A Discerning Palate

Ginny woke up with the most Merlin-awful ache between her legs. She tried to open her eyes, but she could see nothing in the heavy blanket of darkness. But she panicked when she remembered where she was.

In Draco Malfoy’s bedroom.

She tried to slip quietly from the bed, but an arm shot out and clamped her back into the downy softness of the mattress.

Ginny was still trying to process the enormity of what she’d done. This was Draco. Arch Nemesis, etc. etc.

But that didn’t seem to matter when his flesh touched hers.

“I have to go.” she whispered.

“Later.” he muttered.

She wanted to leave before it was awkward. Ginny didn’t want to face him in the cold light of day, she didn’t want to see the rejection on his face when the day was clear and bright. She wanted to leave while she could.

Draco buried his face in her neck, his lips resting on the sensitive skin there. His hand slid up around her to cup her breast and she found herself flush against him.

She felt a rush of heat, but then a horrible stabbing pain, an acute reminder that she had been torn. Her virginity gone. But still the fire pulsed under the torment.

Ginny carefully untangled herself after she was sure he was asleep, though she wasn’t sure how he could sleep with other parts of his body being so very awake. She was tempted to wake him and do it again, but damn, she hurt. So she managed to slip away silently and not wanting to brave the halls and Filch, she made her way to Pansy’s dorm.

But Pansy wasn’t there, so Ginny slid into the comforting softness of the downy blanket and fell back into sleep.


In those wee hours of the morning, when Pansy should have been in her room, she was with Harry.

And she wished to Merlin that she hadn’t been.

Because she could never go back, not now. Not after the reverence of his hands, the sincerity of his touch, and the fiery baptism of his kiss.

She’d avoided him that day he wanted to talk to her. She’d taken the path of cowardice and had slipped away from the Great Hall before he could catch her. Though she’d known that she’d run into him sooner or later. And the weakness in her hoped it would be later, after the flare between them had died.

But it wasn’t to be.

The flare between them had exploded.

Pansy had been diligent as a sentry, watching for him, only to turn the other way when she saw his approach.

Damn Invisibility Cloak.

She’d been walking through a quiet courtyard when she felt a decidedly masculine touch on her derriere.

“Not now, Blaise.” She brushed the hand away.

But there was no biting remark, no conciliatory pinch of the flesh that had been denied him. Pansy turned and found no one.

“Cut the shit, Draco.” She sighed as she wrapped her arms around herself and continued to meander.

“It’s not Draco, or Blaise.” Harry slipped the cloak off, revealing himself.

“I was avoiding you on purpose, you know.”

“I know. But we Gryffindors can never take a hint.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “That’s for sure.”

“The question is, why?” Harry asked.

“I think that would be obvious.” Pansy began walking again.

“Wait, please.”

She paused and looked up at him. That was a mistake.

The genuine warmth that radiated from his eyes, the concern that furrowed his brow, it was real. And it was for her.

It shone with that something that made him the Boy-Who-Lived. It was that light, that echo of lost divinity that made people want to be close to him, made half the wizarding world willing to sacrifice life and limb to fight beside him, and made the Dark Lord his enemy.

But there was no weakness in his goodness, as some would believe. There was a steel will in him too, and that called to Pansy as well.

“Harry, forget that night. Go back to your world where the lines are already drawn.”

“Gods, Pansy. I can’t. I’ve felt your eyes on me for years.”

She looked up, her eyes wide.

“How could I not?” His hand reached out, his finger barely touching her cheek. “How thick would I have to be, not to notice the very embodiment of Aphrodite watching me, eyes dark with something we’ve only now just named? How could I not look back?”

“I don’t understand. Ginny told me what you said. And then, you didn’t want me. There is nowhere to go from there, Potter.” Pansy could feel the emotion threatening to choke her, but she dared not show it.

He took a deep breath. “You scare me.”

“What?”

“I’ve never had anything I wanted. So I’ve learned not to want, not to need. But it’s different with you.” He trailed the pad of his finger down her cheek and the curve of her neck onto her pale shoulders. “I’ve never wanted anything as bad as I want you.”

Pansy laughed. But it was a hard sound. “You can have me, Harry. You always could.”

Now it was Harry that turned hard at her words. “No, I can’t.” He pulled his hand back. “I want you for myself. I don’t want to share you with Blaise, or Draco or any other filthy bastard that’s laid his hands on you. For once, I want something for me. And by Merlin, I can’t have it.”

Pansy was practically undone. She sank to the ground, unable to breathe, unable to think.

“They won’t let either of us have it. So why can’t we live in the moment? Why can’t you bend your Gryffindor morals just a bit?” she whispered.

“Why can’t we Pansy?” Harry seemed angry now.

“What do you think would happen if my father knew? He would use me to get to you. I would be your weakness, Harry. And if you want to defeat Him, you can’t have any.”

He knelt down beside her and she braved a touch, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
“It paints a pretty picture, doesn’t it? Defy King and Country for his ladylove? A white knight to rescue me from the flames? That’s not for us. I don’t think it’s for anybody.”

Pansy took his hand and held it to her breast, over her heart.

“This, this is real.” She moved so now he cupped her breast. “This is all we can have. This is now.”

“You could tempt me Pansy. If anybody could turn me from the light, it would be you.”

“Never say that. Never!” she cried.

“Be with me. Only me.”

Pansy nodded, as tears that she thought were denied her, welled up in deep place beneath the darkness.

They stood as she took his hand and she led him to the Room of Requirement.

Pansy was surprised that the room had been so easy to find and her intentions had been clear as to what she wanted it for. Perhaps Dumbledore’s idea of promoting inter-house relations… She couldn’t help but smirk to herself at the thought, though she felt the butterflies dancing a raucous ditty in her stomach.

Harry Potter was going to make love to her.

That’s what it would be, there was no rutting, fucking or plowing for him. There would be pleasure, for pleasure’s sake, that she could tell by the way his eyes roved over her body, but he’d mean every touch, every caress. And tomorrow, there would be no going back. She’d belong to him, body and soul.

When the door opened, they were in complete darkness and Pansy wished for a light, but there was none to be had. Harry’s force of will was stronger that hers.

“It’s the closet. I couldn’t get it out of my head.”

She felt his hands on her, touching, exploring, memorizing. They pulled her to him, soft and willing. Pansy gave into the feeling, let it take her where it would. She was soon running her hands under his shirt and when her hands slid to his belt, he didn’t stop her.


“Ronald Bilius Weasley! I know you aren’t bloody well sleeping. Sit up and talk to me, or I will get in that bed with you.”

Ron tried to pull the covers over his head, still feigning sleep. She was going to get into bed with him. That could be good.

“What the hell was that for?” he yelped, as Hermione put her bare and very cold feet on the back of his legs.

“I told you that I was going to get in bed with you.” She had a very smug look on her face.

“You look like Malfoy when you do that.” Ron grunted.

Hermione slapped his arm. “I do not. And I wouldn’t have to make that face if you would sit up and talk to me.”

“I was sleeping.”

“You’re full of shite. I know that you were awake. You snore. When you’re asleep, I can hear you all the way over in my dorm.”

“I don’t,” he protested.

“You do. But that’s not the point.”

Ron covered his head again. “Must we talk about it? I said I was sorry. Why did you have to go and eat that chocolate thing anyway?”

“Because I thought you would like it.” She answered as if he were the stupidest of all Merlin’s creatures.

“I did. What’s the problem?” he asked, not really wanting the answer.

“If you liked it, why did you try to eat my tongue?”

“Because I liked it.” It was his turn to sound put off.

“I thought you were making fun of me.” Hermione said quietly.

Ron flipped on her like a toad with a fly. He had her pinned beneath him in a second and was kissing her again, tasting her, but tasting what was Hermione, the essence of her and all that she sought to give him.

But of course, in the back of Hermione’s mind, she was wondering; what if that potion DID make her quim taste like chocolate?

Ron would be a very busy lad.