Leigh!fic- Harry Potter Hump Day Drabbles
Title: Harry Potter Hump Day Drabbles
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Drabble Pairings: Adrian Pucey/Pansy Parkinson, Stewart Ackerly/Katie Bell, Anthony Goldstein/Lavender Brown, Cedric Diggory/Fleur Delacour, Julian Vaisey/Astoria Greengrass, Lysander Montague/Pansy Parkinson, Lee Jordan/Katie Bell, Stewart Ackerly/Angelina Johnson, Julian Vaisey/Penelope Clearwater, Blaise Zabini/Daphne Greengrass, Zacharias Smith/Natalie McDonald
Rating: Teen - Adult
Author’s Notes: I should have done this a long, long time ago. These are all drabbles written for hp_humpdrabbles , which I shall be archiving here.
1. Adrian Pucey/Pansy Parkinson Prompt: pureblood
2. Stewart Ackerly/Katie Bell Prompt: Love is...
3. Anthony Goldstein/Lavender Brown Prompt: bath time fun
4. Cedric Diggory/Fleur Delacour Prompt: forbidden fruit
5. Julian Vaisey/Astoria Greengrass Prompt: "It's more fun in the dark"
6. Lysander Montague/Pansy Parkinson Prompt: Penny for your thoughts...
7. Lee Jordan/Katie Bell Prompt: first time
8. Julian Vaisey/Astoria Greengrass Prompt: Christmas bow/ribbon
9. Stewart Ackerly/Angelina Johnson Prompt: Hot Mess by Cobra Starship
10. Julian Vaisey/Penelope Clearwater Prompt: resolutions
11. Stewart Ackerly/Katie Bell Prompt: "Please me, show me how it's done. Tease me, you are the one."
12. Julian Vaisey/Penelope Clearwater Prompt: Sorry
13. Lysander Montague/Pansy Parkinson Prompt: Sorry
14. Blaise Zabini/Daphne Greengrass Prompt: sunrise
15. Zacharias Smith/Natalie McDonald Prompt: slut
Adrian Pucey/Pansy Parkinson- Prompt: pureblood
It doesn't matter what you are: Pureblood, half blood, or Mudblood, we all bleed out the same."
The first time Adrian had told her that, she'd sniffed in disgust and turned her face from him. It wasn't that the idea of killing disgusted her; far from it, in reality. Her soul had lost its innocence long ago. But to speak of it so openly? Hardly polite.
But the first time she'd watched him kill had been a different scenario altogether. She hadn't been able to tear her eyes away; he was so graceful, like the snake he was, circling and toying with his prey before zoning in for the kill. Her brown eyes darkened with excitement as she watched the blood pour out of the man's neck, all over Adrian's hands. It was beautiful.
She'd given herself to him that night for the first time. After months and months of taunting and circling, each unwilling to give up an inch of ground, she finally surrendered and came to his bed.
White hands parted the black silk robe, letting it fall to the floor and leaving her naked to his hungry, wanting gaze. No words were necessary; all that was needed were hands on skin and silk sheets tangled around bodies.
Each touch was a fight for dominance, neither of them willing to give the other the upper hand. His hands were rough, calloused, catching on her smooth, polished skin. His palm grazed her nipple, making her moan from the quick contact. His arms, so muscular and toned, fascinated her.
His smirk grew at every little sound that fell from her lips, every moan, pant, whimper, gasp, sigh, all of it. Without warning, he thrust into her, his own strangled groan falling from his lips as her perfectly manicured nails ripped down his back.
"You're mine," Adrian growled, biting at her throat, his eyes filled with darkness at the thought of the bruises that he left.
Mid-thrust, Pansy kicked one leg out from under him and used the momentum to roll them so that she was astride him. Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled, she circled her hips against his, clenching tightly aroung him; the most exquisite torture.
"I am no man's."
Stewart Ackerly/Katie Bell- Prompt: Love is...
Love is... the way the sheet drapes across the small of her back in the pale morning light. He always wakes up before she does just to savor the moment of tranquility, before the hectic rush of their schedules descends and they part ways.
Love is... her nails raking down his back when they make love. He knows they'll leave marks, but he can't bring himself to care. She never holds back, letting him hear the way he makes her feel. His arousal only grows, intensified by her breathy moans and cries.
Love is... the quiet after the storm, when the passion and fury has faded, leaving them with just the two of them. She likes to curl into him- he'd never taken Katie Bell for a cuddler before- and lay her head down on his shoulder. For him, though? He likes to hold her in his arm and brush kisses over her brown locks. It's their own special brand of intimacy.
Love is... her brown eyes. They fire with emotion so that he can see every little thing she's feeling: anger, passion, desire, irritation, tenderness; it all drives him mad for her. She doesn't do things by halves, and that's another thing that makes Stewart want her even more.
Love is... when he comes home late and finds her already asleep in his bed, wrapped in one of his old Kenmare jumpers. He doesn't want to disturb her- she's only peaceful when she's asleep- but he can't help but to reach out and touch her, to brush his lips over her neck. When she slowly wakes, rolling over to face him as her lips curl up in a sleepy smile and she whispers, "Welcome home..."
That's love.
Anthony Goldstein/Lavender Brown- Prompt: bath time fun
Watching her from the door-frame to the bathroom, Anthony thought he might be looking at an angel: long tendrils of blonde hair escaped from the haphazard bun on top of her head as she reclined against the back of the tub. The candles flickered, casting low rays of light over the water. It was warm enough to fog the mirrors, but if that was from the water or from his body temperature, Anthony wasn't sure.
Her eyes fluttered open, and her lips curled into a smile when she saw him watching her. "Hi," Lavender murmured, holding her small hand out to him. "Are you coming?"
Anthony smirked as he crossed the room, shedding his jumper and undershirt as he did. "Oh, I will be," he murmured, taking her hand and brushing a kiss over the back of it, "and so will you."
"Will I?" she asked, her blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "I suggest you get in here and make good on that promise, Healer Goldstein."
Laughing, he let her reach out and tug him into the bath, water slushing out over the edges as he practically fell in, trousers and all. His arms braced on either side of her, careful not to crush her waif-like body against the side. "Was that really necessary, Lav?"
"You said I was going to be coming," she murmured, impatient hands going to his belt. "I'd rather it be sooner rather than later."
"Oh really?" he murmured, letting his hand trail between her legs as she made quick work of his trousers.
Lavender sighed, her hands stilling momentarily in their task. "Really," she whispered as his talented fingers slipped through her folds, seeking and finding her sensitive nub. "Anthony..."
His other hand cupped one pale breast, circling his thumb over the taut nipple as his long fingers slipped inside of her, working in and out much as he would be doing momentarily. "How does that feel?" he murmured in her ear.
She shivered and moaned, somehow managing to regain her focus long enough to push his trousers down over his hips. "So good."
Anthony growled; her little whimpers and moans called to him, and he needed no more encouragement before he slid his hand from between her legs. Surging forward, he slid into her wet heat, groaning at the tight grip she had on him.
Their hips rocked together, moving towards the ultimate goal of pleasure. Despite the need to take it slow and to savor, Anthony couldn't help but move faster within her. His hand fell to where they were joined, rubbing and pulling at her clit. "Come for me, love."
His words pushed her over the edge and she came with a shuddering cry, arching against him and calling his name.
When she squeezed around him, his self control snapped and he spilled into her, his hips grinding against hers. His breathing heavy, he slid down next to her and pulled her up into his arms, enjoying her warmth and body against his.
Cedric Diggory/Fleur Delacour- Prompt: forbidden fruit
"Plus."
Little gasps and moans slipped from her lips as two strong, toned hands slid over her smooth white skin, callouses catching when he brushed his thumbs over her erect nipples. Long, white-blonde hair spilled down over her back, draping over their bodies and contrasting starkly with the navy blue of his sheets.
Grasping onto her hips, he rolled them so that he gazed down on her beauty. She was pale, ethereal, so beautiful. When he touched her, she gasped and moaned, her eyes widening and her breaths hitching when he filled her.
His name. "Cedric." So titillating, falling from those pretty, pink lips in passion.
She wore another man's ring, but none of that mattered when she was in his bed.
Julian Vaisey/Astoria Greengrass- Prompt: "It's more fun in the dark"
"You want me."
Dark brown eyes flashed up at him, irritation bubbling even though he really couldn't see them. She was loathe to admit it but he was right. She did want him, as was evident by the way she'd all but ripped his tailored suit from his lithe frame, her petite hands eager to splay out over his firm chest.
Julian didn't need the light as his hands traversed down her body to rest on her hips. His lips found her neck, mouthing soft, wet kisses along her skin while lithe fingers moved to her zipper. Slowly, agonizingly to her, he pulled it down, exposing her dainty bra and knickers underneath.
"You wore the green lace," he murmured, one finger tracing along the line where skin met lace, traversing over her breasts. "You know how I adore you in green."
How he could tell she was in green, she didn't know, but she didn't question it. He always knew things, unnerving things. Julian Vaisey was a snake down to his very core; mysterious and dangerous, he oozed sexuality out of every pore.
It made her all too aware of his effect on her.
Turning in his arms, Astoria grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his lips down to hers in a searing kiss. Teeth nipped at his lower lip, her lace-encased breasts pressed against his chest. She smirked when a low groan slipped his lips, and his hand slid down to grasp her pert arse, molding and pulling her flush against him.
She whimpered against his lips as a certain part of him pressed insistently into her flat stomach, sending another jolt of desire straight to her core. Her knees were weak, her body trembling against him.
"Julian," she whispered, clutching at him.
He had enough with playing, with teasing. Gripping her hips hard enough to make her whimper, he reached down to yank her knickers to the side, sliding one finger into her warm, wet heat.
Even as she whimpered, her own hands went to his trousers, nimble fingers making quick work of his button and fly. "Now."
Growling, Julian maneuvered her around and thrust into her as they fell back onto the mattress. He reveled in her long, satisfied moan as he filled her, taking pleasure in the way her hands clutched his back as he moved with in her.
Over and over again, he took her. He could spend all day pleasuring his bella serpente. The way her body rose to meet his touch, her breathy whimpers falling from her lips before she cried his name in ecstasy. It called to his blood and made him want to claim her as his.
He didn't need lights to know her body as his own.
Lysander Montague/Pansy Parkinson- Prompt: Penny for your thoughts...
Montague had never put much stock in the adage 'knut for your thoughts.' In the society his family existed in, a knut didn't even make a ripple in the proverbial pools of money. And when it came to reading his love's thoughts, he'd need much more than a knut.
Even when his lips caressed the elegant line of her neck and his hands slid under her dress to pull it up over her head, her thoughts were as guarded as ever. He knew the effect his ministrations had on her; that was all too evident when she gasped and trembled beneath him, digging her nails into his broad back.
"Lysander."
His name sounded so sweet falling from her lips when she came. He didn't need a knut to know that.
Lee Jordan/Katie Bell- Prompt: first time
The smut novels had it all wrong.
Whoever wrote that losing your virginity was a beautiful, touching experience, complete with candles, champagne, and a Fabio look-alike in a flowy white shirt had clearly been delusional.
Katie’s first time had consisted of too much Firewhiskey after they’d won the Quidditch cup her sixth year. Fred and George had snuck into the castle after the match with several cases of the illicit substance, and Lee and she had been more than happy to partake with their friends. The three Chasers had split about four bottles between them, giggling whispers giving into alcohol-fueled boldness, and when Lee had taken her hand and led her out of the common room, she hadn’t resisted.
Stolen kisses in the darkened corridor had led to an abandoned classroom. Lee’s hands, unsteady with drink, pushed up under her shirt to cup her breasts. Rough fingers pinched her nipples, making her gasp with pain and hazy desire. He’d pulled her shirt up over her head, taking one small breast between his lips, rolling the nipple with his tongue as he tugged on her trousers.
When she was naked, he’d laid her down on the cold stone floor with his shirt underneath her head for cushion. He was already hard- he’d been hard since she first kissed him back in the common room- when he covered her body with his own and pushed into her.
Her back arched in pain, her nails digging into his back as he started to thrust without giving her body a chance to adjust to his sudden invasion. Lee grunted, hips moving against hers faster and faster as his pleasure built.
Katie whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut as she held onto him. All she felt was pain, pain, pain, and it was too much. She wanted it to stop.
Then it was over. His face contracted in pleasure when he spilled into her, and he barely rolled to the side before he collapsed, spent. He slipped out of her and pulled her against him, causing her to sigh in relief.
She didn’t remember anything pleasurable about it.
Julian Vaisey/Astoria Greengrass- Prompt: Christmas bow/ribbon
Red was not a color Julian associated with his bella serpente. Even though it was was a fiery, passionate color, something Astoria embraced even in her cool, Slytherin way, rarely did members of their shared House appear in the color in public. It spoke too much of Gryffindor, their rival House, a House that was the exact opposite from them in every possible manner.
But in her red gown, with its graceful train and pretty little bow in front, she looked the very picture of a present. A Christmas present, all wrapped up and tied in a pretty bow, just for him.
It was a bow he looked forward to removing from her body once the night had concluded.
They'd both fought their initial attraction to one another; she because it meant opening herself up to the possibility of her heart being hurt again; he because Astoria was more and a relationship, once started, was not to be taken lightly. Before her, monogamy had never been considered, but now...it was what he wanted.
Because he loved having her body underneath him, moaning his name, her tiny hands grasping at his skin. Moving towards ecstasy with her was something he craved the way junkies craved the potions he peddled. Her dark eyes flashing, her chest heaving, her lips parted- she was his drug.
They would play their parts at the party; her, the consummate pureblood socialite, practiced in her perfection and absolutely untouchable by other partygoers- save for him. He, the sole proprietor of a wizarding business dynasty; a bit on the outskirts of the blood elitists due to his status as a bastard, but a force to be reckoned with nonetheless.
Afterwards, though, she would come to his bed. With nothing but the moonlight cloaking the room in light and shadows, their bodies would move together on the bed. Because tonight, this Christmas night, was for them.
Stewart Ackerly/Angelina Johnson Prompt: Hot Mess by Cobra Starship
One tequila.
Two tequila.
Three tequila.
Bed.
All thoughts of the fiery Puddlemere captain were whisked away when her friend, the passionate, free-loving, very intoxicated Angelina Johnson wound herself around him, grinding her arse against him, making that certain part of him stand up and pay attention.
Drinks had led to dancing, dancing had led to snogging, snogging to groping, and groping here, to his bedroom. It was wrong, and he would regret it in the morning, but Stewart couldn’t focus on that thought when she was sitting on top of him and stripping out of her tiny little club dress, revealing scandalous undergarments.
The thought that he wanted the other former Gryffindor fled from his mind when she sank onto him, moving over him. Unconsciously, his hips responded to her ministrations, moving faster and faster with her. All too soon, she was shuddering and crying out his name as her climax washed over her, drawing his own out with it.
When she collapsed next to him, he closed his eyes and surrendered to the ever-growing need to black out. This wasn’t what he wanted.
Julian Vaisey/Penelope Clearwater- Prompt: resolutions
A flash of smooth white thigh, hands dark as they parted them to taste the sweetness hidden between.
Breathy little moans fell from her lips. “More,” she panted, nails digging into his back as she arched and quivered, her pleasure washing over her in waves. “More.”
“I do solemnly and sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”
As she took a seat in front of the Wizengamot, Penelope was unable to meet her lover’s eyes. Her blue gaze looked up, down, at the jury, at the barristers, anywhere but his dark, guarded green gaze. He could see right through her, always had been able to, and she couldn’t let him see how thinly worn her hold on control was at that moment.
“Ms. Clearwater, you have come before this court to bring charges of extortion, embezzlement, money laundering, blackmail and the trafficking of Ministry-classified Untradeable objects against the defendant, have you not?”
Silk slid across her skin when he pulled her on top of him, the silk sheet falling down around her waist to expose her bare breasts to his hungry gaze. His lips, soft and warm, trailed up the column of her neck, tongue tracing her rabbitting pulse.
“Ms. Clearwater?”
Penelope started. “Yes, Sir. That is correct.”
He continued to speak, but his words were nothing more than a monotonous drone. Her lover, ever handsome in his crisp, hand-tailored robes and Italian shoes, wasn’t a man for the shackles which currently bound him to his chair. What she’d done, she’d done because it was right by the law.
It wasn’t right by her heart, though.
*~*~*~*
A soft caress.
Her hair, sliding along his skin.
The way her body felt, so warm and welcoming, when he took her.
Penelope’s betrayal hadn’t surprised him one bit. His lover was a runner. His business- his true business, not the exclusive nightclubs and real estate investments he fronted- had scared her. It had scared her because, buried deep down in her soul, it excited her. She liked the underlying sense of wrong that had come in his bed, had liked how he’d pushed her boundaries and shown her the underlying world that existed after dark. She’d wanted it, craved the excitement that he’d provided.
”More, Julian,” she chanted in his ear, the sweat making their bodies slide together as they moved together. His hand cupped a breast, tweaking her nipple before he took it between his lips. Her little gasps spurned him on, fueling their passion.
“Julian Arsenius Vaisey, the Wizengamot finds you guilty on all charges, and hereby sentences you to a life’s sentence in Azkaban with no possibility of parole.”
As the guards undid his shackles and jerked him out of his seat, his eyes found hers, a pair of shining blue orbs latched onto his own. Despite the sentence on his head, his lips twitched in a small, knowing smirk.
Ciao, bella.
Stewart Ackerly/Katie Bell Prompt: "Please me, show me how it's done. Tease me, you are the one."
He loved to tease her. Stewart lived for those moments when her brown eyes would flash at him, a mixture of desire and irritation swirling in those orbs. Her pale, perfect body, stretched out and contrasting sharply with the navy blue of his sheets, painted the most perfect picture. She was, without a doubt, unlike any woman he'd ever been with before.
He ducked his head down, trailing his nose along the slender column of her throat and inhaling deeply, breathing her in. The tantalizing scent of her- a light hint of floral mixed with the smell of her skin- was the most hedonistic of pleasures he'd ever indulged in before.
"Stewart." Her breathy plea drew him out of his reverie, and he pulled back to give her a teasing smirk.
"Patience," was all he said as he ran his lips down the valley between her breasts, pausing for a few moments to tease the taut nipples that tipped them. Her breathy cries and pants were the sweetest music to his ears, fueling his arousal as he stoked hers.
His lips continued in that same vein, trailing over her slightly-slickened skin until neither of them could take it any more. When he sank into her, it was as if though there was nothing else in the world; no Quidditch, no press, nothing but the two of them and this moment, their bodies joined as they chased their way towards ecstasy.
Julian Vaisey/Penelope Clearwater- Prompt: Sorry
This was not where she’d imagined them meeting again. Not that she’d ever actually believed they would see one another, but she’d be lying if she denied having thought about what it would be like to see him again. She wasn’t proud of it, but she missed him. She missed the way he felt against her, his arms around her, his strong, capable hands sliding along her bare skin.
It was amazing, Penelope noted. Two years in Azkaban, yet Julian looked practically the same. His robes were the standard-issue grey with black stripes, and his shoes were not of the same quality he had once worn, but his visage was practically the same. Only her former lover could take Azkaban garb and make it look as if he’d walked off the pages of Wizarding Vogue.
If he was surprised to see her after all this time, it didn’t show on his face. She wasn’t sure what’d she’d expected to see there, but it shouldn’t have surprised her to see his emotionless mask firmly in place. It was his nature, after all.
Although the meeting room they’d been given was making her feel rather awkward. Two years without one another and here they were in the room used for conjugal visits.
Penelope wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry.
“It’s a good deal,” she said finally, breaking the silence of the room. “Were I your barrister, I would advise you to take it.”
Julian’s lips twitched, that infuriating smirk playing about the corners of his mouth. “But you are not,” he noted dryly. “Why undo all your hard work, principessa? After all, I owe you a great deal of gratitude for my accommodations here.”
“You’re here because of you, not because of me,” she retorted defensively.
He raised a brow at her. “Perhaps, but I have you to thank for the life sentence for crimes that would, under normal circumstances, receive a maximum of five years. So why, Penelope?”
She bit her lip and tore her gaze from his, unable to meet the dark green eyes that made her melt. “Perhaps I was a bit hasty,” she finally said softly.
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she started when she looked up and he was right in front of her. His presence, always intoxicating, was now overwhelming, and she breathed in the familiar underlying scent that was Julian.
Her pulse jumped in her throat when he stepped closer, something he took note of with a fierce pride. “I think,” he murmured, lowering his lips to her white throat, “that you, fight as you might, still want me despite the darkness.” His hands slid to her hips, pulling her tight against him. His teeth sank into her skin when she gasped, her hands clutching at his robes. “Is that what you want, Penelope?”
“I want you to say you’re sorry,” she murmured faintly as her knees swayed.
Julian pulled back, his eyes dark as he said, “I’m sorry that I got caught.”
Lysander Montague/Pansy Parkinson- Prompt: Sorry
“Pansy!” Montague’s voice was hushed as he hurried after her, heavy footsteps echoing the click of her heels along the marbled corridor that led to the back of White Chapel. “Pansy!”
She didn’t slow down, didn’t stop to listen to him. She didn’t want to listen anymore. After all he’d done- or rather, not done- she just wanted to be done with him. Why wouldn’t he stop?
He called her name again as he reached out to grasp her elbow, turning her to face him. “Pansy, what…”
“You weren’t there!” she hissed, and he was shocked to see the tears that were pooling in her dark brown eyes. For as long as he’d known her, he’d never seen her cry. Not when she’d learned about the murder of her mother, or even when she’d watched that bastard Auror stab her father to death right in front of her.
The knowledge that she was crying over him cut him to the core.
“Six months,” she continued, “six months in Azkaban, and you didn’t care enough to visit, or even write.” Her lower lip was trembling as she tried to push her emotions back and keep her perfect mask in place, but it was a losing battle. Her voice grew softer, and a haunted, dark look crept into her eyes when she whispered, “I thought I was going to go mad.”
Lysander flinched, his grip on her elbow loosening slightly. It’d been necessary to sever contact with her; the Ministry had been looking, grasping for anything to help calm the public in the aftermath of the Dark Lord. It had hurt him, but he’d had no other choice.
He hadn’t realized how much it’d hurt her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “Pansy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…”
He didn’t notice that she’d grasped onto his robes until she was running her palms over his material-clad chest, almost rhythmically, soothing in her movements. “I couldn’t feel anything,” she whispered, over and over again. His heart froze when she turned her face up to him, unshed tears making her brown eyes shine, and his breathing hitched when she reached up to grasp the back of his neck. Their faces were but a scarce inch apart, she whispered, “Make me feel, Lysander,” before her lips crashed into his.
He immediately deepened the kiss, drinking in her essence like a dehydrated man stranded in the desert for years without water to quench his thirst. An appropriate analogy, he mused as his hands went to her hips and pulled her tight against him, for he’d gone for far too long without her sweet body under his.
There was no foreplay, no gentle, teasing touches. It was passed by in favor of eager hands, ripping at clothing and fierce, biting kisses. As her hands ripped at his trousers, his own jerked the satin of her black ball gown up, exposing her long, pale legs to his eyes.
He was sorry, he thought as he sank into her, that he’d waited this long to say so.
Blaise Zabini/Daphne Greengrass- Prompt: sunrise
She only belongs to him at night.
It’s a pity. Despite their numerous sins- and there have been many; after all, no man or woman with blood as pure as theirs survives childhood unblemished-, Daphne always shone best in the bright sunshine. It brought out the best in her; a golden shine to her hair, a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her lips that she only smiled for him.
She is the Juliet to his Romeo, and their love is just as doomed as the love shared between their literary counterparts.
In the darkness of her bedroom, her body arched towards his wandering hands, the colors of their skins starkly contrasting against the green of his sheets. Another analogy; he is the dark to her light. Fitting, considering the only time they can make love is under the cover of night.
“Blaise!” she moaned, her lust-darkened green eyes fluttering open to gaze at him through a haze of desire. “My love…”
He growled and grasped her hips, pulling them tight against him. “Say it again,” he rasped as he sank into her. He had to close his eyes for a split-second and grit his teeth to reestablish a grip on his control; the pleasure he felt when their bodies were joined threatened to tear him apart.
Daphne wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, squeezing her inner muscles around him.
“My love,” she whispered as she clutched at his back, “my only love.”
“Yes,” he hissed as he began to move, “you’re mine.”
“Only yours,” she promised, reaching up to grasp his chin in her hand. Their lips a hair’s breadth apart, she whispered, “always,” before fusing her mouth with his.
She isn’t his, though. She hasn’t been for almost two years. She was practically bought by Goyle Sr. for his bumbling idiot of a son, Gregory. That pathetic excuse for a Death Eater wouldn’t know how to please a women like Daphne even if she came with a set of instructions.
It didn’t matter what Blaise thought. While his blood was pure, he didn’t have the social ranking that the other families had, the Parkinsons, the Malfoys, the Greengrasses, and, unfortunately, the Goyles. He could only watch from the shadows as the woman he loved was married off to a pig.
When he finished, he held himself above her, gazing down at her flushed face with soft eyes. She was so beautiful that it was hard to breathe sometimes.
Giving him an impish grin, she said suggestively, “Ready for round two?” She clenched around him, green eyes glowing when his breath caught in desire once more.
This woman will be his downfall, of that he is certain. Leaning down to kiss her, he murmured, “Why not?”
Daphne, his beautiful Daphne, may be Mrs. Greengrass-Goyle to the outside world, but she is his at night.
She is his until sunrise.
Zacharias Smith/Natalie McDonald- Prompt: slut
Back arching, Natalie gasped and hissed as Zach pounded into her, his hips moving against hers furiously. Here, in this deserted hallway in the Department of Mysteries, the world stood at a standstill. It wasn't love, it was lust, and it burned hot and dark through their veins. Pleasure tinged with pain was what they wanted, what they craved.
Red lacquered nails ripped down Zach's arms as his rough hand jerked at her blouse, moving underneath to grab at her tender breast. There would be bruises on the tender skin later, of that they were both sure.
Groaning, he shoved her against the rough stone wall, holding her in place as he chased his pleasure. "Dirty slut," he hissed, "you like to bleed for me."
Natalie's growl melded into a low moan as her orgasm overtook her. Her body was still shuddering against his when she reared up, biting his lower lip hard. When she heard his growl of protest, felt his blood trickle down her lip, she pulled back and gave him a wicked smile.
"Don't ever call me a slut again."
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Drabble Pairings: Adrian Pucey/Pansy Parkinson, Stewart Ackerly/Katie Bell, Anthony Goldstein/Lavender Brown, Cedric Diggory/Fleur Delacour, Julian Vaisey/Astoria Greengrass, Lysander Montague/Pansy Parkinson, Lee Jordan/Katie Bell, Stewart Ackerly/Angelina Johnson, Julian Vaisey/Penelope Clearwater, Blaise Zabini/Daphne Greengrass, Zacharias Smith/Natalie McDonald
Rating: Teen - Adult
Author’s Notes: I should have done this a long, long time ago. These are all drabbles written for hp_humpdrabbles , which I shall be archiving here.
1. Adrian Pucey/Pansy Parkinson Prompt: pureblood
2. Stewart Ackerly/Katie Bell Prompt: Love is...
3. Anthony Goldstein/Lavender Brown Prompt: bath time fun
4. Cedric Diggory/Fleur Delacour Prompt: forbidden fruit
5. Julian Vaisey/Astoria Greengrass Prompt: "It's more fun in the dark"
6. Lysander Montague/Pansy Parkinson Prompt: Penny for your thoughts...
7. Lee Jordan/Katie Bell Prompt: first time
8. Julian Vaisey/Astoria Greengrass Prompt: Christmas bow/ribbon
9. Stewart Ackerly/Angelina Johnson Prompt: Hot Mess by Cobra Starship
10. Julian Vaisey/Penelope Clearwater Prompt: resolutions
11. Stewart Ackerly/Katie Bell Prompt: "Please me, show me how it's done. Tease me, you are the one."
12. Julian Vaisey/Penelope Clearwater Prompt: Sorry
13. Lysander Montague/Pansy Parkinson Prompt: Sorry
14. Blaise Zabini/Daphne Greengrass Prompt: sunrise
15. Zacharias Smith/Natalie McDonald Prompt: slut
Adrian Pucey/Pansy Parkinson- Prompt: pureblood
It doesn't matter what you are: Pureblood, half blood, or Mudblood, we all bleed out the same."
The first time Adrian had told her that, she'd sniffed in disgust and turned her face from him. It wasn't that the idea of killing disgusted her; far from it, in reality. Her soul had lost its innocence long ago. But to speak of it so openly? Hardly polite.
But the first time she'd watched him kill had been a different scenario altogether. She hadn't been able to tear her eyes away; he was so graceful, like the snake he was, circling and toying with his prey before zoning in for the kill. Her brown eyes darkened with excitement as she watched the blood pour out of the man's neck, all over Adrian's hands. It was beautiful.
She'd given herself to him that night for the first time. After months and months of taunting and circling, each unwilling to give up an inch of ground, she finally surrendered and came to his bed.
White hands parted the black silk robe, letting it fall to the floor and leaving her naked to his hungry, wanting gaze. No words were necessary; all that was needed were hands on skin and silk sheets tangled around bodies.
Each touch was a fight for dominance, neither of them willing to give the other the upper hand. His hands were rough, calloused, catching on her smooth, polished skin. His palm grazed her nipple, making her moan from the quick contact. His arms, so muscular and toned, fascinated her.
His smirk grew at every little sound that fell from her lips, every moan, pant, whimper, gasp, sigh, all of it. Without warning, he thrust into her, his own strangled groan falling from his lips as her perfectly manicured nails ripped down his back.
"You're mine," Adrian growled, biting at her throat, his eyes filled with darkness at the thought of the bruises that he left.
Mid-thrust, Pansy kicked one leg out from under him and used the momentum to roll them so that she was astride him. Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled, she circled her hips against his, clenching tightly aroung him; the most exquisite torture.
"I am no man's."
Stewart Ackerly/Katie Bell- Prompt: Love is...
Love is... the way the sheet drapes across the small of her back in the pale morning light. He always wakes up before she does just to savor the moment of tranquility, before the hectic rush of their schedules descends and they part ways.
Love is... her nails raking down his back when they make love. He knows they'll leave marks, but he can't bring himself to care. She never holds back, letting him hear the way he makes her feel. His arousal only grows, intensified by her breathy moans and cries.
Love is... the quiet after the storm, when the passion and fury has faded, leaving them with just the two of them. She likes to curl into him- he'd never taken Katie Bell for a cuddler before- and lay her head down on his shoulder. For him, though? He likes to hold her in his arm and brush kisses over her brown locks. It's their own special brand of intimacy.
Love is... her brown eyes. They fire with emotion so that he can see every little thing she's feeling: anger, passion, desire, irritation, tenderness; it all drives him mad for her. She doesn't do things by halves, and that's another thing that makes Stewart want her even more.
Love is... when he comes home late and finds her already asleep in his bed, wrapped in one of his old Kenmare jumpers. He doesn't want to disturb her- she's only peaceful when she's asleep- but he can't help but to reach out and touch her, to brush his lips over her neck. When she slowly wakes, rolling over to face him as her lips curl up in a sleepy smile and she whispers, "Welcome home..."
That's love.
Anthony Goldstein/Lavender Brown- Prompt: bath time fun
Watching her from the door-frame to the bathroom, Anthony thought he might be looking at an angel: long tendrils of blonde hair escaped from the haphazard bun on top of her head as she reclined against the back of the tub. The candles flickered, casting low rays of light over the water. It was warm enough to fog the mirrors, but if that was from the water or from his body temperature, Anthony wasn't sure.
Her eyes fluttered open, and her lips curled into a smile when she saw him watching her. "Hi," Lavender murmured, holding her small hand out to him. "Are you coming?"
Anthony smirked as he crossed the room, shedding his jumper and undershirt as he did. "Oh, I will be," he murmured, taking her hand and brushing a kiss over the back of it, "and so will you."
"Will I?" she asked, her blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "I suggest you get in here and make good on that promise, Healer Goldstein."
Laughing, he let her reach out and tug him into the bath, water slushing out over the edges as he practically fell in, trousers and all. His arms braced on either side of her, careful not to crush her waif-like body against the side. "Was that really necessary, Lav?"
"You said I was going to be coming," she murmured, impatient hands going to his belt. "I'd rather it be sooner rather than later."
"Oh really?" he murmured, letting his hand trail between her legs as she made quick work of his trousers.
Lavender sighed, her hands stilling momentarily in their task. "Really," she whispered as his talented fingers slipped through her folds, seeking and finding her sensitive nub. "Anthony..."
His other hand cupped one pale breast, circling his thumb over the taut nipple as his long fingers slipped inside of her, working in and out much as he would be doing momentarily. "How does that feel?" he murmured in her ear.
She shivered and moaned, somehow managing to regain her focus long enough to push his trousers down over his hips. "So good."
Anthony growled; her little whimpers and moans called to him, and he needed no more encouragement before he slid his hand from between her legs. Surging forward, he slid into her wet heat, groaning at the tight grip she had on him.
Their hips rocked together, moving towards the ultimate goal of pleasure. Despite the need to take it slow and to savor, Anthony couldn't help but move faster within her. His hand fell to where they were joined, rubbing and pulling at her clit. "Come for me, love."
His words pushed her over the edge and she came with a shuddering cry, arching against him and calling his name.
When she squeezed around him, his self control snapped and he spilled into her, his hips grinding against hers. His breathing heavy, he slid down next to her and pulled her up into his arms, enjoying her warmth and body against his.
Cedric Diggory/Fleur Delacour- Prompt: forbidden fruit
"Plus."
Little gasps and moans slipped from her lips as two strong, toned hands slid over her smooth white skin, callouses catching when he brushed his thumbs over her erect nipples. Long, white-blonde hair spilled down over her back, draping over their bodies and contrasting starkly with the navy blue of his sheets.
Grasping onto her hips, he rolled them so that he gazed down on her beauty. She was pale, ethereal, so beautiful. When he touched her, she gasped and moaned, her eyes widening and her breaths hitching when he filled her.
His name. "Cedric." So titillating, falling from those pretty, pink lips in passion.
She wore another man's ring, but none of that mattered when she was in his bed.
Julian Vaisey/Astoria Greengrass- Prompt: "It's more fun in the dark"
"You want me."
Dark brown eyes flashed up at him, irritation bubbling even though he really couldn't see them. She was loathe to admit it but he was right. She did want him, as was evident by the way she'd all but ripped his tailored suit from his lithe frame, her petite hands eager to splay out over his firm chest.
Julian didn't need the light as his hands traversed down her body to rest on her hips. His lips found her neck, mouthing soft, wet kisses along her skin while lithe fingers moved to her zipper. Slowly, agonizingly to her, he pulled it down, exposing her dainty bra and knickers underneath.
"You wore the green lace," he murmured, one finger tracing along the line where skin met lace, traversing over her breasts. "You know how I adore you in green."
How he could tell she was in green, she didn't know, but she didn't question it. He always knew things, unnerving things. Julian Vaisey was a snake down to his very core; mysterious and dangerous, he oozed sexuality out of every pore.
It made her all too aware of his effect on her.
Turning in his arms, Astoria grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his lips down to hers in a searing kiss. Teeth nipped at his lower lip, her lace-encased breasts pressed against his chest. She smirked when a low groan slipped his lips, and his hand slid down to grasp her pert arse, molding and pulling her flush against him.
She whimpered against his lips as a certain part of him pressed insistently into her flat stomach, sending another jolt of desire straight to her core. Her knees were weak, her body trembling against him.
"Julian," she whispered, clutching at him.
He had enough with playing, with teasing. Gripping her hips hard enough to make her whimper, he reached down to yank her knickers to the side, sliding one finger into her warm, wet heat.
Even as she whimpered, her own hands went to his trousers, nimble fingers making quick work of his button and fly. "Now."
Growling, Julian maneuvered her around and thrust into her as they fell back onto the mattress. He reveled in her long, satisfied moan as he filled her, taking pleasure in the way her hands clutched his back as he moved with in her.
Over and over again, he took her. He could spend all day pleasuring his bella serpente. The way her body rose to meet his touch, her breathy whimpers falling from her lips before she cried his name in ecstasy. It called to his blood and made him want to claim her as his.
He didn't need lights to know her body as his own.
Lysander Montague/Pansy Parkinson- Prompt: Penny for your thoughts...
Montague had never put much stock in the adage 'knut for your thoughts.' In the society his family existed in, a knut didn't even make a ripple in the proverbial pools of money. And when it came to reading his love's thoughts, he'd need much more than a knut.
Even when his lips caressed the elegant line of her neck and his hands slid under her dress to pull it up over her head, her thoughts were as guarded as ever. He knew the effect his ministrations had on her; that was all too evident when she gasped and trembled beneath him, digging her nails into his broad back.
"Lysander."
His name sounded so sweet falling from her lips when she came. He didn't need a knut to know that.
Lee Jordan/Katie Bell- Prompt: first time
The smut novels had it all wrong.
Whoever wrote that losing your virginity was a beautiful, touching experience, complete with candles, champagne, and a Fabio look-alike in a flowy white shirt had clearly been delusional.
Katie’s first time had consisted of too much Firewhiskey after they’d won the Quidditch cup her sixth year. Fred and George had snuck into the castle after the match with several cases of the illicit substance, and Lee and she had been more than happy to partake with their friends. The three Chasers had split about four bottles between them, giggling whispers giving into alcohol-fueled boldness, and when Lee had taken her hand and led her out of the common room, she hadn’t resisted.
Stolen kisses in the darkened corridor had led to an abandoned classroom. Lee’s hands, unsteady with drink, pushed up under her shirt to cup her breasts. Rough fingers pinched her nipples, making her gasp with pain and hazy desire. He’d pulled her shirt up over her head, taking one small breast between his lips, rolling the nipple with his tongue as he tugged on her trousers.
When she was naked, he’d laid her down on the cold stone floor with his shirt underneath her head for cushion. He was already hard- he’d been hard since she first kissed him back in the common room- when he covered her body with his own and pushed into her.
Her back arched in pain, her nails digging into his back as he started to thrust without giving her body a chance to adjust to his sudden invasion. Lee grunted, hips moving against hers faster and faster as his pleasure built.
Katie whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut as she held onto him. All she felt was pain, pain, pain, and it was too much. She wanted it to stop.
Then it was over. His face contracted in pleasure when he spilled into her, and he barely rolled to the side before he collapsed, spent. He slipped out of her and pulled her against him, causing her to sigh in relief.
She didn’t remember anything pleasurable about it.
Julian Vaisey/Astoria Greengrass- Prompt: Christmas bow/ribbon
Red was not a color Julian associated with his bella serpente. Even though it was was a fiery, passionate color, something Astoria embraced even in her cool, Slytherin way, rarely did members of their shared House appear in the color in public. It spoke too much of Gryffindor, their rival House, a House that was the exact opposite from them in every possible manner.
But in her red gown, with its graceful train and pretty little bow in front, she looked the very picture of a present. A Christmas present, all wrapped up and tied in a pretty bow, just for him.
It was a bow he looked forward to removing from her body once the night had concluded.
They'd both fought their initial attraction to one another; she because it meant opening herself up to the possibility of her heart being hurt again; he because Astoria was more and a relationship, once started, was not to be taken lightly. Before her, monogamy had never been considered, but now...it was what he wanted.
Because he loved having her body underneath him, moaning his name, her tiny hands grasping at his skin. Moving towards ecstasy with her was something he craved the way junkies craved the potions he peddled. Her dark eyes flashing, her chest heaving, her lips parted- she was his drug.
They would play their parts at the party; her, the consummate pureblood socialite, practiced in her perfection and absolutely untouchable by other partygoers- save for him. He, the sole proprietor of a wizarding business dynasty; a bit on the outskirts of the blood elitists due to his status as a bastard, but a force to be reckoned with nonetheless.
Afterwards, though, she would come to his bed. With nothing but the moonlight cloaking the room in light and shadows, their bodies would move together on the bed. Because tonight, this Christmas night, was for them.
Stewart Ackerly/Angelina Johnson Prompt: Hot Mess by Cobra Starship
One tequila.
Two tequila.
Three tequila.
Bed.
All thoughts of the fiery Puddlemere captain were whisked away when her friend, the passionate, free-loving, very intoxicated Angelina Johnson wound herself around him, grinding her arse against him, making that certain part of him stand up and pay attention.
Drinks had led to dancing, dancing had led to snogging, snogging to groping, and groping here, to his bedroom. It was wrong, and he would regret it in the morning, but Stewart couldn’t focus on that thought when she was sitting on top of him and stripping out of her tiny little club dress, revealing scandalous undergarments.
The thought that he wanted the other former Gryffindor fled from his mind when she sank onto him, moving over him. Unconsciously, his hips responded to her ministrations, moving faster and faster with her. All too soon, she was shuddering and crying out his name as her climax washed over her, drawing his own out with it.
When she collapsed next to him, he closed his eyes and surrendered to the ever-growing need to black out. This wasn’t what he wanted.
Julian Vaisey/Penelope Clearwater- Prompt: resolutions
A flash of smooth white thigh, hands dark as they parted them to taste the sweetness hidden between.
Breathy little moans fell from her lips. “More,” she panted, nails digging into his back as she arched and quivered, her pleasure washing over her in waves. “More.”
“I do solemnly and sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”
As she took a seat in front of the Wizengamot, Penelope was unable to meet her lover’s eyes. Her blue gaze looked up, down, at the jury, at the barristers, anywhere but his dark, guarded green gaze. He could see right through her, always had been able to, and she couldn’t let him see how thinly worn her hold on control was at that moment.
“Ms. Clearwater, you have come before this court to bring charges of extortion, embezzlement, money laundering, blackmail and the trafficking of Ministry-classified Untradeable objects against the defendant, have you not?”
Silk slid across her skin when he pulled her on top of him, the silk sheet falling down around her waist to expose her bare breasts to his hungry gaze. His lips, soft and warm, trailed up the column of her neck, tongue tracing her rabbitting pulse.
“Ms. Clearwater?”
Penelope started. “Yes, Sir. That is correct.”
He continued to speak, but his words were nothing more than a monotonous drone. Her lover, ever handsome in his crisp, hand-tailored robes and Italian shoes, wasn’t a man for the shackles which currently bound him to his chair. What she’d done, she’d done because it was right by the law.
It wasn’t right by her heart, though.
*~*~*~*
A soft caress.
Her hair, sliding along his skin.
The way her body felt, so warm and welcoming, when he took her.
Penelope’s betrayal hadn’t surprised him one bit. His lover was a runner. His business- his true business, not the exclusive nightclubs and real estate investments he fronted- had scared her. It had scared her because, buried deep down in her soul, it excited her. She liked the underlying sense of wrong that had come in his bed, had liked how he’d pushed her boundaries and shown her the underlying world that existed after dark. She’d wanted it, craved the excitement that he’d provided.
”More, Julian,” she chanted in his ear, the sweat making their bodies slide together as they moved together. His hand cupped a breast, tweaking her nipple before he took it between his lips. Her little gasps spurned him on, fueling their passion.
“Julian Arsenius Vaisey, the Wizengamot finds you guilty on all charges, and hereby sentences you to a life’s sentence in Azkaban with no possibility of parole.”
As the guards undid his shackles and jerked him out of his seat, his eyes found hers, a pair of shining blue orbs latched onto his own. Despite the sentence on his head, his lips twitched in a small, knowing smirk.
Ciao, bella.
Stewart Ackerly/Katie Bell Prompt: "Please me, show me how it's done. Tease me, you are the one."
He loved to tease her. Stewart lived for those moments when her brown eyes would flash at him, a mixture of desire and irritation swirling in those orbs. Her pale, perfect body, stretched out and contrasting sharply with the navy blue of his sheets, painted the most perfect picture. She was, without a doubt, unlike any woman he'd ever been with before.
He ducked his head down, trailing his nose along the slender column of her throat and inhaling deeply, breathing her in. The tantalizing scent of her- a light hint of floral mixed with the smell of her skin- was the most hedonistic of pleasures he'd ever indulged in before.
"Stewart." Her breathy plea drew him out of his reverie, and he pulled back to give her a teasing smirk.
"Patience," was all he said as he ran his lips down the valley between her breasts, pausing for a few moments to tease the taut nipples that tipped them. Her breathy cries and pants were the sweetest music to his ears, fueling his arousal as he stoked hers.
His lips continued in that same vein, trailing over her slightly-slickened skin until neither of them could take it any more. When he sank into her, it was as if though there was nothing else in the world; no Quidditch, no press, nothing but the two of them and this moment, their bodies joined as they chased their way towards ecstasy.
Julian Vaisey/Penelope Clearwater- Prompt: Sorry
This was not where she’d imagined them meeting again. Not that she’d ever actually believed they would see one another, but she’d be lying if she denied having thought about what it would be like to see him again. She wasn’t proud of it, but she missed him. She missed the way he felt against her, his arms around her, his strong, capable hands sliding along her bare skin.
It was amazing, Penelope noted. Two years in Azkaban, yet Julian looked practically the same. His robes were the standard-issue grey with black stripes, and his shoes were not of the same quality he had once worn, but his visage was practically the same. Only her former lover could take Azkaban garb and make it look as if he’d walked off the pages of Wizarding Vogue.
If he was surprised to see her after all this time, it didn’t show on his face. She wasn’t sure what’d she’d expected to see there, but it shouldn’t have surprised her to see his emotionless mask firmly in place. It was his nature, after all.
Although the meeting room they’d been given was making her feel rather awkward. Two years without one another and here they were in the room used for conjugal visits.
Penelope wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry.
“It’s a good deal,” she said finally, breaking the silence of the room. “Were I your barrister, I would advise you to take it.”
Julian’s lips twitched, that infuriating smirk playing about the corners of his mouth. “But you are not,” he noted dryly. “Why undo all your hard work, principessa? After all, I owe you a great deal of gratitude for my accommodations here.”
“You’re here because of you, not because of me,” she retorted defensively.
He raised a brow at her. “Perhaps, but I have you to thank for the life sentence for crimes that would, under normal circumstances, receive a maximum of five years. So why, Penelope?”
She bit her lip and tore her gaze from his, unable to meet the dark green eyes that made her melt. “Perhaps I was a bit hasty,” she finally said softly.
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she started when she looked up and he was right in front of her. His presence, always intoxicating, was now overwhelming, and she breathed in the familiar underlying scent that was Julian.
Her pulse jumped in her throat when he stepped closer, something he took note of with a fierce pride. “I think,” he murmured, lowering his lips to her white throat, “that you, fight as you might, still want me despite the darkness.” His hands slid to her hips, pulling her tight against him. His teeth sank into her skin when she gasped, her hands clutching at his robes. “Is that what you want, Penelope?”
“I want you to say you’re sorry,” she murmured faintly as her knees swayed.
Julian pulled back, his eyes dark as he said, “I’m sorry that I got caught.”
Lysander Montague/Pansy Parkinson- Prompt: Sorry
“Pansy!” Montague’s voice was hushed as he hurried after her, heavy footsteps echoing the click of her heels along the marbled corridor that led to the back of White Chapel. “Pansy!”
She didn’t slow down, didn’t stop to listen to him. She didn’t want to listen anymore. After all he’d done- or rather, not done- she just wanted to be done with him. Why wouldn’t he stop?
He called her name again as he reached out to grasp her elbow, turning her to face him. “Pansy, what…”
“You weren’t there!” she hissed, and he was shocked to see the tears that were pooling in her dark brown eyes. For as long as he’d known her, he’d never seen her cry. Not when she’d learned about the murder of her mother, or even when she’d watched that bastard Auror stab her father to death right in front of her.
The knowledge that she was crying over him cut him to the core.
“Six months,” she continued, “six months in Azkaban, and you didn’t care enough to visit, or even write.” Her lower lip was trembling as she tried to push her emotions back and keep her perfect mask in place, but it was a losing battle. Her voice grew softer, and a haunted, dark look crept into her eyes when she whispered, “I thought I was going to go mad.”
Lysander flinched, his grip on her elbow loosening slightly. It’d been necessary to sever contact with her; the Ministry had been looking, grasping for anything to help calm the public in the aftermath of the Dark Lord. It had hurt him, but he’d had no other choice.
He hadn’t realized how much it’d hurt her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “Pansy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…”
He didn’t notice that she’d grasped onto his robes until she was running her palms over his material-clad chest, almost rhythmically, soothing in her movements. “I couldn’t feel anything,” she whispered, over and over again. His heart froze when she turned her face up to him, unshed tears making her brown eyes shine, and his breathing hitched when she reached up to grasp the back of his neck. Their faces were but a scarce inch apart, she whispered, “Make me feel, Lysander,” before her lips crashed into his.
He immediately deepened the kiss, drinking in her essence like a dehydrated man stranded in the desert for years without water to quench his thirst. An appropriate analogy, he mused as his hands went to her hips and pulled her tight against him, for he’d gone for far too long without her sweet body under his.
There was no foreplay, no gentle, teasing touches. It was passed by in favor of eager hands, ripping at clothing and fierce, biting kisses. As her hands ripped at his trousers, his own jerked the satin of her black ball gown up, exposing her long, pale legs to his eyes.
He was sorry, he thought as he sank into her, that he’d waited this long to say so.
Blaise Zabini/Daphne Greengrass- Prompt: sunrise
She only belongs to him at night.
It’s a pity. Despite their numerous sins- and there have been many; after all, no man or woman with blood as pure as theirs survives childhood unblemished-, Daphne always shone best in the bright sunshine. It brought out the best in her; a golden shine to her hair, a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her lips that she only smiled for him.
She is the Juliet to his Romeo, and their love is just as doomed as the love shared between their literary counterparts.
In the darkness of her bedroom, her body arched towards his wandering hands, the colors of their skins starkly contrasting against the green of his sheets. Another analogy; he is the dark to her light. Fitting, considering the only time they can make love is under the cover of night.
“Blaise!” she moaned, her lust-darkened green eyes fluttering open to gaze at him through a haze of desire. “My love…”
He growled and grasped her hips, pulling them tight against him. “Say it again,” he rasped as he sank into her. He had to close his eyes for a split-second and grit his teeth to reestablish a grip on his control; the pleasure he felt when their bodies were joined threatened to tear him apart.
Daphne wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, squeezing her inner muscles around him.
“My love,” she whispered as she clutched at his back, “my only love.”
“Yes,” he hissed as he began to move, “you’re mine.”
“Only yours,” she promised, reaching up to grasp his chin in her hand. Their lips a hair’s breadth apart, she whispered, “always,” before fusing her mouth with his.
She isn’t his, though. She hasn’t been for almost two years. She was practically bought by Goyle Sr. for his bumbling idiot of a son, Gregory. That pathetic excuse for a Death Eater wouldn’t know how to please a women like Daphne even if she came with a set of instructions.
It didn’t matter what Blaise thought. While his blood was pure, he didn’t have the social ranking that the other families had, the Parkinsons, the Malfoys, the Greengrasses, and, unfortunately, the Goyles. He could only watch from the shadows as the woman he loved was married off to a pig.
When he finished, he held himself above her, gazing down at her flushed face with soft eyes. She was so beautiful that it was hard to breathe sometimes.
Giving him an impish grin, she said suggestively, “Ready for round two?” She clenched around him, green eyes glowing when his breath caught in desire once more.
This woman will be his downfall, of that he is certain. Leaning down to kiss her, he murmured, “Why not?”
Daphne, his beautiful Daphne, may be Mrs. Greengrass-Goyle to the outside world, but she is his at night.
She is his until sunrise.
Zacharias Smith/Natalie McDonald- Prompt: slut
Back arching, Natalie gasped and hissed as Zach pounded into her, his hips moving against hers furiously. Here, in this deserted hallway in the Department of Mysteries, the world stood at a standstill. It wasn't love, it was lust, and it burned hot and dark through their veins. Pleasure tinged with pain was what they wanted, what they craved.
Red lacquered nails ripped down Zach's arms as his rough hand jerked at her blouse, moving underneath to grab at her tender breast. There would be bruises on the tender skin later, of that they were both sure.
Groaning, he shoved her against the rough stone wall, holding her in place as he chased his pleasure. "Dirty slut," he hissed, "you like to bleed for me."
Natalie's growl melded into a low moan as her orgasm overtook her. Her body was still shuddering against his when she reared up, biting his lower lip hard. When she heard his growl of protest, felt his blood trickle down her lip, she pulled back and gave him a wicked smile.
"Don't ever call me a slut again."