Fire - A gift for enchantedteapot!
Title: Fire
Author: lash_larue
Recipient: enchantedteapot
Pairing(s): Ginny/Pansy
Word Count: 3,990
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Voyeurism, Dubcon, Dom/Sub
Summary: Pansy doesn't know exactly why someone she doesn't even like affects her so strongly, but that's not the only surprise. When you play with fire...
Author's Notes: I hope this suits at least a bit, enchantedteapot. Thanks to scarletladyy for the Britpick.
"Fire"
Merlin's balls, how I hate that ginger blood-traitor...
But she sets a fire in my pants that no one else ever has.
I can't explain it, I don't fully understand it, and I never wanted to admit it.
But now - now she knows, and I am well and truly fucked.
It all started during a practice match, where the Weaslette was playing Chaser. I was sitting right down front like always, hurling insults at the Gryffindors, when she dodged a bludger and flew so close to me that her hair brushed across my face.
I smelled sweat, and shampoo, and something spicy that I figured was just her. It was like being whipped with moonlight or something, and I stared after her, watching that hair flowing like flames in her wake.
"Blood traitor she may be, but that was a damn nice piece of flying," Zabini admitted grudgingly.
It sure looked like a damn nice piece of something to me.
"Are you all right, Pansy?" Blaise asked.
"Huh? Oh, yes, just startled, that bitch nearly hit me!"
"What can you expect from a Gryffindor? Bloody show-offs," he scoffed.
"Yeah, yeah, right," I agreed, paying him very little attention.
I wasn't bothered by being attracted to a girl, it had happened before. But a Gryffindor, and even worse, a Weasley; that was just not on. My parents would disown me, literally. Parkinsons did not consort with Weasleys, those Muggle-lovers.
What's more, they were poor Muggle-lovers.
The best thing for me to do at that point was to leave, so I did. I also looked back over my shoulder several times to catch a glimpse of that fire in the sky and when I got back to the castle I went to the loo and masturbated.
That helped. I hadn't been lovestruck, I'd just been horny. Something about her just got to me on some primitive level. She was pretty after all, and a wonderful flyer and... and...
Maybe it was her scent. Not perfume, not her shampoo, just her.
And that damn hair. Oh well, at least I got a good wank out of the deal, and no one was the wiser so no harm done. I washed my hands and went to the library for some revision before dinner, and put the whole thing behind me.
Or so I thought.
)()(
The next time she got to me was when Crabbe and Goyle were picking on that Creevey brat. They took his wand and schoolbag and held them up where he couldn't reach them. Thought they were being clever not using magic in the corridors, and I had to admit that it was funny watching the little git jump up and try to get them.
Then someone brushed past me, and my nostrils flared, and there she was.
She was angry, and her face was red, and Goyle just laughed at her when she told them to cut it out and give Creevey his stuff. In an instant both Vince and Greg's faces were covered in bats, and they were frantically trying to peel them off as they staggered away.
I laughed at that, too, because it was funny, and the next thing I knew the Weaslette had me shoved up against the wall with her wand pointed right between my eyes.
"I didn't do anything to him!" I told her.
"You didn't do anything to help him, either. Do you have to be a bitch all the time, Parkinson?"
"Not really, I just enjoy it," I snapped at her.
For a moment I thought she was going to hit me. She pushed me harder against the wall, stuck her wand behind her ear, and balled up her fist. Then she leaned in close. I could feel the heat from her body and there was that spicy scent again.
"You're not worth hitting, Parkinson," she said softly.
"Get your hands off me, blood-traitor," I hissed.
She had her hand on the center of my chest and was pushing hard enough to make it difficult to breathe. It didn't even occur to me to use my wand, not with that scent filling my senses and that pressure against my chest. I wasn't really scared, I just couldn't think of anything to do.
"Come on Ginny, let's go," Creevey pleaded.
"Okay Colin," she said as she took a step back. "You go first, Parkinson. I don't trust you not to hit us in the back with a hex."
"And I'm supposed to trust that you won't do the same to me?"
"If I were going to hex you, you'd already have bats crawling out of your nose like Crabbe and Goyle do. Bugger off, all right?" she insisted.
I buggered off. I buggered off to the nearest loo while I still had that scent in my nose and could still feel the pressure of her hand. She was strong, and I liked that. I stood with my back pressed against the wall of the cubicle and imagined that it was her doing that to me.
Then I imagined watching her.
I had to hurry to my room to change my knickers, and I was late for History of Magic.
Nobody cared.
)()(
I tried to ignore her. Really, I did. But I would encounter her in the corridors or the library, and even though she seldom spoke to me her nearness always set me aflame. Always, and I was ashamed of that, ashamed that a Weasley, an impoverished blood traitor, a waste of pure Wizarding blood, had such power over me.
But if I bumped into her, smelled her, I flooded.
I had never experienced anything like it, and so I began to seek her out.
Being a member of the Inquisitorial Squad helped, as I could be out after curfew and had the power to search pupil's bags for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products, fireworks, and other contraband. I really wanted to catch Weasley with a forbidden item, and the list of those was long.
)()(
"Turn out your bag, Weasley," I ordered, having lain in wait for her outside the library.
"Again? Don't you have anything better to do, Parkinson? I think you get off on this," she snapped.
I started a bit at that, but covered it up. She didn't know how right she was.
"We've gone over this before, Weasley. I know you're up to your neck in this "Dumbledore's Army" business and I am going to catch you at it. This," I said, pointing to the little silver I pinned to my robes, "gives me power. Power over you, so turn out your bag or I'll report you to Professor Umbridge."
"Fine," she spat, and she neatly stacked the contents of her bag on the floor one item at the time.
There was nothing there that shouldn't have been, and I hadn't really expected there to be. I stepped close to her and she met my stare without flinching. I smiled at her and scattered her things with my foot.
"Oops," I said.
She turned red in an instant and her hands clenched into fists. I could feel the heat from her face and just for a moment I thought that she might hit me. I almost hoped she would, I'd have her, then.
"Pansy, come on, we'll be late for the meeting," Draco called.
"You want to clear that mess up, Weasley. Someone might trip over it," I said softly.
"Your time is coming, Parkinson," she hissed at me.
"Is that a threat, Weasley?"
"You bet your arse it is," she said in a low voice.
"Pansy," Draco called again, and I backed away.
"Be right with you Draco," I answered. I looked back over my shoulder and saw Weasley putting her things away, she was squatting awkwardly and was so angry that she didn't realize she was showing quite a lot of leg. All of it, really.
She was right, it was my time to come, so I stopped by the loo on the way to the meeting.
Then Potter got banned from Quidditch, and she took over as Seeker and I stood among my housemates and followed the fire in the sky until I couldn't stand it any longer.
I went and hid in the Gryffindor changing rooms and waited.
From the mood of the players I guessed that Hufflepuff had won. I could not have cared less. I'd picked an empty cubicle to hide in, hoping that no one was using it. It was a stupid thing to do, but I couldn't get the image of what I'd seen under her robes out of my mind and I wanted more. The cubicles in there were quite roomy, and the lockers were almost as large as wardrobes. I suppose they had to be to accommodate all that Quidditch gear. I stopped my idle musing when I heard the Gryffindor girls arriving and looked out through a small gap in the door.
Bell and Robins weren't bad-looking, but I scarcely noticed them. As luck would have it, Weasley's locker was straight across from the cubicle I was hiding in and I struggled to keep my breathing under control as she angrily stripped off her Quidditch gear and threw it into her locker. Her back was to me when she stepped out of her knickers, and her bum was tight and round, and then she turned around and my breath caught in my throat.
Her skin was shining with sweat and her hair stuck to her face and strayed across her chest. The hair between her legs was every bit as red as the stuff on her head, and her breasts were high and firm, and then she was walking over to the showers and I leaned against the wall and just trembled and bit my lip to hold in the moan that wanted to come out.
Thank goodness I couldn't smell her.
By the time she came back I had calmed down a little, and she dressed quickly and left. I waited until I was sure everyone was gone before I left my hiding place and went over to her locker. It was easy to open, and I stuck my head in it and breathed deeply. It wasn't roses by any means, but underneath it all was that spicy scent and my hands slid under my robes and I realized that I had a real problem.
This was dangerous and stupid, and I wasn't supposed to be stupid. I got myself under control and headed for the prefect's bathroom, where I abandoned every tiny bit of control. The mermaid in the picture covered her ears and smirked at me, but my mind was filled with fire.
)()(
I didn't much mind losing the Quidditch Cup to Gryffindor that year, although I was very disappointed that the team went straight to their common room to celebrate.
I took the chance and broke into her locker, and the clothes she'd worn to school that day were in there. I took her blouse and held it to my face. It made me dizzy, and after a minute or so of indulging myself I saw her knickers and reached for them...
" 'Ello, anyone in 'ere?" a rough voice called.
Filch, come to clean. I hid in her cubicle. That was a mistake, I should have just responded to his call and claimed to be pursuing my Inquisitorial Squad duties. Filch would have bought it, but the thinking part of my brain was overruled at the time.
I hoped that Filch wasn't as pervy as I was, and that he wouldn't snoop around in there, because I might have a bit of a problem explaining my current position.
I was surrounded by her, soaking in her, just plain soaking, and I was as quiet as I could be because I could hear him banging the bins around and the swish of his mop, but I just couldn't stop myself.
I bit down on her bra to muffle the sounds I couldn't help but make when I came, rubbing her knickers roughly over my quim. My legs were still shaking when I heard Filch leave, and I cast cleansing spells on the things I'd messed up and reluctantly left them in the locker.
I slept like a stone, and I was oddly happy until later that morning when I heard about Weasley's snogfest with Potter.
Up until that moment I'd just considered Potter a bit of a nuisance, but now; now I hated him.
That didn't really make sense, even to me, I didn't love Weasley, didn't even like her, and Merlin knew she cared nothing for me. I just didn't want anyone else with her.
)()(
After Umbridge went bonkers and the little I on my robes meant nothing, I had to stop harassing her. I was glad when the term ended and I didn't have to see her any more.
I knew I had to get this obsession under control before it bit me on the arse, and I was hoping a summer of "out of sight, out of mind" would help.
It did help, or at least I thought that it had helped, and then she pushed past me on the platform and it all came rushing back. I saw Draco's eyes follow her briefly, and on the train ride I tried to find out if it was anything other than the normal reaction of a boy to a pretty girl. I needn't have bothered, Draco was too caught up in what he imagined to be "bigger and better things" to have much to do with girls. Including me, as it turned out.
Our timetables didn't overlap much that year, I saw her at Quidditch practices and matches, and I was careful to be right down front but she never flew close past me again. I just stood there screaming insults while I stared at the fire and felt the wet grow between my legs.
I had gotten quite proficient at disillusionment charms, and I had no trouble sneaking into the changing rooms on occasion. She looked even better than last year, and I was getting pretty good at masturbating silently.
I had worried that being Potter's girlfriend would change her somehow, maybe muck up that wonderful scent that she had, but it didn't. I'd wait until everyone was gone and then break into her locker. The spicy scent would be lingering on her uniform, and I would breathe it in and then go to the prefect's bath and give the mermaid a show.
Then there was the time that she was late getting in there after practice, and by the time she'd showered everyone else was gone. Usually she just dressed and left, but this time she spent a while brushing her hair. It crackled with static and the sparks shot straight through me. I stared at her breasts as they bounced while she brushed her hair, and I had to brace myself to keep from falling when I squeezed my thighs together and came.
That was just about the best thing that happened that year.
Draco was preoccupied all the time, he looked ill, and I tried to find out what the trouble was but he just told me to mind my own business.
I didn't even get to go to Slughorn's Christmas party.
Then Draco let a bunch of Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and Snape killed Dumbledore, and things were a right mess.
But I heard that Potter broke up with her, and that was the best thing that happened that year.
I didn't love her, didn't even like her, but...
)()(
Then came that awful year. I suppose I should have been encouraged, since it looked like my side was winning, but truth be told I didn't care too much about the whole mess. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was barking mad, in my opinion. I wanted power and privilege, and if he won I'd have a little more of that, but as for the rest of it? Barking, like I said.
The Carrows were the worst. They just liked hurting people, and they liked making other people do it for them. They scared me shitless, and I did as I was told and tried to avoid them as much as I could.
There was no Quidditch, and there was no fire in the sky.
But there was fire in her.
I knew she was behind a lot of the rebellious activity, she was defiant, and she was smart about it.
She was also older, and sadly, she looked like she was going to remain true to Potter even though he was nowhere to be seen. Truth be told there was not much dating going on that year anyway. Crabbe and Goyle were the only ones having fun other than the Carrows, and that was just because they were too stupid to be scared.
So I took a chance. I missed spying on her, missed seeing her body, missed smelling her scent, missed what she did to me without even knowing it.
I missed the fire.
I tripped and fell in front of her in the library, my books and parchments scattering around. I expected her to laugh, but she didn't. She just stood there and waited for me to pick my stuff up and leave. I did it quickly, purposely leaving a torn piece of parchment on the floor.
I didn't look at her before I left, I just ran for the prefect's bath and hid.
I was counting on several things.
One, she was bruised from a beating the Carrows had given her. Two, her face was dirty, and so was her hair, and three, she looked tired and lonely. So I thought a bit of parchment with the password to the prefect's bathroom might have some appeal for her.
I hadn't been there long when the door opened and she walked in. She bolted the door and muttered a spell, and I figured she must have learned that from Granger, it nullifies the password from outside.
She seemed familiar with the bath as well, and did not hesitate over the taps. Then she was undressing, and I had my fire back.
The cuts and bruises just made her hotter, because they proved her strength. She'd lost some weight, and her hair, when she'd freed it and run her fingers through it, did not have all of its former shine; but the sight of her still flooded me.
She stepped into the bath and sank out of sight.
After a moment she stood and heaved a great sigh, and then began washing her hair. Inside a wardrobe, I touched myself and stared.
She finished with her hair and ducked under again, then brushed her hair back from her face, lay back, and floated in the steaming water. The bubbles slowly cleared, and her breasts became visible, her nipples like little strawberries against the pink glow of her skin. Even in water, she was flame, and she burned me.
Maybe she fell asleep, for she didn't move for a long time, but then she stretched, stood, and climbed out of the bath. The bubbles trailed down her body as she stepped into the shower to rinse off. She took one of the thick towels from the bench and rubbed her hair vigorously before moving on to her arms and body. She gave a little start when the towel moved between her legs.
I stopped breathing altogether.
She sat down on the bench and leaned back against it, she slid forward on it and her legs drifted apart. Then both of her hands went to her pussy and she started rubbing herself.
So did I, and I was sorry there wasn't room to move much inside the wardrobe. I couldn't even get my hands inside my robes, much less my knickers, but I knew it wouldn't matter as I peered through the small crack between the doors and watched her.
A sound escaped her lips, and one hand moved to her breast as her legs straightened out. I could see the muscles move under the skin of her legs.
And then she pushed a finger into herself and in an instant my life changed forever.
I came, and I fell. I tumbled out of the wardrobe and hit the floor hard enough to daze me for an instant and when I looked up I was staring straight at Weasley's wet pussy. I almost didn't notice the wand that was pointed at me.
"What kind of sick game are you playing, Parkinson?" she snapped, her voice trembling with rage.
"I-" Words failed me, and I could not tear my eyes from her quim. The red curls were damp and her folds were shining with the wet from inside her. She moved a little closer, and my nostrils flared as I breathed in the scent, her scent, a little different now, stronger, better.
"Well, well..." she said, and her voice was now amused rather than angry. "See something you like, Parkinson? Maybe something you want, hmm?" I managed to look up at her face, and the smile that I saw there was a bit on the scary side.
"I-" Still no words came.
"You know what I think, Parkinson?" she asked, and I managed to shake my head. I had no idea what she thought. "I think that this," she said as she slowly ran her forefinger through her slit, "gives me power." She ran the finger over my lips, and I couldn't help but touch my tongue to it. "Power over you." I looked down at the floor.
"I also think that you owe me something for interrupting me. On your knees, Pansy, now," she demanded, and I complied mutely. "Now make me glad I didn't hex you right away. You want to, don't you?"
"No."
"Sure you do. Now say it," she demanded, and there was an edge to her voice that made ice water run down my spine.
"I want to," I whispered, and I opened my mouth and tried to swallow her whole.
It was like drinking fire, the smell of her that had haunted me for years was nothing at all next to the taste of her, the feel of her. She pulled my hair roughly and ground herself against my face. She clamped down on the two fingers I pushed inside her and curled, and I could feel some of my hair being pulled out when she came.
She pushed me roughly onto my back and stood staring down at me, her juices running down her legs, her chest heaving as she fought for breath.
"Not bad," she said, and I was relieved.
"Strip," she ordered, and I moved to stand. "No, do it down there on the floor."
When I was naked she told me to get back on my knees, so I did. After what I'd just done this wasn't much.
"Look at me," she said, so I did that too.
"You don't even like me, do you, Pansy?"
"No," I admitted, and she nodded slowly.
"That's okay, I don't like you either, but from now on you belong to me."
"What?"
I didn't even see her hand move before it stung the side of my face. I was scared now.
"I said, you belong to me," she repeated.
I had not seen this coming, and I fought when she burned the G on my inner thigh.
"I can get rid of that brand easily, Weasley," I panted, gritting my teeth against the burning.
She shrugged.
"Go ahead, I'll just put it back next time," she said casually.
"There isn't going to be a next time."
"Right, you just go on thinking that, Parkinson," she said as she got dressed. "You'll come when I call you, and so will I."
Author: lash_larue
Recipient: enchantedteapot
Pairing(s): Ginny/Pansy
Word Count: 3,990
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Voyeurism, Dubcon, Dom/Sub
Summary: Pansy doesn't know exactly why someone she doesn't even like affects her so strongly, but that's not the only surprise. When you play with fire...
Author's Notes: I hope this suits at least a bit, enchantedteapot. Thanks to scarletladyy for the Britpick.
"Fire"
Merlin's balls, how I hate that ginger blood-traitor...
But she sets a fire in my pants that no one else ever has.
I can't explain it, I don't fully understand it, and I never wanted to admit it.
But now - now she knows, and I am well and truly fucked.
It all started during a practice match, where the Weaslette was playing Chaser. I was sitting right down front like always, hurling insults at the Gryffindors, when she dodged a bludger and flew so close to me that her hair brushed across my face.
I smelled sweat, and shampoo, and something spicy that I figured was just her. It was like being whipped with moonlight or something, and I stared after her, watching that hair flowing like flames in her wake.
"Blood traitor she may be, but that was a damn nice piece of flying," Zabini admitted grudgingly.
It sure looked like a damn nice piece of something to me.
"Are you all right, Pansy?" Blaise asked.
"Huh? Oh, yes, just startled, that bitch nearly hit me!"
"What can you expect from a Gryffindor? Bloody show-offs," he scoffed.
"Yeah, yeah, right," I agreed, paying him very little attention.
I wasn't bothered by being attracted to a girl, it had happened before. But a Gryffindor, and even worse, a Weasley; that was just not on. My parents would disown me, literally. Parkinsons did not consort with Weasleys, those Muggle-lovers.
What's more, they were poor Muggle-lovers.
The best thing for me to do at that point was to leave, so I did. I also looked back over my shoulder several times to catch a glimpse of that fire in the sky and when I got back to the castle I went to the loo and masturbated.
That helped. I hadn't been lovestruck, I'd just been horny. Something about her just got to me on some primitive level. She was pretty after all, and a wonderful flyer and... and...
Maybe it was her scent. Not perfume, not her shampoo, just her.
And that damn hair. Oh well, at least I got a good wank out of the deal, and no one was the wiser so no harm done. I washed my hands and went to the library for some revision before dinner, and put the whole thing behind me.
Or so I thought.
)()(
The next time she got to me was when Crabbe and Goyle were picking on that Creevey brat. They took his wand and schoolbag and held them up where he couldn't reach them. Thought they were being clever not using magic in the corridors, and I had to admit that it was funny watching the little git jump up and try to get them.
Then someone brushed past me, and my nostrils flared, and there she was.
She was angry, and her face was red, and Goyle just laughed at her when she told them to cut it out and give Creevey his stuff. In an instant both Vince and Greg's faces were covered in bats, and they were frantically trying to peel them off as they staggered away.
I laughed at that, too, because it was funny, and the next thing I knew the Weaslette had me shoved up against the wall with her wand pointed right between my eyes.
"I didn't do anything to him!" I told her.
"You didn't do anything to help him, either. Do you have to be a bitch all the time, Parkinson?"
"Not really, I just enjoy it," I snapped at her.
For a moment I thought she was going to hit me. She pushed me harder against the wall, stuck her wand behind her ear, and balled up her fist. Then she leaned in close. I could feel the heat from her body and there was that spicy scent again.
"You're not worth hitting, Parkinson," she said softly.
"Get your hands off me, blood-traitor," I hissed.
She had her hand on the center of my chest and was pushing hard enough to make it difficult to breathe. It didn't even occur to me to use my wand, not with that scent filling my senses and that pressure against my chest. I wasn't really scared, I just couldn't think of anything to do.
"Come on Ginny, let's go," Creevey pleaded.
"Okay Colin," she said as she took a step back. "You go first, Parkinson. I don't trust you not to hit us in the back with a hex."
"And I'm supposed to trust that you won't do the same to me?"
"If I were going to hex you, you'd already have bats crawling out of your nose like Crabbe and Goyle do. Bugger off, all right?" she insisted.
I buggered off. I buggered off to the nearest loo while I still had that scent in my nose and could still feel the pressure of her hand. She was strong, and I liked that. I stood with my back pressed against the wall of the cubicle and imagined that it was her doing that to me.
Then I imagined watching her.
I had to hurry to my room to change my knickers, and I was late for History of Magic.
Nobody cared.
)()(
I tried to ignore her. Really, I did. But I would encounter her in the corridors or the library, and even though she seldom spoke to me her nearness always set me aflame. Always, and I was ashamed of that, ashamed that a Weasley, an impoverished blood traitor, a waste of pure Wizarding blood, had such power over me.
But if I bumped into her, smelled her, I flooded.
I had never experienced anything like it, and so I began to seek her out.
Being a member of the Inquisitorial Squad helped, as I could be out after curfew and had the power to search pupil's bags for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products, fireworks, and other contraband. I really wanted to catch Weasley with a forbidden item, and the list of those was long.
)()(
"Turn out your bag, Weasley," I ordered, having lain in wait for her outside the library.
"Again? Don't you have anything better to do, Parkinson? I think you get off on this," she snapped.
I started a bit at that, but covered it up. She didn't know how right she was.
"We've gone over this before, Weasley. I know you're up to your neck in this "Dumbledore's Army" business and I am going to catch you at it. This," I said, pointing to the little silver I pinned to my robes, "gives me power. Power over you, so turn out your bag or I'll report you to Professor Umbridge."
"Fine," she spat, and she neatly stacked the contents of her bag on the floor one item at the time.
There was nothing there that shouldn't have been, and I hadn't really expected there to be. I stepped close to her and she met my stare without flinching. I smiled at her and scattered her things with my foot.
"Oops," I said.
She turned red in an instant and her hands clenched into fists. I could feel the heat from her face and just for a moment I thought that she might hit me. I almost hoped she would, I'd have her, then.
"Pansy, come on, we'll be late for the meeting," Draco called.
"You want to clear that mess up, Weasley. Someone might trip over it," I said softly.
"Your time is coming, Parkinson," she hissed at me.
"Is that a threat, Weasley?"
"You bet your arse it is," she said in a low voice.
"Pansy," Draco called again, and I backed away.
"Be right with you Draco," I answered. I looked back over my shoulder and saw Weasley putting her things away, she was squatting awkwardly and was so angry that she didn't realize she was showing quite a lot of leg. All of it, really.
She was right, it was my time to come, so I stopped by the loo on the way to the meeting.
Then Potter got banned from Quidditch, and she took over as Seeker and I stood among my housemates and followed the fire in the sky until I couldn't stand it any longer.
I went and hid in the Gryffindor changing rooms and waited.
From the mood of the players I guessed that Hufflepuff had won. I could not have cared less. I'd picked an empty cubicle to hide in, hoping that no one was using it. It was a stupid thing to do, but I couldn't get the image of what I'd seen under her robes out of my mind and I wanted more. The cubicles in there were quite roomy, and the lockers were almost as large as wardrobes. I suppose they had to be to accommodate all that Quidditch gear. I stopped my idle musing when I heard the Gryffindor girls arriving and looked out through a small gap in the door.
Bell and Robins weren't bad-looking, but I scarcely noticed them. As luck would have it, Weasley's locker was straight across from the cubicle I was hiding in and I struggled to keep my breathing under control as she angrily stripped off her Quidditch gear and threw it into her locker. Her back was to me when she stepped out of her knickers, and her bum was tight and round, and then she turned around and my breath caught in my throat.
Her skin was shining with sweat and her hair stuck to her face and strayed across her chest. The hair between her legs was every bit as red as the stuff on her head, and her breasts were high and firm, and then she was walking over to the showers and I leaned against the wall and just trembled and bit my lip to hold in the moan that wanted to come out.
Thank goodness I couldn't smell her.
By the time she came back I had calmed down a little, and she dressed quickly and left. I waited until I was sure everyone was gone before I left my hiding place and went over to her locker. It was easy to open, and I stuck my head in it and breathed deeply. It wasn't roses by any means, but underneath it all was that spicy scent and my hands slid under my robes and I realized that I had a real problem.
This was dangerous and stupid, and I wasn't supposed to be stupid. I got myself under control and headed for the prefect's bathroom, where I abandoned every tiny bit of control. The mermaid in the picture covered her ears and smirked at me, but my mind was filled with fire.
)()(
I didn't much mind losing the Quidditch Cup to Gryffindor that year, although I was very disappointed that the team went straight to their common room to celebrate.
I took the chance and broke into her locker, and the clothes she'd worn to school that day were in there. I took her blouse and held it to my face. It made me dizzy, and after a minute or so of indulging myself I saw her knickers and reached for them...
" 'Ello, anyone in 'ere?" a rough voice called.
Filch, come to clean. I hid in her cubicle. That was a mistake, I should have just responded to his call and claimed to be pursuing my Inquisitorial Squad duties. Filch would have bought it, but the thinking part of my brain was overruled at the time.
I hoped that Filch wasn't as pervy as I was, and that he wouldn't snoop around in there, because I might have a bit of a problem explaining my current position.
I was surrounded by her, soaking in her, just plain soaking, and I was as quiet as I could be because I could hear him banging the bins around and the swish of his mop, but I just couldn't stop myself.
I bit down on her bra to muffle the sounds I couldn't help but make when I came, rubbing her knickers roughly over my quim. My legs were still shaking when I heard Filch leave, and I cast cleansing spells on the things I'd messed up and reluctantly left them in the locker.
I slept like a stone, and I was oddly happy until later that morning when I heard about Weasley's snogfest with Potter.
Up until that moment I'd just considered Potter a bit of a nuisance, but now; now I hated him.
That didn't really make sense, even to me, I didn't love Weasley, didn't even like her, and Merlin knew she cared nothing for me. I just didn't want anyone else with her.
)()(
After Umbridge went bonkers and the little I on my robes meant nothing, I had to stop harassing her. I was glad when the term ended and I didn't have to see her any more.
I knew I had to get this obsession under control before it bit me on the arse, and I was hoping a summer of "out of sight, out of mind" would help.
It did help, or at least I thought that it had helped, and then she pushed past me on the platform and it all came rushing back. I saw Draco's eyes follow her briefly, and on the train ride I tried to find out if it was anything other than the normal reaction of a boy to a pretty girl. I needn't have bothered, Draco was too caught up in what he imagined to be "bigger and better things" to have much to do with girls. Including me, as it turned out.
Our timetables didn't overlap much that year, I saw her at Quidditch practices and matches, and I was careful to be right down front but she never flew close past me again. I just stood there screaming insults while I stared at the fire and felt the wet grow between my legs.
I had gotten quite proficient at disillusionment charms, and I had no trouble sneaking into the changing rooms on occasion. She looked even better than last year, and I was getting pretty good at masturbating silently.
I had worried that being Potter's girlfriend would change her somehow, maybe muck up that wonderful scent that she had, but it didn't. I'd wait until everyone was gone and then break into her locker. The spicy scent would be lingering on her uniform, and I would breathe it in and then go to the prefect's bath and give the mermaid a show.
Then there was the time that she was late getting in there after practice, and by the time she'd showered everyone else was gone. Usually she just dressed and left, but this time she spent a while brushing her hair. It crackled with static and the sparks shot straight through me. I stared at her breasts as they bounced while she brushed her hair, and I had to brace myself to keep from falling when I squeezed my thighs together and came.
That was just about the best thing that happened that year.
Draco was preoccupied all the time, he looked ill, and I tried to find out what the trouble was but he just told me to mind my own business.
I didn't even get to go to Slughorn's Christmas party.
Then Draco let a bunch of Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and Snape killed Dumbledore, and things were a right mess.
But I heard that Potter broke up with her, and that was the best thing that happened that year.
I didn't love her, didn't even like her, but...
)()(
Then came that awful year. I suppose I should have been encouraged, since it looked like my side was winning, but truth be told I didn't care too much about the whole mess. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was barking mad, in my opinion. I wanted power and privilege, and if he won I'd have a little more of that, but as for the rest of it? Barking, like I said.
The Carrows were the worst. They just liked hurting people, and they liked making other people do it for them. They scared me shitless, and I did as I was told and tried to avoid them as much as I could.
There was no Quidditch, and there was no fire in the sky.
But there was fire in her.
I knew she was behind a lot of the rebellious activity, she was defiant, and she was smart about it.
She was also older, and sadly, she looked like she was going to remain true to Potter even though he was nowhere to be seen. Truth be told there was not much dating going on that year anyway. Crabbe and Goyle were the only ones having fun other than the Carrows, and that was just because they were too stupid to be scared.
So I took a chance. I missed spying on her, missed seeing her body, missed smelling her scent, missed what she did to me without even knowing it.
I missed the fire.
I tripped and fell in front of her in the library, my books and parchments scattering around. I expected her to laugh, but she didn't. She just stood there and waited for me to pick my stuff up and leave. I did it quickly, purposely leaving a torn piece of parchment on the floor.
I didn't look at her before I left, I just ran for the prefect's bath and hid.
I was counting on several things.
One, she was bruised from a beating the Carrows had given her. Two, her face was dirty, and so was her hair, and three, she looked tired and lonely. So I thought a bit of parchment with the password to the prefect's bathroom might have some appeal for her.
I hadn't been there long when the door opened and she walked in. She bolted the door and muttered a spell, and I figured she must have learned that from Granger, it nullifies the password from outside.
She seemed familiar with the bath as well, and did not hesitate over the taps. Then she was undressing, and I had my fire back.
The cuts and bruises just made her hotter, because they proved her strength. She'd lost some weight, and her hair, when she'd freed it and run her fingers through it, did not have all of its former shine; but the sight of her still flooded me.
She stepped into the bath and sank out of sight.
After a moment she stood and heaved a great sigh, and then began washing her hair. Inside a wardrobe, I touched myself and stared.
She finished with her hair and ducked under again, then brushed her hair back from her face, lay back, and floated in the steaming water. The bubbles slowly cleared, and her breasts became visible, her nipples like little strawberries against the pink glow of her skin. Even in water, she was flame, and she burned me.
Maybe she fell asleep, for she didn't move for a long time, but then she stretched, stood, and climbed out of the bath. The bubbles trailed down her body as she stepped into the shower to rinse off. She took one of the thick towels from the bench and rubbed her hair vigorously before moving on to her arms and body. She gave a little start when the towel moved between her legs.
I stopped breathing altogether.
She sat down on the bench and leaned back against it, she slid forward on it and her legs drifted apart. Then both of her hands went to her pussy and she started rubbing herself.
So did I, and I was sorry there wasn't room to move much inside the wardrobe. I couldn't even get my hands inside my robes, much less my knickers, but I knew it wouldn't matter as I peered through the small crack between the doors and watched her.
A sound escaped her lips, and one hand moved to her breast as her legs straightened out. I could see the muscles move under the skin of her legs.
And then she pushed a finger into herself and in an instant my life changed forever.
I came, and I fell. I tumbled out of the wardrobe and hit the floor hard enough to daze me for an instant and when I looked up I was staring straight at Weasley's wet pussy. I almost didn't notice the wand that was pointed at me.
"What kind of sick game are you playing, Parkinson?" she snapped, her voice trembling with rage.
"I-" Words failed me, and I could not tear my eyes from her quim. The red curls were damp and her folds were shining with the wet from inside her. She moved a little closer, and my nostrils flared as I breathed in the scent, her scent, a little different now, stronger, better.
"Well, well..." she said, and her voice was now amused rather than angry. "See something you like, Parkinson? Maybe something you want, hmm?" I managed to look up at her face, and the smile that I saw there was a bit on the scary side.
"I-" Still no words came.
"You know what I think, Parkinson?" she asked, and I managed to shake my head. I had no idea what she thought. "I think that this," she said as she slowly ran her forefinger through her slit, "gives me power." She ran the finger over my lips, and I couldn't help but touch my tongue to it. "Power over you." I looked down at the floor.
"I also think that you owe me something for interrupting me. On your knees, Pansy, now," she demanded, and I complied mutely. "Now make me glad I didn't hex you right away. You want to, don't you?"
"No."
"Sure you do. Now say it," she demanded, and there was an edge to her voice that made ice water run down my spine.
"I want to," I whispered, and I opened my mouth and tried to swallow her whole.
It was like drinking fire, the smell of her that had haunted me for years was nothing at all next to the taste of her, the feel of her. She pulled my hair roughly and ground herself against my face. She clamped down on the two fingers I pushed inside her and curled, and I could feel some of my hair being pulled out when she came.
She pushed me roughly onto my back and stood staring down at me, her juices running down her legs, her chest heaving as she fought for breath.
"Not bad," she said, and I was relieved.
"Strip," she ordered, and I moved to stand. "No, do it down there on the floor."
When I was naked she told me to get back on my knees, so I did. After what I'd just done this wasn't much.
"Look at me," she said, so I did that too.
"You don't even like me, do you, Pansy?"
"No," I admitted, and she nodded slowly.
"That's okay, I don't like you either, but from now on you belong to me."
"What?"
I didn't even see her hand move before it stung the side of my face. I was scared now.
"I said, you belong to me," she repeated.
I had not seen this coming, and I fought when she burned the G on my inner thigh.
"I can get rid of that brand easily, Weasley," I panted, gritting my teeth against the burning.
She shrugged.
"Go ahead, I'll just put it back next time," she said casually.
"There isn't going to be a next time."
"Right, you just go on thinking that, Parkinson," she said as she got dressed. "You'll come when I call you, and so will I."