100 Moments

Title: Beginnings
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble, Porn…sorta.
Warnings: M/F, light-oral
Summary: #1 – Beginnings, the beginning of the end.
Word Count: 991 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. This fits in with the FEH universe, and was suggested by liz_marier.



Number 1 – Beginnings



“Healer Patil, I think you might remember DCI Malfoy from Hogwarts,” Alastor Gumboil said by way of reintroduction, and I sighed.

Healer Patil turned away from the bedside of my subordinate. Flint had really fucked himself this time, but I knew Flint would bounce back soon enough…he always had. But I turned my attentions to Patil, and feigned that I was delighted to make her acquaintance by extending my gloved hand.

“Yes, we were in the same year, Detective Superintendent,” Patil said elegantly, but I could tell she was just as annoyed as I was…

“Yes, well, I’ll leave you two to discuss Flint’s diagnosis…” Alastor said with a grumble, and quickly removed himself from the Spell Damage ward.

It was late, and most of the ward was asleep, the bed-ridden and Confounded Flint included. I stood staring into Patil’s chocolate brown eyes as Alastor’s footsteps faded down the corridor.

“That was awkward,” I whispered stepping toward Patil, my coat swishing about my grey trousers. My hands grasped her waist, and pulled her close…she smelled like antiseptic and potions. The scent wafted up from her robes, but her long raven, plaited hair smelled like jasmine.

“Not here, Malfoy!” she hissed, her small hands pressing against my chest.

I smirked as I guided her effortlessly back into the storage closet at the far end of the ward where shelves upon shelves of potions and other medicines gleamed in bottles in the lamp’s light which hung in the center of the closet. Patil huffed as I shut the door and drew my yew wand to lock and silence the door.

When my wand was stowed, Patil was on me, tearing at the expensive Italian belt and the fly of my trousers.

“Three bloody weeks! Three bloody weeks and I couldn’t do this…” she whispered angrily, falling to her knees before me, pushing me so that I fell back against the door of the closet.

I hummed at her words, my gloved hands tracing the line of her jaw. I was hard…it had been three weeks for me as well. And when she licked the underside of my cock, I sighed.

Five months of Parvati Patil sucking my cock, among other things, had began in the same closet…with Flint in a bed in the ward. I remembered that the first thing I had asked her was: ‘Which Patil are you?’

Parvati…the consort of Shiva. Parvati…my consort at the moment.

She took my length, kneading my sac, but it was not enough after three weeks. Three weeks of me being on a case…three weeks of her being on call at St. Mungo’s. It was not as if we were exclusive, and it was not as if we ever went out on dates either. She had never seen my home and I had never been to her flat. It was this closet…or an empty bed on the ward.

Parvati was the foremost researcher and Healer for Spell Damage, and I was the best DCI the Ministry had ever known. Excellence fucks excellence.

The only thing that Parvati was not excellent at was sucking my cock…but she made up for it in other areas…and so I grasped her by the forearms and wrenched her to her feet, my cock popping audibly from her mouth.

I twisted her so that she grasped the shelves before me, pushing her full bottom toward me in a position that had become perfunctory in our sessions in the closet. I obliged her by pulled up her robes, her skirts, and pulling aside her plain white knickers.

Parvati Patil had a very ‘pretty’ pussy. I held her skirts with one hand, pulling at her knickers with the other so that the crotch was no longer obscuring my view of the deep pink shade of her labia, the raven curls above her fat clit, and the moisture glistening and literally dripping from her hole.

I did not love Patil, and she did not love me…and it made the fact that she felt so good around my cock even more sweet. Grasping my cock, I aimed for her, and sinking into her body, I hissed. She was tight, she was always tight.

I barely had to thrust for she pushed back against me, so wanton, so pretty…her voice ringing out in a husky tone that made the hairs on my arms stand up. I took hold of her plait and pulled…just the way she liked and I slipped my hips lower, my knees bending. I fucked her, my teeth grinding to keep from spewing obscenities as praise to her divine pussy. Meanwhile, she chanted my name, and whimpered.

I wanted to vanish her Healer’s robes, I wanted to see if her breasts were as pretty as the rest of her. After five months, I had yet to see her totally unrobed. There was no time for that intimacy, and to be fair, she had never seen my body either. Suck my cock and bollocks, of course, but nothing else. We rarely kissed.

I had drowned myself in eating her sweet core, drinking in her soma-like essences…and as much as I worshiped her, I did not love her.

She was panting, and her hips, which I held with one hand, quivered. She had found her completion…and I had not.

When she fell to the floor, her robes falling over her flawless caramel skin, she gazed up at me and my wet cock. I, too, was panting, but I had no desire to rub myself to satisfaction, in fact, my cock was beginning to flag.

“I’m sorry that you…” she started, but thought better of finishing, and let her dark eyes fall to my expensive leather shoes.

I sighed, turning away from her, rearranging myself, zipping up and refastening my belt.

I did not love her, and as much as she aroused me, I could not cum. I knew that this was the beginning of the end.