Fic Post Tea and Toast
FIC POST
Title: Tea and Toast
Rating: Hard R
Author:SlytherinsWench
Status:Complete
Summary: The usual. A dare, butterbeer and harder spirits, a love potion and the mornings to follow.
Additional Comments: Okay, so it's a tad overdramatic, I realized on this more recent read through, but it is my first Harry/Pansy so it has a special place in my heart. :)
Harry Potter had changed at the end of his sixth year. Something life-changing had hit him like a ton of bricks. Maybe two tons. It hadn’t been the death of Albus Dumbledore, though that had pained him deeply. It hadn’t been Snape’s seeming betrayal. Even though, he personally thought that had to be some kind of ruse, something with a logical explanation…
Harry shook his head. He wasn’t going to think about that now. He was going to think about that life changing, soul searing event. For once, he was going to think about himself. And that life-changing event, which just happened to be one Pansy Parkinson.
Everyone had been drinking Fire Whiskey that last night and were all piss drunk. He smiled to himself at the memory. Yeah, that would have been the only way that he would have had the nerve to approach her.
Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, was afraid of women. Especially the one that had “made him a man”.
He looked across the Great Hall where the Slytherin Princess held court. He met her dark eyes and she glanced away, as she always did.
She could look away forever and that wouldn’t change the memories that he had- the softness of her rosebud mouth beneath his, the way she’d melted in his arms, the way it felt to be inside of her, the innocence of her face in the first light of morning.
Harry had regrets. He regretted the way he spoke to her, the dare that had put them together…
“Want to fuck?” He’d said it right to her face. He knew he’d deserved to be slapped. Hermione would have smacked the teeth out of his mouth. Ginny, Ginny would have hexed him so badly that children would never be in his future… But Pansy, with her cute little upturned nose, she wasn’t a good girl. She didn’t deserve the respect that a “decent witch” did. Or so Ron had said when he dared him.
Pansy had just looked at him. And what he thought had been derision on her part, Harry thought now that maybe, just maybe, it might have been pain. She’d sat there, on the billiards table with her legs crossed, swinging a dainty foot, a cigarette inches from that painted mouth and seemed to contemplate him.
She’d taken a drag as he stood there drowning in her eyes.
But after a moment, she’d hopped off the table and taken his hand. There had been cheers and jeers from the mostly Slytherin crowd, Ron’s eyes had goggled out of his head across the room, and Harry, he was numb. Almost too numb to follow where she led.
“Are you coming lover? Or are you just going to stand there and stare at Red?”
Harry was only able to nod as he followed her to her room.
She began unbuttoning her blouse, almost mechanically.
Harry grabbed her hands and eased them down. She looked up at him then, eyes wide and full of something that he couldn’t quite name, that hard practiced look gone from her face.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I don’t know.” Harry said, and it was the truth. He’d never been with a woman and he’d only ever imagined that it would be Pansy in the darkest part of the night where no one could possibly hear his secret desire.
“Don’t you want me?” Her voice was small, almost like a child.
“More than anything.” He traced a finger across her cheek, then the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “But not if it isn’t what you want.”
“You asked me if I wanted to fuck, Potter. That’s what we’re getting ready to do, isn’t it?” She lashed out against his gentleness.
“And what do you get from all this fucking, Pansy?”
“Well, no one made you come here. You’re the one that asked me.” She turned away from him.
He pulled her back, made her face him. “That I did.”
Harry put his lips to hers softly. But she wouldn’t allow softness. She opened beneath him lush and ripe. She took his hand and guided it inside her blouse and pressed herself to him and they tumbled onto her bed.
Pansy tore at his clothes, her hands sliding over every part of him that she could touch. He followed her lead, tearing her blouse, ripping her knickers as he struggled to get to her.
But when she was naked, he paused. She tried to pull him back down to her, her nails digging into his shoulders.
“Teach me.” He whispered against her cheek. “Teach me to make you scream.”
Ultimately, that’s what he’d wanted. He could come by himself. He didn’t imagine that it would be that different. But he wanted to see the look on her face when she came, wanted to feel her body shudder against him, wanted that memory of her pleasure, of something that he could give her that no one else could.
Harry had dreamt of touching her for years. When he’d been kissing Cho, it had been Pansy. When he’d held Ginny in his arms, it had been Pansy. Always Pansy.
She was having tea and toast again this morning, as she did every morning. Toast with only a half pat of butter on each slice, no jam. Her tea was Earl Grey, dark and strong. She snuck five sugar cubes into her little teacup when she thought no one was looking.
He relived those moments with her every morning over breakfast, those few moments when he could stare at her, fill himself up with her with nothing to distract him.
His mind wandered again to that night, to when his cheek had rested on her thigh, when his mouth had claimed her better than any cock. Her fingers had been tangled in his hair, and he allowed her to guide him, to show him what she wanted.
And when she was finally screaming, his lips and tongue numb, the most wonderful thing had happened, something that he’d only heard about in the locker room and seen in Witch Next Door magazine… female ejaculation. Evidence of her pleasure had shot into his mouth and it tasted like honey, just like she did.
He’d heard it was rare, but when he’d first asked what it was, he thanked Merlin that it was rare. Harry hadn’t been able to imagine how a man could find that enjoyable, but he understood now.
Harry had risen above her then, waiting for her to breathe, waiting for her to give into him because it was what she wanted, not just what was expected.
And it was then that he saw the real Pansy. So beautiful, bared to the night, to him. He knew that all he would ask for in the world, the only thing that he wanted for himself, was her.
Then he was inside her, moving to a primal rhythm. Harry had been worried that since it was his first time that he wouldn’t last, but it was to be the other way. He couldn’t finish.
“Am I your first?”
“And my last.” Harry said as he settled his weight on to her.
“You don’t have to lie to me.” She turned away from him.
“I’m Perfect Potter, remember? I don’t lie.”
Her eyes filled. “Then more the pity for you.” She turned away from him.
“Let me stay. Let me wake up with you.”
He had gotten to hold her all night. And when morning came, he’d pleasured her again. Harry learned quickly to silence her cries with his mouth. He came this time, and he’d been so wrong. It was nothing like what he’d thought. Nothing at all.
He loved her.
“Get out.” She’d whispered while he lay next to her.
“What?”
“I had a nice time…blah, blah, blah. Go back to your room. Fucking 101 is over.”
“Yeah, okay. Whatever you want.”
And he’d left.
She wouldn’t talk to him. All he had were these mornings, where he could watch her, remember her, and dream of when he could touch her again.
Harry thought about making some heated confession with some grand gesture, but Pansy wasn’t that type of girl.
His green eyes followed her every movement until her dark depths swallowed him whole.
Sometimes he wondered if he could will her to think of him, if he wanted it badly enough…
She turned to him now, her eyes haunted and dark. As if to say, “Silly Gryffindor, Slags are for Slytherins”. He knew that’s how she thought of herself, the Slytherin Slag. And beneath all of that practiced seduction, was a lost soul, someone who needed arms stronger than her own to lean into. Someone who could make the dark go away.
And who better than him? Who better than The Boy-Who-Lived to be her hero and take away the night?
Harry knew he could be what she needed if only she would give him a chance.
She was leaving.
“Pansy!” It was out of his mouth before he could stop it.
But she waited for him this time and reached out, dragging him into an alcove in the hall.
Her eyes were cups of stars, glittering with tears she refused to shed. “Merlin damn you.”
“Probably. But I can’t do this anymore.”
“You can’t do this? You? I sit here every morning and you stare at me like I’m the Goddess herself…”
“To me, you are.” He took her hand.
Pansy looked like she was breaking, crumbling, no, shattering. If a person could rip apart at the seams but sharp and tearing into herself…“No! I’m not.”
But she didn’t pull her hand away. Instead, she turned her face up to his. “Kiss me, Potter. Kiss me as if you love me.”
He was going to tell her that he did love her, her and only her, but her mouth silenced him.
When his hands came up to tangle in her hair, she pulled away. The tears falling now, streaking down her cheeks like melting ice.
“I’m sorry, gods, I’m sorry.” Pansy drew something out from her robes. A vial. And she thrust it into his hands.
“What is this?”
“The antidote.” She wanted to run, she wanted to scream, but all she could do was stand, frozen with her eyes on the floor. “I wanted to know what it was like to be with the boy hero. I wanted to know what it was like to really be wanted, to be wanted by someone like you.”
“What did you do?”
She was crying in earnest now and he moved to take her in his arms, but Pansy pushed him away.
“Don’t you understand? This isn’t real. It’s just a potion, a chemical reaction. I did this to you,” she broke off, then took a deep shuddering breath. “In your butterbeer…”
“Pansy, I gave my butterbeer to Ron.”
She sobbed harder, but allowed him to take her in his arms, allowed him to brush his lips against her hair, allowed his hands what they would have of her and finally, turned into his embrace.
Now he was the experienced one, holding on to her as if he could sap her pain and bear it himself. He was the solid foundation that she’d never had, the knight in shining armor… And for the first time, she knew what it felt like to be touched by the light.