It's Not Just Sex

[Thanks for the reviews guys! As in the originally I’ve tried to use a double line break to show a change in Point Of View.

JoeHundrehaire makes a really good point. Thus far there have been no major changes from DH canon. Though I will note that’s only in the first chapter. It’s not like the Order of the Phoenix is going to vastly change their plans because of one Slytherin girl they don’t trust turns up at their door. Chaos theory notwithstanding, things don’t change that much without good reason and a lot of DH is plotted out before hand by Dumbledore. So I think at least at first, the only changes that would result is pretty much snide bitching on all parts. When the trio + Pansy are out the open making their own decisions, that’s when the major changes may appear.]


Chapter 2: Birthdays & Weddings.


The morning of Harry’s 17th Birthday found him in a slightly brooding mood, despite the promise of magic, presents and a celebratory dinner with his friends later, he couldn't shake a continuing feeling of apprehension. After the wedding tomorrow, he’d be off on a mission given to him by the late Headmaster, to hunt down and destroy pieces of Voldemort’s soul. He had no idea where most of them were or even what one of them was contained in, but that wasn’t what was worrying him. His three companions for the mission were, Ron, Hermione and Pansy, his best friends and his girl friends. All three had promised to help him, though Harry would have dearly loved to let them opt out. It would keep them safe after all. They wanted to come along, the problem was they just didn’t get along or rather Pansy and Hermione did not get along. Ron was a bit of a weathervane, alone he was fine but he was far too likely to take Hermione’s side if she was there. As much as he wanted his friends to be happy together, Harry couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed at the lack of support.

It wasn’t like Harry didn’t understand where the animosity had come from, in a way Pansy had been more Hermione’s nemesis than his own in previous years. As far as he and Ron had been concerned she’d been nothing more than Draco’s girl, sure she was sharp tongued but in the end just a lackey. Apparently a war of snide remarks and rumour mongering was a lot more of a serious offence to a girl’s way of thinking. Though Hermione had long pestered him against holding grudges, (particularly against a man who had gone on to kill Dumbledore, Harry thought bitterly) it seemed she was wholly unwilling to do the same for Pansy.

It didn’t help that he was dreaming things again. If Hermione found out he’d been saying names (Gregorovitch, whoever that was?) in his sleep he was in for a right bollocking from her.

Still he shouldn't complain he thought, as he revelled in being able to perform magic whenever he wanted, sending Ron’s possessions flying about the room and changing the persistent and truly awful orange furnishings a pleasant shade of blue and generally mucking about until Ron finally decided to shoo him downstairs with promises of breakfast and presents.

When they had eventually managed to reach the ground floor kitchen, Bill and Monsieur Delacour were finishing their breakfast at the opposite end of the kitchen table to a small pile of presents from the occupants of the Burrow. The first package he opened was the apparently traditional wizard’s watch; a pocket watch that had belonged to Fabian Prewett, another dead hero of the first war and Mrs Weasley’s much beloved brother. He tried to reassure her with a hug that he was both touched and honoured to receive what amounted to a family heirloom from her.

“Happy Birthday, Harry!” Hermione said as she hurried into the kitchen, with a glance behind her as though she was feeling smug to be here before someone, she quickly added a present to the top of the pile, “It’s not much, but I hope you like it. What did you get him?” She added to Ron.

“Give him a second, Hermione,” Ron replied, “He’s not got to it yet. He’s only had a chance to open Mum and Dad’s”

Harry scooped up Hermione’s present and opened it, cooing appropriately over the new sneakoscope contained inside. Obviously Hermione had been thinking practically about their upcoming mission.

As had Ron as it turned out, Harry picked up the package from him and saw it was long and thin and rattled ever so slightly when he shook it.

“No chocolates, Ron?” He teased, “Bit of a departure from tradition isn’t it?”

Ron just rolled his eyes good naturedly and replied he’d wanted to give him something a bit more lasting. Inside the box was a thin contraption of springs, small panels and catches that looked like it could be clipped on to a belt.

“It’s a wand holster, see?” Ron explained, “You don’t want to be mucking about trying to pull it out of a pocket when you’re in a hurry right? So you stick it in here and when you need it; pop! Out it comes!”

“That’s actually… pretty cool, Ron, thanks!” Harry smiled and clipped the device, now carrying his holly-and-phoenix-feather wand, to the left side of jeans’ waistband for an easy cross draw.

Though both his best friends’ presents had been very kind and well thought out gifts, Harry still found him self strangely unaffected by them. It was his seventeenth after all, for some reason Harry felt he wanted to celebrate and not think about the task he’d lined himself up for himself; such gifts, practical as they were dragged him back to the reality of the coming quest. Harry slightly listlessly opened his other presents; an enchanted razor, chocolates and an assortment of the Twin’s most practical adventuring goods.

Just as the trio were finishing their breakfast and quietly wondering to themselves how they were going to fill this day, half expecting Mrs Weasley to appear with a list of tasks for them to accomplish in preparation for the wedding tomorrow but even as they decided to attempt to make their escape, Pansy entered the room, and beaming at Harry, announced that he was going to go for a walk with her. Her lively grey eyes danced around the room as though daring anybody to try and object to this.

~ O ~

The Burrow was an obviously Wizard dwelling and thus was a good distance away from the Muggle village it was ostensibly a part of and was surround by fields and a thick wood. Growing up in the Suburbs of Little Whinging, Harry had always found the countryside interesting when he got a chance to go out into it. So He and Pansy strolled out across some fields, hand in hand. Harry realised this was he first time he had been alone with her in the better part of two months. He marvelled at the softness of her skin and her beauty as they wandered along. She was dressed, like he was, in what would be considered Muggle dress by wizards. Today she was wearing a black blouse that was translucent across the shoulders and down her back and tight fitting jeans with the word ‘foxy’ embossed across her curvaceous bum. After years of seeing her in nothing but school robes (or nothing at all) the change was amazing to behold.

In a passable attempt at proper adult self control and dignity, the couple managed to get across three entire fields, into some woods and entirely out of sight from The Burrow before finally, near instantly, moving between standing a couple of feet apart, holding hands to completely wrapped around each other, kissing deeply. Pansy’s arms snaked around his middle pulling him tight while he held her head in his hands. Their tongues danced in an energetic but mock battle for dominance, Harry won but only because wanted him to and his tongue delved deeply into her mouth, Pansy seemed to melt into him, her flesh pressed seamlessly against his chest, a low moan of desire reverberated through their locked mouths, though Harry could not have say who uttered it, eventually though they needed to breathe and with a gasp their lips broke apart. Harry didn’t let go though. Keeping her close to him as they both breathed heavily.

“Damn,” Harry moaned looking down into her big grey eyes, “you’re so very beautiful. It’s been terrible, having you so close and not…”

Harry flushed slightly, not meaning to imply he was only interested in shagging her. Though he noticed that a mere one kiss had given him a raging hard-on, obviously the lack of action since leaving school had affected him, Pansy just smiled back at him. Her hands wandered down to squeeze his arse, drawing a gasp from Harry.

“For me to,” she said, “but there’s nothing stopping us, right now.”

Harry glanced around at their surrounds; the thick layer of grass and hummus around them was littered with small pebbles and branches that would be highly uncomfortable to lie on.

“We need a blanket or something to lie on,” He said, and then his face brightened, “Oh! I can conjure one for us now!”

He reached for the wand in his new holster and pushed it in slightly but the spring mechanisms in it were a lot stronger than he thought and the wand was catapulted straight through his lax grip and bounced on the ground rolling to a stop a couple of feet away. Pansy burst out laughing as he scrambled after at, picked it up and transfigured a large nearby stick in to a thick white and blue checked blanket for them to lie on. He glared at her in mock offence.

“Oh you like to laugh do you?” he asked lightly and then bounded up to her and started tickling her, running gentle finger tips teasingly across her ribs and up and down her sides, her legs buckled as she tried to bat his hands away, but he was relentless, one hand still tickled the other guiding her down onto the rug where she wriggled and writhed under his assault, giggling hplessly but as she did so, her blouse rose on her body, dragged up as it crumpled, riding high and Harry though he saw... something on her back, which was strange he remembered her skin being almost flawlessly smooth and white there when he had seen it before. He stopped tickling and, only wondering if she’d gotten a tattoo or something, asked lightly.

“What’s that on your back, Pansy?”

Immediately the girl’s face fell, losing all signs of merriment in just a couple of seconds, although she couldn’t stop an involuntary giggle, when she replied her tone was miserable.

“Oh bugger,” she said, “You weren’t supposed to see those.”

The words only served to alarm Harry. He gently encouraged her to roll on to her front and very slowly lifted her blouse up, exposing the small of her back to him and he flinched.

Nasty red welts and yellowy black lines of bruising criss-crossed all over it. Disappearing up under her blouse and down under her jeans as well.

“How did you get these?” Harry asked softly, his vision wavering slightly as he talked. She sat up and faced him, misery etched over her features, her eyes foggy with painful recollections.

“Daddy got an owl about three days after I got home from Hogwarts. He invited me into his study that evening and asked me if there was anything I’d like to tell him about school. I didn’t tell him about us, so… so,” She broke off, shuddered and then just said, “Daddy has some old fashioned ideas about discipline.”

Harry sat down next to her, he felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He couldn’t breathe at all. Her father had done this to her over a month ago and the marks were still there… Harry remembered her dodging her questions about how and why she had come to The Burrow.

“You ran away from home,” He stated.

“Not right away. I cried myself to sleep the first night. Then the next evening, he brought me back into the study, again. I.. I told him,” She looked fearful at this point as if expecting Harry to berate her, “But he bent me over the desk again and told me he already knew. That he was going to punish me for being a liar as well as a harlot.” She lapsed back into silence.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone, they could have fixed you up…” Harry said, despite Mrs Weasley’s apparent dislike of the girl, he couldn’t imagine her leaving anyone in pain, but his voice petered off as Pansy let out a bitter chuckle.

“Harry, Mrs Weasley spotted these on the second day I was here and healed them best she could.” Harry blanched again, imagining what they must have been like before if this was post magical healing, “I think Daddy’s cane is cursed or something.”

“Fine.” Harry said, shortly, realising at least some of the reason why Mrs Weasley had been keeping them apart. Hurt filtered its way into Harry’s next words, “But why didn’t you tell me.”

“Oh Harry! I was going to! Believe me! the only time we got to talk was after you arrived. You were already worked up about Moody and George, it didn’t seem the right time to slip into the conversation, ‘oh yes and my father beat me,’ you’d have thought…”

“That it was all my fault.” Harry finished. In tones that made it clear he felt the statement was perfectly true, “Lie down again, Pansy, I want to see.”

“Harry..” She started; reaching out to stroke his face, “You don’t…”

“I do. please.”He said firmly.

Reluctantly, Pansy undid the buttons of her blouse but for once the act wasn’t remotely erotic for Harry. She undid the button her jeans and lied prone on the blanket. Harry himself tucked his fingers through her waistline and peeled her jeans off her butt and down past her ankles and off her body taking her trainers off beforehand. He noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra at all, she’d obviously been planning to seduce him, with an unpleasant lurch he realised there were red marks above and below her knickers. He had to take those off as well.


Pansy moaned slightly as she felt her boyfriend take off her knickers and hover over her. This wasn’t exactly how she’d planned that happening today. She was completely ashamed of herself now. She’d only had to keep one little thing under wraps and she’d blown it and now Harry was going to get all guilty and offended and she’d wind up ruining his entire birthday for him. She shivered as she felt a couple of wet drops fall on the small of her back. She knew it wasn’t pretty, from what she’d seen in the mirror, red marks and stripped bruises running from half way up her back down to a couple of blows on the back of her thighs. She was just glad he hadn’t seen it before Mrs Weasley had healed them, there hadn’t been any part of the affected area that hadn’t been shiny red with impact damage and all the stripes had been longer and deeper.

“It looks worse than it is,” She tried to claim, “It doesn’t really hurt anymore unless it get knocked” Or Ginny ‘accidentally’ nudges it at night. Pansy thought but didn’t see fit to trouble Harry with it. She didn’t know why but the youngest Weasley seemed particularly vindictive towards her but as far as Pansy recalled she’d done nothing to the girl directly. She’d done plenty of horrid things to the Gryffindors in her own year but to the younger years… this didn’t stop Ginny scowling at her every time they met, as though she’d killed the girl’s beloved cat or something.

Harry leant down to her back and she felt the soft press of his lips against, his saliva soothing the slight heat of a red welt.

“Harry,” She moaned, “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to kiss them better. Every one of them.” He said, determinedly.

He was as good as his word and she spend the best part of the next hour lying prone while he slowly worked his way down her back, treating every single mark to its own soft sensuous kiss. Each press of lips and flick of his tongue soothing her hurts and more often sending shivers of pleasure up her spine, as they got lower and lower; she felt her lower lips get wetter and wetter as his tongue moved all over the cheeks of her ass and she whimpered and moaned in delight as it moved across her thighs.

“You’ve been very brave, Pansy,” he said when he was finished, “I want to make this up to you.”

Pansy tried to object, to tell him he didn’t need to do anything for her but suddenly she found his gentle hands moving her; she was rolled onto her back, looking up at a clear blue sky through a great canopy of green leaves. He had conjured or transfigured a soft cushion from something while she hadn’t been paying attention and now supported her sore lower body with it, raising her hips. He placed her legs over his shoulders and practically dived into her wet cunt.

Pansy shuddered and moaned at once, her fingers clawing at the blanket as sudden sensations poured through her body as he licked eagerly at her cunt. Never had Pansy meet anyone as willing as Harry to eat her out and after some training he did it better than anyone else as well. His tongue moving with practised ease all over the inside of her pussy, rapidly hitting all the most sensitive spots with in. Pansy gasped her praises as he licked long licks up and down the length of her before plunging as deep as he could inside her. Her hips jerked suddenly upwards in response to this and she could feel herself steadily seeping juices all over Harry’s face. She'd had no sexual relief since she’d reached The Burrow, aside from the occasional surreptitious fingering, inside her sleeping bag when she was very sure Ginny and Hermione was asleep. The sudden swap from not being touched at all to having her pussy expertly eaten out was turning her head; making it spin with an overabundance of endorphins and adrenaline.

“oh…uh…oh!” She moaned incoherently, “you’re so good to me Harry, so very good. Oh Harrrrryyy!”

Her hips arched skyward in a series of short sharp thrust as came.


Harry licked his girlfried’s pussy as she came and supplied a great quantity of her juices for him to drink up with an audible gulping sound. He gently extracted himself from her now quite limp lower limbs and moved alongside her.

“Thanks,” he said, teasingly, “My mouth was getting a bit dry from kissing your back before.”

Pansy smiled up at him with a happy, slightly dazed, expression.

“Hmm. I feel a bit guilty, I was supposed to be giving you a treat for your birthday,” She said.

“Seeing you happy is treat enough for me,” Harry replied, running a fond hand through her glossy black hair.

“Oh,” she teased, “So you won’t be wanting that present I got you?”

“You didn’t have to get me anything you know,” Harry said honestly. Pansy looked slightly embarrassed.

“It’s not much, really. Left pocket of my jeans, wherever you put them…”

Harry found them and extracted a small disk like package, wrapped in midnight blue paper with a silver ribbon, which Harry carefully removed and revealed the gift inside. It was a small glass lens, edged with silver on which intricate scroll work had been engraved. Trapped in the middle of the lens was a wizarding photograph of Pansy herself, which smiled his favourite evil grin back up at him and winked her round shining grey eyes. All in all, it behaved much like a photo of Gilderoy Lockhart might have apart from the fact it caused Harry to fill with joy rather than disgust. He recognised it was exactly the right size to fit onto the door of the fob watch the elder Weasley’s had given him.

“Mr Weasley lent me a camera to take the photo and I transfigured the frame myself. I’m sorry it’s a bit cheesy but..”

Harry silenced her with a grateful kiss.

“It’s beautiful. Just like you.” He said; tucking it away in his pocket and liking it more than all his other presents combined.

~ O ~

The couple return from their ‘walk’ in the early afternoon and was mildly scolded by Mrs Weasley for missing lunch, she had, of course, saved them some but still they might have mentioned they were going to be so long. Harry smiled and nodded and apologised, saying that they had lost track of time, which was entirely true, he just hadn’t mentioned what they had been doing to lose track of it. He retrieved his new fob watch from his and Ron’s room and placed Pansy’s gift securely inside it, before he descended again to the living room, where he, Hermione, Pansy and Ron spent a fun afternoon talking, joking and playing silly games of various descriptions enjoying the break from wedding preparations and the pressures of life in general. Everyone was in such a good mood that even Hermione seemed to relax and stopped shooting dark looks at Pansy.

Soon enough though guests started arriving for Harry’s Birthday Tea, Lupin and Tonks, Hagrid in his best (and worst) suit and last and most disturbingly Minster of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, who descended unaccompanied upon the, until then, genial gathering and wanted to speak to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Alone.


Pansy was not all pleased when Scrimgeour pointedly refused to let her accompany Harry into their meeting. So she remained outside, sulking until the trio returned with wondrous gifts from Albus Dumbledore via his last will and testament. Hermione in particular looked pleased with a very large and old book and kept shooting Pansy some very smug and triumphant looks across the table, which was impressive seeing as they were seated opposite sides of the gigantic snitch shaped cake made by Mrs Weasley.

Though the gathering made a good attempt it never really recovered from the minister’s visit and that evening Pansy curled up in her sleeping bag on Ginny’s floor with a vague feeling of discontent.

~O~

The next day was the long awaited (and exhaustively prepared for) wedding of William Arthur Weasely and Fleur Isabelle Delacour, which Pansy was reluctantly invited to despite not knowing either of the lucky parties. She supposed she was really there as Harry’s date and ‘+1’ from his invitation. The problem with this was, of course, Harry wasn’t actually attending. Not recognisably, at least, and it would make little sense for Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter’s girlfriend, to be hanging about with a random Weasley cousin. So Pansy spent the entire ceremony at the very back of the tent, trying to avoid Hagrid’s eye, as she had while taking Care Of Magical Creatures lambasted and criticised the man more often and more harshly than she cared to remember, she supposed to proper thing to do would be to own up to it and apologise to her boyfriend’s oldest friend but she knew she wasn’t quite brave enough, especially if she was trapped with him after a failed attempt for the rest of the ceremony.

Unable to openly talk to ‘Barney Weasley,’ Pansy was forced to sort of stalk him, remaining close as he talked with the Lovegoods and Viktor Krum, famed Quidditch player and an older gentlemen Pansy didn’t recognise but Harry seemed particularly intent upon. Pansy also did a good job on finishing off one of the floating champagne bottles all on her own as she grew slightly bitter and depressed, growing more and more scathing to the unfortunate souls who approached her thinking her to be a pretty and unattached girl as the evening went on.

By the time the silver lynx descended into the gathering, she was quite tipsy but instantly came to her sense when she heard the patronus’ message.

“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

Pansy, along with the rest of the gathering, panicked. Unlike the rest of the gathering, she panicked not for herself but for Harry, for if he was caught, he would suffer a very grim fate indeed. She yanked out her wand as dark figures apparate all around. Flashes of light from jinxes, hexes and curses began to fill the air. Members of the Order were sending out shields over civilians and Pansy barged her way determinately through the crowd, towards Harry and Hermione, who shouting for her and Ron, respectively. Cussing under her breath, Pansy started applying light stinging hexes indiscriminately on people in her way, forcing them to start and jerk so she could slip past them, She was behind Harry and Hermione and shouting and desperate as they were they hadn’t spotted her.

Pansy dived, catching Harry round the waist, he cried out in alarm and his grasp on Hermione slipped and halfway to the ground, Pansy took them both in the crushing blackness of disapparition, she had no worries about splinching even with the additional, slightly unwilling, passenger; she’d always been good at Apparation.

There was a pop.

She and Harry apparated in the middle of a meadow thick with summer flowers at the edge of a wood. Harry squirmed violent trying to bring his wand to bear on her as they struggled on the ground.

“It’s me, Harry,” Pansy shrieked slightly as he bucked, “It’s me, it’s Pansy.”

Harry stopped struggled and they both came to their feet unsteadily. Pansy had expected relief on Harry’s face, expected thanks but as she looked into his eyes, he saw only his creased fore head and red eyebrows joined in a heavy scowl.

“Jesus, Pansy. You scared the crap out of me, I thought you were a Death Eater,” he growled.

“I had, I had to get you out of there,” Pansy panted.

“Me?” Harry snarled, “What about Ron and Hermione? We’ve left them behind.”

“They’ll be fine,” Pansy tried to assure him, “But I had to get you out Harry, you were in danger!”

“Danger? Pansy, I look like a random muggle boy remember? They didn’t know who I was!”

“They’d have found out soon enough if they caught you!” Pansy cried, losing what little cool she had left.

“What about Ron and Hermione then? You don’t care do you? Even if Voldemort got them!”

Pansy became so mad, she thought she might punch him, she’d only tried to help and he was raging at her, almost petulantly.Of course, she cared what happened to his friends, he'd be distraught if they were hurt... She opened her mouth to let him have the most scathing reply she could think of off the top of her head (which she was practised enough at that it would be pretty damn scathing, she thought) when three loud cracks rent the air. Raising their wands Harry and Pansy whirled in separate directions to face the newcomers and realised they were surrounded by three tall hooded, cloaked and masked figures.

The Death Eaters had found them.

[End notes: Thanks for reading, gentle folk. All reviews welcome.

How’s that for changes from canon? (I was going to include a line from Ron about the changed present, to the effect that this Harry obviously doesn’t need a book to charm witches but I didn’t because that book was hella creepy.)]