Leigh!fic- Humpathon 2010- Week One drabbles
Title: Humpathon 2010 Drabbles- Week One
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Lavender Brown, George Weasley/Gabrielle Delacour, Harry Potter/Astoria Greengrass, Marcus Flint/Katie Bell, Scorpius Malfoy/Lily Luna Potter, Severus Snape/Madame Rosmerta, Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley, Viktor Krum/Hermione Granger
Rating: PG-13 through NC-17
Word Count: Between 100 and 500
Summary: Nine smutty drabbles for your reading pleasure.
Author's Notes: This is the round-up of my submissions for Week One of Humpathon 2010 at hp_humpdrabbles. I thought updating at the end of each week would be easier than waiting until the end! I hope y'all enjoy!
Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley (PG-13) for elle_blessing
Draco Malfoy/Lavender Brown (R) for baby_k21
George Weasley/Gabrielle Delacour (PG-13) for seraphimerising
Harry Potter/Astoria Greengrass (R) for hpfangirl71
Marcus Flint/Katie Bell (PG-13) for lafeeclair
Scorpius Malfoy/Lily Luna Potter (R) for elle_blessing
Severus Snape/Madame Rosmerta (PG-13) for lar_laughs
Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley (PG-13) for scaratthedisco
Viktor Krum/Hermione Granger (R) for lafeeclair
Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley (PG-13) Prompt: The Power of Goodbye- Madonna
Word Count: 500
Ginny stood at the water's edge, brown eyes looking out at the angry water. The harsh wind caught her red hair, whipping it around her face in a tangled frenzy, and the salt-water spray from the waves coated her skin. It was cold, winter, and the water's added only caused to make her shiver even more. It was nearing Christmas, and she had nowhere to go.
Bill, bless him, hadn't asked any questions. He had just opened the door and taken her bags to the spare bedroom. Fleur, though, she didn't have to ask questions to know. Her light blue gaze was heavy, knowing, and it made Ginny squirm beneath its weight.
Her sister-in-law was much more intelligent than Ginny had ever given her credit for before.
She had had to slip out the back and sneak down to the beach just to escape. She loved her family, but it was only a matter of time before word got out that she was here, and then the questions would start.
Was it too much to reflect in peace?
What had she done wrong?
In time, the passion and heat that had fueled their relationship cooled, leaving both dissatisfied and yearning in its wake. Making love was perfunctory, devoid of emotion. They were Draco and Ginny, that was what they did. They woke up in the mornings, went to work, came home, shared a meal, fucked, and went to sleep. No deviation from routine.
It made her heart hurt.
Once, when everything was still new and fresh, he had liked to wake her up with his hand between her thighs. It was a most pleasant way to awaken, with his long aristocratic fingers playing her body. Her back would arch, and she would mewl like a kitten for her cream before he would bring her to orgasm.
Then he would roll her over and drive into her, and all she could do was pant and moan as he fucked her in the weak morning sunlight.
In time, though, she realized that it wasn’t anything she had done. Draco simply didn't love her, and in her youth, she had mistaken lust and a need for companionship as love. His heart wasn't open to her. She was his safety net, his fortress, the calm in the storm. And at the time, that had been enough for her.
But his words hurt, and not in a pleasurable way. They stung with their coldness; no longer did they engage in verbal foreplay, but instead in angry shouting matches. Well, she was angry. Draco was indifferent.
Love wasn't supposed to hurt like that, and that hurt had quickly melted into something new: a broken heart.
Ginny glanced down at her clenched fist. It was time.
Her fingers unfolded to reveal the beautiful unicorn charm Draco had given her, the first of many. It was priceless, beautiful, and a painful reminder of what might have been. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and hurled it into the sea.
Goodbye, Draco.
Draco Malfoy/Lavender Brown (R) Prompt: I Like It Rough- Lady Gaga
Word Count: 500
Long, aristocratic fingers gripped her hip- hard; bruises were sure to form- as his other hand trailed teasingly down her bare side. A soft, keening sound echoed across the room, and as fogged in desire as she was, Lavender barely recognized as her own.
Her arms ached from behind bound over her head, and her breasts tingled with lingering sensations. From hot to cold, her desire coursed through her with every bruising thrust, every smack across her thighs.
Draco gripped her chin and forced her gaze to meet his, and Lavender shivered at the intense emotions lurking in those gray orbs. Hatred, lust, power- it was all there, for once unguarded and on display for her to see.
"Tell me what you want, Lavender," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "If you're a good girl, I shall give it to you."
Her body swayed towards him, trying to entice him to move his hand just a bit. Her center was aching, begging to be filled over and over again until the line between pain and pleasure exploded.
"You, Draco," she whispered, "please..."
There was a banging coming from outside her dingy flat. Maybe someone was at the door? It didn't matter who it was. Could be the bloody Queen of England, and Lavender wouldn't have given a fuck. She needed her fix.
The line of blow was so pretty, perfect in its crystalline form. A spare pound note had been rolled, and she leaned over, placing the end in one nostril.
Sniff sniff sniff sniff.
Lavender pulled back and tapped the side of her nose, disrupting the precious bits that had been lodged there. She had more; she'd need it later, but for now, she could surrender to the peaceful oblivion.
Why was the pounding noise still there?
Oh. Draco.
"Good girl," he praised, caressing the side of her cheek tenderly. His words, calm enough, were the only thing gentle about him. Two white hands grasped her thighs and yanked them apart, exposing her glistening center to his appreciative gaze.
With a thrust of his hips, he was inside of her, his long, hard length ramming into her with the force of a rampant dragon. One hand grasped her thigh, hitching it around his narrow waist while the other slid over her body. Fingers pinched at her nipples, rolling them until she cried out from the pleasure and pain of it.
All too soon, it was over, and Draco roared his pleasure against her neck as he came. Her own release was so close, hovering in the distance. She could tell it pleased him, denying her, from the way his lips curled against her skin.
Slipping one hand between their bodies, his fingers grasped her sensitive nub and gave it a flick. "Come."
She laid back on the bed, a slight humming noise in her ears as her world narrowed inwards. Draco was outside, banging to be let in, but it didn't matter. He dimmed her shine, made her beg. She felt weak with him because she was weak with him. It didn't matter anymore. She would deal with the fallout later.
For now, all she could do was surrender to oblivion.
George Weasley/Gabrielle Delacour (PG-13) Prompt: wild thing
Word Count: 461
George's blue gaze watched across the darkened bar as Gabrielle, little Gabrielle Delacour, pressed her lithe body up against some tosser's front. Her white teeth fairly gleamed in the smoky haze as she threw a seductive little smile up at him, and George had to restrain the urge to cross the bar and deck the bloke.
A whiff of perfume drew him out of his reverie, and George glanced down at the small woman in front of him. She was pretty; green eyes, dark curly hair, and pink, plump lips.
"I'm Kate," she said by way of greeting, giving him a sultry smile. "What's your name?"
"George," he answered automatically, managing a faint twitch of his lips.
"George," she repeated, nodding. "It's nice to meet you." Pulling a cigarette out of her purse, she held it up and said, "Do you have a light?"
He blinked. Her words were reminiscent of another meeting, in a bar much like this.
The blonde woman laughed, a tinkling sound that was eerily familiar to him. "A light," she said, holding up a pack of Gauloises. "For my cigarette?"
"Oh." George pulled out his wand and muttered the incantation, and a small flame appeared at the end.
She leaned forward and lit the tip of her cigarette, inhaling to make sure it caught. Blowing out a cloud of smoke, she leaned back and smiled. "Merci."
"Erm, sure," he said, pulling out his wand to light her cigarette.
"Thanks," she said, taking a puff from the cigarette. "So, George, what's a handsome bloke like you doing here by yourself."
"'E ees not by 'imself," an irritated, heavily-accented voice said from behind them. George's lips twitched as he turned his head to the side, taking in his irritated girlfriend.
"Oh?" Kate asked. "And who might you be?"
Gabrielle pursed her lips and reached out, snatching the cigarette out of the other woman's hand and grounding it into the bar. "'Is girlfriend," she replied shortly. "Now, go before I 'ex you."
Luckily for George, Kate wasn't a complete idiot, and with one last glare for Gabrielle, she took her leave.
Amused eyes glanced down at the seething blonde. "Possessive much?"
"Tu es le mien," she replied, pressing herself against him. Her little hands slipped beneath the waist of his trousers, tracing the skin beneath. "Toujours le mien."
George groaned when one hand caressed him through his boxers, stroking him into hardness. She was a little minx, his minx, determined to bring about his downfall.
"Merlin, Gabrielle," he rasped, voice low as he leaned in and raked his teeth across her neck, a smug satisfaction washing over him at the shiver to spread across her skin.
"George," she moaned in his ear, "take me 'ome. Maintenant."
"With pleasure."
Harry Potter/Astoria Greengrass (R) Prompt: breakfast in bed
Word Count: 500
"You brought me breakfast."
Harry paused in the doorframe, unable to hold the small smile back from his face at the expression on his lover's face. Her sleepy brown eyes were hooded, her usually immaculate hair in a state of disarray. The thin white sheet draped over her did nothing to hide the curves of her fey-like body, curves his hands and lips knew all too well.
"You can thank Kreacher," he said sheepishly as he crossed the room and set the tray down on the bedside table. "You know me, I'd burn water."
"I do." Sitting up, Astoria let the sheet fall to her waist, exposing her small, proud breasts. The effect on her lover did not go unnoticed, and her lips twitched upwards in the smallest of smirks. Their relationship... it was complicated. In the upper echelon of wizarding society, it was not unheard of for parties to take lovers. However, if a year ago, had someone told her that she would find herself in Harry Potter's bed while her husband shared Ginny Potter's, she would have laughed in their face.
It was no laughing matter, now.
Reaching out, she grabbed Harry's hand and tugged him back into bed. Her lover, bless him, was only graceful on the Quidditch pitch, and he tumbled into bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets.
Rolling him underneath him, Astoria gave him a quick kiss before she trailed her lips down his neck, pausing to give a tender bite at his beating pulse. Already, she could feel him growing hard beneath her, and it made her body warm in anticipation. Little hands slid down his sides, nails grazing over skin before she could hook her fingers in his trousers, drawing them down his long legs.
Kissing her way down his stomach, she rolled her eyes up to his in a sultry glance, holding his gaze as she leaned down to take him into her mouth.
Astoria moaned around him when she felt one hand fist in her dark locks, holding her lips to his body. It had become a game between them, to see who could push the other over the edge quickest. While she was becoming quite practiced at making him groan her name, he could still make her scream like no other.
Her teeth scraped over his quivering flesh, tongue stroking and lapping at him like a kitten at her cream. The way his body tensed, his fingers tightening to an almost painful degree in her hair, only served to fuel her own arousal. She worked him at an almost furious pace, one hand gripping the base of his erection and stroking him up and down.
"Astoria," Harry gasped, choking out her name before his hips jerked up, spasms raking his body as his climax crashed over him. She kept working at him, swallowing until his body fell back against the bed, sated and spent.
When she pulled away, her brown eyes were full of a smug satisfaction- that is, until Harry reached down and yanked her back up the bed, covering her body with his own.
"And now you've brought me breakfast in bed," he murmured.
Marcus Flint/Katie Bell (PG-13) Prompt: Somebody to Love- Leighton Meester ft. Robin Thicke
Word Count: 462
Katie was a runner.
She had been running, in one way or another, since the end of the war. First, from pain. Fred's death and Lee's subsequent emotional withdrawal had been too much, leaving a gaping hole where her heart used to be. So she'd left England behind, trying to forge a new life and career in America.
That had worked until she'd fallen in love- and then had her heart broken.
It was starting to feel the same; over and over again, she pulled up her roots and ran for the newest city, new challenges.
Paris was the first place she'd seen him again. Once upon a time, Marcus Flint had posessed the charm and sex appeal of a mountain troll. Not anymore; time and experience had done him good. He was tall, fit, and handsome, and Katie couldn't help but be drawn to him. There was just something about him, something magnetic that made her blood run hot and her knees go weak.
His hands grasped her slim hips, pulling her down onto his waiting erection. Katie let her head fall back with a gasp, rocking her hips against his when he thrust up into her. His rough hands slid over her body, pausing to tweak a nipple or rub at her sensitive nub.
"Katie." Her name was a strangled gasp, a muttered prayer- or curse- when she clenched around him. They drove one another crazy; personalities like night and day. But in the bedroom, between the sheets, they just fit.
She never stayed the night with him. His flat on the Île St. Louis was massive; elegant and sophisticated as was wont with the old money. But it wasn't right to stay with him. Their relationship- or lack thereof- was pure physical.
Or so she'd thought.
"Je t'adore,he murmured against her bare skin. Three little words that meant so much, words Katie had once longed to hear.
Now, all she wanted to do was run.
Marcus was someone she could love. They were both damaged from the war, scars still healing on their hearts, but he wasn't for her. Katie was still looking for someone she could love. Maybe she would find him, maybe she wouldn't. But she had to keep looking. She still believed in love, and she would keep searching.
Slipping the blue sequined dress back on, Katie silently slid around the bedroom. Her lover was still asleep, the sheet slung low on his hip as he slumbered. In the darkness, he was beautiful, calm. She could only imagine how he would be tomorrow when she was gone for good.
Slipping on her Louboutins, she leaned over the sleeping body and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
"Au revoir, Marcus," she whispered before Disapperating with a 'crack!'
Scorpius Malfoy/Lily Luna Potter (R) Prompt: forbidden, raining, postgame locker room
Word Count: 500
Towel wrapped tightly around her body, Lily Luna reached out and wiped the steam away from the locker room mirror. There was a figure shrouded in the condensation clinging to the glass, but she didn't need to look behind her to recognize the tall, lanky frame.
"Go away, Malfoy," she gritted through her teeth.
Scorpius pushed off the doorframe, completely unaffected by her ire. "Now now, Potter, I do believe we had a wager."
"Fuck you," she spat, wet red hair flying in an arc around her head as she whirled to face him. Her brown eyes widened minutely, taking in the way his white Quidditch trousers clung to his skin, how his long white-blonde hair was wet with the rain. "You aren't supposed to be here."
"Oh? And why not?"
Lily unthinkingly took a step back as he moved closer, and she could feel the hard edge of the sink pressing into her spine. Already, her anger was starting to turn to something even more dangerous: desire.
"Because," she said, biting her lip, "we can't. Not anymore."
The Falmouth seeker moved even closer, caging her against the sink with his body, and his grey eyes held a predatory gleam. "You don't mean it."
She did mean it, though. They shouldn't- she couldn't- do this to Rosie anymore. If her cousin knew what she was doing with her on-again, off-again boyfriend, she'd be devastated. But even as she demurred, her body spoke volumes otherwise. Already, she could feel her skin tingle with awareness, her nipples hardening into little peaks beneath her towel. This was so wrong; her teammates could walk in at any moment.
But when he ducked in and ran his lips along her neck, drawing a soft moan from her lips, she knew she was gone.
Eager hands- Seeker's hands- went to his leather trousers and made quick work of the ties holding them together. Trousers down, jumper up- she wanted him bare beneath her hands, to feel his muscles jump under his skin when she touched him.
It took considerably less time for him to undress her; a quick tug of the towel and she was naked. Fingers dug into her hip, hauling her up on the sink, and his lips found hers. Their kiss was rough, furious, every facet of their relationship poured into this one gesture as he thrust roughly up into her.
Lily gasped, hips rocking against his. There was no awkward fumbling between them- hadn't been for years- as they moved. Each touch, kiss, stroke was passionate, wanting, needy. Twin moans and groans filled the air, and it sent a thrill to her to hear how much she affected him.
Fisting her hand in his hair, she drew his head back and bit his neck sharply, leaving a perfect set of teeth marks in his alabaster skin. Her climax was quickly approaching, but she fought her own body, determined to come out on top in their little game of dominance and submission.
"Come for me, Scorpius."
Severus Snape/Madame Rosmerta (PG-13) Prompt: Closing Time- Semisonic
Word Count: 500
Rosmerta's dark eyes glanced down at the man at the end of the bar. He was, as he ever was, alone; his entire disposition practically screamed "Stay back…or else." She knew better, though; Severus rarely came up to the village, but when he did, they both knew what he was there for.
Leaning over the bar, she made sure her ample bosom was on display. Her tone was low, sultry, as she said, "Severus, darling, you've stayed away far too long. How do you think that makes a woman like me feel?"
Severus merely gave her a significant look. "You're fishing for compliments, Rose. The men of Hogsmeade would slay dragons for you. You've hardly any need for me."
"Oh, that's where you're wrong, darling," she purred. "I have great need of you." With a coy smile, she reached out for his tumbler of whiskey and tipped it back, downing the rest of his glass. The alcohol warmed her body, just as she was sure her lover's hands would momentarily.
Glancing at him through her long, blonde lashes, Rosmerta murmured, "Tell me you don't want me."
"I can't."
That was that. Rosmerta leaned over and rang the bell over the bar, signaling last call. Her lips twitched at the groans that arose; the final round wasn't usually for another hour.
She gave her favorite bartender a wink and said, "Lock up tonight, Lisa. And don't forget the wards."
As she came around from behind the bar, she took Severus' hand and led him towards the back door. She could hear the grumbles and muttering that followed; men yearned for the chance to be in her bed, but none of them had earned it.
Severus had.
Both knew the route to her bedroom by heart, and it took but a moment before their bodies were pressed together, hands roaming as their lips slid against each other in a desperate kiss. For all his anti-social ways, Severus was an excellent lover, and Rosmerta nurtured a true fondness for him.
A shiver ran over her skin when his large, work-roughened hands found the zipper of her dress, drawing it down at an excruciatingly slow speed. Already, her body was thrumming with desire, her center aching for the sweet fulfillment that would soon be hers.
The dress fell to the floor, unwanted, before she hooked her fingers in her knickers and pushed them down to join it. Her hands went to her bra snap, pulling it away from her body. She loved being naked, especially when there was a willing man in the room with her.
She took his hands in hers and brought them up to cup her breasts, sighing when his long fingers covered the large orbs. Severus needed no more instructions on how to pleasure her, and his dark head ducked down to take a pink nipple between his lips, sucking lightly.
Gasping with desire, she ran her hands through his long hair before they slipped down his body to his belt.
"Come, lover," she murmured. "We've lost time to make up for."
Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley (PG-13) Prompt: speaking French
Word Count: 474
"Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?"
Victoire glanced up from her book, amused blue eyes lighting on the figure standing in the doorway. She huffed, blowing an errant lock of blonde hair out of her face. "Honestly, Teddy, I refuse to believe that that is all the French you've retained after three years with me."
"Never said it was all," the colorful young man said with an easy grin as he moved across the room to her. Dropping down onto the sofa next to her, he leaned in and pressed his lips to her neck, breathing, "but I can't say it's not one of my favorite phrases," against her skin.
She shivered at the sensation of his stubble against her skin, and her voice was breathy when she said, "Ah bon? C'est vrai?"
Teddy growled and reached out to pull his delicate girlfriend into his lap, fingertips digging into her hip. "Merlin, I love it when you talk French," he rasped in her ear.
The blonde giggled and shifted in his lap, lips twitching when she felt him stir against her bum. "Tu es facile à contenter," she murmured as she turned her head to the side and brushed her lips against his. When he responded, sweeping his tongue along the seam of her lips to deepen the kiss, her lips twitched in a triumphant smile. One delicate hand reached down to cover his, and she drew it up and underneath the fabric of her jumper.
He paused and pulled back, one brow raised in question. "Victoire, not here."
"Pourquoi pas?"
"In your grandparents' house? Really?"
She laughed softly. "We've had sex at your grandmum's house."
"Yeah, but I live there, and I don't have approximately one hundred relatives who could walk in on us at any given moment."
"Bah." His girlfriend gave a little wave of her hand; a gesture so reminiscent of her mother that it nearly gave Teddy pause. "They're all out in Diagon doing Christmas shopping. Besides," her hand helped his resume its upwards journey, long fingers slipping beneath the silk of her bra, "do you not want to embrasse mon sein?"
When he groaned, his hand giving an involuntary squeeze of her soft breast, Victoire knew she had won. Her hands went to his free one and guided it down, under her skirt to the juncture of her thighs. He needed no more guidance as one finger slipped beneath her knickers.
"Vous voulez touchez ma perle, comme ça?" She gasped when he did just that, rubbing his finger along her swollen nub just so.
"Merlin, Victoire, oui," he gasped, pressing his lips against hers in a hard, furious kiss.
No more words, French or English, were necessary.
Viktor Krum/Hermione Granger (R) Prompt: This Bed- Alicia Keys
Word Count: 500
Tears fell freely down Hermione's cheek as she hugged the pillow to her chest, as if warding herself against the angry words and emotions that had flown freely earlier in the evening. In all honesty, she couldn't remember how this particular fight had originated; whenever Viktor was struggling with his English, he tended to get angry and lash out. His intensity had been part of her original attraction, but not when he turned it on her.
He'd stormed out in a fit of anger, muttering in Bulgarian.
He hadn't said when- or if- he was coming back.
A choked sob slipped her lips, and she buried her face in the pillow. His pillow. His scent still clung to it, reminding her of him. It was a poor imitation, but she had nothing else when he was gone. Their large bed felt so empty without him in it with her, making his absence even more pronounced.
"Viktor," she whispered into the pillow, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"Моята любов."
Hermione rolled to the side, tear-stricken eyes wide with surprise. He was here, standing in the doorway. He was home.
"Viktor," she breathed.
In less than a blink of an eye, he was across the room and on the bed next to her. His hands sought her hips, pulling her across the sheets until he could cover her body with his. Lips sought and found hers, putting everything he couldn't say into their kiss.
Beneath him, she arched and returned his kiss with fervor. Her hands went to his shirt, eagerly tugging it free from his trousers before she pulled up and over his head. Nails drug over his back and left little red lines in their wake, a visible sign of possession that they both craved.
"Съжалявам," he murmured against her lips, breaking their kiss to trail nibbles and kisses down her neck.
"So am I," she murmured, sliding her leg against his hip. One toe hooked in his belt look and pushed, an impatient sign for her equally-impatient lover.
Viktor took the hint with aplomb, pulling her nightshirt off of her to reveal her smooth, creamy skin and sensible knickers. His quidditch-roughened hands traveled over her body, calluses catching on the smooth skin of her breasts as he touched, tasted and teased. His tongue swiped over her nipple, eliciting a breathy cry, and long fingers drew her knickers down her legs, leaving her bare beneath him.
She arched to meet him when he surged into her, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He moved within her, so strong and sure, with a confidence that her past lovers could only hope to have. Hermione was already close to falling, and he could tell from the tenseness radiating throughout her limbs.
When his finger found her sensitive nub and rubbed, her world exploded. As his name fell from her lips in pleasure, she felt himself reach his climax and come within her body, languidly thrusting once, twice more before he was spent.
Rolling to the side, he gathered her up in his arms and kissed her gently. Now, the bed wasn't quite so lonely anymore.
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Lavender Brown, George Weasley/Gabrielle Delacour, Harry Potter/Astoria Greengrass, Marcus Flint/Katie Bell, Scorpius Malfoy/Lily Luna Potter, Severus Snape/Madame Rosmerta, Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley, Viktor Krum/Hermione Granger
Rating: PG-13 through NC-17
Word Count: Between 100 and 500
Summary: Nine smutty drabbles for your reading pleasure.
Author's Notes: This is the round-up of my submissions for Week One of Humpathon 2010 at hp_humpdrabbles. I thought updating at the end of each week would be easier than waiting until the end! I hope y'all enjoy!
Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley (PG-13) for elle_blessing
Draco Malfoy/Lavender Brown (R) for baby_k21
George Weasley/Gabrielle Delacour (PG-13) for seraphimerising
Harry Potter/Astoria Greengrass (R) for hpfangirl71
Marcus Flint/Katie Bell (PG-13) for lafeeclair
Scorpius Malfoy/Lily Luna Potter (R) for elle_blessing
Severus Snape/Madame Rosmerta (PG-13) for lar_laughs
Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley (PG-13) for scaratthedisco
Viktor Krum/Hermione Granger (R) for lafeeclair
Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley (PG-13) Prompt: The Power of Goodbye- Madonna
Word Count: 500
Ginny stood at the water's edge, brown eyes looking out at the angry water. The harsh wind caught her red hair, whipping it around her face in a tangled frenzy, and the salt-water spray from the waves coated her skin. It was cold, winter, and the water's added only caused to make her shiver even more. It was nearing Christmas, and she had nowhere to go.
Bill, bless him, hadn't asked any questions. He had just opened the door and taken her bags to the spare bedroom. Fleur, though, she didn't have to ask questions to know. Her light blue gaze was heavy, knowing, and it made Ginny squirm beneath its weight.
Her sister-in-law was much more intelligent than Ginny had ever given her credit for before.
She had had to slip out the back and sneak down to the beach just to escape. She loved her family, but it was only a matter of time before word got out that she was here, and then the questions would start.
Was it too much to reflect in peace?
What had she done wrong?
In time, the passion and heat that had fueled their relationship cooled, leaving both dissatisfied and yearning in its wake. Making love was perfunctory, devoid of emotion. They were Draco and Ginny, that was what they did. They woke up in the mornings, went to work, came home, shared a meal, fucked, and went to sleep. No deviation from routine.
It made her heart hurt.
Once, when everything was still new and fresh, he had liked to wake her up with his hand between her thighs. It was a most pleasant way to awaken, with his long aristocratic fingers playing her body. Her back would arch, and she would mewl like a kitten for her cream before he would bring her to orgasm.
Then he would roll her over and drive into her, and all she could do was pant and moan as he fucked her in the weak morning sunlight.
In time, though, she realized that it wasn’t anything she had done. Draco simply didn't love her, and in her youth, she had mistaken lust and a need for companionship as love. His heart wasn't open to her. She was his safety net, his fortress, the calm in the storm. And at the time, that had been enough for her.
But his words hurt, and not in a pleasurable way. They stung with their coldness; no longer did they engage in verbal foreplay, but instead in angry shouting matches. Well, she was angry. Draco was indifferent.
Love wasn't supposed to hurt like that, and that hurt had quickly melted into something new: a broken heart.
Ginny glanced down at her clenched fist. It was time.
Her fingers unfolded to reveal the beautiful unicorn charm Draco had given her, the first of many. It was priceless, beautiful, and a painful reminder of what might have been. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and hurled it into the sea.
Goodbye, Draco.
Draco Malfoy/Lavender Brown (R) Prompt: I Like It Rough- Lady Gaga
Word Count: 500
Long, aristocratic fingers gripped her hip- hard; bruises were sure to form- as his other hand trailed teasingly down her bare side. A soft, keening sound echoed across the room, and as fogged in desire as she was, Lavender barely recognized as her own.
Her arms ached from behind bound over her head, and her breasts tingled with lingering sensations. From hot to cold, her desire coursed through her with every bruising thrust, every smack across her thighs.
Draco gripped her chin and forced her gaze to meet his, and Lavender shivered at the intense emotions lurking in those gray orbs. Hatred, lust, power- it was all there, for once unguarded and on display for her to see.
"Tell me what you want, Lavender," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "If you're a good girl, I shall give it to you."
Her body swayed towards him, trying to entice him to move his hand just a bit. Her center was aching, begging to be filled over and over again until the line between pain and pleasure exploded.
"You, Draco," she whispered, "please..."
There was a banging coming from outside her dingy flat. Maybe someone was at the door? It didn't matter who it was. Could be the bloody Queen of England, and Lavender wouldn't have given a fuck. She needed her fix.
The line of blow was so pretty, perfect in its crystalline form. A spare pound note had been rolled, and she leaned over, placing the end in one nostril.
Sniff sniff sniff sniff.
Lavender pulled back and tapped the side of her nose, disrupting the precious bits that had been lodged there. She had more; she'd need it later, but for now, she could surrender to the peaceful oblivion.
Why was the pounding noise still there?
Oh. Draco.
"Good girl," he praised, caressing the side of her cheek tenderly. His words, calm enough, were the only thing gentle about him. Two white hands grasped her thighs and yanked them apart, exposing her glistening center to his appreciative gaze.
With a thrust of his hips, he was inside of her, his long, hard length ramming into her with the force of a rampant dragon. One hand grasped her thigh, hitching it around his narrow waist while the other slid over her body. Fingers pinched at her nipples, rolling them until she cried out from the pleasure and pain of it.
All too soon, it was over, and Draco roared his pleasure against her neck as he came. Her own release was so close, hovering in the distance. She could tell it pleased him, denying her, from the way his lips curled against her skin.
Slipping one hand between their bodies, his fingers grasped her sensitive nub and gave it a flick. "Come."
She laid back on the bed, a slight humming noise in her ears as her world narrowed inwards. Draco was outside, banging to be let in, but it didn't matter. He dimmed her shine, made her beg. She felt weak with him because she was weak with him. It didn't matter anymore. She would deal with the fallout later.
For now, all she could do was surrender to oblivion.
George Weasley/Gabrielle Delacour (PG-13) Prompt: wild thing
Word Count: 461
George's blue gaze watched across the darkened bar as Gabrielle, little Gabrielle Delacour, pressed her lithe body up against some tosser's front. Her white teeth fairly gleamed in the smoky haze as she threw a seductive little smile up at him, and George had to restrain the urge to cross the bar and deck the bloke.
A whiff of perfume drew him out of his reverie, and George glanced down at the small woman in front of him. She was pretty; green eyes, dark curly hair, and pink, plump lips.
"I'm Kate," she said by way of greeting, giving him a sultry smile. "What's your name?"
"George," he answered automatically, managing a faint twitch of his lips.
"George," she repeated, nodding. "It's nice to meet you." Pulling a cigarette out of her purse, she held it up and said, "Do you have a light?"
He blinked. Her words were reminiscent of another meeting, in a bar much like this.
The blonde woman laughed, a tinkling sound that was eerily familiar to him. "A light," she said, holding up a pack of Gauloises. "For my cigarette?"
"Oh." George pulled out his wand and muttered the incantation, and a small flame appeared at the end.
She leaned forward and lit the tip of her cigarette, inhaling to make sure it caught. Blowing out a cloud of smoke, she leaned back and smiled. "Merci."
"Erm, sure," he said, pulling out his wand to light her cigarette.
"Thanks," she said, taking a puff from the cigarette. "So, George, what's a handsome bloke like you doing here by yourself."
"'E ees not by 'imself," an irritated, heavily-accented voice said from behind them. George's lips twitched as he turned his head to the side, taking in his irritated girlfriend.
"Oh?" Kate asked. "And who might you be?"
Gabrielle pursed her lips and reached out, snatching the cigarette out of the other woman's hand and grounding it into the bar. "'Is girlfriend," she replied shortly. "Now, go before I 'ex you."
Luckily for George, Kate wasn't a complete idiot, and with one last glare for Gabrielle, she took her leave.
Amused eyes glanced down at the seething blonde. "Possessive much?"
"Tu es le mien," she replied, pressing herself against him. Her little hands slipped beneath the waist of his trousers, tracing the skin beneath. "Toujours le mien."
George groaned when one hand caressed him through his boxers, stroking him into hardness. She was a little minx, his minx, determined to bring about his downfall.
"Merlin, Gabrielle," he rasped, voice low as he leaned in and raked his teeth across her neck, a smug satisfaction washing over him at the shiver to spread across her skin.
"George," she moaned in his ear, "take me 'ome. Maintenant."
"With pleasure."
Harry Potter/Astoria Greengrass (R) Prompt: breakfast in bed
Word Count: 500
"You brought me breakfast."
Harry paused in the doorframe, unable to hold the small smile back from his face at the expression on his lover's face. Her sleepy brown eyes were hooded, her usually immaculate hair in a state of disarray. The thin white sheet draped over her did nothing to hide the curves of her fey-like body, curves his hands and lips knew all too well.
"You can thank Kreacher," he said sheepishly as he crossed the room and set the tray down on the bedside table. "You know me, I'd burn water."
"I do." Sitting up, Astoria let the sheet fall to her waist, exposing her small, proud breasts. The effect on her lover did not go unnoticed, and her lips twitched upwards in the smallest of smirks. Their relationship... it was complicated. In the upper echelon of wizarding society, it was not unheard of for parties to take lovers. However, if a year ago, had someone told her that she would find herself in Harry Potter's bed while her husband shared Ginny Potter's, she would have laughed in their face.
It was no laughing matter, now.
Reaching out, she grabbed Harry's hand and tugged him back into bed. Her lover, bless him, was only graceful on the Quidditch pitch, and he tumbled into bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets.
Rolling him underneath him, Astoria gave him a quick kiss before she trailed her lips down his neck, pausing to give a tender bite at his beating pulse. Already, she could feel him growing hard beneath her, and it made her body warm in anticipation. Little hands slid down his sides, nails grazing over skin before she could hook her fingers in his trousers, drawing them down his long legs.
Kissing her way down his stomach, she rolled her eyes up to his in a sultry glance, holding his gaze as she leaned down to take him into her mouth.
Astoria moaned around him when she felt one hand fist in her dark locks, holding her lips to his body. It had become a game between them, to see who could push the other over the edge quickest. While she was becoming quite practiced at making him groan her name, he could still make her scream like no other.
Her teeth scraped over his quivering flesh, tongue stroking and lapping at him like a kitten at her cream. The way his body tensed, his fingers tightening to an almost painful degree in her hair, only served to fuel her own arousal. She worked him at an almost furious pace, one hand gripping the base of his erection and stroking him up and down.
"Astoria," Harry gasped, choking out her name before his hips jerked up, spasms raking his body as his climax crashed over him. She kept working at him, swallowing until his body fell back against the bed, sated and spent.
When she pulled away, her brown eyes were full of a smug satisfaction- that is, until Harry reached down and yanked her back up the bed, covering her body with his own.
"And now you've brought me breakfast in bed," he murmured.
Marcus Flint/Katie Bell (PG-13) Prompt: Somebody to Love- Leighton Meester ft. Robin Thicke
Word Count: 462
Katie was a runner.
She had been running, in one way or another, since the end of the war. First, from pain. Fred's death and Lee's subsequent emotional withdrawal had been too much, leaving a gaping hole where her heart used to be. So she'd left England behind, trying to forge a new life and career in America.
That had worked until she'd fallen in love- and then had her heart broken.
It was starting to feel the same; over and over again, she pulled up her roots and ran for the newest city, new challenges.
Paris was the first place she'd seen him again. Once upon a time, Marcus Flint had posessed the charm and sex appeal of a mountain troll. Not anymore; time and experience had done him good. He was tall, fit, and handsome, and Katie couldn't help but be drawn to him. There was just something about him, something magnetic that made her blood run hot and her knees go weak.
His hands grasped her slim hips, pulling her down onto his waiting erection. Katie let her head fall back with a gasp, rocking her hips against his when he thrust up into her. His rough hands slid over her body, pausing to tweak a nipple or rub at her sensitive nub.
"Katie." Her name was a strangled gasp, a muttered prayer- or curse- when she clenched around him. They drove one another crazy; personalities like night and day. But in the bedroom, between the sheets, they just fit.
She never stayed the night with him. His flat on the Île St. Louis was massive; elegant and sophisticated as was wont with the old money. But it wasn't right to stay with him. Their relationship- or lack thereof- was pure physical.
Or so she'd thought.
"Je t'adore,he murmured against her bare skin. Three little words that meant so much, words Katie had once longed to hear.
Now, all she wanted to do was run.
Marcus was someone she could love. They were both damaged from the war, scars still healing on their hearts, but he wasn't for her. Katie was still looking for someone she could love. Maybe she would find him, maybe she wouldn't. But she had to keep looking. She still believed in love, and she would keep searching.
Slipping the blue sequined dress back on, Katie silently slid around the bedroom. Her lover was still asleep, the sheet slung low on his hip as he slumbered. In the darkness, he was beautiful, calm. She could only imagine how he would be tomorrow when she was gone for good.
Slipping on her Louboutins, she leaned over the sleeping body and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
"Au revoir, Marcus," she whispered before Disapperating with a 'crack!'
Scorpius Malfoy/Lily Luna Potter (R) Prompt: forbidden, raining, postgame locker room
Word Count: 500
Towel wrapped tightly around her body, Lily Luna reached out and wiped the steam away from the locker room mirror. There was a figure shrouded in the condensation clinging to the glass, but she didn't need to look behind her to recognize the tall, lanky frame.
"Go away, Malfoy," she gritted through her teeth.
Scorpius pushed off the doorframe, completely unaffected by her ire. "Now now, Potter, I do believe we had a wager."
"Fuck you," she spat, wet red hair flying in an arc around her head as she whirled to face him. Her brown eyes widened minutely, taking in the way his white Quidditch trousers clung to his skin, how his long white-blonde hair was wet with the rain. "You aren't supposed to be here."
"Oh? And why not?"
Lily unthinkingly took a step back as he moved closer, and she could feel the hard edge of the sink pressing into her spine. Already, her anger was starting to turn to something even more dangerous: desire.
"Because," she said, biting her lip, "we can't. Not anymore."
The Falmouth seeker moved even closer, caging her against the sink with his body, and his grey eyes held a predatory gleam. "You don't mean it."
She did mean it, though. They shouldn't- she couldn't- do this to Rosie anymore. If her cousin knew what she was doing with her on-again, off-again boyfriend, she'd be devastated. But even as she demurred, her body spoke volumes otherwise. Already, she could feel her skin tingle with awareness, her nipples hardening into little peaks beneath her towel. This was so wrong; her teammates could walk in at any moment.
But when he ducked in and ran his lips along her neck, drawing a soft moan from her lips, she knew she was gone.
Eager hands- Seeker's hands- went to his leather trousers and made quick work of the ties holding them together. Trousers down, jumper up- she wanted him bare beneath her hands, to feel his muscles jump under his skin when she touched him.
It took considerably less time for him to undress her; a quick tug of the towel and she was naked. Fingers dug into her hip, hauling her up on the sink, and his lips found hers. Their kiss was rough, furious, every facet of their relationship poured into this one gesture as he thrust roughly up into her.
Lily gasped, hips rocking against his. There was no awkward fumbling between them- hadn't been for years- as they moved. Each touch, kiss, stroke was passionate, wanting, needy. Twin moans and groans filled the air, and it sent a thrill to her to hear how much she affected him.
Fisting her hand in his hair, she drew his head back and bit his neck sharply, leaving a perfect set of teeth marks in his alabaster skin. Her climax was quickly approaching, but she fought her own body, determined to come out on top in their little game of dominance and submission.
"Come for me, Scorpius."
Severus Snape/Madame Rosmerta (PG-13) Prompt: Closing Time- Semisonic
Word Count: 500
Rosmerta's dark eyes glanced down at the man at the end of the bar. He was, as he ever was, alone; his entire disposition practically screamed "Stay back…or else." She knew better, though; Severus rarely came up to the village, but when he did, they both knew what he was there for.
Leaning over the bar, she made sure her ample bosom was on display. Her tone was low, sultry, as she said, "Severus, darling, you've stayed away far too long. How do you think that makes a woman like me feel?"
Severus merely gave her a significant look. "You're fishing for compliments, Rose. The men of Hogsmeade would slay dragons for you. You've hardly any need for me."
"Oh, that's where you're wrong, darling," she purred. "I have great need of you." With a coy smile, she reached out for his tumbler of whiskey and tipped it back, downing the rest of his glass. The alcohol warmed her body, just as she was sure her lover's hands would momentarily.
Glancing at him through her long, blonde lashes, Rosmerta murmured, "Tell me you don't want me."
"I can't."
That was that. Rosmerta leaned over and rang the bell over the bar, signaling last call. Her lips twitched at the groans that arose; the final round wasn't usually for another hour.
She gave her favorite bartender a wink and said, "Lock up tonight, Lisa. And don't forget the wards."
As she came around from behind the bar, she took Severus' hand and led him towards the back door. She could hear the grumbles and muttering that followed; men yearned for the chance to be in her bed, but none of them had earned it.
Severus had.
Both knew the route to her bedroom by heart, and it took but a moment before their bodies were pressed together, hands roaming as their lips slid against each other in a desperate kiss. For all his anti-social ways, Severus was an excellent lover, and Rosmerta nurtured a true fondness for him.
A shiver ran over her skin when his large, work-roughened hands found the zipper of her dress, drawing it down at an excruciatingly slow speed. Already, her body was thrumming with desire, her center aching for the sweet fulfillment that would soon be hers.
The dress fell to the floor, unwanted, before she hooked her fingers in her knickers and pushed them down to join it. Her hands went to her bra snap, pulling it away from her body. She loved being naked, especially when there was a willing man in the room with her.
She took his hands in hers and brought them up to cup her breasts, sighing when his long fingers covered the large orbs. Severus needed no more instructions on how to pleasure her, and his dark head ducked down to take a pink nipple between his lips, sucking lightly.
Gasping with desire, she ran her hands through his long hair before they slipped down his body to his belt.
"Come, lover," she murmured. "We've lost time to make up for."
Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley (PG-13) Prompt: speaking French
Word Count: 474
"Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?"
Victoire glanced up from her book, amused blue eyes lighting on the figure standing in the doorway. She huffed, blowing an errant lock of blonde hair out of her face. "Honestly, Teddy, I refuse to believe that that is all the French you've retained after three years with me."
"Never said it was all," the colorful young man said with an easy grin as he moved across the room to her. Dropping down onto the sofa next to her, he leaned in and pressed his lips to her neck, breathing, "but I can't say it's not one of my favorite phrases," against her skin.
She shivered at the sensation of his stubble against her skin, and her voice was breathy when she said, "Ah bon? C'est vrai?"
Teddy growled and reached out to pull his delicate girlfriend into his lap, fingertips digging into her hip. "Merlin, I love it when you talk French," he rasped in her ear.
The blonde giggled and shifted in his lap, lips twitching when she felt him stir against her bum. "Tu es facile à contenter," she murmured as she turned her head to the side and brushed her lips against his. When he responded, sweeping his tongue along the seam of her lips to deepen the kiss, her lips twitched in a triumphant smile. One delicate hand reached down to cover his, and she drew it up and underneath the fabric of her jumper.
He paused and pulled back, one brow raised in question. "Victoire, not here."
"Pourquoi pas?"
"In your grandparents' house? Really?"
She laughed softly. "We've had sex at your grandmum's house."
"Yeah, but I live there, and I don't have approximately one hundred relatives who could walk in on us at any given moment."
"Bah." His girlfriend gave a little wave of her hand; a gesture so reminiscent of her mother that it nearly gave Teddy pause. "They're all out in Diagon doing Christmas shopping. Besides," her hand helped his resume its upwards journey, long fingers slipping beneath the silk of her bra, "do you not want to embrasse mon sein?"
When he groaned, his hand giving an involuntary squeeze of her soft breast, Victoire knew she had won. Her hands went to his free one and guided it down, under her skirt to the juncture of her thighs. He needed no more guidance as one finger slipped beneath her knickers.
"Vous voulez touchez ma perle, comme ça?" She gasped when he did just that, rubbing his finger along her swollen nub just so.
"Merlin, Victoire, oui," he gasped, pressing his lips against hers in a hard, furious kiss.
No more words, French or English, were necessary.
Viktor Krum/Hermione Granger (R) Prompt: This Bed- Alicia Keys
Word Count: 500
Tears fell freely down Hermione's cheek as she hugged the pillow to her chest, as if warding herself against the angry words and emotions that had flown freely earlier in the evening. In all honesty, she couldn't remember how this particular fight had originated; whenever Viktor was struggling with his English, he tended to get angry and lash out. His intensity had been part of her original attraction, but not when he turned it on her.
He'd stormed out in a fit of anger, muttering in Bulgarian.
He hadn't said when- or if- he was coming back.
A choked sob slipped her lips, and she buried her face in the pillow. His pillow. His scent still clung to it, reminding her of him. It was a poor imitation, but she had nothing else when he was gone. Their large bed felt so empty without him in it with her, making his absence even more pronounced.
"Viktor," she whispered into the pillow, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"Моята любов."
Hermione rolled to the side, tear-stricken eyes wide with surprise. He was here, standing in the doorway. He was home.
"Viktor," she breathed.
In less than a blink of an eye, he was across the room and on the bed next to her. His hands sought her hips, pulling her across the sheets until he could cover her body with his. Lips sought and found hers, putting everything he couldn't say into their kiss.
Beneath him, she arched and returned his kiss with fervor. Her hands went to his shirt, eagerly tugging it free from his trousers before she pulled up and over his head. Nails drug over his back and left little red lines in their wake, a visible sign of possession that they both craved.
"Съжалявам," he murmured against her lips, breaking their kiss to trail nibbles and kisses down her neck.
"So am I," she murmured, sliding her leg against his hip. One toe hooked in his belt look and pushed, an impatient sign for her equally-impatient lover.
Viktor took the hint with aplomb, pulling her nightshirt off of her to reveal her smooth, creamy skin and sensible knickers. His quidditch-roughened hands traveled over her body, calluses catching on the smooth skin of her breasts as he touched, tasted and teased. His tongue swiped over her nipple, eliciting a breathy cry, and long fingers drew her knickers down her legs, leaving her bare beneath him.
She arched to meet him when he surged into her, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He moved within her, so strong and sure, with a confidence that her past lovers could only hope to have. Hermione was already close to falling, and he could tell from the tenseness radiating throughout her limbs.
When his finger found her sensitive nub and rubbed, her world exploded. As his name fell from her lips in pleasure, she felt himself reach his climax and come within her body, languidly thrusting once, twice more before he was spent.
Rolling to the side, he gathered her up in his arms and kissed her gently. Now, the bed wasn't quite so lonely anymore.