A Disease of the Mind

Illegal Guardian

2009-09-20T00:22:57Z

Fairy Tales

2009-09-17T02:17:01Z

The Claiming of Hermione Granger

2009-09-06T20:12:26Z

Title: The Claiming of Hermione Granger
Author: Dru
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Pansy
Warning: AU, F/F, some het, (it’s got a little twist in it so don’t think I’m just throwing stuff in there to gross you out), Violence, non-con, extreme humiliation, this is squicky for real…if that bothers you don’t read it….
Rating: STRONG NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from Harry Potter, or the delicious sexual playground that happens to be Anne Rice’s mind…God save my soul if I did. Purely for entertainment purposes, no copyright infringement is intended….
Word Count: 1,547
Summary: I couldn’t help it…I read Anne Rice…and this is where my mind goes….A delightful spin-off of the Claiming of Sleeping Beauty…enjoy…

The door to the washroom burst open. Millicent tore her face away from Hermione’s bum to find a very livid Pansy Parkinson.

Hermione’s eyes found Pansy’s and immediately sank to the floor. She had let her master down. She would be punished for this infraction.

“Millicent!” Pansy screamed. “You of all people!” She was furious. “You know my rules! You enforce my rules. Or at least I thought you did. This slave is only to be satisfied by me. You can make her do whatever you want for yourself. You can tease her to the point of crying, but so help me Merlin, if she climaxes with anyone but me that person will be banished from this manor for good! Do you hear me?”

Millicent nodded vigorously, scrambling around throwing her clothes back on. She scurried out the door before she could catch anymore of Pansy’s wrath.

Hermione continued to stare at the floor. Why would Pansy want to keep me all to herself? she wondered. She knew she was about to be severely punished, though, Pansy had never punished her before, she did not know what to expect. Tears began to form in her eyes.

Pansy walked over to Hermione and sunk to her knees until they were eye to eye. She gently cupped the brunette’s chin and lifted her face. Tears spilled from Hermione’s eyes and rolled down her delicate cheeks.

Pansy wiped them away with her fingertips. “And to think,” she whispered to the brunette. “You could’ve been spoiled. You could’ve been awakened by a weak-minded oaf.” She tucked Hermione’s hair behind her ear. “You could’ve had a barely satisfying climax and thought that that was the way it was supposed to feel.”

Pansy shrugged her shoulders delicately. “Would’ve been a real pity.”

Hermione’s face was still red, and her muscles were trembling with unsatisfied tension. Her sex was pulsing, and with every pulse she felt a new trickle of moisture drip down her thighs.

“You poor thing,” Pansy cooed. “Look at you. You’re trembling.” Pansy gently stroked the inside of Hermione’s thigh. She pulled her fingers away drenched and brought them to her lips. Her pink tongue slid out to taste the wetness. She moaned.

“You were so close,” Pansy mumbled, mainly to herself. “Come then, little dog. We shall have to teach you right from wrong.”

Hermione bowed her head in shame as she followed along Pansy’s heels. The anticipation of her coming punishment was already beginning to unravel her. What would Pansy do? The better question, how long would she have to endure it?

Pansy led her back to her room. Hermione waited, hands clasped behind her neck, facing the wall as Pansy had instructed.

“I’m guessing you didn’t actually get your bath,” Pansy said as she came back into the room. “We’ll have to fix that. I need you clean.”

Pansy led her into the washroom adjoining her bedroom. This washroom was lavish compared to the one she was usually bathed in.

Pansy began to draw a bath, pouring in some bath soap that smelled of jasmine.

“First things first,” Pansy drawled. “You’ve humiliated me with your actions. I can’t believe you would break my rules, and with a trainer. You are supposed to be my slave. You are not supposed to want to be satisfied by any other person.

To punish you, I’ve decided you must feel the same as I felt upon walking in on you two. Total utter humiliation. You will do well to learn from this lesson I will teach you. Next time, I may not be so lenient.”

She led Hermione over to a marble slab. “Lay on the slab, spread your legs as wide as they’ll go.” Hermione followed her directions, spreading her legs so wide she felt the strain on her hips. “That’s good,” murmured Pansy, tying her ankles with thick silk cords. “Now, stretch your arms wide for me.” Pansy tied the brunette’s arms down above her head.

No matter how hard Hermione tried to move she was unable. She hated this feeling of confinement, it was even worse than the brackets at night.

Pansy pulled out a little carton of cream and began to drip a little on Hermione’s breast, just a few drops. She then moved south and began to dribble a little on the brunette curls in between Hermione’s thighs, then dabbed a bit on her outer lips, and finished by pulling her lips apart and dribbling some cream into her folds.

The cream ran down her sex. It was cold and she could feel it trickling down between her buttocks. Hermione desperately longed to know what this punishment was going to be. Then, her unspoken questions were answered when Pansy opened the door to let someone in.

It was none other than Draco Malfoy.

“Hello Draco,” murmured the raven-haired girl. “Don’t worry, Draco won’t bite,” Pansy ensured Hermione. “Draco, Hermione has a small problem. She seems to have gotten cream all over her, I was wondering if you could help her get it off, seems how she is a little tied up at the moment.” Pansy laughed.

Hermione’s eyes grew wide. She shook her head furiously. “No!” she whispered.

“No?” Pansy said furiously. “No? You dare tell me no?” At that she blindfolded Hermione and gave her a hard slap across the face. A tongue slid out and curled around her nipple. Then Hermione felt Draco bury face in her chest sucking furiously at the cream.

After a few seconds, Draco moved on to the other breast and again attacked.

Tears began to form in Hermione’s eyes as she soon realized what was coming next.

Hermione felt the wisp of hair along her thigh and then, the now very familiar feel of a tongue reaching out and caressing her sex. It licked around her mound gathering up all of the cream there before moving on to her fleshy outer lips. Just barely nudging her clit enough to set the ache again.

Hermione began to sob uncontrollably. She had never before been so humiliated in her life. The fact that Draco was making her sex open and pulse and wet with what was obviously not cream, made her sick to her stomach. And even as she sobbed she pushed her hips forward trying to get the devilish boy to create more of the delicious friction she needed on her clit.

The pressure was building up to an extreme level. She was almost going to bubble over with what she could only hope would be release from this torment. But the cream around her clit was gone, and the tongue had moved further down, licking at the moisture between her buttocks.

She was utterly humiliated. Then, out of nowhere the blindfold was removed and she looked down to see…black hair? It was Pansy! The whole time! She felt a wave of relief wash over her.

Pansy held up a small vile. “Now,” she said, “Vertis Serium. I want to know exactly what you were feeling when you thought that this dirty little creature was licking you in your most private of places.” She poured the vile into Hermione’s mouth.

Hermione swallowed and instantly felt the potion take hold of her. “I felt,” she drew in a deep breath, “so utterly humiliated. I felt violated, and dirty, and so incredibly ashamed, that even though I knew this dirty little rodent was licking me, I wanted him to keep going. I didn’t want him to stop until this pressure went away. I just want so much for this pressure to go away. I don’t know what to expect! I feel I might explode soon.”

Hermione sucked in another deep breath. “And then I looked down, and saw you. I was so glad it was you.”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed briefly. “I think it’s time. Draco, leave.” The blonde haired boy left looking very unsatisfied.

“Time?” Hermione questioned.

Pansy shot her a look that said her speaking time was over, and she quickly closed her mouth. “I don’t want you tied for this,” Pansy whispered softly, slowly untying the cords that held her in place.

Once Hermione was free, she stretched her body and remained lying, awaiting Pansy’s orders.

“Come here little dog,” Pansy commanded, motioning toward the bath that was now full of jasmine scented water.

Hermione hopped down from the marble slab and crawled across the floor toward Pansy.

“Stand.”

Hermione stood and automatically clasped her hands behind her head.

Pansy gently led Hermione into the bath, and then began to undress. Once she was completely nude, she slid into the bath behind Hermione, her legs going on either side of the girl, her breasts pressed firmly against the brunette’s back.

“Don’t be so tense,” whispered the raven-haired girl. Her hot breath washed over Hermione’s ear and neck causing her body to stiffen even more.

Hermione tilted her head to the side baring her neck to Pansy, and she instantly felt warm lips caressing the cords of her slender throat. She moaned, a deep and throaty moan, as Pansy’s arms came around her waist, hands splayed across her taut stomach.

“Now is the time to let loose,” Pansy whispered into the brunette’s neck, simultaneously running her hands up to cup Hermione’s breasts.

Fairy Tales

2009-09-02T00:55:35Z

The Claiming of Hermione Granger

2009-09-02T00:31:12Z

Title: The Claiming of Hermione Granger
Author: Dru
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Pansy, Hermione/Millicent
Warning: AU, F/F, some-Het (don’t hate me), Violence, non-con, extreme humiliation, this is squicky for real…if that bothers you don’t read it….
Rating: STRONG NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from Harry Potter, or the delicious sexual playground that happens to be Anne Rice’s mind…God save my soul if I did. Purely for entertainment purposes, no copyright infringement is intended….
Word Count: 1,124
Summary: I couldn’t help it…I read Anne Rice…and this is where my mind goes….A delightful spin-off of the Claiming of Sleeping Beauty…enjoy…

It was torture, plain and simple. In fact, at times Hermione thought she would prefer torture to Pansy’s method of breaking her down. She no longer knew what day it was. Time had all but melted away into the general categories of day or night. There was nothing to take her thoughts away from the burning ache that was now constant between her thighs.

She was kneeling in the bath waiting for her trainer to arrive. Her hands were clasped tightly behind her neck, because she knew that if she took them away for a moment they would immediately slip down to satisfy that hunger.

When Millicent arrived, she was holding the leather strap that Hermione had grown used to by this point.

She leaned over the edge of the bath and put her hands to the floor. Millicent cooed at how quickly she had caught on. “Such a smart little dog,” she fussed. “None of the other slaves have caught on as quickly as you. Keep working hard to please, and I will make it worth your while. I promise. When you look good, I look good.”

Hermione continued to stare at the floor, prepared for the blow she knew was about to come.

Millicent released the plug in the drain and turned the water on. “I know the rules say that you are not to vocalize your pain or pleasure, but today, I’d like to hear you.”

Hermione closed her eyes. The first lash was always the hardest, but she had learned not to wriggle or groan. She was so intently thinking about the lash, she almost screamed when she felt the sandy-haired girl’s lips close around her dripping sex.

She stifled the scream at last minute, but a deep moan tore its way from her parted lips. She felt Millicent’s hands wrap around her thighs pulling her bum closer to the tall girl’s eager mouth.

Another moan escaped when Hermione felt Millicent’s tongue sink into her damp folds.

She wanted to turn to face the girl. She wanted to wrap her legs around the sandy-haired girl’s neck and pull her closer still. She wanted every last millimeter of her sex to be engulfed in the delicious liquid fire that was Millicent Bulstrode’s mouth.

Millicent pulled away and the ache returned instantly.

“Stay,” the tall girl commanded. Millicent began removing her own clothes. Hermione heard the zipper behind her and was slightly confused. “Turn around. Look at me,” the girl whispered.

Hermione turned slowly to find the girl completely nude. Millicent was all muscle. Hard, unwavering flesh. She was far from beautiful, but she had a charm about her that Hermione couldn’t place.

Suddenly, Hermione’s mouth was dry and she was overwhelmed with an incredible thirst she knew only one thing could quench.

“Be a good girl,” Millicent cooed, “and you will be equally rewarded.”

Hermione looked up at the girl through long dark lashes, before leaning forward and thrusting her tongue into the blonde’s hot, wet center. Her hands clasped onto Millicent’s bum as her jaw moved hungrily.

Her tongue was fierce and unfaltering. There was nothing about the way her lips closed around the blonde’s sex that could have hinted that this was her first time.

Millicent’s muscular legs were straining and her hips were thrusting toward Hermione’s mouth.

Hermione reached up and slipped two fingers easily into the girl and instantly felt her tighten.

Millicent’s fingers tangled in the brunette’s hair and she thrust her hips one last time grunting and panting like a pig. She pulled away from Hermione and forced the brunette to stand. Her lips found the Gryffindor’s and attacked.

Hermione kissed back. She didn’t know what else to do. Millicent’s tongue was too wet and her mouth tasted like the dinner she had just eaten. Hermione wanted to turn away, but she didn’t dare.

She felt Millicent’s fingers trailing along the inside of her thigh. Then, slowly, almost gently, the blonde’s fingers were circling her clit. “Squeeze my shoulder when you’re about to orgasm,” Millicent whispered sternly. “I mean it! If you orgasm without warning me there will be severe consequences.

Hermione nodded furiously as she watched Millicent drop to her knees.

The blonde’s tongue circled Hermione’s sex. It licked at the juices running down Hermione’s thighs. It parted her damp folds being ever so careful not to touch the hot little bundle of nerves at the top.

Millicent nibbled on the brunette’s fleshy lips, teeth scraping along in an almost painful manner. Finally her lips closed around Hermione’s clit and she began to suck lightly.

Instantly Hermione was squeezing the blonde’s shoulder, and almost as suddenly as it had started, Millicent was pulling away to tease her thighs, her outer lips, kissing and sucking on her mound, chin barely brushing against that ache.

It wasn’t enough. Hermione thought she would go mad if this continued. But Millicent kept up her slow and painfully torturous rhythm. Her tongue would occasionally flick over the spot Hermione desperately needed her to touch, and each time, the brunette’s hips would give a little jolt, and a small moan would escape.

Even these tiny touches began to add up and Hermione could feel the pressure building up inside of her again. She was so close, she wanted release, but she couldn’t even fathom the punishment she would receive for not warning her trainer. She squeezed the blonde’s shoulder once again, and, once again Millicent pulled away to kiss and lick other areas.

Hermione felt Millicent’s fingers grazing her thighs again. One finger sank into her center collecting moisture before pulling away. And then… the blonde’s finger was parting her buttocks and sliding in wet circles around pink pucker of skin in between.

Hermione’s eyes grew wide as she felt her skin catch on fire. She was turned around until she faced away from the blonde and when she felt the girl’s tongue replace her finger a fierce blush covered her face, neck and shoulders.

She couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to do this to her, but it felt so incredibly good. She pushed back against the girl’s tongue without thinking. Millicent’s arms were wrapping around her thighs pulling her even closer.

There was no way she could squeeze the girl’s shoulder from this angle, and as she felt the pressure build to an almost unbearable state, she tried to please her trainer to the end. “Please,” she whispered, “I’m about to…”

The door to the washroom burst open. Millicent tore her face away from Hermione’s bum to find a very livid Pansy Parkinson.

Hermione’s eyes found Pansy’s and immediately sank to the floor. She had let her master down. She would be punish for this infraction.

Why can't I find my dream girl???

2009-08-30T00:51:55Z

UGH!! Is it so much to ask for a cute Irish girl who plays the piano to fall madly in love with me so we can run away together???

IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK FOR????

LoL...but seriously though...

Illegal Guardian

2009-08-29T18:35:05Z

The Claiming of Hermione Granger

2009-08-29T15:13:26Z

Title: The Claiming of Hermione Granger
Author: Dru
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Pansy
Warning: AU, F/F, some-Het (don’t hate me), Violence, non-con, extreme humiliation, this is squicky for real…if that bothers you don’t read it….
Rating: STRONG NC-17 in later chapters
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from Harry Potter, or the delicious sexual playground that happens to be Anne Rice’s mind…God save my soul if I did. Purely for entertainment purposes, no copyright infringement is intended….
Word Count: 4,966
Summary: Now that I have the time to finish it, I couldn’t help it…I read Anne Rice…and this is where my mind goes….A delightful spin-off of the Claiming of Sleeping Beauty…enjoy…

The war was in full swing around her. It had days ago left the sheltered grounds of Hogwarts and spread out into not only the Wizarding world, but the Muggle world as well.

Hermione frantically searched for any sight of her friends. Suddenly she locked eyes with Ron and began to rush toward him, when out of nowhere, the hideous form of Fenrir Greyback scooped up the redhead’s body. Hermione screamed, a blood-curdling shriek that tore through the crowds of people. She took off dead sprint, wand drawn and pointed as she searched for the right words.

A knife was drawn and plunged toward the chest of the helpless Gryffindor.

“Stupefy!!” Hermione screamed. Her spell went wide, missing the werewolf completely. Hermione sunk to her knees in despair.

Only after hitting the ground did she see Ron’s lifeless body fall from the death eater’s grasp. To the left, Ginny was bathed in a delicious green glow.

Hermione’s eyes followed the path the green light had come from to find the cool eyes of none other than Lucias Malfoy, wand drawn and still pointed at Ginny’s limp body. Lucias’s eye rose to meet her own.

At the same time, the war around them had halted. The giants were cheering, along with the acromantuals, werewolves, harpies, vampires and all other manner of foul beasts Voldemort had coerced into siding with the Dark.

It could only mean one thing. Lord Voledmort had defeated Harry. The side of dark had prevailed.

All around her, her friends and loved ones, even people she had never seen lay, scattered on the ground wounded, or worse. Somehow she could not feel the loss quite yet. A few of her friends were still standing, but she could see them being taken away by the death eaters. Pansy Parkinson sauntered up to her. Pansy snatched the brunette’s wand away from her. “Come on Granger, it’s time to hand out the war trophies.”

She couldn’t help but feel the weight of Pansy’s words. She knew something bad was in the near future, though she had no clue just how bad.

She was led into the shell of Hogwarts, Voldemort had laid claim to the castle. In the remains of the great hall she saw him. Voldemort. He was taking all of the prisoners and lining them up at the front of the room.

“Now, the moment I’m sure most of you have been waiting for,” the Dark Lord hissed, “the trophies.” He looked at the prisoners and then back at the crowd of his loyal followers. “First, I’d like to point out that all of the Veela women are being saved for last.

Hermione finally understood. Her eyes grew wide; they were to be given away, to the death eaters, as slaves. She swallowed audibly…the Veelas were most likely sex slaves.

She watched as her friends were placed in the hands of filthy men, leering, some even openly groping them as they were led away.

Then, she found all eyes on her. “Pansy,” Voldemort hissed. “I believe this one always made trouble for you.” He smiled, if it could be considered a smile. “How beautiful a thing retribution can be.”

The dark-haired girl’s eyes lit up with triumph. She sauntered over to Hermione. “You will be my servant.” Hermione winced and Pansy continued. “For as long as it takes for you to embrace the Dark Lord, you will do as I say.”

Years of servitude to Pansy Parkinson. It would be humiliating, but it seemed she had little choice. She could only feel an intense hatred toward Pansy at the moment.

“An Unbreakable Vow, Granger. I will not have you trying to run away after a month.” A smirk spread across the Slytherin’s face as she saw Hermione’s body tense. “Or would you rather go to someone like Fenrir instead?”

Hermione looked at the werewolf, drooling and leering at her. She shuddered.

“Very well, Parkinson,” the brunette choked out.

Pansy called over Millicent Bulstrode to be the Bonder. Millicent ambled over, smirk upon her lips. The dark-haired girl took Hermione’s hand in hers, and Millicent placed the tip of her wand between their threaded fingers.

“Do you agree to give yourself to me completely as my willing servant?” Pansy demanded.

“I will,” the Gryffindor turned her eyes toward the ground.

“Do you agree to carry out all tasks I ask of you to the fullest extent of your abilities, without rebuttal?” the dark-haired girl continued.

Hermione hesitated. For a moment she thought briefly of all that Pansy could demand of her if she agreed to this. Then, her eyes found Fenrir again. Her face sunk. “I will,” she finally managed.

“Do you agree that you shall serve for not shorter nor longer than the time it takes for you to fully appreciate the Dark Lord, and by fully appreciate, I mean, Veritus Serum will be administered, and until you pass the test, you will be mine?” Pansy finished smugly.

“I will.” Hermione bowed her head as she felt the magic take hold of her. She was bound to Pansy now, most likely until her life was over. If she disobeyed, she would die, plain and simple.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione turned toward Pansy, waiting for what she knew was inevitable.

“Strip,” Pansy spat.

Hermione’s eyes widened. That had not been what she had expected. She looked around at all of the people. Everyone was still leering, trying to figure out which prisoner they wanted to take home. “Here?” Hermione questioned with disbelief.

Pansy merely stood eyebrows raised, lips pursed, waiting for the Gryffindor to follow her orders.

Hermione cast her eyes toward the ground, but she straightened her back and held her head high as she unclasped her robes and let them fall to the ground. She took a deep breath and pulled off her jumper, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them over her hips. She pushed her shoes off with her pants and kicked them aside.

She could see people staring at her from the corners of her eyes. She finally brought her eyes to rest on the dark-haired girl once again.

“All of it Granger.”

Hermione couldn’t believe her ears. Surely Pansy didn’t mean that. Surely the girl would not have her strip nude here, in front of all of these people. And what was the meaning of this anyway. What purpose did this serve? Humiliation? She had already accomplished that.

Pansy narrowed her eyes. “You can’t refuse Granger. You know that.”

The brunette clenched her jaw. Grinding her teeth together, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. She slid the straps off her shoulders letting her breasts sway briefly before she covered herself with her arms. She then gathered all the strength she had left and pushed down her panties, stepping out of them and kicking them aside with the rest of her clothes.

Pansy stared, drinking in the creamy flesh of the girl in front of her, the small triangle of dark curls at the apex of her thighs, her long toned legs, flat stomach, but most of all, those full round breasts capped with rosy peaks. She could hear gasps and whispers from the people around her, but she did not care. “Millicent!” she called.

The tall girl appeared beside Pansy again, soaking up the view in front of her. She wasn’t able to disguise the aroused look on her face and Hermione felt bile rise in her throat as she watched Pansy whisper something in the girl’s ear.

Millicent disappeared with a crack.

Hermione took the time to glance around her. People were staring, some in shock, others were leering openly. She self-consciously crossed her legs to cover her sex as best as possible. This seemed to make the people around her laugh. She nervously glanced at her clothes.

“Accio!” Pansy called and Hermione’s clothes flew at her. She stuffed them into her bag and smirked at the brunette.

Hermione felt weak. As if her knees would give at anytime. She didn’t want these men to see her most private places. She didn’t want Pansy to see her. She felt an undeniable hatred for the young woman welling up inside of her. If looks could kill, the Slytherin would most definitely be lying dead at the moment.

She started to hear catcalls as the crowds were thinning. Mainly from the likes of the men and women you would find along the streets of Knockturn Alley. Hermione’s stomach churned. That hot blood had found its way into her cheeks, down her neck, even bathing her chest with rich color. She felt small, less than human. She closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up. When she opened her eyes again however, nothing had changed.

Millicent reappeared a few minutes later and handed something to Pansy. The dark-haired girl stepped forward and placed a black leather collar around Hermione’s neck. She then attached a leash to the collar and stood back to admire her servant. “On your hands and knees dog!” Pansy snapped. “And keep up, I don’t want to have to drag you.”

Hermione gracefully dropped to her knees. Her head was bowed and on hand and knees she followed quickly behind the dark-haired girl trying to keep up, her breasts swaying magnificently with every movement. She was completely mortified, her sex displayed for everyone to gape at. There was no way she could even half cover herself in this position. She could only hope that Pansy would apparate them away soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pansy did apparate them, but much to Hermione’s embarrassment, the brunette realized they were not at the Parkinson manor. They were at a restaurant. Her head sank lower to the ground.

“Stand up!” Pansy barked. “I won’t be able to take you in there like this.”

Hermione felt a brief moment of relief. Pansy would finally cover her. The relief was short lived however when her hands were bound and she was attached to the column outside the restaurant, arms raised above her head.

“Oh and Granger,” Pansy drawled. “The townspeople will be townspeople. I mean, we’re not exactly in the nicest part of the Wizarding community.” She pointed her wand at Hermione’s sex and muttered a spell. “That will keep anyone from spoiling you before I’ve had my chance, but, the rest of you is open for their greedy fingers. Do not fight them, or I shall punish you severely.”

Hermione stiffened. This was mad. This had to be illegal. But then again, she had willingly made the vow; she could blame no one but herself. Besides, illegal was relative at this point. Who knew if the Dark Lord even had laws. She felt the first onset of tears. That painful lump formed in her throat even as the salty drops rolled down her cheeks.

Pansy smirked. “I’ll have Millicent bring you out something,” the dark-haired girl laughed as she walked into the restaurant arm in arm with the taller girl.

A few minutes later Millicent came back outside carrying a plate full of food. She pulled Hermione’s arms down, but left her bound. “Pansy says that you’re to eat like the animal you are.” She set the plate on the sidewalk in front of her and set a small saucer of water down as well. Hermione looked at her as if she’d gone mad.

“I would watch my attitude if I were you Mudblood, Pansy’s given me free reign of your body.” The tall girl winked at her and raked her green eyes over the brunette’s body in a way that made her highly aware of her nakedness.

Hermione turned her eyes downward and leaned over the plate, trying to keep her bum from sticking up in the air as she did. She would have completely ignored the food in front of her, but she was ravenous. As she began to eat, she heard Millicent chuckling as she went back inside the restaurant.

She was highly aware that people were passing her on the street, staring. Sometimes she would hear catcalls. One man walked up and smacked her bum. She stiffened, but did not say anything. Taking this as a sign of acquiescence, he reached out and cupped his fingers around her sex. She let out a small whimper and fresh tears spilled from her eyes.

The man pinched at the lips of her sex, using his fingers to spread her open as she sobbed quietly. Never before had she felt such humiliation. The deep crimson found its way into her face once again. A small crowd had begun to form in front of her. The people stood watching the man humiliate her, whispering quietly among themselves. Some laughing, others showed obvious signs of shock.

She faintly heard the sound of a zipper and her eyes grew wide. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back; she locked her jaw and prepared herself for the worst, but all she heard was the painful cry of the man as he stumbled away. “You bloody cunt. She’s shocked me, she has!” Hermione allowed herself a quiet smile. Her dignity may be forever crushed, but at least Pansy had protected her virtue. For the briefest of moments she felt a sense of gratitude toward Pansy.

She heard the door open and felt someone tugging her onto her feet by her hair, before the crushing blackness closed around her and the three vanished with a crack.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she opened her eyes again she was in front of the Parkinson manor being forced to her knees once again and made to follow behind Pansy’s heels like a dog.

They entered the estate and Hermione took the chance to relish the obvious wealth that adorned the manor. “Millicent, be a peach and go over the rules with my new slave would you. I think I shall have a bath. Oh, and clean her up, yeah?” Pansy walked over to Hermione and placed her hand on the brunette’s cheek. Hermione flinched away and the dark-haired girl slapped her face, hard.

Pansy reached out and cupped Hermione’s sex, leaning forward and flicking her tongue across one of the brunette’s rosy nipples. She allowed her finger to play around the girl’s entrance for a few seconds before pulling away and licking her finger. She smiled, “Nice to know even you aren’t as in control as you would like to be Granger.” At that she disappeared down a long corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Millicent turned toward the brunette and smirked. “Follow me!” she barked and took off down another corridor. Hermione scampered behind her on hands and knees trying to keep up. The marble floors were already bruising her knees.

Hermione was led into a large washroom with an old style claw bath. Millicent began to fill up the bath with water and told the brunette to get in. “I’m to bathe you,” she smirked. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”

Hermione winced at the girl’s leering, but stood and settled herself into the bath. “On your knees Mudblood,” Millicent commanded. Hermione complied lifting herself to kneel before the girl who was now rolling her sleeves up.

The tall girl left the washroom for a few minutes and returned with a thin leather strap. Hermione’s eyes grew wide. Surely the girl didn’t mean to use this on her. “Turn around and lean over the edge of the bath, touch your hands to the floor.”

Hermione stared in disbelief. “Do it!” Millicent growled. Slowly, the Gryffindor turned around and bent over the edge of the bath. This position exposed her fully to the cruel girl. She felt those painful tears of shame spill from her eyes once again, and she couldn’t help her light sobs.

The brunette was completely unprepared for the first crack. It felt as if it were cutting into the flesh of her buttocks. She yelped and hastily put her hands to where they were covering the delicate flesh.

Millicent grew furious. She gave a few quick, hard lashes to the brunette’s thighs until the girl was sobbing uncontrollably. “Put your hands on the floor dog!”

Hermione dropped her hands to the floor. She was fighting against the pain, doing everything she could think of to lessen the blows. Her skin was hot and she knew it must be flaming red by this point. The tall girl had yet to cease her lashing.

Finally, Millicent dropped the strap to the floor. She picked up a rough sea sponge and dipped it into the water. She scrubbed the sensitive flesh of Hermione’s buttocks roughly. The brunette could not help but gasp and sob at the scratching sensation on her skin. It felt as if the girl were scrubbing her flesh off.

She closed her eyes and willed this torture to be over. Suddenly, she felt the girl tugging at the dark curls around her sex. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut tighter. This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream. She willed herself to believe it. It was not a dream. The larger girl’s fingers roughly circled her clitoris and even as she was repulsed, she felt her sex begin to throb with yearning.

This was the worst humiliation yet. Her cheeks flamed with color. She felt her blush rise up and cover her neck and shoulders, even her thighs were hot, though she could not tell if that was a blush or merely from the lashing she had just received.

The larger girl’s manly finger dipped inside of her for just a moment, just long enough to feel what the brunette’s treacherous body had produced. Hermione could almost hear the smile in the dirty blonde’s voice as she poked fun. “I knew you were a slut underneath that prudishness Mudblood!”

Hermione bowed her head. This shame was too much for her to bear. Her proud shoulders finally sagged in defeat. This did not go unnoticed.

“Rule number one,” Millicent snapped. “You shall always address the occupants of this house as my Lady or my Lord, you can address me as Ma’am as I will be your trainer. As you may be aware, Pansy has royal blood. Had the Monarchy not fallen in the First Wizarding War, she would be a Princess right now. You shall address her as such.

“Rule number two, everyone in this house is above you, even the lowliest of servants. You shall do well to remember that. If you are given an order, you will answer respectfully and follow it, regardless of what that order is. You will not pause to think about it, you will merely perform.

“Rule number three,” Millicent continued. “Unless you are directly told otherwise, you will walk only on hands and knees, when in rest, you will remain kneeling and clasp your hands behind your neck.

“Rule number four, you will never move to cover your nakedness. Point blank. Plain and simple. You will be punished severely for this.

“Rule number five, you will never touch yourself to satisfy the ache that will inevitably haunt you continuously. Should Pansy feel as if you have performed well enough to be rewarded, she will tend to that ache herself. If you are caught touching any part of yourself you will be lashed.

“These are not the only rules, but the rest you shall learn in time. These are the most important. You shall never speak unless spoken to, that is a given. Now, bend over further and spread your knees.”

Hermione did as she was told, fearing being lashed even more. “Magnificent,” Millicent growled. The dirty blonde leaned forward and closed her lips around Hermione’s sex. Hermione gasped and moaned before she could control it. She shuddered against the girl’s lips and unwillingly thrust her hips back.

“For that,” Millicent snapped, “you shall be punished.” She picked up the leather strap and proceeded to flog the brunette’s sensitive buttocks, often the leather would curl around and lick at her pubic lips. Hermione couldn’t help but flinch away from the harsh strap. Hot tears ran down her cheeks freely now, and she sobbed without reservations.

When Millicent was content that she had been punished enough, she finished bathing the girl and led her back to the sitting room. Hermione was devastated to find none other than Draco Malfoy waiting for them.

“My my my, what do we have here?” the boy smirked. “Mudblood! Who knew you were hiding such treats under those robes!”

Blood rushed to Hermione’s cheeks. Her eyes turned downward, she could not bear to look at him. He stood her up and pulled her naked body against him roughly. Turning her around to where her sore buttocks brushed up against the denim of his jeans painfully. She gasped as he dragged his hands over the front of her body and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them painfully, pinching and tugging at her nipples.

He continued downward until he was roughly cupping her sex, rubbing his fingers back and forth against her sensitive nub. Merlin! Will the humiliation never end? She was wet against his hand. She barely kept from arching her hips against his thrusts to cause more friction against the bundle of nerves.

Hermione heard the distinct sound of a zipper for the second time that night, but this time, she didn’t have Pansy’s protective spell.

“Draco,” Pansy said sternly from the doorway. “You know my rules. Put that away,” she said indicating the pulsing organ pressed against Hermione’s buttocks.

“But Pans,” the blonde boy whined, pushing his hips slightly forward again.

“If you want anything to do with her, you will obey my rules, or you will be sent home. I want her clean not tainted and jaded by the likes of you,” Pansy finished scowling.

Draco zipped himself back up and huffed off into another part of the house. Hermione could only guess what he had gone to do, and she didn’t want to think about it.

“Come here my little dog,” Pansy held out a hand to Hermione. It looked soft and inviting compared to the rough hands she had just been exposed to and she dropped to her knees and crawled forward as she had been instructed, keeping her eyes downward. “That’s a good girl,” Pansy cooed, softly stroking the Gryffindor’s hair. “You learn so quickly. I always hated you for it in school, but now I find it rather pleasing. Though, I shall be upset if I don’t get to punish you as often as I should. I’m sure you will find ways to disappoint me.”

Pansy pulled the brunette up until she was kneeling. She reached out and pinched the girl’s rosy nipples, tugging on them and rolling them between her fingers until they stiffened and peaked against her hands. She roughly squeezed the brunette’s breasts and the girl let out a tiny sob.

“You must learn to control yourself,” Pansy whispered. “Or there will be a long road ahead of you.” She stroked the undersides of Hermione’s breasts tenderly before reaching down and cupping the girl’s sex.

Pansy’s finger’s brushed up against a part of her that set her on fire. Hermione gasped and sobbed again, even as her hips rolled forward to greet Pansy’s hand. The dark-haired girl smiled. “I hadn’t expected you to acquiesce so quickly,” she chuckled softly as she pulled her fingers away damp with the girl’s arousal.

Traitorous body! Hermione thought, as her sex throbbed. She wanted to thrust her hips forward into Pansy’s hand again and again forcing the girl’s fingers to touch that same spot until she found some kind of release. She didn’t know exactly what would come of it, but anything would be better than the torture she was experiencing at the moment.

“Oh little dog,” Pansy cooed. “It’s painful to feel such arousal is it not?” She clicked her tongue. “But you must never beg for release. I will touch you when it pleases me, and only when it pleases me. You shall be left in a state of unfulfilled arousal quiet often, you must get used to it. You must accept the fact that the occupants of this manor are free to touch you as they please and you will not deny them, just as you will not deny me.”

Hermione leaned forward and laid her head in Pansy’s lap, and even as the Slytherin reached beneath her and cradled the brunette’s breasts with her hands, Hermione could feel the hot liquid trickling down her thighs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two stayed that way for a while, Pansy gently fondling the brunette’s breast, Hermione doing everything she could not to touch the ache between her legs. Finally Pansy’s hands stilled and pulled away. She stood and snapped for Hermione to follow. “Come my little dog, it is time for sleep.”

Pansy led Hermione into her bedroom. “Stand,” commanded the petite girl. The brunette stood and was led over to the far wall. The wall was different from the other walls. It had brackets sticking out at weird angles. The Gryffindor was trying to figure out what these were for, when Pansy picked up a small bell and rang it loudly.

Within moments Draco appeared. “Draco,” Pansy cooed, “be a doll and put my slave up for me, yeah?”

Draco smirked and turned toward Hermione. He grabbed her under the arms and hoisted her up. “Put your arms on those top brackets dog,” he sneered, “yeah, now grab hold. Hold yourself up or there’ll be consequences.”

He took her legs and spead them apart, placing them over the lower brackets until she was completely spread-eagle, supported only by the brackets.

The blonde boy reached around and found the leather straps on either side of the girl and secured it tightly around her waist. There were more straps for her wrists and her ankles. After he was finished, she was completely bound to the wall with no hope for escape.

“Thank you Draco,” Pansy drawled.

The boys face fell. “Can’t I have a couple of minutes with her Pans?” He looked back at Hermione and licked his lips.

Pansy tilted her head. He was such a child. “Well, I do have to get ready for bed still, you can have until I’m finished.”

Draco’s face lit up and Hermione watch with defeated eyes as Pansy walked toward the washroom and closed the door. Draco turned to face the brunette. His eyes crawled slowly up her body as he stepped closer to her.

She cringed.

“Don’t worry Mudblood, I won’t hurt you…much” His hand trailed down her stomach until his fingers were twisting into the dark curls at the juncture of her thighs.

She closed her eyes and prayed that Pansy would hurry.

He gently slid a finger into the delicate folds of Hermione’s sex, nudging her clit slightly as he fumbled around clumsily.

She couldn’t stop her hips from reacting slightly to his touch. She was so sore from the ache that even his fumbling attempts felt as if they could bring her release. His mouth closed around her nipple and her hips jerked again, as much as they could in the brackets.

“Hungry are ya?” Draco smirked. “I’ve got something that will fill you up.” He climbed up onto the brackets until he was face to face with her, his hard cock pressing against her sex through his silk pajama pants. The blonde boy lowered his voice. “I can’t have you now Mudblood, because you’ve been a prude your whole life and Pansy would know, but mark my words, the day she takes it from you, I’ll find you that night, and I’ll ride you until you can’t stand the next day.”

He continued to climb up the brackets until his hips were even with her face. He reached down and pulled himself free of the pajamas. “Take it,” he commanded.

Hermione looked up at him with cold, defiant eyes, though she knew she could not say no, she was bound by an unbreakable vow to follow Pansy’s commands, and Pansy had commanded her to follow the commands of those in the house.

She parted her lips slightly and shut her eyes.

“Draco!” Pansy snarled from the bathroom doorway. “Go home! Now!”

Pansy’s eyes were full of fire and as relieved as Hermione was, she was also slightly terrified of the girl in that moment.

Draco huffed off for the second time that day, slamming the door behind him.

Pansy’s eyes immediately softened upon his departure. “I’m sorry about him,” she mumbled. “Look at you, poor girl, you look terrified.”

Pansy sauntered over to Hermione wearing her silk night robes. The brunette was highly aware of the fact that the tiny girl was wearing nothing underneath.

Pansy was fit. Her muscles stretched under her skin as she walked. She was like a lioness ambling up to her prey, with hungry eyes and light steps.

Hermione shivered.

She let her eyes roam over Pansy’s body. She wasn’t attracted to girls. Plain and simple. She had just watched the love of her life die right before her eyes. She was hurt, confused, humiliated, and angry, so incredibly angry. So why did her body unconsciously strain toward the raven-haired girl? Why did this ache between her legs drown out all of the hurt and anger? Why were the visions of her boyfriend’s lifeless body slumping to the ground being interrupted by thoughts of Pansy’s face in between her thighs?

She shuddered once more as Pansy’s fingers danced in small circles on the insides of her thighs, and even as tears ran down her cheeks for all the things she had lost today, she could feel her sex opening and dripping, aching to be touched.

Fairy Tales

2009-08-29T14:46:26Z

Title: Fairy Tales
Author: Dru
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Pansy
Warning: AU, F/F
Rating: G for now working it’s way up to my normal NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from Harry Potter. They belong to J.K. R. The rest of the characters however, are all original. Purely for entertainment purposes, no copyright infringement is intended….
Word Count: 2,916
Summary: Hermione’s had a terrible accident. When Pansy finds Hermione in a comatose state at St. Mungos, she is faced with the realization that she may never get to apologize for her actions of the past. How far will she go to make sure Hermione understands that she’s sorry.

“Apparating comatose patients can be quite tricky Ms. Parkinson. We’ve hired a Muggle medevac helo to transport Ms. Granger to your Irish manor. He’ll be arriving somewhere within the next hour.” Dr. Parsons, the head mediwitch at St. Mungos paused for breath. “The staff you hired will be apparating within the next few minutes to begin setting Ms. Granger’s room up.”

Pansy pulled her silk robe tighter around her body. Better get dressed, she thought, while rolling out of bed and padding toward the shower. The phone had woken her at six thirty. She hated waking up before seven.

She stood under the hot spray long after the soap had rinsed away. Her muscles were aching. Her mind and body were exhausted. So many ideas rushed through her head at night, keeping her awake. When she sat down at her computer however, she went blank. It had been like this for a while now. Since her relationship with Draco had begun to deteriorate.

She stood in front of the mirror and combed her long black hair. She needed to cut it short again, it was getting to be too much to handle. She tied it back in a messy bun and threw on a pair of jeans and a tank. She began downstairs just as she heard the knock at the door.

She opened the door to four young women, arms filled with medical equipment. “This way,” she beckoned, inviting the ladies into her house. “If you’ll just follow me I’ll take you to the room I’ve prepared for her.”

Pansy led the nurses to the room that was right across the hallway from her own. There were countless rooms in the Western wing alone, but she preferred to have Hermione close by.

One nurse opened her medical bag and began to pull out miniature sized hospital furniture, which was immediately transfigured into normal sized furniture by another of the young witches.

They arranged the bed, two bedside tables, an IV pole, countless monitors and display systems, various tubes and cables.

One nurse was hanging a medicine cabinet on the wall with a sticking charm. After she was certain the charm had set, she began to take potions from her bag and fill the cabinet with them. All different shapes, sizes, and colors, Pansy recognized a few of them, but most were completely foreign to her.

She thought she heard the distant sound of a helicopter so she left the nurses to their business and went out to the balcony.

Sure enough she saw the helicopter on the horizon and went down to meet it as it landed.

The two mediwitches that carried Hermione to her new room were large men. Both however, had the appearance of being extremely gentle and caring. They moved the sleeping brunette onto her bed and hooked her IV bag on the pole. The men stopped at the door on their way out to shake Pansy’s hand.

“Anything else we can do for you Ms. Parkinson?”

“No gentlemen, that will be all for now. Thank you very much.” Pansy smiled a tired smile as the men left the room and headed back to the helicopter. The nurses busied themselves with Hermione’s monitors for a few more minutes and then one by one filed out and into the rooms that Pansy had designated for them.

The young nurse that Pansy had met the first night walked over to where Pansy sat. “Ms. Parkinson,” she began, “we’ll do hourly checks on Ms. Granger during the night. I’ve installed a call button should something happen while you’re in here with her, or if you have any questions. It goes straight to my room.” She smiled at Pansy and closed the door behind her.

“Hermione,” Pansy’s voice was laced with sadness. “Hermione, come back,” she whispered. “Come back to me.” The brunette didn’t stir. Well, Pansy thought, I might as well get some writing done. She left the room to find her computer.

Pansy brought her laptop to Hermione’s bedside and sat down. She began to read aloud as she typed.

“Once upon a time, in a land far far away, a champion was departing on the most important quest of her lifetime…”

Hermione woke in a daze. She looked around bewildered. She was in an open field; the sky above her was blue, the grass was green and wild flowers were in full bloom. All colors of flowers decorated every inch of the meadow all the way up to the tree line.

She shuddered. It looked dark behind those trees. She felt a real sense of fear, though she didn’t know why.

“She’s stable.” The voice boomed from the sky above her.

“God?” she whispered.

“She’s a fighter,” the voice continued, “but she’s got a long journey ahead of her, and she’s not out of the woods yet.”

She turned a slow circle to take in all of her surroundings and realized she was in fact not out of the woods. If she was ever going to find her way out of this meadow, she was going to have to go through the forest. She thought about going home, and her blood ran cold. A confused expression graced her face for a brief moment, before it was wiped away by frustration.

She didn’t know where home was. In fact, she didn’t remember much of anything, her address, her telephone number, her name. She knew what these things were, and that she was supposed to have them, but she couldn’t recall anything. She was quite certain she had a family, and friends somewhere, but she couldn’t tell you where they would be, or their names, or even what they looked like. It was insanely frustrating. How could she not remember who she was? How could she not know where she was from? Who was this voice that seemed to be coming from the sky itself? She shook her head in aggravation. Perhaps if I just find something that I know, it will all come back to me, she thought. She started walking in the direction of the trees.

As she got closer, she noticed a small trail leading into the forest. That was a good sign; at least people had been here before. The thought gave her the slightest bit of hope. She stepped onto the trail and entered the forest. Perhaps it’s just a short walk home, wherever home may be.

Within the trees was colder, darker. The canopy was so dense that almost no sunlight found the forest floor. Shadows stretched before her like warning signs, pointing back toward the meadow, toward light and warmth and safety. She shuddered again and pulled her jacket tightly around her body. Her eyes were darting in every direction. She didn’t know exactly what she was expecting, but something inside of her was screaming to be cautious.

She heard a noise off to her left that stopped her dead in her tracks. Silence. Just a branch that had fallen from a tree most likely. As she began to move again, she became highly aware of the fact that the noise began again as well. She chose to ignore it for the time being, but quickened her pace. It was mid day, but she didn’t know how far she had to go before she would be out of the forest, and she had no intentions of staying after the sun had set.

She walked for what seemed like hours before an idea popped into her head. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a wallet. She smiled as she opened the wallet to find a couple of dollars, a few receipts, a membership card to what she supposed was a local coffee shop, and…Score!...her library card. So that’s what I look like? Her name was Hermione Granger, and she lived in London. It was a stretch, but maybe if she just kept walking, she would make it to the city, there had to be people on the streets, someone who could tell her how to get back to 213 Detsan Drive.

Still aware that she was in fact, being followed by something, she pushed it out of her mind and focused on her new goal, finding the city. She looked up and saw the sun sinking in the sky ahead of her. At least she knew which direction she was headed in. She felt a wave of hope wash over her. She still had no idea where she was or how she had gotten there, but at least she knew who she was and where she was headed. She was walking quickly now, not really taking into consideration how much noise she was making. She just wanted to get home.

“Hermione?”

The word seemed to be whispered by the trees. It came from all around her, from every direction at once, like the forest was speaking to her. It was softer than the voice from the sky, laced with what could only be a deep sadness. Whoever it was, they knew her. Maybe she wasn’t that far from home after all. “Who’s there?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “Hello?” There was no answer.

“Hermione, come back,” the voice begged. “Come back to me.”

The trees were sobbing. It was a heartbreaking sound, and only when she stopped to really take it in, did she notice the tree to her right. A weeping willow. The willow seemed to be shuddering in a breeze that didn’t exist. She stepped off the path and headed toward the willow. Some strange force seemed to be pulling her in its direction.

It was a beautiful tree, the branches dipped toward the ground almost completely hiding the trunk from view. Hermione pushed aside a branch and stepped into the shelter of the willow. She immediately felt safe from the forest outside.

The tree was a curious sort. Someone had carved a sleeping face deep into the trunk of the tree. The eyes and mouth were both closed, but it was very distinctly a face, and an amazing sculpture at that. The details were amazing. She reached out to run her fingers over the cheek.

The moment her hand touched the bark the eyes opened wide and the mouth turned into a smile. Hermione’s own eyes grew wide as saucers. She immediately stepped back and a startled cry tore its way from her lips. She turned to run but the thick branches kept her from leaving their shelter.

“I assure you child, I mean you no harm.” When the tree spoke, she recognized the voice as the same one that had called out to her on the trail. Slowly she turned back to the tree’s face to find it still smiling at her.

She took a deep breath to steady herself. “H-how,” she stuttered. “How do you know my name?”

The willow’s smile broadened. “Child, everyone knows your name, but this is not always what you will be called. You will be a champion, and thusly named. You will rule over thousands, and you will bring Fabella to victory. Child, you will save us all.”

Hermione stared at the tree’s face, her mouth slightly open. “I think you must have me confused, ma’am, I am no champion, I don’t think anyway. I’m not sure who I am honestly. I have no idea where I am, or how I got here. Can you tell me which way London is?”

The willow’s smile disappeared and her rough brow furrowed. “Child, I am afraid you are a long way from your home. No amount of walking will get you there. To learn whom you are, you must first, learn who you are not. The same goes for all of life. To find the way you are going, you must first eliminate all the ways you are not going.”

The confused expression came back to Hermione’s face. Who knew a talking tree would be so cryptic? “Do you have a name?” Hermione asked quietly shrugging her shoulders in defeat. It was one thing to believe that a tree was talking to you; it was an entirely different thing to talk back. “Am I,” she began, “Am I dead?”

The tree laughed, it was a light and airy sound, like hollow reed wind chimes blowing in a light breeze. “Child, you are not dead,” the tree laughed. “You are far from dead; you are very much alive. As for my name, I have collected many over the years, you may call me Willow.”

Hermione smiled. “Well that’s very fitting.” She paused before continuing. “Can you tell me where I am?” She looked around her again, but all she could see was the dense leaves of Willow surrounding her. Although, Willow had a very distinct smell that she hadn’t noticed at first. The air was cool and Hermione could smell what appeared to be a mixture of magnolia and honey. It smelled wonderful. She breathed the scent in deeply, letting it fill and saturate her lungs. A feeling of calm washed over her, the feeling that everything was going to be alright.

“I can tell you where you are not, child,” Willow replied. “You are not in the world you called home so recently. You will learn that in this world, things do not follow the same rules as in your world. Things are not always as they appear.” Willow paused a moment, seemingly lost in thought. “You will need to be aware of these changes,” the tree continued, “or you will be lost and all hope for return will slip from your grasp.” A sad smile touched the corners of Willow’s lips for an instant before vanishing. “You will do well to limit whom you put your trust in, for misplaced trust in a world of chaos will lead you to Ether and you do not want to be led to Him.”

“Ether?” Hermione asked, a sense of dread creeping into her bones at the way Willow had said the name. “Who is Ether? Why do I not want to see him? What does he do?” So many questions were crashing around in Hermione’s head that she couldn’t think straight. “Where is he and how do I avoid him?” The last question was really the only one that mattered, but with her thirst for knowledge, she hoped that Willow would have the answers to all of her questions. For some reason, she felt that Willow knew the answers to all of the world’s questions. She felt that she could find the secrets of the universe from this tree, if she only knew the right questions to ask.

“Ether, my child, is an evil creature, perhaps the most evil creature of all time. He is here. He has come to this land because He has destroyed His own land. It is a long story, but perhaps if you have the time, I shall tell you. It may very well aid you in your quest.” Willow smiled her knowing smile, almost as if she could read Hermione’s thoughts.

“My quest?” the brunette questioned.

Willow nodded, or trembled would be more precise. “Your quest, child, to save the people of this land.”

Hermione gulped. “B-b-but, I don’t know how! I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, or why, or when. I don’t know anything! How am I supposed to save anyone if I don’t know what I’m doing, or where I’m going?” Tears welled up in Hermione’s brown eyes. She struggled hard to make them go away, but in the end they spilled over her cheeks as she searched her mind frantically for anything that would tell her how she had gotten here or why she was here, but she couldn’t remember anything. The tears wouldn’t stop falling now; they rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the ground beneath her. Willow shuddered each time a salty drop hit the soil. Her branches creaked and moaned in time with Hermione’s sobs.

Hermione could feel the slender, leaf-covered branches against her back, almost caressing her in a leafy embrace. She felt all of the sadness and confusion drain from her in an instant as she was enveloped with the familiar smell of magnolia and honey. A soft leafy branch rose to her face and wiped the remaining tears away.

"Do not cry child,” Willow whispered softly. “Your destiny will unfold soon. You will know why you came to be here, and when you know, you will conquer.” Willow smiled again and closed her eyes. “You need to rest child. Tomorrow is going to be a very long and important day for you.”

Hermione sighed. “What’s tomorrow?” she asked, not sure if she really wanted to know the answer. Willow kept her eyes closed and took a deep breath. “Tomorrow child, you meet your destiny.” Willow twisted her branches around, weaving them into each other until she had formed a hammock of soft leaves. “Sleep child.” Hermione climbed up into the hammock. It was strangely comfortable. It conformed to her body as she twisted around to her sleeping position. She felt a blanket of soft moss being placed upon her, and in the gentle rocking back and forth as Willow swayed in the breeze, she drifted off into a deep sleep.

Pansy yawned. She had been writing for almost an hour. She realized she was hungry, so she set her laptop down and ambled off to the kitchen.

Fairy Tales

2009-08-27T19:02:34Z

Title: Fairy Tales
Author: Dru
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Pansy
Warning: AU, F/F
Rating: G for now working it’s way up to my normal NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from Harry Potter, I’m just borrowing them.
Word Count: 1,610
Summary: Hermione’s had a terrible accident. When Pansy finds Hermione in a comatose state at St. Mungos, she is faced with the realization that she may never get to apologize for her actions of the past. How far will she go to make sure Hermione understands that she’s sorry.
Note: This is going to be one of my longer multichapter fics. I've been throwing the idea around for awhile, but it only recently started to come together. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I know I will enjoy writing it.

“Oh Draco,” the raven-haired girl sighed, “why do you always have to get yourself into such situations?”

The boy did not answer. In fact, he didn’t do much of anything. He sat there, unmoving, eyes closed. The rise and fall of his thin chest was the only thing that gave him even the appearance of life. The doctors didn’t expect him to make it through the week.

Pansy sat down beside the blonde boy’s bedside. Ignoring the other occupant of the room, she carefully smoothed his hair back from his face and began to hum to him lightly.

Suddenly the nurse popped her head in. “Oh don’t mind me, I’m just going to check up on Ms. Granger here. Oh my! You’re Pansy Parkinson! I just adore your books! I’ve read every last one of them. You’ve really made yourself into a big name. Just last week I was reading how the new book in your Celtic Forest series has made the Well-Read Wizards’ Top Five Must-Reads of the 21st Century.” She crossed her eyes before adding, “that’s a tongue twister. Oh look at me rambling, do pardon me Miss.”

Pansy barely heard any of what the nurse was saying. “Ms. Granger? As in, Hermione Granger?” she asked, not able to hide the curiosity in her voice.

The nurse smiled. “The one and only.” She pulled back the curtains, and there on the bed lay the bushy-haired, buck-toothed brunette, except she didn’t have bushy hair or buck teeth anymore. She was actually quite fetching.

Pansy looked away quickly. She had not seen or talked to Hermione Granger since their final year when Harry Potter, with the help of Hermione, had defeated Voldemort. She had heard the girl had gone traveling, but hadn’t really paid much attention.

She tried hard to keep her attention on Draco, but clear blue eyes kept drifting toward the brunette across the room. “Excuse me,” she spoke very quietly, as though the brunette would overhear her interest. “What happened to her? I mean,” Pansy paused, “how did she end up like this?” She nodded toward the lifeless girl lying on the hospital bed.

The nurse looked up. “Oh,” she paused, “she fell from her broom. Or, was knocked from her broom. It’s quite tragic really. She had only even gotten on the broom to help a friend of hers.” The nurse gave Pansy a disgusted look. “Apparently the friend didn’t want any help. He jumped and knocked Ms. Granger off her broom on his way down.”

“The sad thing is,” the nurse continued, “since her parents both died in the war, we’re only allowed to keep her for two weeks. The head mediwitches say that’s adequate time for the hospital to contact any surviving loved ones to make the final decisions and pay for her stay. But if no one comes…” she trailed off.

Pansy’s face contorted with anger. “You mean they’re going to pull the plug if no one comes to pay her bills?”

The nurse gave a curt nod. Then went about her business.

Pansy kept her head turned toward the boy in front of her, but her eyes followed the young nurse’s actions as she continued to provide assistance to Ms. Granger in the same gentle care that a mother has toward her child. Her eyes drifted over to Hermione ever so often, locking on the beautiful brunette with a tenderness that most had never known Pansy could even possess.

“Does it have to be a family member to make the decision?” she asked the nurse, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled around the room.

The young girl looked up, slightly startled, as if she had forgotten she was not alone in the room. “Oh, um. No I guess not. It just has to be someone who’s willing to put Ms. Granger on their account, or someone who just pays cash. St. Mungos actually is not very particular about the rules as long as they get their money.”

With that said, the young nurse finished her nightly checks and left the room. Pansy sat staring at the brunette for a few moments before she let go of Draco’s hand and stood.

She walked around his bed to the opposite side of the room and pulled the chair close to Hermione’s bedside. She cautiously looked back over her shoulder, as if Draco knew, and even cared that she had left his side. She shook her head at her weakness. He hadn’t cared while he was awake, why should she think he would care now.

Pansy reached out and tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind Hermione’s ear. The hair was amazingly soft she found herself wanting to sink her fingers into it. She pulled her brush from her purse and began to brush the brunette’s hair, smoothing it down the way her mother had always done with hers.

“Oh Hermione,” she said sadly. “How did you ever manage to get yourself into this situation?”

They had hated each other in school. The fact was, Pansy had envied Hermione so. The Gryffindor had a family that loved her, and she was so very smart. She always had the answers. Most of all, she had friends who cared about her. Not like the friends that Pansy had had in school. Genuine friends that would’ve done anything to ensure Hermione was safe and happy. Some of those friends had even laid down their lives to rescue the girl when she was being tortured by Bellatrix LeStrange.

Pansy had gone to Ron’s funeral. She had worn dark clothes, dark glasses and a veil, and she had spoken to no one. She had managed to remain completely anonymous and had left directly after the service. No one would’ve understood her being there; it would have only caused more pain.

She wondered where Harry had run off to. After he defeated Voldemort he had vanished.

Pansy had heard that Ron’s death had really gotten to Ginny. She had changed into an entirely different person overnight. A shell of the girl that everyone had known. Even her vibrant red hair and shining green eyes had dulled. She looked lifeless, Harry couldn’t deal with it, so he had run.

No one had heard from him since.

Pansy put her brush on the bedside table and gently tucked the hair behind Hermione’s ear. Looking at the brunette almost brought tears to her eyes. She looked so pale and helpless in her hospital gown, tubes sticking out in every direction.

Pansy reached out and took the brunette’s hand. “I’m so sorry for all of those hurtful words I said to you Hermione,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “I’m so very sorry for everything I’ve done. If only you had known that it was all out of envy. I admired you completely and it made me jealous and hateful.” Tears spilled over her cheeks.

She shook her head gently. “And here I am taking the coward’s way out. You can’t even hear me.”

“On the contrary, Ms. Parkinson.”

The noise startled Pansy and she jumped in her seat. She turned around to see the young nurse again. Wiping her eyes she stood immediately and started back to Draco’s bedside.

“I’m sorry to have frightened you Ms. Parkinson. I wasn’t meaning to eaves drop, I had just come back to do my nightly.” The nurse smiled at the dark-haired girl.

It was a tired but soft smile and Pansy couldn’t help but smile back. “What did you mean by on the contrary?” she asked the young nurse.

“Oh, well it’s been proven that comatose patients can hear when people talk to them. It may not be like they would hear it in a normal conversation, but they store the information none the less. The subconscious is a mysterious thing.” The nurse changed out Draco’s IV and walked over to Hermione’s. “But she can definitely hear you.”

The young woman changed out Hermione’s IV and left Pansy alone once again.

She sat back down next to Hermione’s bed and stared long and hard at the girl in front of her. “I know that you could probably never forgive me for the things I’ve done,” the dark-haired girl began. “but I have to try to set things right, to make up for all the times that I have wronged you.”

She shook her head determinedly. “I refuse to let this world lose one of the most heroic, brilliant minded, and beautiful women I’ve ever met.”

She had made up her mind. She pushed the call button next to Hermione’s bed and waited for the young nurse to appear.

“Ms. Parkinson? Is everything ok?” She walked briskly to Hermione’s bedside checking monitors and tubes.

“Oh yes,” Pansy began realizing what the nurse must have thought. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I just wanted you to let the hospital know that I will be putting Ms. Granger onto my account. I would like for her to be transferred to one of the rooms in the Western wing of my Irish manor. I would like to employ a full staff, including yourself to look after her. She will get the best attention from the most renown specialists from all over the world. I will bring in Muggle doctors and mediwitches and anything else I have to, to ensure that she is under the best care.

The young nurse looked at her with wide eyes. “U-um, of course. Will there be anything else Ms. Parkinson?” She attempted to blink the surprise from her eyes, but failed.

“Yes,” Pansy smiled. “Please, call me Pansy.”

Keepsake

2009-08-21T04:39:46Z

Title: Keepsake
Author: Dru
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Pansy
Warning: AU, F/F, non-con
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing them.
Word Count: 1,165
Summary: Devil's Snare is a tricky tricky plant.

The brunette heard the door slam behind her. She froze. Someone was in the room with her and she couldn’t even turn to see who.

“Well well, what do we have here?” an icy voice almost hissed.

“Parkinson!” Great, Pansy Parkinson was all she needed right now. She was having the worst of days. “Parkinson, listen, I know we don’t see eye to eye, but if you could just give me a hand out of this, it won’t let me go for the life of me.”

Pansy smiled, not that Hermione could see it. “Help? Let’s see, what can I do to help you get out of this situation. Better question, why would I help you out of this situation.” Pansy chuckled. “Devil’s Snare Devil’s Snare, if you struggle you must beware. If you put yourself at ease, the Devil’s Snare will let you be.”

Pansy clucked her tongue. “What ever could I do to put you at ease?”

The brunette heard footsteps coming closer. Finally maybe Pansy was going to show her some compassion. Just as the thought had formed, Hermione felt her skirt being lifted over her bum to rest on her back. “What the…”

“Look,” Pansy snapped. “This is the only way I know how to make anyone relax. So…just relax. Okay.”

Hermione swallowed audibly. “Um, ok…” she replied not entirely certain she understood Pansy’s intentions. Then she let out a loud squeal as she felt Pansy’s hands sliding up her thighs.

“Granger! Shut the hell up before you catch someone’s attention. Do you want out of this or not?”

Hermione hesitated. “Exactly what do you plan on doing to help me out, Parkinson?”

Pansy smiled, and again the smile was hidden just out of sight. “I was just going to give you a massage. That’s really the only way I know how to relax someone.” She paused. “I guess it depends on how tense you really are that determines how far I have to go.”

The dark-haired girl pulled off Hermione’s shoes, then reached up and removed her stockings. Grabbing one of the brunette’s feet, she began her massage. Pansy’s thumbs circled around the ball of the foot she held, her fingers gently caressing each toe before moving to lightly stroke the top of the foot and ankle.

Stretching the girl’s foot upward, she let her thumbs stroke along Hermione’s arch, causing a barely audible moan to escape the other girl’s lips. Pansy’s smirk returned to her face and she slowly gripped the heel of the foot in between her thumb and index finger squeezing gently. This continued for about five minutes before she switched to the opposite foot, giving it the same treatment.

When she was finished with the feet, she moved to gently caressing the calves in front of her. She ran her palms up Hermione’s legs to the bend of her knees and back down. The brunette shivered from the touch. She’s probably never even been touched like this before, Pansy thought to herself, a devilish grin appearing on her face.

She slowly ran her hands back up Hermione’s legs, but this time, on the way down she let her fingernails lightly trail along the girl’s soft skin. The trembling was more violent this time, and Pansy distinctly heard the sharp intake of breath. Hermione’s body was rigid and Pansy knew that she had not released the breath. The Devil’s Snare tightened around the girl.

“Pansy, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but this thing is not easing up. I can hardly breathe.” Hermione was struggling to talk at this point.

“Ok,” the dark-hair girl sighed. “Time to step it up a notch I guess.” She reached up and cupped the brunette’s sex.

Hermione gasped as the vines gripped her even tighter.

Pansy immediately began to rub against the thin material that covered Hermione’s sex. She could feel that the brunette was wet underneath her panties, so she let a finger slip beneath the edge collecting some of that delicious moisture as Hermione’s scent filled the room.

Too bad I can’t reach her tits, Pansy thought, that would help her relax. She let out a chuckle and slid the rest of her hand beneath the panties.

She rubbed tiny circles around the brunette’s clit, getting rougher and rougher each time. She could hear Hermione whimpering softly and she didn’t know if it was because she was enjoying the contact or if the vines had tightened to the point of hurting the girl.

“Are you ok?” Pansy asked softly not stopping her careful ministrations.

“I…” gasp “can’t…” pant “breathe!” Hermione spoke with effort.

Pansy hesitated. Maybe I should just cut the stuff off of her. “I don’t think this is working, maybe I should try something else.”

“No!” Hermione gasped. “I…” pant “think it’s almost…” pant “I just need…” pant “to settle…” gasp “down.” She took a few shallow breaths. “I’m…” pant “almost…” pant “there!”

“There?” Pansy smirked. “You’re almost where?”

“Calm!”

“No, I don’t think this is working,” Pansy began. “I think I’m going to try something different.”

Hermione groaned as Pansy pulled her hand away. But then felt her panties being removed and her eyes grew wide. “Um…Pansy…what are you doing?”

Pansy stared at the flesh before her. “Magnificent,” she whispered. Who knew Granger was hiding such a perfect ass and a tight little pink cunt. Pansy leaned forward, just enough so that Hermione could feel her hot breath brushing over her sex.

The brunette moaned.

Pansy started kissing the delicate flesh slowly, flicking her tongue against the hardened nub every so often.

Hermione was not even trying to disguise her moans at this point. She was trying desperately to push herself onto the dark-haired girl’s tongue. Anything to get that feeling to come back to her. She just needed Pansy to rub against that part of her, continuously. She didn’t know what was happening to her, but she could tell that it was something big, and it was close.

Then it came to her, she was about to orgasm. “Pansy,” she gasped. “I think” pant “I’m about to climax.”

Pansy laughed, she couldn’t hold back. Not a simple giggle or chuckle, she laughed loudly and at length. About to climax? she thought, only Granger can make and orgasm sound like a dictionary. She compensated for her lack of oral attention with two fingers plunged deeply into velvet fire.

Hermione’s head jerked back. Her hips thrust back and forth as much as possible. It was almost as if an explosion went off between her thighs. Her legs gave out and she slumped to the floor. Wait, the floor? I’m free!”

Hermione stood and turned just in time to see Pansy stuffing pink cloth into her pocket. My panties!

Pansy saw the girl’s eyes widen at the idea of someone taking her panties. “Just a keepsake if you don’t mind,” Pansy drawled. She turned to leave. “Maybe you can repay me later,” she said with a wink.

I'm back!!!

2009-08-04T04:09:08Z

I'm backkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

Looney Lovegood's First Noelle

2009-04-08T02:01:50Z

Title: Looney Lovegood’s First Noelle
Author: Dru
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Luna/Original Female Character
Warning: AU, F/F
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing them. No copyright infringement is intended.
Word Count: 2,074
Summary: Lonely, Luna Lovegood spends Christmas away from home where she meets an unexpected companion.
Note: I know it’s not Christmas, but this was written for a girl I’m desperately trying to impress, so…don’t seasonally flame me

Luna Lovegood sat in the exact same seat she always sat in, at the exactly same table she always sat at for the sixth year in a row. Alone at Hogwarts, during Christmas break, well mostly alone. Harry was there of course; he was always trying to avoid going home to his aunt and uncle. She was glad he was with her, but at the same time, she felt more alone than ever.

Harry had paired up with Ginny this year, and everyone knew that Ron and Hermione were at item, even if they tried to keep it hidden from everyone. Even Pansy Parkinson in all of her pug-nosed bitchiness had a boyfriend. The fact that it was Draco Malfoy made her feel a little better, but not much. She was the only one who was left alone, and everyone expected her to hook up with Neville. Generally speaking this sort of thing wouldn’t bother Luna, but for some reason, this time it bothered her to no end.

She finished her breakfast quickly. She had promised Harry that she would go to Hogsmeade with him today. She knew he only wanted to go to The Three Broomsticks to drink butterbeers and listen to one of the local wizarding bands play, but she really needed to get outside the walls of Hogwarts before they drove her even more loony. Looney she thought, uncharacteristically bitter. If they only knew how crazy they were all actually making me, perhaps they would cut it out. The name had followed her around since her first year at Hogwarts.

She stared off into space and shoveled the last of her eggs into her mouth before heading back to Ravenclaw tower to get changed. At least she got to wear muggle clothes now. She opted for what Hermione would have called a hippie skirt with a white tank top and a sweater. She pulled on her suede knee-high boots and went to meet Harry outside of the Gryffindor common room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the two walked side by side down the path to Hogsmeade. They could have apparated, but Luna was glad Harry had chosen to walk, she was desperate for the fresh air. The snow wasn’t that deep, but the hem of her skirt was already wet from dragging along the ground. Off to the side were creatures that only she would ever know existed. People could be so blind to things they didn’t want or care to see. Harry was different, that’s why the two were such good friends. He could see some of the creatures that she could see, the creatures that she had hunted for years while other students had deemed her Looney Lovegood.

When they arrived at The Three Broomsticks, Harry picked a table right next to the stage. Luna immediately regretted the choice in seating when the first band started to play. They knew perhaps a total of three chords, which they played over and over again while a lanky boy with pink hair and a nose ring screeched lyrics that she couldn’t understand.

By the time the band had finished, the blonde had developed a serious headache. As she told Harry she was going to head back to get a potion for the pain, the next band began to set up. She turned to leave and found herself suddenly staring into the most amazing blue eyes she had ever seen. When she realized the girl was trying to get around her and onto the stage. She felt a blush creep into her cheeks. She murmured a quick apology and went back to the table where Harry was sitting.

“I thought you were leaving,” Harry slurred. “Not that I’m complaining that you’re still here or anything, but I thought you had a headache.” He took another swig, draining his eighth bottle and holding up his hand to the waitress for another.

Luna shook her head; Harry had way too many problems to drown. “Yeah, I was but it’s gong away now. I wonder why,” she replied in her dreamy voice, continuing to stare at the blonde girl on the stage.

Harry followed her gaze and smiled a knowing smile. The girl on the stage was tuning her guitar, and boy what a guitar. It was a thing of beauty. The neck was slender but long. The head was aptly named, it was in the shape of a mighty dragon’s head, mouth open wide baring teeth that he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt ,were actually real dragon’s teeth. The body appeared to be covered in real dragon’s skin as well, scaly but sleek.

The pick guard was glass, embedded, not just screwed on, and you could see through it to the inside of the guitar. Two wings stretched from the body of the guitar, reaching toward the head. The strap was the tail of the dragon, and it jutted from the base of the guitar upward laying gently across the girl’s shoulders before twisting around the head of the guitar.

Luna stared at Harry, who currently had his mouth dropped open wide and she was almost positive that there was a little drool on his chin. She followed his gaze until she found what he was looking at, the same girl she was looking at. Well that figures, she thought bitterly. She didn’t’ know where all the bitterness and frustration was coming from, she was usually so carefree. Lately, she just found herself irritable.

“She’s pretty huh?” Luna asked as casually as she could manage.

Harry started. “Huh? Who?” he looked confused. “Oh! Yeah! Er, I mean if you like that type.””

“What type?” the blonde asked getting even more irritated. She glared at Harry waiting for an explanation.

Harry just blinked at her wondering what in Merlin’s name he had done so wrong that Luna would be glaring at him. She never glared. She never looked anything but dreamy-eyed. Though lately he’d been noticing quite the change in attitude in the blonde witch. “Well,” he gulped, “I think she’s gay.”

It was Luna’s turn to blink, stunned. “What makes you think that? And what does it matter if she is!?!” Luna was getting annoyed, and loud, she knew, but she couldn’t help the feeling of outrage.

Harry grimaced. “Woah! Luna! Calm down,” he said softly. “Nothing is wrong with it, I just mentioned it because of the shirt she’s wearing.”

Luna looked at the girl’s shirt for the first time. Feeling slightly guilty, she chuckled. “Oh,” was all she said as she pondered the shirt that read “IMRU” with a rainbow triangle underneath.

Both stared as the girl hooked her guitar up to the amp. When she turned back around, Harry could see flames inside of the guitar through the pick guard. When she played her first chord the flames shot out the mouth of the dragon. The crowd went wild. Everyone had gotten up to dance, but even in the crowd, Harry didn’t miss the fact that Luna’s eyes were still glued to the girl on the stage.

The band finished their gig and stared packing up. Harry and Luna, both sweaty from dancing, went back to their table and ordered another pitcher of butterbeer and two shots of firewhiskey. Luna threw back her shot, relishing the delightful burn down her throat when she noticed the blonde girl walking over to their table.

“Hey,” the girl said coolly to Luna, nodding in Harry’s direction.

“Hello,” Luna replied dreamily.

Harry raised an eyebrow. Dreamy Luna was back. He shook his head smiling.

“Do you wanna dance?” the girl asked casually, not rally waiting for a response before taking Luna’s hand and pulling her in the direction of the dance floor again.

Luna nodded even as she was being dragged off into the massive crowd of people.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were so many people on the dance floor, every part of the girls was being touched by someone. The girls swayed to the music and were constantly being shoved even closer together by the people around them.

Luna felt an arm slip around her waist and gasped as she felt herself crash into the soft body in front of her. She pulled off her sweater and let it drop to the floor without thinking. All she could think about was having only the thin cotton material of her tank top being the only barrier between her skin and this girl’s hands.

Soon even that barrier was lost as the girl slid her hand under the hem of Luna’s shirt gently caressing the small of her back.

Luna’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of flesh against flesh. She let her mind wander. Her eyes snapped back open however, when she felt a muscular thigh slip between her legs. The arm around her hips was pulling them forward until her sex came crashing against the thigh. Delightful friction causing her legs to weaken as the two girls continued to sway to the music.

Luna’s eyes drifted shut once again as she felt her skirt being tugged upward. The girl slid her leg underneath the fabric, the skirt still hanging down on either side so that no one else could tell the difference.

Luna wrapped her arms around the girl’s neck and ground her hips against the strong thigh pushed against her. She arched her back and moaned. The sound was swallowed up by the sound of the music and all of the people talking and laughing. She opened her eyes and stared into the glacier pools in front of her.

Lost, she continued to ride the thigh pushed between her legs, digging her fingers into the girl’s shoulder blades.

Luna felt the girl’s hands sliding down her back and cupping around her bum, pulling her hips forward in sharp jerks. It was making her mind melt. The girl slid one hand around to the front and under Luna’s skirt pushing her silk panties to the side until Luna could very distinctly feel rough denim against her wet folds. The girl’s thumb circled her clit a couple of times and Luna moaned.

The blonde witch felt a tug as each of her sides and then the feeling of freedom. Nakedness, under her clothes of course.

The girl pulled her hand from Luna’s skirt and shoved the blue silk into the pocket of her jeans.

They continued to dance, staring into each other’s eyes, the friction never stopping, Luna’s hips wildly thrusting until the pressure inside of her had built up so high that she thought she would burst. And then she did. Heat exploded from her center crushing through her body as though her blood was boiling in her veins. Colors danced before her eyes as she thrust her hips forward again and again.

The blonde witch’s body went limp and she began to sink to the floor until strong arms wrapped around her, holding her up. The girl led her back to the table where Harry was waiting for her. She started to walk away when Luna grabbed her hand.

“Wait! I never even got your name!”

The girl smiled. “It’s Noelle, you know, like the first.” She winked at Luna. See you around Looney.” The comment might have offended Luna had it not come attached to such a perfect pair of lips, brushing against her own.

Luna stood there dumbfounded. How did the girl…Noelle know her name?

Harry came ambling over. “Yew reddy ta gow?” he slurred, smiling as he had just watched the blonde girl retreat. “Wat are yew smilin about?”

Luna’s smile widened. “My first Noelle,” she muttered dreamily, “whatever that means.. I think I’ve lost my sweater,” she finished nonchalantly, “ and perhaps my heart. Have you seen it?”

Harry laughed.. “Well if it was blue silk, I think it just walked away in that blonde’s back pocket.” He smiled; he’d have to get Hermione to tell Luna the story behind that muggle Christmas song one day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The girl led her out onto the dance floor. It was packed with people rubbing against each other. There was barely enough room to breathe. Luna gasped as she felt a hand slide around her waist and she was tugged forward until she came crashing flush with soft skin stretched across hard muscle.

The girls swayed to the music and were constantly shoved even closer together by the dozens of people crowding the dance floor.

Illegal Guardian - Chapter 3

2009-04-02T04:56:14Z

Illegal Guardian - Chapter 2

2009-03-29T03:12:04Z

Illegal Guardian

2009-03-26T04:17:24Z

Title: Illegal Guardian
Author: Dru
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Fleur/Gabrielle
Warning: AU, F/F, incest
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing them. No copyright infringement is intended.
Word Count: 2,335
Summary: The Delacour sisters after the war.
Note: This was written for a good friend of mine who said, and I quote, “Write more about the sisters! Make it longer.” So without further adieu. I think it’s the only Fleur/Gabrielle chapter fic I’ve seen thus far. Probably because no one else is deranged enough to post one. But I’ve yet to exhaust my immorality…

Fleur sat on the balcony of the Delacour estate lost in her thoughts. She stared across the white sandy beach and into the thick blue waves of the Mediterranean Sea. When she looked closer to the house, she could see Gabrielle spread out on her towel, soaking up the sun.

Fleur sipped her wine and stared at Gabrielle’s pale form. It didn’t matter how long she stayed out there, her skin would never bronze. The Veela Curse Gabrielle called it. Fleur never really minded it. She was content with her ivory skin, but Gabrielle would be burnt when she returned.

She watched Gabrielle stand, brushing the sand off of herself and heading toward the house. I should probably get dinner started, she thought. She still hadn’t quite gotten into the swing of being the legal guardian, but after their parents had died in the war, no one but Fleur was left to take care of Gabrielle. Perhaps it would have been easier if Bill had not died as well. Everyone that Fleur loved was gone now, except for Gabrielle.

She had vowed to never let anything happen to Gabrielle, a vow that she intended to make good on by never allowing the girl out of her sight. It started out easy enough, Gabrielle adored her older sister, so Fleur’s extra attention was welcomed. Only after a few short months did the older Delacour start to pick up on the subtle hints that her younger sister was sending her. It unnerved her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fleur was just pulling the pan of sautéed mushrooms and zucchini off of the stove when she felt two tiny arms wrap around her waist.

“Ma soeur,” Gabrielle purred. “’Zis smells wonderful.” The young blonde’s lips ghosted over her sister’s ear as she pressed their bodies together.

The contact sent a chill down Fleur’s spine and she turned out of her sister’s grasp to set the table. Gabrielle is NOT supposed to give you butterflies. she chided herself. “You stayed in ‘ze sun for a long time today ma soeur.” Fleur began. “Are you burnt?” She scanned over Gabrielle’s sun-kissed skin to see the girl was in fact very red.

“It is no’zing a little potion will not handle, Fleur. Per’aps you could ‘elp me wiz’ ‘zat later, hm?” Gabrielle raised a pale brow at her sister, lips curling up at the edges just slightly. She knew she made Fleur uncomfortable when she acted like this, but she couldn’t help it.

The young Veela would never tell anyone this of course, but she had actually stayed in the sun for so long on purpose. The brief feeling of discomfort would be nothing compared to the feeling of Fleur’s hands slowly and carefully applying the potion, gently caressing her skin. She shuddered when she thought about it. Fleur was so meticulous she wouldn’t stop until every inch of burnt skin was well covered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two ate their dinner in silence mostly, Fleur was hesitant to talk, and Gabrielle was lost in her fantasies. When the older Delacour was clearing the table, Gabrielle watched from the hall, leaned against the entrance as her sister bent over the table reaching for the china. Gabrielle could barely see the tops of Fleur’s creamy breasts through the neck of her blouse when she leaned over. The younger Veela unconsciously licked her lips.

Fleur finally turned to head to bed and jumped when she saw Gabrielle. “You scared me! I ‘zought you ‘ad already gone to bed.” She noticed Gabrielle’s pink face and remembered her comment from earlier. A blush crept into Fleur’s cheeks as the thought of rubbing the potion over her sister’s skin made her ache.

“I ‘urt too much to sleep like ‘zis,” Gabrielle whined. “Would you rub ‘zis on me? Please.” Gabrielle made her best puppy-dog face complete with pouting lips and wide eyes. Fleur couldn’t resist.

“Of course soeur. Come on, lay down, I will be right ‘zere, I’m just going to change into my nightclothes.” Fleur walked to her room and closed the door. She leaned back against it and slid down to the floor. Pull it together Fleur. This is not how you are supposed to be feeling. She is your sister. You are her legal guardian. There are laws against this. It would be taking advantage of her, no matter how much she thinks she wants it. Fleur tried to rationalize with herself, but she was coming up short. In truth, Gabrielle was now old enough to make her own decisions. In three months she would no longer even need a legal guardian. Gabrielle had grown into a woman, a beautiful young woman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fleur pulled herself together and changed into her night clothes, a pair of yoga pants and a white camisole. She made her way to Gabrielle’s room, which was only two doors down from her own, even though the Delacour estate had seventeen rooms that were all completely furnished and more than inhabitable.

She knocked on Gabrielle’s door and waited until she heard the soft come in from the younger girl. When she entered the room and saw Gabrielle’s naked body lying lazily across her bed, Fleur gasped.

Gabrielle lay on her stomach, her face turned away from the door. She didn’t need to see Fleur’s face to know what her reaction was. She had heard her older sister’s gasp and she smiled slyly to herself. Fleur would come around eventually.

Fleur slowly walked over to her sister and sat on the edge of the bed. She picked up the potion off of the nightstand and took out the stopper. She held the bottle over Gabrielle’s back and began to drizzle the liquid onto her sister’s skin, her back and shoulders, her arms, the backs of her legs, and finally over the reddened flesh of Gabrielle’s bum.

“Per’aps if you wear a suit next time you will not burn such sensitive areas,” she scolded as she began to rub the potion into Gabrielle’s shoulders.

The younger girl winced at the contact, but quickly melted into her sister’s capable hands, barely stifling a moan as Fleur’s soft fingers danced along her shoulder blades.

She massaged the potion into Gabrielle’s shoulders and down her back. The Veela in her younger sister was yawning and coming awake and Gabrielle was pumping the room with enough lust to drive a normal person mad. Luckily, Fleur was no normal person.

“Gabrielle,” Fleur said grimly. “Control yourself or I will leave you to rub ‘zis in yourself and you will inevitably miss spots and ‘zen you will look like a red and white tiger.” Fleur chuckled quietly. She knew her little sister couldn’t help it. The Veela didn’t really listen to the brain; it listened to the body.

Fleur rubbed down Gabrielle’s sides and felt the girl shake. “Not ticklish are you Gabi?” she laughed and Gabrielle jerked again.

“You’re doing ‘zat on purpose!” the younger Veela whined, wiggling her body in an attempt to make her sister stop tickling her. All she managed to do however, is wiggle her bum just enough to catch Fleur’s attention.

The monster inside of the older girl was beginning to come alive. She looked away in an effort to keep it under control, but it was too late. Her monster had seen flesh. Innocent flesh, ripe and trembling. “Gabrielle, why is it ‘zat you turn down all of ‘ze boys ‘oo wish to date you?” The question was mainly to take her mind off of her task, but Fleur had actually wanted to know as well.

Gabrielle looked back over her shoulder and smiled at Fleur. “Ma soeur, I ‘zink you already know ‘ze answer to ‘zat.” She laid her head back down assuming that was the only answer needed. Apparently she assumed wrong.

“I do not understand,” Fleur stated simply. “’Zey are nice, attractive, smart, rich. What more could you ask for in a man? I mean…”

“…Love,” Gabrielle interrupted. “I could ask for love. I do not love ‘zem. All of my heart belongs to another.” She shuddered as Fleur’s fingers made their way to the small of her back. “I want more ‘zan a pretty face. I want someone ‘oo cares for me, someone ‘oo I know loves me no matter what.”

Fleur flattened her palms against Gabrielle’s back and ran her hands up the length of her sister’s spine. Gabrielle mewled and arched against Fleur’s touch. “Gabrielle, ‘oo ‘ave you given your ‘eart to if you ‘ave not given anyone a chance to ‘old it?” The older Veela’s fingers were tickling against her sister’s ribs again.

Gabrielle didn’t seem to notice her sister’s menacing hands this time as she turned to look into Fleur’s deep blue eyes, a mirror image of her own. “I did not give my ‘eart to anyone dear sister. It was never mine to begin wiz’.”

Gabrielle was always so cryptic.

Fleur moved down and began to rub the potion into Gabrielle’s feet. She paid careful attention to each toe, her thumbs making gentle circles on the arches of each foot. She then moved on to the ankles, one in each hand, sliding her fingers along the Achilles tendons. The potion had already taken away sting, she knew, now she was just indulging both herself, and Gabrielle with a gentle massage.

She gave Gabrielle’s calves a soft squeeze and couldn’t help but think she rushed their attention a little in an effort to make it to the milky thighs just inches away.

Fleur smoothed the potion on Gabrielle’s creamy thighs until all traces were gone, finishing by gently dragging her thumbs across the clefts of her sister’s small round buttocks. She let her fingers slide ever so softly in between Gabrielle’s legs to catch the dripping potion before it soiled the bed sheets. Gabrielle’s moan, this time, was unrestrained as Fleur accidentally grazed against the soft blonde hairs that covered her sister’s sex.

Fleur raised a pale brow and quickly withdrew her hands. She very hurriedly rubbed the remaining potion into Gabrielle’s pink bum and set the decanter back on the nightstand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fleur stood for a long time just looking at Gabrielle’s pink skin. Is it still wrong if we both want it so? There was a war inside of her, but finally the Veela in her quieted everything. “Turn over,” she commanded, her voice barely audible. Picking up the potion again, she crawled back onto the bed.

Gabrielle smiled deviously, though Fleur would never see it. She rolled over locking eyes with her sister.

Fleur’s face was resolved. Her jaw was clenched as she raked her eyes over her little sister’s skin. She drizzled the potion over the tops of Gabrielle’s shins, over her reddened thighs and toned stomach. She continued up the younger girl’s body making sure to accidentally drip a few drops of the potion onto Gabrielle’s rosy breasts. She watched when Gabrielle’s eyes fluttered closed as she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth.

Fleur began to slowly run her hands across Gabrielle’s legs, pressing her thumbs to either side of the small girl’s shins and running them up to just below her knees. She swirled her thumbs around Gabrielle’s kneecaps, then, slowly made her way up the long legs in front of her. Giving Gabrielle’s thighs a soft squeeze, she gently trailed her fingers up to the juncture where the younger girl’s thighs faded into hips.

She straddled Gabrielle’s legs and continued to rub the potion into the soft skin of her hips, over her firm stomach, tickling either side of her naval. She hesitated slightly as the war in her head began again. Part of her was firmly telling herself to avoid the small, perky mounds of flesh in front of her at all costs. The other part of her was screaming to touch them, to massage them along with the rest of the young girl.

Gabrielle sensed the older girl’s hesitation. “’Zey are just as sore as every o’zer part. Per’aps more so,” she stated softly, her eyes never opening.

Fleur moved off of Gabrielle briefly. She could see the disappointment on the younger girl’s face, but Gabrielle still did not open her eyes. The loss of contact was killing them both, though Fleur would never admit it. The resolved expression found its way back to the older girls’ face and she again straddled Gabrielle, this time slipping her knee in between her sister’s thighs, pushing them apart.

The older Delacour leaned forward and firmly grasped Gabrielle’s breasts, simultaneously pushing her toned thigh against the younger girl’s core. Fleur could feel the warmth radiating from Gabrielle’s sex, the girl was so turned on she was almost scalding Fleur’s thigh with damp heat.

Gabrielle moaned. Her eyes snapped open, searching frantically for Fleur’s.

Fleur’s eyes were devouring her little sister as she pressed her thigh harder against Gabrielle.

Gabrielle’s eyes widened when the older Veela brushed her thumbs gently across her nipples. Without thinking she thrust her hips toward Fleur pushing her now dripping sex more firmly against her sister’s thigh. She wanted to feel Fleur’s skin, not the soft material of her pajama pants. The younger girl leaned forward slightly and tugged at the waistband of Fleur’s pants.

Fleur knew what Gabrielle wanted, but something snapped inside of her. “Non! Gabrielle. ‘Zis is wrong. We cannot.” The older girl crawled off of the bed and covered her sister with the sheet. “Sleep ma petite. ‘Zis is just ‘ze ‘eat of ‘ze moment. It is wrong. Sleep. I will see you in ‘ze morning.”

With that, Fleur walked out of the room closing the door behind her. Once inside the privacy of her own room she brought her hand to the fire that had sparked between her thighs. She leaned back against the door and slowly rubbed her aching clit. She tucked her lip between her teeth. What is wrong with me? she thought as tears spilled down her cheeks.

Next Chapter

Innocence, In a Sense

2009-03-08T21:42:43Z

Title: Innocence, In a Sense
Author: Dru
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Fleur/Gabrielle
Warning: AU, F/F, implied incestuous feelings…
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing them.
Word Count: 1,036
Summary: Fleur longs to find closure in her little sister’s suicide, what she finds, will tear her open even more…

Fleur pushed open the door to her little sister’s bedroom. It had been three years since she had been in here. Three years since she had opened this door to find her precious little darling sister sprawled across her bed, crumpled parchment in hand, bottle of poison sitting empty on her nightstand. It had been three years since anyone had opened this door.

Gabrielle’s room was exactly as she had left it. No one had touched a thing, so when Fleur sat on the bed, dust cascaded into the air, rising in tiny whirlwinds caught in the rays of sunlight that spilled in through the window.

Fleur picked up a pillow and held it to her face, breathing in deeply. Three years later and it still held the faint hints of Gabrielle’s perfume. Tears swelled in her deep blue eyes. She missed her little sister so. She took the worn folded piece of parchment from the pocket of her robes, unfolding it and letting her eyes scan across the ink. She knew the words by heart now, but reciting lines in her head never held the same weight as seeing Gabrielle’s still childishly loopy handwriting.

I’m so sorry. I wish, I could have been stronger…For you…

She would have been eighteen today.

Fleur sat the pillow back exactly as she had found it. Her fingers trailed over her sister’s nightstand pulling open the single drawer. She gasped. Gabrielle’s diary. She reached in, pulling out the leather bound journal, fingering the single lace spiraling around the pages holding them together.

Three years had passed and she still felt as if she were invading her little sister’s privacy as she unlaced the journal. She didn’t know what to expect. She opened the book to the first page. It was blank. She sighed heavily. What had she been expecting? A confession? A reason? An apology?

She started to close the journal when it fell open at the middle. Here were words. She began to read.

June 13th – She held my hand today as we walked along the beach. She didn’t even pull away once. I know she felt the way my thumb gently grazed the back of her hand. Maybe she is finally starting to realize the depth of my affection. My devotion.

Fleur paused, mouth agape. Her little sister had been secretly in love with a woman? When had this happened? Why had Gabrielle not said something to her? The younger Veela knew that she could tell her sister anything. Fleur would have never even thought of judging her. She was horrified, but continued to read.

June 25th – She kissed me goodnight. On the lips! Boy I tell you, that I have been waiting for this moment since I was ten years old!! It was like electricity. I could feel her lips on every part of my body, like fire. My face is still flushed. I wanted so bad to put my hand on the back of her neck and pull her into me, but I didn’t want to scare her. She is not ready, still. I will wait.

Wow! Gabrielle had been in love with this girl for a long time. Fleur thought desperately about whom her sister had even known for that long. It had to be one of her dorm mates, or there would have been no way that the girl could have kissed Gabrielle goodnight.

July 3rd – All I ever hear now is Bill this and Bill that. It’s driving me insane. She doesn’t even accompany me on my walks by the ocean anymore. She is always with him. I can’t take it!! I want to kill him.

It hit the Veela like a ton of bricks. “Gabrielle,” she whispered. “Mon Coeur.” All she could do was stare at the entry. Her dear little sister had been in love with her. Tears formed in Fleur’s eyes as she continued to read.

August 1st – She married him today. I cannot take it. I cannot stand to see her unhappy, so I know that I cannot take him from her. I will have to remove myself from this equation. Until she finally realizes it is me that she loves. Until then…

Fleur was sobbing openly now, tears rolling down her delicate cheeks and dripping onto the journal, smudging the ink. “Oh Gabrielle,” she sobbed. “’Ow could I not ‘ave seen ‘zis? ‘Ow could I ‘ave let ‘zis ‘appen? And now you are gone. And I will never be able to tell you ‘zat I loved you.” She was whispering at this point, barely audible sounds escaping her lips. “I loved you as you loved me…I just…could not…”

Fleur had been the cause of her sister’s death. Fleur had been the cause of Gabrielle's pain. Her suffering. It had been her fault. All her fault. As the realization sunk in, it was like someone had tied the Veela in heavy chains and tossed her into the Black Lake.

She placed the journal back into the drawer, exactly as she had found it, and left Gabrielle’s room. Once in her own room, she pulled out the blade that Bill had given her for her birthday. It was a magical artifact, from Egypt. She had cherished it.

Tears in her eyes, she would find Gabrielle and apologize for all the pain she had caused her. She sat down on the floor. “Gabrielle, I am so sorry. I love you Mon Coeur, wiz’ all ‘zat I am. Every part of me, belongs to you. It always ‘as.” She pushed the blade against her skin.

Like magic, Gabrielle was there.

She smiled down at her older sister. “Who knew it would ‘ave taken you ‘zis long, my Romeo?”

The blade fell from Fleur’s fingers and clanged loudly on the floor. Her eyes grew wide as she stared up at her little sister. Flesh and bone? She looked flesh and bone. “Is ‘zis a charm?” she asked, shock evident in her trembling voice.

“In a sense,” the younger Delacour cooed. Or was it innocence? Fleur would never know. She silently took the small hand outstretched to her and followed her sister into the dark tunnel that lay before them.

Flos Periculosus (17/17)

2009-03-06T06:25:42Z

Title: Recipe for Love
Author: Dru
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Pansy
Warning: AU, F/F, Violence…hot sex…
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing them.
Word Count: 2,386
Summary: Hermione has just barely come to a shocking realization, when she is thrust into the consequences of that realization, full-force.
Note: Final Chapter – Hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. ☺

Hermione smiled, “How do you always know?” It was a question she had wanted to ask the blonde for years.

“I read,” Luna stated nonchalantly. “I only know what is written all over your face.” She smiled. “Took you long enough to admit it though.”

At that, Hermione laughed and the other two joined in. Pansy was alright, and that is all that mattered in the world at that moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pansy gently ran her hands along the brunette’s sides. Hermione whimpered quietly before speaking again. “You know, I’ve missed the rough and tough Pansy. The girl who held blackmail over my head and made me do things that I would have never even considered doing without the proper motivation,” she winked at the former Slytherin.

“That reminds me,” she continued, slightly off track. “I always meant to ask you. While I commend your idiosyncrasies for bringing us together, do you always carry cameras with you to the washroom?” the brunette asked with a slightly cocked brow.

Pansy laughed, her twinkling laugh that Hermione hadn’t heard in quite some time with all of the studying and seriousness of late. “Well,” she began. “That washroom kind of has a track record for creepiness. One can never be too cautious.”

Hermione had to agree with that. She joined the dark-haired girl’s laughter pulling the girl into her arms. “Mmmmm, I love you.”

Pansy gave the brunette a quick peck on the lips. “So, about that rough and tough Pansy. I mean…I still have a few of those pictures, I guess I could still make you do whatever I please,” she stated suggestively with a raised brow.

The dark-haired girl pulled Hermione off the bed and pushed her firmly against the wall. “Well, it has been a while since I’ve put that dirty mouth of yours to use, hasn’t it?” Pansy smiled her seductive smile, melting the brunette into a puddle of lust.

“Pansy, treat me like I’ve been a bad girl. Treat me like you did when we first started this.” The brunette’s eyes were pleading, filled with lust and longing.

“On your knees Mudblood!” Pansy snarled. “I’ll teach you how to treat someone of my status.” Hermione knelt before her, her chocolate eyes filled with excitement, and want, and need. The pale girl tangled her fingers in Hermione’s hair and yanked her head forward. The brunette yelped at the forceful contact, but looked up at Pansy through thick lashes and whispered, “what would you have me do, Mistress?”

Pansy nearly choked. She cocked an eyebrow as the realization of what had just been said kicked in. Oh hell, this is going to be interesting. She glanced down at the girl in front of her and smirked. “You can start by removing those dreadful clothes. It’s not as if you have anything left to hide from me, slut.”

Hermione reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head.

Pansy couldn’t help but stare. Her lover was beautiful in every single way. Every dip and curve of her body. Every mark. Every scar. Beautiful.

She reached around and unsnapped her bra letting her full, round breasts free. She leaned forward slightly. She knew Pansy loved to watch them sway.

The soft curve of the under side of her breast. Pansy’s favorite spot to nibble. Her taut, but soft stomach. Narrow shoulders and slender but toned arms. Beautiful.

She stood and popped the button of her jeans, unzipping them and sliding them over her hips, stepping out of them and kicking them aside.

Pansy could drool if she stared long enough at Hermione’s hips, her shapely bum. Her muscular legs with tapered thighs and perfect calves. Even her toes were perfect. Beautiful.

Finally Hermione stood before her in nothing but soft gray silk and lace. It was hard for Pansy to stay in character when all she wanted to do was scoop Hermione into her arms and profess her undying love for the beautiful girl. But Hermione wanted rough, firm, and that’s what she would get.

“All of it Mudblood!” Pansy barked, and the brunette tucked her thumbs into the waistband of her lacy panties and pulled them down her legs kicking them aside with the rest of her clothes. Hermione’s eyes were on the floor, and a blush crept into her cheeks.

Beautiful.

Pansy had decided after their brief encounter with the Veela, that the next time Hermione had asked for her to make love to her fully, she would comply. Much to her surprise, the former Gryffindor hadn’t asked since. She hadn’t so much as mentioned it.

Hermione chewed her bottom lip, a gesture Pansy hadn’t seen in some time. She had forgotten all the wonderful things that sight had stirred in her. “On your hands and knees, like the mutt you are!”

Hermione complied, dropping gracefully to her knees and bending forward, her back arching, pushing her hips outward, her breasts swaying gently from side to side.

Beautiful.

“You’ve been such a naughty girl. What ever shall I do with you? Behavior like this just can’t go unpunished.”

Hermione shivered at the word punished and Pansy could see the goose bumps rising along the girl’s arms. This was a side of Hermione that Pansy had never really seen before. She had picked up that the brunette liked things a little rough, but she had never even considered that Hermione might actually get off on being dominated. But here she was, on her hands and knees, living, breathing proof, just waiting for Pansy to make her move.

The dark-haired girl shook her head. She still had so much to learn about the girl in front of her.

Hermione looked back over her shoulder at Pansy, scanning up and down her pale body before connecting with those brilliant blue eyes. She stared into Pansy’s eyes with a look that could have no other meaning than come and take me.

It was Pansy who shuddered this time. It was Pansy who felt a chill shoot down her spine. It was Pansy who felt the tiny bumps rising on her arms. She swallowed hard, kneeling behind the brunette. She reached forward, running her hands up Hermione’s back and dragging her nails back down, leaving bright red welts on the former Gryffindor’s flawless skin.

She felt Hermione shudder beneath her when her hands made contact with the sensitive flesh once again as she trailed her fingers up the same path, tangling them in the brunette locks and yanking Hermione’s head back. Pansy pulled on Hermione’s body until it was flush with her own, kneeling, back pressed against Pansy’s stomach. The dark-haired girl was still fully clothed, but she could feel the heat of her lover’s skin radiating through the thin cotton of her tee shirt.

The former Slytherin leaned forward and sank her teeth into the soft flesh of Hermione’s shoulder, softening the bite only slightly when she heard the brunette’s cry of pain. She bit until she tasted blood. Until she could feel the warm, rusty liquid flow freely into her mouth.

There was nothing dirty about Hermione’s blood. It was a brilliant shade of dark red. Thick and rich. It tasted slightly of salt and iron. It was the essence of everything that Hermione was. Pansy could taste the brunette’s strengths, her courage, salty like the ocean. She could taste her weaknesses and her insecurities, a slightly bitter, rusty flavor. She could taste her undying love and devotion, and, for lack of any words of description, it tasted beautiful.

Beautiful.

Pansy licked at the wound until she could hear her lover sighing and moaning softly. Her clever tongue circled around the cut, not causing any pain, but teasing the oversensitive skin. She reached around the brunette’s body with one hand and slid her fingers into the damp folds between her lover’s thighs.

Both girls inhaled deeply. Hermione’s exhale was more of a breathy moan. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t think straight Mudblood.”

Hermione’s body stiffened and she let out an eager moan. She arched her back pushing her chest out, and her hips back into Pansy’s. Pansy’s free hand trailed up the brunette’s ribcage before firmly grasping her breast.

“I bet you’re wishing my mouth was on your dirty little cunt right now aren’t you Mudblood?” Pansy asked squeezing Hermione’s breast more forcefully.

Hermione gasped, but nodded quickly.

Pansy loved the noises her lover made when she was aroused. It was better than any music. Her own personal chorus of moans and sighs and gasps.

Beautiful.

Sometimes she felt as if her lover were a perfectly strung piano that she could play at her leisure, ghosting her fingers across Hermione’s keys creating a symphony of breath and raw emotion. Pansy savored the wild look in Hermione’s eyes right before she came. The fact that her hair looked even more unkempt than usual after climax, if that was even possible.

The dark-haired girl’s hand move furiously between the former Gryffindor’s thighs, fingers circling her clit vigorously. Her lips were attached to the nape of her lover’s neck sucking at the gently protruding bone.

She could feel Hermione’s climax nearing. She pulled her hand away from the brunette’s sex and grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her around to where they were facing each other.

Pansy crushed their lips together, forcing Hermione back onto the floor, pushing a toned thigh against her lover’s sex.

Hermione gasped and grabbed desperately at Pansy’s back. Wanting. Needing to feel her hands against the dark-haired girl’s flesh. She ripped at Pansy’s shirt until she found the hem and pulled it over Pansy’s head. Her hands never stopping before grabbing at the straps of Pansy’s bra pulling them off the pale shoulders they adorned.

Pansy pushed her thigh harder against Hermione and she felt her lover’s hips thrusting against her. Her thigh becoming slick with Hermione’s juices.

Hermione tugged at the edge of Pansy’s skirt pushing it up around the dark-haired girl’s hips and tugging at the seam of her panties. “Off,” she murmured breathlessly. “Off now!”

Pansy complied, sliding out of her panties and pushing her thigh back against her lover’s core.

Hermione moaned and thrust her leg in between Pansy’s until the girls were completely intertwined.

“Pansy, please,” Hermione choked out in a strangled moan.

Pansy looked her lover in the eyes and smiled. There is was. Her signal to move. Her permission to take. To cherish. To love. She trailed her fingers down Hermione’s stomach and cupped her lover’s sex. “This may hurt a bit,” she whispered in Hermione’s ear and she felt the former Gryffindor’s body tense slightly before relaxing again.

“I trust you,” was the only reply.

She slid the tip of her finger into the brunette’s sex. Hermione gasped and winced and shuddered before relaxing once again, her muscles loosening around Pansy’s finger. Slowly.

She pushed in slowly, gently. She could feel Hermione’s muscles clenching at her finger. Very slowly, she pulled back out. She glanced up and Hermione to gauge the girl’s pain, gently pumping in and out of her. It was hard to decipher if the brunette was feeling any pain at all. Her head was tilted back and her lip was caught between her teeth. Her breath hitched every so often, the only sign of discomfort. Each time Pansy wanted to pull out. Each time she saw the brunette’s chest shudder and heard her breath catch. Each time she saw her lover’s face contort with even the slightest signs of pain. But Hermione had wanted rough…

Pansy added another finger. She could feel Hermione stretching to accommodate her fingers. Hermione winced again, and her cry of pain was slightly louder this time. Pansy hesitated, but seeing Hermione arch her back and push her hips forward made her lose all doubt that this was what the girl wanted.

She pumped in and out of her lover, taking notice that blood from Hermione was coating her fingers and the palm of her hand, running down her wrist. She felt a tinge of regret, but only briefly before she was looking into beautiful chocolate eyes, filled with nothing but an unending swell of love and devotion.

Hermione kept her eyes open as she came into Pansy’s hand, her muscles clenching the dark-haired girl’s fingers pulling them into her deeper. She arched her neck, but kept her eyes locked with Pansy’s. Her hips thrust forward rapidly and she chewed lightly on her bottom lip. Her hands were desperately grabbing for any part of Pansy they could touch. Her eyes filled with tears as the final wave of her climax crashed through her body, leaving her breathless.

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours. Pansy’s fingers still inside of her. She wasn’t ready to give up that feeling. The feeling of Pansy being closer than ever. Pansy being inside of her. Part of her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Such is their story.

One jaded, heartbroken Queen, and one courageous heroine, neither of whom had ever thought much of white stallions and shining armor. Both had stopped believing in once upon a time, and happily ever after long ago, and yet, both were closer than either had ever imagined.

They stayed like that all night. Sweating out the poisons that life had slipped into their wine. Bleeding out the pain. The hatred for life leaking from their eyes, until there was only room for the love they held for each other. With every tear. Every drop of sweat, and blood, and cum, they inched closer toward perfection. Their hearts making a promise to each other that their bodies had made long ago.

It was more than damsels in distress, or knights in shining armor. More than flowers and candy. More than opening doors and pulling out chairs. It was more than first sight. More than a kiss. More than a dream. Than forever.

It was skin against skin in the oldest dance. It was love made flesh. It was hips thrusting. Lips, tongues and teeth devouring. Hands clinging desperately. Chests heaving and breaths mingling together. It was hearts pounding as one. Limbs tangling and sweat mixing. Eyes wide and connected. Never blinking. Never looking away.

This was the recipe for love.

FIN

Previous Chapter

Flos Periculosus (16/17)

2009-03-05T20:16:40Z

Title: Best Served Cold
Author: Dru
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Pansy
Warning: AU, F/F, Violence, mentions of non-con
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing them.
Word Count: 2,043
Summary: Hermione has just barely come to a shocking realization, when she is thrust into the consequences of that realization, full-force.

As soon as Pansy’s head hit the pillow, she was out. Hermione watched her lover sleep for a few minutes before turning out the light and closing her eyes. She hadn’t been lying, tomorrow would definitely be a long day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Pansy my love, wake up.”

The dark-haired girl’s eyes fluttered open and were immediately swallowed up by the dark chocolate pools of her lover’s eyes. “Morning,” she whispered hoarsely, stretching and running her hand down Hermione back.

“Morning.” Hermione smiled and leaned down to capture her lover’s lips. “Today is the day love,” she whispered against Pansy’s lips. “I’ve made breakfast. Come down when you’re ready.” She smiled and headed downstairs to tend to the bacon.

Pansy could smell all sorts of wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. She smiled to herself; Hermione was a great cook. Pansy could get used to living with the brunette.

She got up and ran her fingers through her short hair. Pulling on her silk robe, she started off for the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two girls stood outside the Parkinson Manor, hand in hand. Pansy rang the bell and waited for the house elf, Slithers, to let them in.

“Slithers?” Hermione asked. “How very very Slytherin.” She smirked at Pansy.

Pansy elbowed her in the side and chuckled softly.

Slithers led the girls into the sitting room where Pansy’s father was waiting on them.

“Father,” Pansy stated flatly. It couldn’t really be called a greeting, it was more of a statement of arrival.

“Pansy, what a pleasant surprise.” The man smiled a fake smile. “Who’s your friend?” he asked already knowing the answer. Everyone knew who Hermione Granger was after the war. The world’s most famous Mudblood. He sneered.

“Father, this is Hermione Granger,” Pansy stated coolly. She glanced at the brunette before adding, “my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” John Parkinson grunted, “I thought you already went through that phase. Didn’t the little Greengrass girl clear that up for you?”

Pansy shook her head, getting irritated. “It’s not a phase father.”

Mr. Parkinson scowled. “Well you better make it a phase!” he hissed. “No daughter of mine is going to be a dyke. You’re betrothed to Draco!”

“Father Draco is in Azkaban!” Pansy yelled. “And I’m not betrothed to anyone.”

“He’s not going to be there much longer,” her father yelled right back at her. “That’s why I’ve been working so fucking hard Pansy. To get him out! For you! So you can be happy!’

“Dad Draco Malfoy will NOT make me happy! He’s just another boy taking things that aren’t his to take.”

“And I supposed you think she will make you happy? I didn’t raise you that way. I raised you proper, to like men! Not little girls.” He leered at Hermione. “Look at her, she’s got brown eyes! Dirty eyes, dirty blood, Pansy! I hope you haven’t let that filth touch you.”

That was it. The last straw. Pansy snapped. “Actually, her hands have been places not even yours have father.” Pansy glared at her father murderously. The snake deep inside of her began to wake and uncoil, stretching languidly.

Mr. Parkinson’s eyes narrowed. “Not for long,” he growled, grabbing Pansy’s elbow and dragging her off toward his study, slamming her to the floor inside and removing his belt.

Hermione ran after them but he slammed the door in her face. She twisted the knob. Locked. The crack of a belt cut through her thoughts like a knife through soft butter. “Alohamora!” she yelled. Nothing. Crack! She heard Pansy cry out in pain. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crucio! Pansy’s screams became more intense.

Hermione’s eyes grew wide. She pointed her wand at the door yelling “Reducto” and blasting it aside. “Petrificus Totalus!”

John Parkinson fell to the floor.

Hermione stared at Pansy. Broken on the floor, welts covering her small frame, some so bad they were bleeding. She fell to her knees beside her lover. “Oh Pansy!”

The dark-haired girl held up the small vile containing the mixture of memories and potion. “Do it,” she whispered.

Hermione took the vile and walked over to Pansy’s father. She rolled him over with her foot and stuck the vile to his lips forcing him to swallow by massaging his throat the way you would a pet.

She took the small pensieve from her bag and poured in it the rest of the memories she and Fleur had extracted from Pansy. She muttered a few words and then turned to Pansy’s father. She rolled him until his face was just above the pensieve, stood behind him and muttered, “Finite Incantatem,” unparalyzing him and giving him a swift kick to the backside pushing him into the pensieve.

She ran back to Pansy and started to treat her wounds. Some of them would need expert attention. “I need to get you to Luna,” she whispered starting to lift Pansy into her arms.

“No! It can wait. I want to see him! I need to Hermione. I need to.” Pansy was hysterical.

“Okay. Okay love calm down. We’ll wait.” She murmured a few more charms to stop Pansy’s bleeding and relieve most of the pain. It was the internal damage from the Crucio curse she was worried about. She remembered that curse all too well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John Parkinson fell into the pensieve. It wasn’t his body that he was in however. He was looking in a mirror, the face of his daughter, Pansy, probably ten or eleven staring back at him. He was in Pansy’s body. Her hair was long dark curls. He looked around at the sound of the door to see himself much younger than he was now.

He felt his own hands rest on Pansy’s shoulders. “Daddy,” his lips were moving, but it was Pansy’s voice that he heard. “Draco said that I was going to marry him and I would have to do whatever he told me to, even if it meant eating dirt.” He looked up at himself. “Is that true?”

His younger self laughed. “Pansy some day you will make some man very happy and you will be expected to love and obey that man yes, much like you love and obey me now.”

He could feel his fingers tickling around his chest. No her chest. The longer he was in this memory, the more and more he became Pansy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pansy looked down to see her father’s fingers ghosting around the edges of her tiny breasts, just barely under the hem of her tank top.

“Pansy, losing your mother has made your father a very lonely man.”

Pansy looked up at him. “Father, you don’t have to be lonely.” She smiled. “I’ll keep you company.”

John Parkinson grinned, “that’s just what daddy wanted to hear sweetheart.” He lifted her into his arms and carried her to his room.

The memories became jumbled at that point, but could see flashes of himself and he could feel an intense pain, a tearing sensation deep inside of him. When the memories cleared again, he was back in Pansy’s body, wearing a silk green dress and a green ribbon in thick dark curls.

“Daddy! I was sorted to Slytherin! Just like you! Aren’t you proud!?” she beamed up at her father. “Draco was sorted too. We’re going to be house mates.”

“Of course I am sweetheart,” he said through narrowed eyes. “But all I ever hear about these days is Draco this and Draco that. It makes daddy a little sad. Don’t you know I love you more than any body ever could?”

Her father leered at her. She knew what was coming. She looked at the floor. “I know that father.”

Soon her father’s hands were under her skirt, pushing her tiny thighs apart, sliding under her ruffled panties.

Again the memories became muffled. There was that same feeling of pain. Ripping deep inside of him. Shame flooded his mind, blacking out everything, and again he found himself in his daughter’s body. This time being pushed to the floor by Draco Malfoy. Flanked on either side by Vincent Crabb and Gregory Goyle. Pansy was much older at this point, her hair short, had lost all of its curl.

Draco ripped at Pansy’s shirt pulling it open while his hands slid under her skirt. He pulled down her underwear and thrust himself inside of her. Crabb and Goyle stood watching, leering. Tears leaked out of Pansy’s eyes, but she didn’t fight back. She merely turned her head and closed her eyes until I was over. When he was finished, he left her lying on the floor, and walked away. Over his shoulder he called back, “I’m done with her for tonight, you can have her."

She looked up to find the very hungry faces of Crabb and Goyle staring down at her, undoing the buttons of their robes.

Something inside of him snapped. Everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t long before John Parkinson was heaving on the floor in front of them. Losing most of his breakfast on the carpet and shaking violently. He kept murmuring “shower” and “dirty” and shaking his head. His eyes fell on Pansy.

His face fell. It might have been heartbreaking had Hermione not despised this man so much she could feel nothing but that hatred for him.

“Oh Pansy, can you ever forgive me?” he choked out in between heaves of his stomach. Tears were rolling down his cheeks.

"I already have," Pansy said, taking Hermione’s hand and letting the brunette lift her. Hermione walked to the door, Pansy in her strong arms, held tightly to her chest. It was true, Pansy had forgiven him, long ago. It would take longer for her to forgive herself, but, with Hermione at her side, she was working on it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The brunette apparated them both to a small cottage at the edge of a wooded area. She knocked on the door with her foot, Pansy still in her arms.

Harry answered the door.

“Harry!?!” Hermione stated surprised. “What are you…well, no matter, is Luna home? I need to see her!”

Harry looked down at Pansy. “Merlin Hermione what happened,” he asked taking Pansy from the frantic brunette and carrying her up the stairs to Luna.

“I’ll explain later, I just need to know she’s going to be alright.”

Luna heard the commotion and met them at the door to her laboratory. “Bring her in Harry, set her on my table.” Luna looked pointedly at Hermione.

Hermione offered a weak smile. She knew she had a lot to explain.

“Leave, I’ll need to work on her for a while. There is tea and biscuits downstairs. Make yourself at home. Harry would you…”

“Of course love,” murmured the green-eyed man on his way out. He led Hermione downstairs to the sitting room. “She’ll be find Hermione. Don’t worry. Luna is the best healer the likes of these lands have seen in a while.”

Love? What the? “I know Harry,” Hermione whispered. “But she’s got my life in her hands right now…” The brunette sighed. “I love her Harry. I love her with everything that I am. I couldn’t live without her.”

Harry nodded. He had known Hermione had had a secret lover. He had even heard rumors that it had been Pansy, but he had waited until his friend was ready to tell him, not pushing the information out of her. He smiled, he was glad she had finally confided in him.

The two sat, mostly in silence until the blonde witch came down the stairs. “She’s going to be just fine Hermione. She’s resting now.” She turned toward Hermione. “I expect you’ll take better care of things you hold dear next time, hm?” she stated flatly. “Revenge is best served cold remember? Not hot-headedly,” she finished sitting down next to Harry and taking his hand.

Hermione smiled, “How do you always know?” It was a question she had wanted to ask the blonde for years.

“I read,” Luna stated nonchalantly. “I only know what is written all over your face.” She smiled. “Took you long enough to admit it though.”

At that, Hermione laughed and the other two joined in. Pansy was alright, and that is all that mattered in the world at that moment.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

The Lesson

2009-03-04T19:00:51Z

Title: The Lesson
Author: Dru
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Pansy/Gabrielle, mentions of Fleur/Pansy, implied Fleur/Gabrielle
Warning: AU, F/F, Violence, implied incest
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing them.
Word Count: 799
Summary: I’ve aged Gabrielle considerably, for legal purposes, and because nine year olds getting sexed up in dirty washrooms just isn’t my style.

This is what that French slut deserves, Pansy Parkinson thought as she pushed the young blonde up against the dirty wall of the Prefect’s washroom. Making a fool of me. Holding back on me. Her precious little sister won’t hold back.

The small girl winced in pain, but Pansy could see something in her eyes. Something in her eyes that a girl of her age shouldn’t know about. Shouldn’t know about, but did. Which was no surprise to Pansy really, everyone had seen, by now, the way Fleur Delacour stared at her younger sister, eyes smoldering and lips parted. That look could never be mistaken.

And even though the young Veela tried to hide it, Pansy could still see. The smaller girl wasn’t as in control of the monster inside of her, not like her sister.

Pansy had pushed the older Delacour up against this very same wall last week. The blonde had had the nerve to control that beast inside of her until the very last possible moment when she was writhing and thrusting against the dark-haired girl’s fingers, nails like talons digging into Pansy’s shoulders as Fleur came with a fierce growl.

She had pushed Pansy aside and left the washroom without saying a word, the bitch, just that growl.

It was nothing like the soft sighs and moans her younger sister was making now. Now, as Pansy’s clever tongue circled around the pale nipple in front of her. Her hands trailing up and down the girl’s thighs.

Gabrielle was still young, but only a year or two behind Pansy, and she definitely wasn’t as innocent as she made herself out to be. Perhaps it had only been her sister’s hands that had ever teased the girl into her shivering climax, but she was certainly aware of the delightful things that Pansy’s hands could bring her.

Pansy was rough. Not soft and gentle like Fleur most likely was, kissing and licking her little sister until her muscles quivered and she sighed demurely. Pansy’s hands weren’t gentle at all as she undid the remaining buttons on the young Veela’s light blue, silk robes, pushing the garment down the blonde’s shoulders, and her bra up, baring both of her beautifully formed breasts. One nipple, pale pink, the other, swollen and red from the attentions of Pansy’s tongue and teeth.

Gabrielle shuddered as Pansy roughly shoved her hand between the blonde’s thighs. Pansy could feel the damp silk under her fingers. Little slut. She could smell the girl’s arousal as she pushed the material aside and her fingers sunk into liquid fire.

Pansy pushed two fingers into the girl without so much as a second thought. Gabrielle winced in pain and let out a small cry, tears forming in her eyes.

Pansy smiled slyly. So Fleur had never taken this much of her innocent little sister. Pity. The dark-haired girl leaned forward and captured the young blonde’s lips, muffling the sound of her sobs.

Her thumb was quickly circling around the Veela’s clit, teasing the tiny nub into a false sense of security, until it peeked out from beneath its protective hood. Pansy seized the moment, dropping to her knees and sucking the sensitive bud into her mouth flicking her tongue furiously over it.

Gabrielle was releasing strangled cries. Short bursts of half-formed words. Noises. Some that sounded strangely like no most sounding more like please. Her tiny hips were thrusting wildly against Pansy’s face.

It wasn’t hard to hold the tiny girl against the wall, one leg draped messily over Pansy’s shoulder, heel digging into the dark-haired girl’s side. There would be a bruise tomorrow, but Pansy didn’t mind.

As suddenly as it had started, it was over. The Veela’s muscles grasping tightly for Pansy’s thrusting fingers not wanting them to leave her empty, thighs clenching Pansy’s face, hands woven in Pansy’s short dark hair, pulling her face toward the blonde’s throbbing sex. And then the girl went limp.

Pansy could have held her up, but she let the young Veela slide to the dirty floor instead, the cum on her slick thighs adding to the grime already on the stone tiles.

Pansy started to turn away and Gabrielle was grabbing passionately at her, pushing the dark-haired girl’s skirt up and pressing her pink lips against Pansy’s silk covered sex.

The Slytherin twisted out of the younger girl’s grasp. “I don’t think so,” she snarled. “I don’t let half-breeds touch me. Animal.”

She straightened her uniform and pulled on her robes. She didn’t cast a single glance over her shoulder as she walked out the door, but she knew that behind her was a young girl, broken and confused. Filled with longing, and lust, and shame. She smiled to herself. That will teach that slut to deny me.

Flos Periculosus (15/17)

2009-03-04T08:45:47Z

Title: Cultivating a Plan
Author: Dru
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Pansy
Warning: AU, F/F, Violence...hot sex...
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing them.
Word Count: 2,173
Summary: Hermione has just barely come to a shocking realization, when she is thrust into the consequences of that realization, full-force.
Note: I know it’s short, but the last few chapters have to be spaced properly for dramatics ;)

(a) Taken from Gillian Hanscombe's Sybil: The Glide of Her Tongue

“Well that was fun,” Hermione said with mild sarcasm. “But exhausting, and if you think of any more surprises let’s make sure that they only involve the two of us.”

Pansy smiled, that was definitely something she could make sure of. She no longer had to wonder if her lover secretly wanted the Veela. For the first time, the dark-haired girl felt secure that Hermione only wanted her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their educational career had wound to a close. They had lost a bit of the spark their relationship had had in the beginning, but it was mainly because the two had been studying extra hard to pass all of their NEWTs.

Not that Hermione needed to even take the NEWTs. Her efforts in the Second Wizarding War had secured her a spot in any department she wanted. The brunette, being humble, and an avid protector of equality, thought it would be unfair if she just skipped her NEWTs because of a little fame.

Both Pansy and Hermione had of course passed with flying colors, the latter breaking records that hadn’t even been touched since Albus Dumbledore had attended Hogwarts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They sat in the bedroom of their flat on their first night as official Hogwarts graduates, quietly indulging in the other’s presence. Hermione’s head rested in the dark-haired girl’s lap, as Pansy quietly read to her lover.

For the heat of her thighs I cast oceans aside. For the presence of her breasts I forsake cities. For the glide of her tongue I undo dynasties. Even so, I sit contented. I watch the seawaves greenly rising. (a)

Hermione stared up and watched her lover’s mouth as such heavy words dripped from her lips and splashed down, only to be soaked up by the brunette’s eager ears.

Pansy closed the book. “This is intense Hermione.” She shook her head and glanced down at the girl in her lap.

Hermione smiled up at Pansy. “I love your lips. They curl and cushion words, only letting perfectly formed phrases exit that beautiful mouth of yours. You lips paired with your voice, I believe, are a poet’s dream.”

The dark-haired girl stared at the former Gryffindor, shocked. No one had ever said anything even remotely close to those words when describing Pansy. She didn’t know what to say. So for a few brief moments, a silence hung in the air that was neither awkward, nor altogether comfortable in its own right.

Finally, Hermione broke the silence, reaching up and running soft fingers across Pansy’s lips. “I just thought you should know…”

Pansy pulled the brunette up into her arms and cradled her there, gently pressing her lips against the top of Hermione’s head. “I love you,” she whispered into the thick brown curls. “More than you probably realize.”

Hermione snuggled into the crook of Pansy’s neck. “Pansy, will you play our song?”

The dark-haired girl smiled and pulled her lover off the bed with her as she walked to her piano, they had apparated it from the Parkinson Manor while Pansy’s dad was away for business. The two girls sat side by side on the bench and Pansy began to play the sad tune. It was different every time she played it. It always had the same chorus, but the verses grew along with the girls’ relationship.

When the song had finished, Hermione leaned her head on Pansy’s shoulder. “I have an idea Pansy. An idea that will take a lot of time, and effort, but I think, that this needs to happen.”

Pansy cocked her head to the side and gave the Gryffindor a confused glance. “An idea for what, babe?”

Hermione closed her eyes. “Pansy,” she breathed, reopening them and looking intently at the girl in front of her. “Ever since you told me about your father, I have been thinking non-stop about all of the awful, terrible things I would like to put him through. I can’t help it. I want to kill him Pansy. I don’t want him ever to be able to hurt you again.”

She tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling. “I can’t kill him though,” she continued. “I could never take a life. But I will settle for putting him through the same thing he put you through. Making him feel the things that he made you feel.”

The dark-haired girl stared at her lover, mouth agape. “Hermione, I-I, I know my father, very well, I don’t think anything you do will make him ever see the things he did to me as wrong. He has it set in his mind that I owed him. That I was just doing my part as a dutiful daughter. Thanking him for providing for me. Putting a roof over my head. Making sure I always had the best of everything.”

“Pansy, I think I may have a way. A way to make him feel everything that you felt. Make him see. Make him realize, without actually hurting him, though, it may make him go insane. I’ve been looking into studies. Most of them say that men who experience what you went through aren’t as emotionally able to deal with it.”

Hermione was gauging Pansy’s response through her facial expressions. She could tell that Pansy very much wanted to make her father pay. But she could also, when she looked deep enough, tell that underneath all of the pain and suffering, she still loved her father, and wished that things could be different between them.

“Well, I wanted to tell you, that I would need to get some help, for some of the more advanced charms that I would need to do to make this work. I didn’t want to go behind your back, because she’s going to need to know why I’m doing this. I want to ask Fleur to help.”

Pansy inhaled deeply. She trusted Hermione with her life. With her heart. She knew that the girl would never do anything to hurt her intentionally. And, while it was true that Fleur had become somewhat of a friend in the last few months, she didn’t know if she trusted the Veela enough to let her in on something so personal. She put her hand to her head and massaged her temples. “This is something you’re dead set on isn’t it?” she asked, knowing that if she told Hermione she didn’t want Fleur to know anything, the brunette would take on the whole project by herself, straining her already overworked brain until she had reached perfection.

Hermione nodded. “But if you don’t want Fleur to know, I’ll see if I can do it myself. It’s not impossible.”

Pansy shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I trust you Hermione, if you trust Fleur, then I trust her too.” She smiled at her lover. “So what does this revenge have in store?”

The brunette smiled. Pansy’s words had warmed her heart. The last thing she wanted to do was spoil the moment by talking about revenge. “We’ll talk about that later,” she pressed her lips against her lover’s. “Tonight is ours.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fleur hadn’t expected to see her former students again for quite some time. Especially after the way the two had made their exit from Hogwarts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione had come into her classroom on the last day holding a photograph. The brunette looked at the photograph in her hand and smiled. The black and white Hermione was lying in the bath, hair sticking to her face and neck. Strategically placed bubbles barely left anything to the imagination. Her arm was steadily pumping, her hand hidden beneath the suds. She was throwing her head back over and over and chewing on her lip, before moaning “Fleur.”

Hermione tossed the picture onto Fleur’s desk. “Something to remember me by.” She winked at the stunned Veela before turning toward the door and walking away. Pansy was waiting on her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The three had formed a bond over the last few months, but Fleur felt like once the two set off to their own lives, the bond would fade away with time and distance, like most things do.

So when she opened her door to find the two girls, hand in hand, she welcomed them in with a warm smile. “Bonjour mes amies,” she whispered. “Come, sit, I shall make some tea.”

The girls followed Fleur into her sitting room and took a seat on the couch. “Fleur,” Hermione started. “We came to ask your assistance. You’re by far the best charms witch I’ve seen, and what I’m attempting, will need some really advanced magic.”

Fleur gazed intently into the brunette’s eyes. “And what is it exactly ‘zat you are attempting?” she asked softly, her eyes darting toward Pansy, noting that the former Slytherin’s face was sad and her eyes seemed very distant.

“Revenge,” Hermione stated flatly. “In the most ultimate and the most complete form.”

Fleur raised a pale brow. “I beg your pardon?” she swallowed hard.

Hermione went into the whole story, telling Fleur all of the details she would need to know to help them achieve their goal. Fleur listened attentively, taking in everything the brunette was saying, feeling more and more sympathy for the girl sitting across from her with every word.

The blonde’s eyes were filled with tears when Hermione had finished. “Oh, Pansy, ma patite, je suis désolé.” She pulled the dark-haired girl from her seat on the couch and into her arms, gently smoothing the girl’s hair as she cooed soft French words into her ear.

Pansy melted against the Veela, breaking down. “It is okay ma petite, we will make ‘im pay, I promise.”

Hermione smiled in Fleur’s direction and mouthed the words thank you. Fleur nodded and kissed the top of Pansy’s head. “I ‘ave every’zing we will need in my study. We should get started, non?”

Hermione nodded and got up from the couch, taking Pansy’s hand and following Fleur to her study. Her hand was gently making circles on her lover’s back in calm reassurance.

“What did you ‘ave in mind, ‘Ermione?” Fleur asked quietly, pulling out Advanced Charms texts and all manner of apparatuses.

“Well,” the brunette started. “I want to charm a pensieve. I want it to be able to make the viewer feel what the memory contains, instead of just see it. I want him to feel every bit of pain and anguish and shame that Pansy has felt. I want him to hurt, Fleur. I want him to hurt bad…” Hermione finished in a low growl.

“Mon dieu,” Fleur gasped. “You ‘ave really ‘zought ‘zis ‘zrough ‘aven’t you?”

Hermione nodded.

“Well,” continued the Veela. “It will not be easy, but it is not impossible ei’zer.” She smiled at the brunette. “Shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The girls worked all night and half of the next day, charming the pensieve with the right incantations, painting the correct runes on the stone bowl, and brewing the potions that would mix with Pansy’s memories and allow her father to feel what she had felt.

When the time came for them to extract the memories, Hermione pulled Pansy into her arms. “Once we take these from you, you’ll never have to feel the pain of them again.” She kissed Pansy’s lips softly. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you, ever again, I promise you. No one will ever hurt you like that again.”

Pansy offered the brunette a weak smile, and braced herself for the hole she knew she would soon feel at the loss of such an immense part of her life.

The memories came easily enough. They slid out of Pansy’s mind and were bottled, to be mixed with the potions later.

When they had extracted the last of the memories, Pansy stared at the wall blankly. She knew that she was missing something important, some part of her, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember what. She didn’t know if it had been something good, or something bad, just that it had been something big. Huge even, because the gap that it left inside of her was quickly threatening to collapse.

Hermione saw Pansy’s frantic eyes and pulled the girl into her arms. “Shhh,” she cooed. “It’ll come back, not fully, but soon there will be fuzzy memories, enough to know that you haven’t lost anything worth keeping.” She kissed the top of Pansy’s head and the former Slytherin settled into the crook of her lover’s neck.

“It will all be okay soon, love. I promise.” With that, she gathered the pensieve and potions, thanked Fleur for her help, assuring her that she would keep in touch, and apparated her and Pansy back to their flat.

She led Pansy to their bed. “Sleep love, tomorrow will be a very long day.”

As soon as Pansy’s head hit the pillow, she was out. Hermione watched her lover sleep for a few minutes before turning out the light and closing her eyes. She hadn’t been lying, tomorrow would definitely be a long day.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

tech saavy...

2009-03-04T01:06:07Z

Myspace and Livejournal take up too much of my life, I've decided...

and how does life reward persistence? well...an aching neck and wrists that grind more than they swivel of course.

WHY???

2009-03-03T15:42:08Z

Oh where will my twisted mind take me next... DAMN IT TO HELL... I think I'm getting back into my Fleur/Gabrielle phase...

why oh why does dementia haunt me so...

And another thing while I'm asking life these wonderful questions that will never be answered.

Why the FUCK do I always have to fall for the "smart girl" ....knowing the typical smart girl is not ever going to fall for the likes of me...what is it about brainy girls with librarian glasses, who could talk me under the table about topics I have no clue how to even pronounce....

ah...but while I was under the table...I bet I could get her to shut up....

woe is me... woe is fucking me...

.......

The Lines of Morality

2009-03-03T06:32:01Z

Title: The Lines of Morality
Author: Dru
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Fleur/Gabrielle
Warning: AU, F/F, Incest
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing them.
Word Count: 477
Summary: In the end, it had always been Fleur that Gabrielle had so desperately longed for.

In the end, it had always been Fleur that Gabrielle had so desperately longed for…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“’Ow is it ma soeur, ‘zat everyone else in ‘ze tournament ‘ad to rescue ‘zeir lovers, and you ‘ad to rescue moi?”

The question had been innocent enough. Fleur had not been ready to answer it. “Because ma petite, I did not ‘ave a lover, of course, you silly girl.”

The older Veela’s voice had remained calm and even but her thoughts had been chaotic. Does she suspect? Does she see me watching her? Has she noticed me staring? She had desperately tried to still her overzealous mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fleur.” The word fluttered from her sister's lips and danced inside of her ears, breaking her from her reverie. She closed her eyes breathing in deeply. “Oui? Gabrielle?” She opened her eyes to look at her sister.

“I did not properly ‘zank you for saving me ‘zat day,” Gabrielle smiled softly.

“Mais, Gabrielle, I did not save you. I failed you.” Fleur turned her eyes to the floor.

“I do not mean from ‘ze lake soeur.” Gabrielle looked up at her older sister through thick, blonde lashes. She had grown to be such beautiful young woman, not entirely unlike Fleur at that age.

“’Zen what ‘ave I saved you from little sister?”

“’Loneliness,” Gabrielle whispered. “A lifetime of loneliness.”

Fleur was confused. She titled her head. “Gabrielle, you will never be lonely, you are beautiful. You could ‘ave your pick of any boy in ‘ze world. ‘Ow did I save you from loneliness?”

“When I learned ‘zat day, ‘zat all ‘ze o’zer champions ‘ad rescued ‘zeir lovers, it all clicked. I knew ‘zat all I ‘ad to do was wait for you to catch up to me. ‘Zat someday you would look at me ‘zrough different eyes.” Gabrielle stared deep into Fleur. “You see ma soeur, I do not want any boy in ‘ze world. I want you.”

The younger blonde stepped forward and pressed herself against her sister. Fleur could feel the tiny swell of her sister’s breasts pressing against her stomach. Gabrielle leaned in raising her face to meet her sister's, and softly pressed her lips to Fleur’s.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The kiss had been chaste. As chaste as a kiss between two sisters could be. Neither girl ever thought about taking things further. What they had was special, not to be tainted by lust, or to be degraded by the judgment and prejudice of outsiders.

It was an intense bond that crossed the lines of sisterly, of family, but it was something that had become a constant between the two girls. Something that could always be counted on. In any number of their failed relationships, they could always come back to each other. And they did.

In the end, it had always been Fleur that Gabrielle had so desperately longed for…

The Carnival

2009-03-03T05:46:40Z

Title: The Carnival
Author: Dru
Fandom: Original
Pairing: None
Warning: Violence, Suicide
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,258
Summary: Roughly based on one fucked up dream...

Part I

She slowly opened her eyes to find that her feet were still firmly planted on the ground. She was still amidst the mind-numbing chaos that had caused her to childishly close her eyes and will herself to wake in the first place. This was no dream. She took a few steps and looked around again. How could she have so carelessly ended up at a carnival? She was alone, but she was not alone. She could see them, all around her, watching her. Their painted faces masked the hideous creatures that hid beneath their paper-like skin. Their eyes caught and reflected the moonlight in an otherworldly glow. She had been warned about carnivals. She knew that these creatures couldn't touch her unless she spoke to them. She knew also, about their traps and their trickery. She knew that if she were going to get out of this alive, she would need to be cautious, intelligent, and completely silent. The clowns played by their own rules alone, any word, any sound that left her lips was an invitation to play the game. She looked to her left to see her best friend. She knew that this was one of the clowns' tricks. However, when six of the clowns pounced on her friend, ripping the flesh from her bones, she caught a scream in her throat at the last possible of seconds. Her eyes widened as the clowns had all focused their attention on her. They knew how close she had been. They smelled the fear seeping from her pores like water through cheesecloth. She knew she was not going to make it. She had to get out of here alive. She had to keep herself from speaking. She reached into her pockets for anything that she could use. All that she found was a pencil. Maybe this would work. She broke the tip of the pencil and raised the splintered wood to her throat. An inch below of the base of the jawline, she struggled to remember her high school anatomy lessons. She pushed in with her right hand, as her left hand covered her mouth to insure not even a gasp escaped. She felt the warm blood trickle down her neck. She pushed harder until she felt pencil penetrate the small tube of the larynx. Not even a sigh could escape her now. She wandered around feeling only slightly more secure than she had before. She knew that she had beaten the clowns in one way, but she still could be trapped in here forever if she couldn't solve the funhouse. She slowly inched her way to the funhouse. There is NO way I'm going in there, she thought to herself. An abnormally tall clown stood at the front giving his spiel. Ladies and gentlemen! Step right up! The world's most challenging funhouse awaits! See if you can master its turns and its corners! She walked up to the entrance and paused. Where did the clown go?!? She felt his presence even before she turned her eyes to find him right beside her face, his awful tongue sticking out of his dreadful smile. She would have screamed, but all that happened was a tiny gurgle from the hole she'd punched in her own throat. She stepped up to the door, and pushed her way inside.

Part II

The mirrors instantly made her nauseas, partially because she was immediately disoriented, but partially because of what she saw in the mirrors. Each flat, reflective panel displayed a different picture of death…her death. She struggled to keep her composure as she glanced from glass to glass. Lacy with slit wrists. Lacy hanging with a rope around her neck. Lacy's naked body with blood streaming down her thighs. She scanned the room twice before she realized that there was no exit…or was there? It took her a moment to figure out that each mirror was in fact, a door, a possible exit…or if the odds were not in her favor, a portal leading to something far less pleasant. She knew this was yet another of the clowns' tests. One of these mirrors held the answer. One of these deaths was far more connected to leaving, to an end, to an exit. She slowly walked around the room, studying each panel. In one of the mirrors she was covered in what looked like ants, but when she got closer she realized that it was ticks instead. Ticks. Ticks. Tics. Tycs. Tycks. Tix. TIXE! Tixe, exit backwards! Wait. This was a stretch, she knew. She was reaching too far. She moved on. A few panels down there was a picture of herself with one hand in her pocket and the other holding a gun pointed to her head. Half of her skull was blown onto the wall behind her. She struggled to think of why this image was so familiar. Wait! What were those lyrics to that U2 song? "A hand in the pocket. Fingering the steel. The pistol weighed heavy. His heart he could feel was beating, beating, beating." The song was called Exit. This was her door. She slowly turned the mirrored knob and pushed her way into yet another room.

Part III

She entered the next room cautiously. She didn't know what to expect. More mirrors. In between each mirror was a door. Painted on each door, was the word "EXIT". She knew that she had to act quickly; the longer you stayed in the Funhouse, the less and less reality made sense. Then she saw Him. She hadn't noticed Him before, hidden away in the darkest corner of the room. He was hideously beautiful. He was wearing a shimmering gold suit, with a black shirt, and a gold tie. His shoes looked as if they were solid gold. He was completely bald and His entire head was painted solid white with black lines around His lips and eyes. On His cheek, a bright red tear. He was smiling at her, though the lines on His face inked a permanent frown. The Sad Clown. She had heard about Him. He was the guardian of not only the Funhouse, but the whole Carnival. Someone did not want her to return from this fantasy. He ambled slowly toward her. His eyes never left hers. He had a charm that was unmatchable. She stared at Him in the mirror, as He walked up behind her. He traced a finger down her spine, without touching her of course. She could sense the claws underneath His white gloves. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear; a language that she didn't even think truly existed outside this fantasy. She knew that she would never return home. She walked away from the Sad Clown and toward one of the doors marked EXIT. The clown's eyes widened. This was the wrong door, and He knew it…so did she. She took her fist and punched the mirror beside it and watched the shards fall to the floor. She picked up a large shard of mirrored glass and turned to face the Sad Clown. She saw the life drain from His eyes as she took the shard in her hands. He knew what was coming next. Before the Sad Clown could work His charm, she stabbed the mirrored shard into her neck and tore across. Her limp body fell to the floor as the Sad Clown's eyes grew wide. He tilted His white head back and a low growl erupted into a howl of pain and loss.