Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
The Games Slytherins Play
When Pansy caught Granger looking at her, she sneered at her. Paired up with Draco in Potions, she turned back to chopping the Rhyfig and sighed. “I’m so bored.”
“Yes,” he replied, able to conjure up enough poise and aristocratic air with one simple syllable. Pansy rolled her eyes and tugged at her golden pig-tails, rolling her slim shoulders back to a beat only she could hear. Draco was such a fucking ponce.
She found herself looking at the Mudblood again, who was staring at her. She glared. Granger glared back, rolling her shoulders back, sticking her chest and chin out and swishing bouncy chocolate curls away from her face. She had every right to stick her chest out like that; her breasts were huge. Pansy’s stockings rubbed against her when she shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, and she stifled a groan with a cough. Draco raised an eyebrow, pureblood-grey eyes glinting. Pansy scowled, and pinched some Defume Dust into the now boiling cauldron.
“Stop it. I coughed.”
Draco smirked. Oops, she was always shit at lying. “You’re a horny little bitch, Pansy.”
Pansy did not say anything. Oh hell, he always knew. They both turned back to their potion and put the rest of the ingredients in. Once again, it would turn out to be a perfect potion, made by two perfect students. Draco Malfoy was perfect, with his perfect skin and perfect hair and perfect voice…
Pansy Parkinson was perfect, and she knew it.
Part Veela, tall thin, blonde and incredible amber eyes shone from a soft, delicate face. She could walk the walk, talk the talk, and she had a lot of money. Pansy Parkinson loves money, in any which way you could get it. She had “Pureblood” written all over her, and she showed it off in the most beautiful way, like air and feathers gliding on water.
She once heard Potter talking to his friends, “don’t listen to that pug-nosed Slytherin…” and she knew he was talking about her. She just laughed it off. Her nose was perfect too; it was small and it fit her face perfectly. What would that fucker know anyway? He sucked cock in empty classrooms, under an Invisibility Cloak. Weasley looked over at Pansy when Potter had said that, and blushed.
Pug-nose, yeah right.
As they left the classroom, she decided she had an urge to suck cock too, or at least, feel something, smell the salty, caramel flavour of skin under her tongue, perhaps. Maybe just to have her thin, manicured hands touch somewhere soft and warm, even. She had an Itch.
“Draco,” she barked, turning to her best friend, “I’m bored,” he turned to her, smirked, and he took the hint. Clever boy.
When he was sitting on a table in an empty classroom, she absently registered the taste of dust on his cock, mingled with sweat and cum. He groaned and moaned softy, and when he threw his head back, she got the chance to roll her eyes. So boring. Her mouth swollen and red, she thought of something. Big tits pushing against a tight school sweater, framed by dark chocolate locks. Oh yes, she touched herself and thought of the nipples pressing against the inside of a Griffindor school sweater, and she pushed her fingers on her flesh and oh yes…
“This is what I have in mind, Pansy my wild flower,” Draco drawled at dinner, sipping from his drink, “you, me, a game.”
Pansy frowned, puzzled. “A game? How droll; we’re not little children anymore, my little dragonlet.”
His cheeks were still a bit flushed and he turned dancing silver eyes on her, lifting a fork to his mouth, “Trust me, it’ll be fun.” He ate. “I know you’re dieing for a challenge, and I’m dieing for some arse.”
Pansy laughed. Mmmm, she liked the idea of Draco taking on a pretty young male, abused and shuddering under the moaning Slytherin Prince. She shifted in her seat and hummed when her underclothes brushed against her and her clitoris jumped. Yummy. “What’s your little arse-munching endeavors got to do with me?”
His smirk grew, “We pick a target each; the first person to fuck their target, wins. You fall in love, you lose. After we’re done with one challenge, we move onto the next.”
She grinned, oh yes… “Positively delicious idea my horny little snake. Will one hundred Galleons do?”
He nodded, “Our targets?”
Her eyes glittered with a new challenge and positive excitement, and she felt a very girly squeal coming on, “Potter and Granger.”
He suddenly frowned and dropped his fork, he looked very angry. Pansy merely raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any idea how much shit we could get in?” he hissed, “and how the fuck you can think of that dirty little Mudblood in any sexual way is beyond me. It makes me hurl to think of even touching her.”
Pansy bristled and turned to her beef and pumpkin, taking a petite but angry bite, “I want her,” she stated simply. Looking over at the Griffindor table, she was startled to see little Ginny Weasley glaring at her. She glared back. What was her problem anyway? Thinking I’ll take her little Mudblood away from her?
Draco was still angry when the large group of Slytherins stalked up to the Common Room, but he had taken the challenge. Pansy knew the shirt-lifter had wanted to fuck the Potter boy ever since their first Quidditch match against each other in second year. His eyes had caught the wrong snitch that day.
There were bright, vivid colours dancing in front of her eyes one early Saturday morning, and she gracefully held out her hand and let the butterfly land on her fingers. Small feet softly caressed her skin and she stared at the soft wings of pink, blue and purple. She smiled, and kept it on her face even when she felt the weight of eyes on her. She turned around sharply.
Keep it cool, Pansy, “Granger.” She nodded in the girl’s direction.
The girl looked momentarily surprised. Deep blue merged into amber, and the shorter, chocolate haired Witch moved to face Pansy, then she lifted her hand.
This was when Pansy truly knew she liked being touched. She always knew that most people did not like the feel of someone else’s fingers on them, and she always found it strange that Draco did not liked to be touched. She always had an urge to hug her best friend, to just feel the electricity of a warm embrace. But she never knew there was electricity like this.
She felt the soft pads of fingers ghosting over hers, the warm press of skin made her tingle and her hand shook slightly, but the blue eyes never left hers, and there was a strange contracting feeling in her chest before she let out a breath of air she did not know she was holding.
And then Granger smiled, and she smiled back, the butterfly walked from her fingers and onto the other witch’s. So delicately beautiful, it was things like this that made her think, so perfect.
That was when Granger turned and headed towards the Griffindor stands and Pansy took her lead, almost skipping to the Slytherin area. Her plan was in motion.
Griffindore vs Ravenclaw, and Potter got side-tracked from goggling at Chang so much that he did not see the bludger coming, straight to his head, and she heard the audibly crack as it contacted. He got his balance though, and while dancing on the verge of unconsciousness, he caught the snitch. Pansy was not surprised; in fact she was getting very bored again.
“Oh, honestly,” she drawled to no one in particular. She heard Draco mumble next to her.
“Couldn’t be more perfect timing, pretty petal.” So Pansy and Draco left together, wasting some time in the Common Room, then left again.
The Hospital Wing was full of annoying Griffindors, predictably enough, and Pansy sighed, curling a golden lock between her fingers. The two Slytherins waited in the shadows as the Griffindors reluctantly filed out, and they entered the ward. Weasley and Granger were next to a busted-up Potter who was lying in a bed.
“What are you doing here, Malfoy,” Weasley grumbled in what he probably hoped was a threatening tone. Pansy rolled her eyes as Draco exchanged words with the Dream Team. Pansy tried to catch Grangers eye, and the other witch raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. Granger turned to Weasley, “Just ignore him, Ron,” she snapped, then said softly, “Do you mind if you go on ahead of me? I want to talk to Harry for a minute.”
Both Pansy and Draco rolled eyes and exchanged glances while Weasley made a scene. Honestly, what a fucking waste of time. Finally the shitstick left, although in a huff, and Pansy cocked her head, and the two witches walked together to the end of the ward.
They sat on one of the crisp-sheeted beds and Pansy drew the curtains, and cast a silencing charm on the small area they had with a delicate flick of her wand. Granger asked, “What do you want, Parkinson?” but her tone and the look on her face told Pansy she already knew.
Pansy could not help but marvel at the amount of perfection was around them like an aura as she ghosted her fingers over the others cheek or that feeling in her stomach when she pressed lips to the others. She imagined that butterfly that was on her finger earlier that day and then she thought that maybe there were about twenty of those fluttering around her stomach as she felt lips open up under hers and a wet tongue met hers and she did not feel so bored anymore.
But she still wanted more of that soft taste of pumpkin and the swift caress of an obviously feminine mouth, so she pressed further still and moved over the girl, pushing Granger’s shoulders down with two delicate hands.
Pansy moved her hands to the other girl’s knees and gently pushed them apart, and their kisses suddenly got quite fast and feverish, and Pansy decided she really did like those lips, even while Pansy pulled down Granger’s white stockings, her shoes off with them. Break the kiss, Pansy dived between the others legs, nuzzling and smelling the wet spot on her white panties and she heard the other gasp and moan softly and Pansy stuck a tongue out to taste the buttery flavour on the cotton.
She ran her hands up and down Granger’s thighs while she came back up to kiss her again, and her fingers moved some cotton aside, so she could slide a finger in.
The witch under her moaned softly and she felt her digit slide into the tight warm but extremely slippery hole and Pansy felt her breasts ache slightly with the growing need to be touched. Pansy found herself getting impatient, and she pulled away from the girl, ripping the soiled panties off her and getting rid of her own panties, stockings and shoes. Roughly grabbing Granger’s right leg, she pushed it up in the air, and bent her own left knee to kneel it beside Granger’s hip, so Granger’s left leg was between Pansy’s kneeling ones.
“I hope you like to be fucked,” Pansy said gruffly. Granger was looking up at her with big startled eyes.
Those blue eyes rolled back and she groaned softly as Pansy brought her wet organ down on the other’s, and she moved her pelvis against hers, scissoring their legs together. Pansy groaned softly, fully aroused, and moved her hips so that her engorged clitoris was rubbing against the other’s, and felt the familiar warm feeling of arousal, gasping when her lower abdominal muscles contracted. It was coming soon, just a little bit more and she liked the way it rubbed… like that… yes…
Thrusting a hand up the Granger’s top and squeezed a plump breast, her mind all of a sudden shrieking with pleasure. Granger’s breast against a tight sweater, Draco’s cock in her mouth, the buttery taste mixed with roughness of cotton and… yes… Granger… yes, oh, yes, ahhh… just like that, Hermione…
Cumming, she momentarily blacked out and her muscles contracted and relaxed in a wave of pleasure. Second later it ended and she realized with horror she had said the last word of her thoughts out loud, and the bitch under her was smiling. Pansy, embarrassed, pulled herself off the other and ducked her head down again, making sure Granger’s school skirt covered her reddening face as she finished her off.
Pansy felt the other’s bud jolt under her lips several times as she withered and convulsed under her. She felt herself being dragged up to lay on top of Hermione and she was kissed once again that late afternoon.
Sighing, warmth under her and arms around her, she felt herself going into a half-sleep, but a loud cough from the outside of the curtains made her jolt upright and stick her head out, frowning.
Draco was standing there, impatiently tapping his foot and his arms were crossed. She looked over to see Potter sleeping in his bed, his lips red and swollen, cheeks flushed, hair messier than usual and she could have swore he was naked under those sheets. Draco was still looking at her expectantly. “Alright,” she grumbled, pulling her head back in.
She started gathering her things in her arms and mumbled, “I have to go,” and then she was lifting her wand to undo the charm on the curtains when she felt a hand on her arm.
“Pansy,” it was a simply name, really, and it sounded so beautiful whispered on Hermione’s lips like that, that she could not get the courage to look at her. “When can I see you again?”
Pansy heard another impatient cough from outside the curtains as she considered. It was suppose to be a one-time thing. A challenge. A game. But she loved it, and she wanted it all over again. She turned to Hermione, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Deep blue mixed with amber for a few more seconds before Pansy whispered, “Owl me,” before lifting the sound charm and stepping off the bed.
She left the ward with Draco and tried extremely hard not to look back as she closed the door behind her.
Later that night came a school owl, and it dropped a small parchment in her hand before flying off. It said “Library, tomorrow night, 11 – H”, and Pansy had to laugh. The library? How kinky.
Then her smile broadened when she saw a small ink but detailed drawing of a butterfly, and she could only think, how perfect.
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