An Odd Crush

Harry Potter lay in bed in Gryffindor tower, thinking about his day. He had experienced oral sex. A girl had sucked his penis. He had cum in her mouth. She had swallowed it. The girl in question was Pansy Parkinson. He was insane. Not only that, but rather than just letting her walk off afterwards, he had insisted on returning the favour. He wasn’t sure how something he had started in order to just get his rocks off and humiliate her had turned into some kind of relationship. A fucked up, twisted and shameful relationship, but a relationship nonetheless. He felt himself hardening as he remembered her on her knees in front of him, her pale face looking up at him as she sucked on his cock. He hadn’t lasted long, the whole thing had been too intense. Her hand had been immeasurably better than his own, and her mouth had been ten times better again. He grabbed himself and started to wank as he remembered the feel of her tongue on him, the warmth and wetness of her mouth as she had moved on him. Not for the first time, he wondered what it would be like to fuck her. Would he just take her roughly from behind, or be nice about it? He imagined her lying down and spreading her legs for him, her hairless pussy wide open for him. No sooner had that scene flashed through his head than he was cumming, spilling the contents of his balls onto his stomach. Letting out the breath he’d been holding, he reached for his wand. He was getting good at this clean-up spell he thought, before rolling over to go to sleep.

Morning light flooded the sixth years dorm. Harry groaned and rolled over, facing the darker corner of the room. His dreams had been mercifully Slytherin-free, but the day was unlikely to be. They had quidditch practice today, and it was likely that there would be a few Slytherins there watching. He could only hope that she wouldn’t be there. He didn’t need the distraction. Throwing back the covers, he put his feet on the floor, looking around for his clothes before he headed down to the Great Hall.

“Hope this practice goes better than the last couple,” said Ron as they walked down to the quidditch pitch.
Harry looked sideways at his best friend. “You mean what with you hitting Demelza in the face with the quaffle?”
Ron was unabashed. “Well yeah, obviously, but...still been a bit of a nightmare getting everyone working together, hasn’t it?” Harry had to admit this was true. Bringing together a mostly new team in his first year as captain had been pretty tricky. Two new chasers and two new beaters had meant a new style of play, although there was definitely some serious potential.

They pulled on their quidditch robes, and headed out onto the field, to be met with some faint jeers from the far side of the stadium. “Looks like the Slytherins decided to make an appearance,” Harry commented blithely. He looked at Ron, whose ears had gone slightly red, although he said nothing. They mounted their brooms. “Well, have a good one,” he said to Ron, who just nodded before heading off to the goal hoops.

Harry soared into the sky, feeling the freedom that always came with getting on his Firebolt. Below him, he saw Ginny take the quaffle, and Peakes release a bludger, before releasing the practice snitch. He drifted over to the small crowd of Slytherins and groaned. Pansy was there, looking sullen next to Malfoy. Malfoy saw him looking at them, and said something to her, which she ignored. Harry watched him turn away in apparent disgust, and then saw the brunette’s eyes look up at him. He immediately blushed, and shot forward, his concentration on the practice going on in front of him.

All in all, it went well. Ron saved ninety percent of the shots aimed at him, Peakes and Coote did a good job of trying to unseat the chasers, and Ginny, Katie and Demelza did a good job of avoiding the bludgers that were sent their way. Harry had caught the snitch twice already and lunchtime was looming large in everyone’s thoughts when a familiar drawl interrupted his concentration.

“Need some help catching that snitch Potter? You’ll be finishing up soon, won’t you?” came Malfoys voice, calling from the stands.
“Not really Malfoy,” he replied. Suddenly however, a nasty thought occured to him. “If you want to help though,” he called back, “We could have a friendly little competition.”
Malfoy looked up at him suspiciously. “Like what?” he demanded.
“Got your broom? First one to catch the snitch?” Harry was aware of the rest of the team watching the exchange, along with everyone else in the stands. He saw Malfoy turn, and argue with someone behind him. They were talking too quietly for him to hear what they said, but the other Slytherin reached under the stand and brought out a Nimbus 2001, which he passed to Malfoy. From the unhappy look on his face, Harry didn’t think it was Malfoys.

He saw the blonde mount the broom, and shoot into the air.
“Ready to look stupid, Potter?”
“Me, Malfoy?” asked Harry, his eyes going wide in an expression of innocence. “Do you remember the last time you beat me at quidditch? Oh, that’s right, it’s never happened!” He smirked at him as an uncertain expression passed over Malfoys face. Then he set himself again, they both knew it was far too late to back out now. “Ready?” he asked.

In answer, Malfoy shot upwards, scattering the Gryffindor chasers who had been floating nearby in case Malfoy tried any dirty tricks on their seeker. Harry followed, his Firebolt easily keeping pace with the Nimbus. For five minutes, they circled, occasionally making feints in either direction, trying to wrongfoot their opponent. There was a decent crowd now, word had made it up to the school that the Gryffindor and Slytherin seekers were facing off against each other. Harry edged towards the middle of the pitch, looking down, judging the height. Just a little higher, he thought...there was Malfoy, right on his tail...he glanced down, and suddenly went into a spectacular dive. He could hear the gasp, and shouts from the crowd, but he tuned them out as he twisted through the air, concentrating as the ground loomed larger...now! He yanked the Firebolt out of the dive, the tips of his boots grazing the grass, almost throwing off his balance, and he heard a sickening thump behind him.

He yanked the broom around to see Malfoy in a heap on the ground, and heard the yells from the Slytherin contingent as they ran onto the pitch. He could hear the Gryffindors coming up behind him too.

“Harry! HARRY!” he heard Ron yelling. “That was a Wronski Feint!” He turned to see Ron looking at him almost in awe. “When the bloody hell did you learn that?” he demanded. “That was bloody brilliant!”
Harry grinned. “Been practicing in secret. Didn’t want anyone to get clued into it. I was planning on using it in a game, but this seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up.” He turned back to the crumpled heap on the ground that was Malfoy, who had by now been reached by his teammates. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Pansy Parkinson, who had followed her classmates at a much more sedate pace. She had an odd expression on her face, and as he caught her eye, he thought she may have almost smiled at him. His stomach did a loop. He watched as she reached the group around Malfoy, not deigning to actually help in any way though.

“You’re dead Potter,” snarled Malfoy, who was being supported by two Slytherins. “I’m going to make you pay for that.”
Harry just grinned. “Sure Malfoy, I’m holding my breath in anticipation. By the way, you might want to pay more attention next time.”
“What are you talking about?” he demanded, wincing as he tried to walk.

In answer, Harry reached into his sleeve and pulled out the snitch. “I didn’t let it go the second time. Whoops, eh?” Malfoy looked furious, and there was a slight pause while everyone caught up, before everyone present except the Slytherins roared with laughter. The two boys stared at each other, each daring the other to go for his wand, when a sharp voice rang out across the field, silencing the laughter.

“Potter!” came the unmistakable tones of Professor McGonagall. “What in the word is going on here?” she asked, as the two boys continued to stare at each other. Harry broke his gaze first, and looked at Professor McGonagall, scratching his nose as he did so.
“Just a friendly competition Professor,” he answered, looking up into her stern face.
“I see. So why, pray, is Mister Malfoy apparently in need of medical attention?”
“Like I said Professor, we were just having a friendly competition. Malfoy wasn’t quite able to keep up,” he responded, doing his best to keep the grin off his face.

Professor McGonagall held his eyes a moment longer, and then looked away. “Well go on then,” she said sharply to the Slytherins. “Get him up to the hospital wing, he obviously needs it!”. She watched as they helped a wincing Malfoy up towards the castle. “Go on, you lot too,” she said to the gathered crowd. “I’m sure you don’t want to miss lunch after a mornings entertainment like that!” The crowd began to disperse, and she spoke again more softly. “Potter, I expect to see more flying like that. The very thought of handing the Quidditch Cup to another head of house quite puts me off dinner.”

Harry turned, but saw nothing but the usual stern expression on the face of his transfiguration teacher. A muscle in her cheek twitched, as if she was trying not to smile, and she turned and strode off. He turned to Ron, and they both burst out laughing.

Later that night, Harry was lying in bed, thinking about the day. Making Malfoy look stupid had been a highlight, as had, oddly enough, Pansy almost smiling at him. He took the Marauders Map from his trunk, and pulled the curtains back around his bed. Looking at the Slytherin common rooms, he looked for her dot. Odd. He couldn’t find it anywhere. He scanned the map, trying to see where she might be. Finally he managed to locate her, wandering the corridors on the fourth floor. On an impulse, he grabbed his invisibility cloak, and taking the map, headed downstairs to the common room. The common room itself was empty, so he swung the cloak around his shoulders and climbed out of the portrait hole.

“Who’s there?” demanded the fat lady. Harry said nothing, but swung the portrait back into place and moved away as quietly as he could, the fat lady still looking around suspiciously.

Consulting the map, he headed to where Pansy was. She was still alone, wandering apparently randomly around the school. As he reached her, he put the map away. “Mischief managed!” he muttered, before tucking the map into his trouser pocket.

“Who’s there?” he heard called for the second time that night, this time though in the sharp tones of Pansy Parkinson. Hurriedly, he pulled the cloak off, bundling it up tightly just as Pansy came around the corner. “Potter,” she said with a superior air. “What might you be doing out this late?”
“I might ask you the same question,” he replied.
“Yes,” she said, moving closer. “You might, only I asked first. And since I’m the only one here who is a prefect, and therefore allowed to be out this late, I think you ought to answer first, don’t you?”
Harry stared at her, lost for a snappy reply. Why hadn’t he remembered that she was a prefect? She was probably out patrolling the corridors, like Ron and Hermione had to do.

“Just out because you felt like it? Not sure that’s a good enough reason Potter.” She moved closer still, and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “I may have to punish you,” she breathed. She took a pace back. “So what’s it to be? A detention? I’m sure Professor Snape would love to have you for an evening.” She paused, apparently to consider. “Or...I could always administer your punishment myself,” she said, a smile twitching at her lips. “Which would you prefer?”

Harry considered. It didn’t take him long, really. No matter what Pansy dreamed up for him, it couldn’t possibly be worse than an evening with Snape. “I’ll take your punishment,” he told her. Pansy’s eyes went wide for a second, and she smiled.
“Excellent,” she said. She looked around. “In here, Potter,” she commanded, indicating a classroom nearby.

Pansy followed him in, and closed the door behind her. “Stand right there,” he heard her say, followed by the sounds of her moving some desks and chairs around. “Turn around,” she said.

Harry did so, to find her sitting on a chair just a few feet from him. “Well?” he asked, somewhat nervously aware of the mischief dancing in her eyes.
“Take your trousers off,” she ordered.
“What?”
“Your trousers,” she repeated. “Take them off.” Her tone made it clear that this was not a request, so he unfastened them, and dropped them to the floor around his ankles. “Boxer shorts too,” she added. Flushing slightly red, Harry did so. It wasn’t as if she was seeing anything new, but it had never been so...clinical. He felt himself getting slightly hard under her gaze.

Pansy took out her wand and stood up. “I’m going to perform a little charm on you Potter. It won’t hurt, so don’t worry. But if you argue, then I may just have to report everything to Professor Snape.”

Harry stood, resigned to whatever was about to happen, but was shocked when Pansy right up to him and took his penis in her hand.

“I use this one on myself, so don’t worry, I’ve had plenty of practice,” she whispered to him. “Just keep looking straight ahead.” He heard her mutter an unfamiliar spell, and then felt a gentle tickling on his crotch. He hoped she wasn’t doing anything major. Finally she stopped. “Okay, you can look now,” she told him.

He looked down. She’d shaved him! Or the magical equivalent anyway, as his cock and balls were now totally bald. His eyes widened in surprise as he took in the sight.

“Yes,” she said, a tone of amusement in her voice. “You got bigger, didn’t you?”
“Looks that way,” he responded, as casually as he could manage. She stroked him a couple of times, and then let go, turning back to her seat.
“Now then,” she said, sitting down again. “Why don’t you use that wonderful spell you used the first time we got together, and then play with yourself for me?”
“Are you serious?” he asked, looking at her with a stunned expression.
“Totally,” she replied. “I want to see you make yourself cum.” She waited a few seconds. “Whenever you’re ready...” she prompted.

Taking his wand from the pocket of his trousers which were still sitting around his ankles, he muttered the orgasm enhancing spell that the Weasley twins had taught him. Then, taking himself in hand, he started to wank.

It was a strange feeling, performing in this way, Pansy watching his every move from just three or four feet away. He noticed that she had a hungry expression on her face, and he felt emboldened by it. He started to daydream about what he would like to do to the girl in front of him, about bending her over one of these desks and fucking her till he spilled his cum in her pussy.

Harry watched as the dark haired girl lifted her leg to rest her foot on the desk next to her, her dark grey school skirt falling back as she did so and exposing her hairless pussy. Her eyes never leaving what was going on in front of her, her fingers started to touch herself. She looked wet, Harry thought, her folds were glistening as her fingers probed her pussy.

“I’m going to cum,” Harry groaned after a little while, feeling the tension in his crotch reach a crescendo.
“Do it,” she said harshly, her breathing ragged.
Harry felt the first shot coming, and watched almost in slow motion as it arced over the space between them to hit her on her jumper, staining the material above her belly, and falling in a ribbon across her arm and thigh. Another burst, this time landing on her leg close to her pussy. Throughout it all, she continued playing with herself as he ejaculated on her, thick strings of sperm landing on or around her.

He finished, panting a little. She was still playing with her pussy. “Get over here on your knees Potter, finish me with your tongue!” she demanded. He did as he was told, shuffling slightly due to the clothes around his ankles. He leaned in, grateful that he hadn’t coated her pussy with cum that she would no doubt have made him lick up. “Oh yes...” she murmured as he started to lick her. “Oh God I’m close,” she said, burying her fingers in his hair as she grabbed the back of his head, pulling him into her.

On an impulse, Harry inserted two fingers into her pussy while he licked her, and started to fingerfuck her.

“Oh fuck!” she screamed, lifting her hips to his mouth, her whole body stiffening as she came. Harry stopped licking, allowing her to grind her pussy into his mouth as her orgasm continued, and then finally falling back into the chair, breathing heavily.

“Excellent, Potter...well, I think you can go now. Mind I don’t catch you out of bed this late again,” she said, dismissing him.

Harry grabbed his clothes, and pulled everything back to where it should be, before heading for the door.