Second Best
Title: Second Best
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Pansy Parkinson/Hannah Abbott, mentions of Hannah/Zacharias
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Femmeslash, a bit of angst, smut.
Notes: Written for el_em_en_oh_pee a long time ago for hp_springsmut
Summary: Pansy refuses to be second to anyone, not even for Hannah.
Hannah Abbott stared at her hands as she sat in Pansy Parkinson’s plush, expensive flat. There was so much she had to say, and she had no idea how to begin, as if when she started all her words would spill out and somehow stain the soft white carpet, which her sensible, modest shoes sunk into every time she was here.
“What’s wrong, Hannah?” Pansy asked over her bone china teacup, her voice even and curious, but there was just a smidge of concern there as well, one that only Hannah would be able to pick up.
Hannah took a deep breath and looked up into Pansy’s eyes. “I was talking to my father last night; you know what he’s been like since Mum died.”
“Yes…” Pansy drawled, a bit of a hiss entering her voice, reminding Hannah, as if she could ever forget, that Pansy had been a Slytherin. “What has you so upset?”
“He’s-arranged-for-me-to-marry-Zach,” Hannah blurted out, stringing the revelation together in a single breath as if it would hurt less, pack less emotion into the words, and make it fail to matter.
“I see,” Pansy responded, her voice turning cold, formal to her own ears as she assimilated the new information; the terrible, harmful, soul-wrenching information. “And what did you say?”
“You have to understand, Pans…I couldn’t say no. You didn’t see him, how he reacted when I protested. Please, Pansy, please understand.” Hannah didn’t want to show how much it hurt to hear the ice in Pansy’s voice, but she was sure it did, somewhere in the amalgamation of emotions in her voice.
“Why couldn’t you?” Pansy snapped, her voice cutting and cold as she calmly poured herself another cup of tea, shocked that her movements were even and smooth, not as shaky as she was feeling. “Are you afraid to give up your family that you haven’t even liked all that much recently? Or were you expecting this," she gestured around the room, “to be easier for you?”
Hannah shook her head, blinking savagely to avoid tears. She opened her mouth to speak, even though she had no idea what she would say. She didn’t think she was wrong, exactly, but she couldn’t stop the feeling of increasing dread in her gut, wondering if it was quite possible to be torn apart by emotion.
Pansy however, was not going to give her a chance to speak, at least, not yet. “You know what happened when my parents found out about us. You know why I’m here, in my own apartment, rather then popping out pureblood babies somewhere. You know what I’ve given up to be here, and now you’re going along with some sort of arranged marriage?”
“It doesn’t have to end, Pansy!” Hannah said, hope seeping into her voice. Was that all Pansy was upset about? She certainly had no intention of ending her relationship just because her family had arranged some marriage with Zacharias Smith. “Zach won’t care; he’s bound to have people on the side, too.”
“Yes it does. It must,” Pansy said, banishing the tea table away with a flourish of her wand. “It has to, if you go through with this, Hannah.” She walked over to Hannah’s chair, looking down on the blonde. “But don’t think I care a whit about what your fiancé cares about or doesn’t. I just can’t play second best to anyone.”
“Pansy, please…it wouldn’t mean anything,” Hannah said, wanting to look her in the eye, to let her see how serious she really was about all of this, but somehow, she just couldn’t draw her eyes away from Pansy’s perfect bow-shaped mouth, the soft pink of her lips.
“It has nothing to do with meaning,” Pansy said a bit cruelly, knowing what Hannah was thinking without her having to say it. “It has to do with being first best. Only, not what other people think.” She dropped to her knees so she could look Hannah in the eyes, not tower over her, her voice dropping lower. I know it wouldn’t be meaningful, your marriage…” She trailed off, kissing Hannah firmly and pulling back. “Because he would never be able to make you scream like I can, never be able to find that one spot that makes you moan and your eyes roll back in your head...”
Hannah whimpered at Pansy’s words and the feel of those lips suddenly at her pulse. “Pansy…” she murmured, voice catching in her throat as she felt long tapered fingers on her leg, snaking up beneath her prim, proper, modest wool skirt. “Don’t…” She didn’t know what she meant, whether the topic of discussion should cease, or the sensations the other woman was causing.
“Don’t what?” Pansy whispered in Hannah’s ear, her tongue running along the outer shell. “Don’t tell the truth?” Her hand met soaked cotton between Hannah’s legs and she brushed it gently. “I thought you wanted me to always tell you the truth.”
Hannah gasped, laying her head back on the plush chair. “Pansy, please…please…” She really should be accustomed to this mantra by now, but it always takes her by surprise, just like Pansy always manages to surprise her when she’s emotional, when she doesn’t hide behind a cool voice and calm smirk.
“Does your future husband know he’ll never be able to make you beg for him?” Pansy asked, coolly removing the girl’s sensible, almost prudish knickers. “Does he know that you’ll dream of my face between your legs?” Her fingers eased into Hannah’s slick folds, slowly.
Hannah wanted to answer, feeling that she really should say something, but even if she had been in full possession of her faculties, she doubted she would have been able to do so, and with Pansy’s hand there, inside her, teasing her beyond distraction, it became impossible then to do much more than moan her name. “Pansy…”
Pansy dropped her head, pushing her hair over one shoulder as she slipped beneath that so very Hannah skirt, her fingers dropping to the blonde’s thighs as her tongue replaced them. She leisurely explored Hannah's cunt, glorying when she pressed her tongue against her lover's clit and made Hannah gasp in pleasure. She didn’t know whether she wanted to make it last as long as she could or to end it quickly. In the end, it was her own pain that she was feeling which made her decide, as she wrapped her tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucked hard.
Hannah screamed in a high, hoarse way, her nails digging into the arms of the chair, sure to leave marks in the cloth. She shook and trembled as she climaxed, feeling her muscles spasm as Pansy’s talented tongue continued to lap up her juices. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of pleasure, everything slowed, colours dimmed, and her heartbeat began to slow as Pansy stood, looking calm, cool and collected, for once no smug, knowing smirk on her face.
Pansy said nothing for a few minutes, collecting her thoughts and allowing Hannah to collect her things. There were so many things she wanted to say, things she wanted to scream, but her pride would allow her to do nothing of the sort. Instead, she turned and headed out of the room, a cool “goodbye” on her lips as she prepared to go get very drunk and never move from her room again.
Hannah waited for almost an hour, willing Pansy to come back out, to fight for her, to agree to a perfect arrangement and know she would never be second best, but hope began to wane, and soon she picked up her purse, blinked back tears and left.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Pansy Parkinson/Hannah Abbott, mentions of Hannah/Zacharias
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Femmeslash, a bit of angst, smut.
Notes: Written for el_em_en_oh_pee a long time ago for hp_springsmut
Summary: Pansy refuses to be second to anyone, not even for Hannah.
Hannah Abbott stared at her hands as she sat in Pansy Parkinson’s plush, expensive flat. There was so much she had to say, and she had no idea how to begin, as if when she started all her words would spill out and somehow stain the soft white carpet, which her sensible, modest shoes sunk into every time she was here.
“What’s wrong, Hannah?” Pansy asked over her bone china teacup, her voice even and curious, but there was just a smidge of concern there as well, one that only Hannah would be able to pick up.
Hannah took a deep breath and looked up into Pansy’s eyes. “I was talking to my father last night; you know what he’s been like since Mum died.”
“Yes…” Pansy drawled, a bit of a hiss entering her voice, reminding Hannah, as if she could ever forget, that Pansy had been a Slytherin. “What has you so upset?”
“He’s-arranged-for-me-to-marry-Zach,” Hannah blurted out, stringing the revelation together in a single breath as if it would hurt less, pack less emotion into the words, and make it fail to matter.
“I see,” Pansy responded, her voice turning cold, formal to her own ears as she assimilated the new information; the terrible, harmful, soul-wrenching information. “And what did you say?”
“You have to understand, Pans…I couldn’t say no. You didn’t see him, how he reacted when I protested. Please, Pansy, please understand.” Hannah didn’t want to show how much it hurt to hear the ice in Pansy’s voice, but she was sure it did, somewhere in the amalgamation of emotions in her voice.
“Why couldn’t you?” Pansy snapped, her voice cutting and cold as she calmly poured herself another cup of tea, shocked that her movements were even and smooth, not as shaky as she was feeling. “Are you afraid to give up your family that you haven’t even liked all that much recently? Or were you expecting this," she gestured around the room, “to be easier for you?”
Hannah shook her head, blinking savagely to avoid tears. She opened her mouth to speak, even though she had no idea what she would say. She didn’t think she was wrong, exactly, but she couldn’t stop the feeling of increasing dread in her gut, wondering if it was quite possible to be torn apart by emotion.
Pansy however, was not going to give her a chance to speak, at least, not yet. “You know what happened when my parents found out about us. You know why I’m here, in my own apartment, rather then popping out pureblood babies somewhere. You know what I’ve given up to be here, and now you’re going along with some sort of arranged marriage?”
“It doesn’t have to end, Pansy!” Hannah said, hope seeping into her voice. Was that all Pansy was upset about? She certainly had no intention of ending her relationship just because her family had arranged some marriage with Zacharias Smith. “Zach won’t care; he’s bound to have people on the side, too.”
“Yes it does. It must,” Pansy said, banishing the tea table away with a flourish of her wand. “It has to, if you go through with this, Hannah.” She walked over to Hannah’s chair, looking down on the blonde. “But don’t think I care a whit about what your fiancé cares about or doesn’t. I just can’t play second best to anyone.”
“Pansy, please…it wouldn’t mean anything,” Hannah said, wanting to look her in the eye, to let her see how serious she really was about all of this, but somehow, she just couldn’t draw her eyes away from Pansy’s perfect bow-shaped mouth, the soft pink of her lips.
“It has nothing to do with meaning,” Pansy said a bit cruelly, knowing what Hannah was thinking without her having to say it. “It has to do with being first best. Only, not what other people think.” She dropped to her knees so she could look Hannah in the eyes, not tower over her, her voice dropping lower. I know it wouldn’t be meaningful, your marriage…” She trailed off, kissing Hannah firmly and pulling back. “Because he would never be able to make you scream like I can, never be able to find that one spot that makes you moan and your eyes roll back in your head...”
Hannah whimpered at Pansy’s words and the feel of those lips suddenly at her pulse. “Pansy…” she murmured, voice catching in her throat as she felt long tapered fingers on her leg, snaking up beneath her prim, proper, modest wool skirt. “Don’t…” She didn’t know what she meant, whether the topic of discussion should cease, or the sensations the other woman was causing.
“Don’t what?” Pansy whispered in Hannah’s ear, her tongue running along the outer shell. “Don’t tell the truth?” Her hand met soaked cotton between Hannah’s legs and she brushed it gently. “I thought you wanted me to always tell you the truth.”
Hannah gasped, laying her head back on the plush chair. “Pansy, please…please…” She really should be accustomed to this mantra by now, but it always takes her by surprise, just like Pansy always manages to surprise her when she’s emotional, when she doesn’t hide behind a cool voice and calm smirk.
“Does your future husband know he’ll never be able to make you beg for him?” Pansy asked, coolly removing the girl’s sensible, almost prudish knickers. “Does he know that you’ll dream of my face between your legs?” Her fingers eased into Hannah’s slick folds, slowly.
Hannah wanted to answer, feeling that she really should say something, but even if she had been in full possession of her faculties, she doubted she would have been able to do so, and with Pansy’s hand there, inside her, teasing her beyond distraction, it became impossible then to do much more than moan her name. “Pansy…”
Pansy dropped her head, pushing her hair over one shoulder as she slipped beneath that so very Hannah skirt, her fingers dropping to the blonde’s thighs as her tongue replaced them. She leisurely explored Hannah's cunt, glorying when she pressed her tongue against her lover's clit and made Hannah gasp in pleasure. She didn’t know whether she wanted to make it last as long as she could or to end it quickly. In the end, it was her own pain that she was feeling which made her decide, as she wrapped her tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucked hard.
Hannah screamed in a high, hoarse way, her nails digging into the arms of the chair, sure to leave marks in the cloth. She shook and trembled as she climaxed, feeling her muscles spasm as Pansy’s talented tongue continued to lap up her juices. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of pleasure, everything slowed, colours dimmed, and her heartbeat began to slow as Pansy stood, looking calm, cool and collected, for once no smug, knowing smirk on her face.
Pansy said nothing for a few minutes, collecting her thoughts and allowing Hannah to collect her things. There were so many things she wanted to say, things she wanted to scream, but her pride would allow her to do nothing of the sort. Instead, she turned and headed out of the room, a cool “goodbye” on her lips as she prepared to go get very drunk and never move from her room again.
Hannah waited for almost an hour, willing Pansy to come back out, to fight for her, to agree to a perfect arrangement and know she would never be second best, but hope began to wane, and soon she picked up her purse, blinked back tears and left.