Between Classes

CHAPTER 1.


Harry awoke to wet sheets yet again. His scar wasn’t the only thing that was throbbing lately. His dreams of Cho and Ginny were becoming a problem. He couldn’t hide the evidence from his roommates forever.
“Scourgify” he whispered with a huff. Harry pulled on his Quidditch robes. Suddenly he heard a soft moaning, barely discernable above Ron’s snores. Glancing around the room nervously, he noticed he wasn’t the only one with nocturnal frustrations.
Across the room, Seamus’s curtains were drawn, but they couldn’t conceal the shaking bed and occasional grunts coming from that direction. Harry resisted the urge to draw back a curtain, and take a peek. He was already much too late for his meeting with Hermione.
Harry stepped out of the Gryffindor common room into the hallway, looking down at his watch. Breaking into a run, he turned the corner and hit what seemed to be a brick wall.
Flat on his back, arse throbbing, he looked up to see a curvaceous figure, smirking down at him. It was none other than Pansy Parkinson.
“What the bloody hell are you doing in the Gryffindor hallway?”
“I have some information, Potty,” she sneered. “Do you want it?”
“You don’t have anything I can’t get somewhere else.”
Lunging forward, she lifted Harry to his feet by his robes.
“Owlrey, 11 o’clock.” Still clutching the front of his robes, she pulled him to her, landing a hot, wet kiss on his lips. She shoved him away, sneering “Come alone, Potty” over her shoulder as she strode down the hallway.
Disgusted, yet intrigued, Harry wiped the remains of her kiss from his mouth. Slytherin trap or not, the bulge in his pants made too compelling an argument to refuse her proposition. He knew he would not be late for her.

Hermione heaved a sigh, Harry was late again. Well, she thought, a chance to do some personal research. She furtively glanced towards Madame Pince, as she reached into her bag. Hidden within the pages of her potions textbook was the latest copy of Glenda Goodlove’s Ways of Wanton Witches.
“Good read?” Harry asked, snickering.
Hermione jumped a mile, her cheeks reddening.
“Right. Anyhow, er, what did you need to catch up on then, Harry?”
“Honestly, I can’t care about my studies right now. There is definitely something up with Malfoy.”
Hermione hoped the panic did not show on her face. Her nightly liaisons with Draco were both blessing and curse.
“What about him?”
“Well, he’s been neglecting his Potter bashing, and seems to be spending an awful lot of time after class with Snape.”
“Perhaps he needs tutoring too, Harry. Anyway, why should you care if he’s ignoring you?”
“SHHHHHHHH!! Came a loud demand from Madame Pince. In a hushed whisper Harry said to Hermione, “I’d just be on lookout, that’s all.”
“Allright, point taken. Let’s get back to this Potion’s text.”


After a rigorous study session with Hermione, Harry barely had time to grab his Firebolt. Running into the locker room, he came upon Ron frantically pulling his robes onto his muscular body. Harry jerked to a halt.
"What are you staring at,” Ron snapped
“Erm…Why aren’t you ready yet?” Harry asked after an awkward pause. Harry considered telling Ron of his nighttime rendezvous with Pansy, but thought better of it.
“I just woke up, I couldn’t sleep last night, I was so nervous about the game.”
“Well…come on then…” Harry said.
They entered the field to a raucous chorus of “Weasley Is Our King,” performed by the new Gryffindor cheerleading squad.
Headed by Lavender Brown, the “Gryffettes” were a sight to behold. The scandalously scantily clad cheerleaders were responsible for the best Quidditch turn-out this year. Even Fred and George Weasley had shown up.
40 minutes, 2 black eyes, and a snitch later, it was Gryffindor’s 210 to Hufflepuff’s 30. Cheers were erupting from the crowd, except from Fred and George, who sulked as the Gryffettes left the field.

The Gryffindor team filed back into the locker room amid much bum-slapping. Quidditch robes flew everywhere as the team scrambled for the showers. As Harry groped through the steam for his shower nozzle, he was bumped from behind by the shower’s original occupant.
“Oi! Who’s that then?” The familiar voice came from just above Harry’s ear. He turned and came face to chin with Ron Weasley. He heard nothing more as the blood rushed to various parts of his body. It was the first time Harry had seen him naked. The wet hair plastered to Ron’s head and neck took on the same maroon hue as the hair around his quite large cock.
“Don’t drop the soap!” Angelina’s teasing voice shattered Harry’s trance. He tore his gaze from the area between Ron’s muscular thighs, but couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eye.
"I don’t mind sharing, mate.” Ron said as he soaped up his smoove red chestnips. Harry showered silently as Ron gaily chattered away about his newfound keeper abilities.
Finally Harry escaped when, after toweling off Ron took himself to the Gryffindor celebration to bask in the glory of Hufflepuff’s defeat.
Harry decided to make his way back up to bed and get in a nap before his meeting with Pansy. Maybe sleep would banish these disturbing new feelings erupting in Harry’s loins.

CHAPTER 2

It was time.
After a long yet fitful nap, Harry debated alerting one of his friends of the meeting, but felt he should go it alone. After all, hadn’t it been he who defeated foes all these times (mostly unassisted)? Hadn’t it been he who started the fucking DA!? He could handle one unscrupulous classmate.
Harry’s bravado failed him, however, as he approached the Owlery. The possibility of a trap was too likely, and he began to regret coming alone. He paused before he crossed under the archway. This is bloody crazy, I need to go back. He took a deep breath and started forward, regardless. Harry silently thanked the ghosts of Merlin and his parents that he had the wherewithal to bring his invisibility cloak. As he crouched cloaked in the darkness and owl dung, he spotted her. She leant against a window drenched in moonlight, and took a drag off her cigarette. With her chin length black hair, she definitely was all Slytherin, but Harry could see the appeal. Harry had no time to consider this new interest, however, as a red beam zinged past him. He looked up just as the second one landed on his Gryffindor belt buckle. This shot was accompanied by a cry of “Incantrousero!” Pansy was upon him as he stared at his knickers in disbelief. She ripped them down past his thighs, and grabbed his cock.
“This is weird.” She said. She then squealed as Harry pulled her up to face him by her hair.
“WHAT-THE-FUCK.”
“I can explain, I can explain!” Pansy cried.
Harry loosened his grip slightly.
"I wanted to meet with you for 2 reasons. First, I wanted to have a shag to make Draco jealous. He’s been fancying that Mudblooded little bitch friend of yours for a while now. The second, well, I, em, ahem, wanted to find out if Muggle men were really un-cut.”
“And the information, you had for me!? I suppose that was a bit of a lie then?”
“Oh yeah, right. I can tell you what Draco’s been hiding IF you let me sit on your face.”
As Pansy gyrated her slimy nastiness on Harry’s face, he contemplated summoning a Patronus. It was all over in about two minutes though, and he did a Scourgify Quikspell on himself. Her sneer returned as they stood to face each-other.
“In Draco’s second bedroom; that only over-priviledged little Slytherin fops get; he’s hiding some kind of bowl thing that Professor Snape keeps his memories in.”
This information was just what Harry needed, it explained so much about Draco’s shifty behaviour he’d witnessed months before when the school year began. He had nothing more to say to Pansy as he rushed out of there, but then turned back to her.
“I’m no ‘Muggle man,’ Pansy.”


CHAPTER 3


As Snape patrolled down the dark, dank underground corridors of Hogwarts his mind started to wander. He did not often indulge in thoughts such as this, but it had been several months since his meeting with Bellatrix, and Narcissa, and several hours since he’d wanked off to the memories of it. His mind wandered even farther back to 1975.That was the year he’d stolen Lily Evans’ maidenhead in an abandoned train car of the Hogwarts Express. Just as he was wondering if someone nearby was a stealthy Legilemens, he understood what brought about these thoughts.
Pansy Parkinson was sashaying down the corridor towards him, humming to herself in the dark. Although Snape had no favorites in the way of students, there was one from time to time that piqued his nocturnal lust. He took Pansy by surprise when he held out his arm over the entrance to the Slytherin Dormitories.
“Oh! Show yourself pisser!...Draco? Is that you?”
“Unfortunately for you, no, Miss Parkinson. Would you care to tell me what you are doing here?”
Pansy found it hard to respond with the glaring light of Snape’s wand inches from her nose. She felt herself blush. His sour breath was hot on her face as she shrugged out of her uniform. She kissed his old skin and made him young again. With the ferocity of an angry troll, Snape ushered her down the corridor to his quarters. Once inside, Pansy barely had time to register the surprising cleanliness and décor, which was a wonderful hue of sea-moss, and silver. As she was admiring the Loius XIV style headboard, Snape threw her crumpled uniform next to her .
“NOT on the bed Parkinson. On the floor, on your knees…”
She obediently knelt beside his bed, feeling herself getting wet once again.
“Before we begin, know that I have taken the liberty of using a sterility potion, as I would never wish to impregnate a student. Know this too Miss Parkinson, I will cast a memory spell on you after I am done. Are we agreed?
She barely had time to nod as Snape was upon her, fucking her from behind. This was not like all those times with Draco, or Gregory Goyle, or any of the boys she either manipulated or succumbed to. This man took his time, and said some disgusting things to her with fervor.
“I smelt your juvenile spunk for months now, twit, how does it feel to be fucked by a proper man?”
“G-good? Sir?” Pansy responded as the old man had his way. Just as Pansy was getting bored, the professor finally came.
“Hardly worth the wait.” Snape drawled as he coldly caressed her cheek. The next thing Pansy knew, she awoke in the 6th year girl’s dormitory.
Snape went about his business cleaning up after the little twat student. He felt no guilt, as he was a condemned man anyhow.


Hermione unloosened her tie, Draco watched with interest. She found it difficult to make eye contact with him.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought. Draco’s eyes were fastened on her fingers as they worked on the knot at her neck.
“So, what is it, Granger…?” Draco was practically salivating. He didn’t care about her stupid problems, or even his own. The only thing that was real was this mud-blooded bitch classmate, standing in front of him, fiddling with her clothing…averting her eyes.
Calculating who was friend or foe flew from his mind. He felt himself harden.
Everyone knew she broke his nose in third year. She had been easy enough to manipulate after that Bulgarian had lubricated her with fire whiskey during 4th year’s Yule Ball. Draco had comforted her drunken, sobbing form then. The 5th year they’d done some snogging in the Astronomy tower. This plain girl suffered the rejections and humiliations of her Gryffyndor boys, as they fucked their way to glory and manhood with girls that weren’t her. This was her revenge, and everyone, Draco knew, had their ambitions.