Leigh!fic | A Different Sort of Dance (1/1) | Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson
Title: A Different Sort of Dance (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,253
Summary: Pansy finds a way to entertain herself during yet another Malfoy party.
Author’s Notes: Written as a gift for mihnn as part of hp_humpdrabbles' Humpfest 2013.
It was, she supposed, a lovely party. Of course, every Malfoy ball was such. Astoria had always had impeccable taste in entertaining, and her mother-in-law's influence had only honed those skills. Elaborate candelabras floated overhead as a string quartet played, and elegant couples waltzed around the parquet ballroom floor.
Leave it to Draco to decree that the birth of his son be celebrated with a ball. It wasn't as if the boy would even remember the night, having been put to bed three hours ago.
Pansy understood. It was a reminder to society that the Malfoy name had not diminished after the war. There was still money, plenty of it, and in their circles, money was power.
Besides, it wasn't as if she'd spent much time in the ballroom proper.
No, she'd been locked in a bloody broom cupboard since half past nine.
"I must remind you that this is most unbecoming, Potter," she growled in the minute space between their faces. Even if his lips hadn't been doing a thorough exploration of her own, the cupboard off the first floor corridor in the east wing was hardly spacious.
She felt more than saw his smirk. "And I should remind you, Parkinson, that that's the third time you've reminded me of that fact in the past hour."
“It would have been nice to dance before you accosted me.”
“This is a different sort of dance.”
She sniffed, brushing his statement off. "Fact still remains true. You hardly allowed anyone to admire my new Delacour gown before dragging me into this gods forsaken cupboard."
"Dress is nice," he replied. The hands at her waist tightened, fingers gripping the silken material bunched around her hips. "It would look better on the floor."
His logic was sound, for the most part. She was hard pressed to argue anything, really, when her dress was hiked up around her waist and Harry was still buried inside of her, her knickers pushed to the side and his trousers around his knees. It was an odd position, really; her back braced against the wall and her legs spread enough to allow him between her thighs.
She shifted her position slightly, her own lips curling in satisfaction when she heard his responding groan. "I suppose you might be right," she conceded. "If there were space enough in this pathetic excuse for a room."
Harry pulled away, an exasperated expression on his face. "Are you really going to complain about that for the rest of the night? We barely get time to spend together as is.” He muttered something beneath his breath, but Pansy could have sworn she heard the words ‘secretive bloody bint.’
If so, she was going to ignore that bit. It was better for the both of them to keep this... liaison between them a secret. For the time being. Or for forever. The pair of them had lived with enough gossip for several lifetimes. Witch Weekly would have a field day if they knew the Boy Who Lived was fucking the Girl Who’d Tried to Turn Him over to the Dark Lord.
"I'm merely pointing out that if you'd waited a few more moments, I would have secured a spare bedroom for us to use." She had spent enough time at Draco and Astoria’s home to know which bedrooms were never used. It would have been simple enough to spirit him away for the evening.
Simple and more comfortable.
He ducked his head and pressed his lips to her pulse point. She felt the gentle press of his teeth, the warm graze of his tongue as he nibbled and kissed a trail across her throat. "Did you want to wait a few more moments?" his voice rumbled across her skin.
Pansy could feel him growing hard within her again. It pulled a soft sound from her lips, and she let her head fall back to rest against the wall. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensations he wrought in her. Her breasts strained against her lacy bra. As if they called to her paramour, Harry's hand slid over her stomach to palm a breast, squeezing its weight.
"I could have," she said softly on an exhale. “I’d at least have had the chance to get out of my knickers we had a go.”
Harry moved back, and Pansy’s eyes flew open when she felt him slip out of her sex. “What the hell are you doing, Potter?” she demanded. It was dark in the cupboard, but she could have sworn she saw him smirk.
He dropped to his knees in front of her. Her dress had fallen down to its normal length with his body no longer pressed tight against hers. The hands that had moments ago been cupping her breasts went to the hem and began to push the dress back up towards her hips, exposing her bare legs to the cool air.
“I’m getting you out of those knickers,” he replied. Hooking his fingers in the sides, he slowly drew them down her legs until she was able to step out of them.
Pansy started to speak, but all coherent thoughts -- such as her knickers or lack thereof -- flew from her mind when Harry ducked his head beneath her dress and pressed his lips to her waiting sex. She moaned his name and fisted her hands in his unruly black hair, holding his head firmly between her thighs.
At least they’d remembered to cast a Silencing Charm.
♥ ♥ ♥
Two days later
Sipping on a glass of wine, Pansy reclined back against the settee in her solarium. There was a small package from Astoria -- or rather, ‘Scorpius’ as penned by his mother -- unopened on her lap. No doubt, a thank you for his birthday gift.
Setting the glass on the table beside her, Pansy reached for her letter opener and broke the heavy wax seal. She unfolded the bulky letter, nearly dropping it when something tumbled out of the folded sheet.
A pair of lacy green knickers. Her lacy green knickers.
Blue eyes widening slightly, she glanced at the short note.
Dearest Auntie Pansy,
Thank you very much for the birthday gift. I know I shall enjoy wearing my new Falmouth kit when Daddy takes me to my first match next month.
Mummy said that one of the elves found these in the East Wing outside the cupboard on the first floor. She also said that you must owl her at once because she has to know all the details as soon as possible -- preferably when I’m spending the day with my grandparents because she is certain your conversation will not be fit for my ears.
Daddy says you’re a trollop, leaving your knickers at my birthday party. Mummy said he’s an idiot and doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
Don’t forget to owl Mummy as soon as you read this!
All my love and kisses,
Scorpius
With a groan, Pansy let the letter fall to the floor. She’d completely forgotten about her bloody knickers that night; honestly, she’d thought she’d tucked them into Potter’s pocket as a little memento. They must have fallen out when they’d finally slipped out of the cupboard and rejoined the party.
She eyed the half-finished glass of wine.
It was time to switch to whiskey.
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,253
Summary: Pansy finds a way to entertain herself during yet another Malfoy party.
Author’s Notes: Written as a gift for mihnn as part of hp_humpdrabbles' Humpfest 2013.
It was, she supposed, a lovely party. Of course, every Malfoy ball was such. Astoria had always had impeccable taste in entertaining, and her mother-in-law's influence had only honed those skills. Elaborate candelabras floated overhead as a string quartet played, and elegant couples waltzed around the parquet ballroom floor.
Leave it to Draco to decree that the birth of his son be celebrated with a ball. It wasn't as if the boy would even remember the night, having been put to bed three hours ago.
Pansy understood. It was a reminder to society that the Malfoy name had not diminished after the war. There was still money, plenty of it, and in their circles, money was power.
Besides, it wasn't as if she'd spent much time in the ballroom proper.
No, she'd been locked in a bloody broom cupboard since half past nine.
"I must remind you that this is most unbecoming, Potter," she growled in the minute space between their faces. Even if his lips hadn't been doing a thorough exploration of her own, the cupboard off the first floor corridor in the east wing was hardly spacious.
She felt more than saw his smirk. "And I should remind you, Parkinson, that that's the third time you've reminded me of that fact in the past hour."
“It would have been nice to dance before you accosted me.”
“This is a different sort of dance.”
She sniffed, brushing his statement off. "Fact still remains true. You hardly allowed anyone to admire my new Delacour gown before dragging me into this gods forsaken cupboard."
"Dress is nice," he replied. The hands at her waist tightened, fingers gripping the silken material bunched around her hips. "It would look better on the floor."
His logic was sound, for the most part. She was hard pressed to argue anything, really, when her dress was hiked up around her waist and Harry was still buried inside of her, her knickers pushed to the side and his trousers around his knees. It was an odd position, really; her back braced against the wall and her legs spread enough to allow him between her thighs.
She shifted her position slightly, her own lips curling in satisfaction when she heard his responding groan. "I suppose you might be right," she conceded. "If there were space enough in this pathetic excuse for a room."
Harry pulled away, an exasperated expression on his face. "Are you really going to complain about that for the rest of the night? We barely get time to spend together as is.” He muttered something beneath his breath, but Pansy could have sworn she heard the words ‘secretive bloody bint.’
If so, she was going to ignore that bit. It was better for the both of them to keep this... liaison between them a secret. For the time being. Or for forever. The pair of them had lived with enough gossip for several lifetimes. Witch Weekly would have a field day if they knew the Boy Who Lived was fucking the Girl Who’d Tried to Turn Him over to the Dark Lord.
"I'm merely pointing out that if you'd waited a few more moments, I would have secured a spare bedroom for us to use." She had spent enough time at Draco and Astoria’s home to know which bedrooms were never used. It would have been simple enough to spirit him away for the evening.
Simple and more comfortable.
He ducked his head and pressed his lips to her pulse point. She felt the gentle press of his teeth, the warm graze of his tongue as he nibbled and kissed a trail across her throat. "Did you want to wait a few more moments?" his voice rumbled across her skin.
Pansy could feel him growing hard within her again. It pulled a soft sound from her lips, and she let her head fall back to rest against the wall. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensations he wrought in her. Her breasts strained against her lacy bra. As if they called to her paramour, Harry's hand slid over her stomach to palm a breast, squeezing its weight.
"I could have," she said softly on an exhale. “I’d at least have had the chance to get out of my knickers we had a go.”
Harry moved back, and Pansy’s eyes flew open when she felt him slip out of her sex. “What the hell are you doing, Potter?” she demanded. It was dark in the cupboard, but she could have sworn she saw him smirk.
He dropped to his knees in front of her. Her dress had fallen down to its normal length with his body no longer pressed tight against hers. The hands that had moments ago been cupping her breasts went to the hem and began to push the dress back up towards her hips, exposing her bare legs to the cool air.
“I’m getting you out of those knickers,” he replied. Hooking his fingers in the sides, he slowly drew them down her legs until she was able to step out of them.
Pansy started to speak, but all coherent thoughts -- such as her knickers or lack thereof -- flew from her mind when Harry ducked his head beneath her dress and pressed his lips to her waiting sex. She moaned his name and fisted her hands in his unruly black hair, holding his head firmly between her thighs.
At least they’d remembered to cast a Silencing Charm.
♥ ♥ ♥
Two days later
Sipping on a glass of wine, Pansy reclined back against the settee in her solarium. There was a small package from Astoria -- or rather, ‘Scorpius’ as penned by his mother -- unopened on her lap. No doubt, a thank you for his birthday gift.
Setting the glass on the table beside her, Pansy reached for her letter opener and broke the heavy wax seal. She unfolded the bulky letter, nearly dropping it when something tumbled out of the folded sheet.
A pair of lacy green knickers. Her lacy green knickers.
Blue eyes widening slightly, she glanced at the short note.
Dearest Auntie Pansy,
Thank you very much for the birthday gift. I know I shall enjoy wearing my new Falmouth kit when Daddy takes me to my first match next month.
Mummy said that one of the elves found these in the East Wing outside the cupboard on the first floor. She also said that you must owl her at once because she has to know all the details as soon as possible -- preferably when I’m spending the day with my grandparents because she is certain your conversation will not be fit for my ears.
Daddy says you’re a trollop, leaving your knickers at my birthday party. Mummy said he’s an idiot and doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
Don’t forget to owl Mummy as soon as you read this!
All my love and kisses,
Scorpius
With a groan, Pansy let the letter fall to the floor. She’d completely forgotten about her bloody knickers that night; honestly, she’d thought she’d tucked them into Potter’s pocket as a little memento. They must have fallen out when they’d finally slipped out of the cupboard and rejoined the party.
She eyed the half-finished glass of wine.
It was time to switch to whiskey.