah, yes, of course.” Fleur pressed in further. She extended a hand to the desk so that it both supported her and made it impossible for Pansy to move away. She drew a finger slowly down towards the top of Pansy’s blouse. “But you see, I’m not a girl anymore. And neither, it seems, are you.”
She was toying with the top button, turning it between her fingers. Pansy tensed up, but she said nothing when Fleur released the button from the confines of the buttonhole. Her eyes were trained on Pansy’s as she continued to trail her finger down, slowly undoing each button until the shirt was un-tucked and hiding nothing. Only then did Fleur break eye contact, her gaze shifting down. When she looked back up, a predatory look glinted in the bright blue of her eyes.
But Pansy was nobody’s prey. Grabbing Fleur’s blouse in one hand, she pulled the other woman towards her. Their lips clashed hungrily against each other. As the taste of Fleur filled her, Pansy finally admitted to herself just how much she had craved this. There was no Draco to hold her back, no need to cling to a misguided sense of her own desires. This was the first moment in so long that she could have something she wanted, and nothing would stop her from claiming it.
She made quick work of Fleur’s blouse, tossing it off to the side. Fleur’s hands were running across her skin, teasing her as they skimmed over the top of her breasts and then down her abdomen. Her hand rested on Pansy’s thigh, an intoxicating warmth that she could feel through the fabric of her skirt. She pressed her body against Fleur’s, wanting to feel the other woman against every inch of her.
Fleur broke the kiss to trail her lips down Pansy’s neck. Pansy tilted her head back to allow her greater access. As the heat of Fleur’s mouth cut an intense path across her skin, Pansy realized that she was staring at her shoulders. The image of Fleur’s bare back played in her head again, and before she knew what she was doing, Pansy reached out and swept an intrusive bra strap off a shoulder. She ran her hand along the smooth ridges of muscle and bone, reliving the memory of Fleur’s wet skin underneath her hands. There was such an exhilarating sense of relief to finally giving in to this desire.
The path of Fleur’s lips was became more demanding, her tongue sweeping over the skin that covered Pansy’s pulse. When her teeth scraped against that area, Pansy let out a gasp that turned into a moan as the pressure increased. She wove her hand through thick blonde hair, urging Fleur to continue. With her free hand, she unhooked Fleur’s bra. The feeling of Fleur’s exposed breasts pressing urgently into her was so different from her previous experience, so strange compared to hardness of a man’s chest. And yet there something in it that was so much more satisfying than Pansy could have imagined.
Fleur went on her knees as she continued her masterful work down Pansy’s chest and abdomen. Her hand pushed up Pansy’s skirt, teasing the band of her knickers. Pansy watched, mesmerized by the sight of Fleur kneeling before her. She gasped when Fleur’s lips began a tortuously slow path up the inside of her thighs. Her hips bucked slightly when she felt teeth against the patch of skin next to her knickers. If she thought Fleur had been teasing her at Hogwarts, that was nothing compared to what she was being put through now.
She felt a finger taunting her through the fabric of her panties. Relaxing into the touch, she moaned when Fleur finally pulled the knickers down and let her finger weave delicately back and forth through Pansy’s folds. With every touch, Pansy could feel herself become wetter around Fleur’s finger, which made the next touch even more pleasurable.
Fleur’s tongue began to trace the same path, giving her fingers freedom to explore elsewhere. Pansy reached down to run her hand through Fleur’s hair again, afraid that Fleur might suddenly decide to stop. The slow, steady path of her tongue was matched by the pace of her finger inside of Pansy, working in tandem to bring her closer and closer to the edge. The pace began to increase as her tongue localized around Pansy’s clitoris. And just as she thought she had reached her limit, Fleur slipped in another finger. The combined sensation inside of her and against her body was overwhelming, and Pansy cried out softly, begging Fleur not to stop. She felt her orgasm building up inside of her until it finally took over, her hips bucking against the last strokes of Fleur’s tongue.
But Pansy had put this off for five years, and she needed more. She took a few deep breaths as Fleur stood up. Fleur’s lips were still moist as they locked with Pansy’s, but neither woman was concerned with that. It was much more important that they make it to the black couch. As Pansy directed Fleur backwards, she reached under her skirt to remove Fleur’s knickers. When Fleur’s calves were flush with the couch, they managed to settle down onto the cushions.
Pansy looked down at the sight of Fleur, her bare breasts heaving in expectation as her eyes glazed over in desire. Pansy leaned down to flick her tongue across one nipple, her thumb caressing the other breast. Fleur arched her back into the touch, moaning as Pansy nipped at responsive skin.
The couch was not quite large enough to accommodate them, and they both had a leg hanging off the couch. Pansy didn’t realize at first that Fleur’s skirt had been riding up, or that she could feel Fleur’s thigh between her legs. But when the firm muscle pushed higher and higher, an overwhelming longing to push back took over Pansy. She began to ride her hips forward so that she was rubbing against the bare skin, throwing her head back as each thrust sent an intense heat through her entire body.
Fleur was grinding back against her, but it wasn’t enough. Sitting upright, she adjusted their positions so that the legs still on the couch were wrapped around each other’s bodies. She wrapped her other leg on top of Pansy’s so that they were effectively scissored against each other. The position wasn’t entirely comfortable thanks to the confines of the couch—and there was nothing decorous the way their skirts bunch around their waists. But none of that became relevant when their vulvas made contact.
Pansy had worked hard since she was fourteen to make sure that she always knew what to do during sex—a much easier task when she was with Draco. This was the first time she felt unsure of what to do, but the sense of discovery was enthralling. She pieced together the mechanics by gauging Fleur’s reactions, moving her hips until she had found the way to draw out a breathy moan. As she eased into a steady tempo, taking in the very new sensation of a being in such intimate contact with another woman, she started wondering why she hadn’t tried this before. They were practically clinging to each other at this point, their lips meeting in between short bursts of breath.
When Pansy looked into Fleur’s eyes, the blue of her irises took on a lustful haze. They were both pressing against each other, locked in a rhythm of mutual need. Fleur cried out, but she quickly muffled the sound by groaning into another grueling kiss. When she released Pansy’s lips, she whispered a series of French commands that Pansy could only hope she was adhering to.
They were becoming sticky with sweat as they both sought the friction between their bodies. Fleur’s breath was becoming shorter as every exhalation became a punctuated moan. When her climax came, Pansy could feel it in the rough undulation of Fleur’s hips into hers. And still, Fleur kept going, her nails digging into Pansy’s back as they rocked hard against each other. Pansy felt another climax building inside of her, and just when she reached the moment of release—
“Pansy! What the hell?!”
Pansy was confused at first. Why was someone else in the room? Didn’t they know it was rude to interrupt an orgasm? But then she looked over and saw Draco, and that’s when she remembered where he was.
Still, he could have knocked.
From behind him emerged Astoria, a very frightened look on her face. “Dray-dray, what’s going on?”
Pansy snickered when she heard, “Dray-dray.”
“Astoria, why don’t you go wait outside?” he said, ushering her out into the hallway. When he came back in, Pansy and Fleur had already started scouting the room for their clothes. “What the hell, Pansy? Is this your idea of revenge?”
“No,” she said calmly as she buttoned up her blouse. “This is my idea of having a good shag.” She imagined most women would be embarrassed if their ex-boyfriend caught them having sex with their female boss—especially if they were on his couch. But really, what did she have to be ashamed of? She’d taken Draco’s virginity. As far as she was concerned, he owed her an office for her sexual escapades.
Draco looked between her and Fleur in complete shock. He clearly didn’t know how to process the scene he had walked in on. “You know, I can make it so that you don’t get work here again.”
Fleur laughed brightly. “No, no. I like Panzy. And I believe that I am your superior, Draco. You may be a Malfoy, but you do not speek French well enough to replace me.” She was straightening out her skirt, generally unconcerned with Draco’s threats. “Oh,” she added sweetly. “Your couch—it is quite lovely. Thank you for allowing us to use eet.”
She crossed the room to the door, leaving Pansy still standing and feeling annoyed with Draco for his intrusion. Draco was bright red in anger. As Pansy looked over his business suit and recalled the insipid photo of him and Astoria, she almost felt pity for him. For once, she realized that she had things better off than him. Sure, she had a job she didn’t like and an apartment she wanted to leave, but she’d be able to find a way out of this situation. Draco would always be dependent on his parents to figure out his choices for him. They had chosen his side in the war, and now they chose his job and his girlfriend. But no one chose for Pansy.
Draco was glaring at her. “Pansy, you can’t be this desperate for attention.”
“Trust me, Draco,” she replied. “The last thing I wanted a few minutes ago was your attention.”
“We should talk,” he said through gritted teeth. “You can’t just come into my office and have sex on my couch!”
“Well, I’d hate to find out how you feel about me having sex on your desk then,” she said innocently.
Draco’s eyes widened as he looked between her and the table. “We really need to discuss this.”
“Perhaps it can wait,” Fleur said, grabbing Pansy’s hand and dragging her towards the door. Grinning suggestively at Draco, she added, “After all, I ‘ave a long list of tasks that I need Panzy to do.”
*****
When Pansy got back to her apartment that night, plans and schemes for her second rise to power filled her head. There were no magazines to seek advice from or boyfriends to drag along.
And really, she thought, isn’t that the way it should have been all along?
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Date: 2012-02-05 05:13 am (UTC)Thanks so much for sharing.
Mary
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Date: 2012-02-05 09:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-05 02:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-05 09:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-05 07:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-05 09:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-05 09:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-12 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-19 05:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-11-24 10:35 pm (UTC)I mean damn.
I bow,
L
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Date: 2015-11-25 12:26 am (UTC)And it was so funny! The imaginary Dear Cosmo letters were laugh-out-loud, but there were also so many wonderful little tidbits strewn about the narration throughout.