Title: Pansy’s Penance
Author: coffee_n_cocoa
Characters/Pairings: Neville/Pansy
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: flagellation, cunnilingus
Other Warnings: 7th year, so they’re both 17/18
Word Count: 1764
Summary/Description: Following the Battle of Hogwarts, Pansy requests and receives penance for her sins.
Author's Notes: Thanks again to ragdoll for allowing me to post this late. You’re fantastic! Thanks also to zoanthropic for the once-over. Any further mistakes are mine.


Pansy’s Penance

Celebrants still clogged the streets of Hogsmeade. The common room at the Three Broomsticks was packed, the people too busy laughing and cheering Harry Potter’s victory over Voldemort to notice when a lone figure slipped upstairs to the rooms above. Others had taken the same route for more private celebrations, one more made no difference.

The figure pulled a scrap of parchment from his pocket and scanned it before walking slowly down the corridor until he came to a room near the end. Raising his hand, he knocked three times.

“Come in,” a female voice spoke from the other side.

He obeyed, opening the door and stepping into the small, tidy room. The noise from the revellers outside poured in from the open window, ignored by the room’s occupants. He focused on the girl sitting on the edge of the bed, who in turn focused on her hands, neatly folded before her.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come, Longbottom,” she said without looking up, her voice low. “I half expected Aurors.”

“I almost didn’t.” He hesitated. “Pansy, why did you want to meet with me? There’s nothing to say.”

Pansy looked up from her hands, meeting his eyes. “I didn’t know if you would even speak to me, not after...after...”

“After you said to surrender Harry where the entire school could hear? Not your finest moment.”

“I was scared!” she shot back. “Not everyone can be a self-sacrificial, suicidal, reckless Gryffindor! I only wanted it to be over, one way or the other. I wanted it done."

“Yeah, well, it’s done. Voldemort’s dead.” Neville noticed Pansy’s instinctual wince, and sat down beside her with a sigh. “Think of it this way. At least the Carrows won’t be back to teach next year, which means there won’t be any need for the DA, or your group.”

“Slytherins make the best smugglers,” Pansy said with pride, nodding. “I don’t think the Carrows ever suspected a thing, even when Professor Slughorn invited us all into his Slug Club while leaving out the true believers.”

“It still doesn’t explain why you wanted to meet with me.”

“Penance. Everyone hates me now. I need to know at least one person will forgive me for having a sense of self-preservation, and you’re the most likely candidate. Unless you hate me now, too.” She gave Neville a sidewise glance. “Do you?”

“You’ve never been my favourite person, Pansy. Why me? And what sort of penance did you have in mind?” Neville shifted gingerly on the bed, wincing when a pulled muscle in his shoulder twinged. “Hogwarts is going to need rebuilding. Take part in that, let people see you willing to do physical labour and get dirt under your nails – hell, break one or two – and that would do a lot to raise opinion. You don’t need me.”

Pansy shook her head and got up, pacing the room, one hand combing through her hair nervously, again and again. “It’s not only what happened in the Great Hall, Neville. It’s all of it. The detentions, what we had to do in Dark Arts. All of it. You got the brunt of it, and so it’s only fair I get the same from you. Treat me like I’m in detention, and don’t hold back. That’s what I want from you. That’s why I asked you here.”

Neville stilled, staring in horror as Pansy continued pacing back and forth. “I’m not using the Cruciatus curse on you,” he said with quiet ferocity. There had been only one person he had ever even remotely considered using it on, and she was dead. “So forget it. That, and I’m afraid I left my whips and chains back at the castle.”

A short huff of amusement greeted Neville’s sarcasm. Pansy stopped pacing, standing directly before him. “You don’t have to use whips and chains. You still have both hands, don’t you? Spank me like a wilful child, if you like. Better still, there’s a belt holding up your trousers, isn’t there? Use that. Pretend I’m Alecto Carrow, if that helps you overcome your Gryffindorish tendency against hitting women.” She leaned down, gripping Neville’s chin and forcing him to meet her eyes. “Or perhaps you could pretend I’m that Lestrange bitch. Take your vengeance on her through me, since it was taken from you by someone else.”

Neville shoved her away and stood, taking a step toward the door and freedom. “What you’re asking would make me just as bad as them. I won’t do it.”

“They never asked permission first. I’m giving it to you,” Pansy said to his back. “There’s the difference. You won’t be doing anything I don’t want or didn’t ask for.”

“Do you want me to beat you bloody?” Neville turned around, incredulous. “Because that’s what they did, all the time. What they did to the other students was evil. What they made you and the others do to the rest of us was evil. I know not everyone was willing or able to join the DA. I know you and Millicent and Blaise and a lot of the other Slytherins hated every moment, unlike Goyle or Nott. I don’t hold it against you. There’s even a part of me that understands why you said what you said in the Great Hall. We all made our choices to either fight or survive the year, and we’ll all have to live with those choices. I don’t hate you, Pansy. I don’t like what you did, but I don’t hate you for it.”

Surprisingly, Pansy smiled. It was soft, genuine, quite different from her usual smirk; and for a moment Neville actually found her almost pretty. “That’s good to know. I needed to hear that.” The smile faded, her expression becoming grave. “I still want penance. You don’t have to beat me bloody. I don’t want permanent marks. What I want is...is a small reminder for the next day or so, the knowledge that someone, somewhere, has granted absolution while I face everyone else’s hatred. You know that’s what will happen.”

The hell of it was, Neville knew she was right. She had sealed her place in history as much as he’d cemented his, and everyone knew history was written by the victors.

“This won’t go past this room,” he said darkly. “Swear it.”

“I swear it on Salazar Slytherin’s grave.” Pansy hesitated, and shrugged. “Dumbledore’s as well, if that helps.” Her hands were already busy unfastening her robes, shrugging the heavy black material off her shoulders. Her blouse and skirt were next, leaving her in her shoes, socks, and a pink lace bra with matching knickers.

Neville swallowed and looked away, trying not to blush and failing utterly.

Pansy laughed, but an unmistakable thread of anxiety coloured the sound. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a girl in nothing but her unmentionables,” she said.

“Not like this,” Neville confessed, keeping his gaze averted. “Um...I guess you should lean against the side of the bed?”

“You guess?”

Neville breathed out through his nose. “Lean against the side of the bed,” he repeated, more strongly. “Brace your arms on the duvet, and spread your legs. Make that arse of yours an obvious target.”

Pansy obeyed, hands against the duvet and her hips pushed out. “Like this?”

“Yeah.” Quickly, before he changed his mind, Neville undid his belt, pulling it free from the loops with a soft hissing sound. The leather was thin and supple, not too wide. He figured it would stripe nicely, although he was far from expert on such things.

Pulling out his wand, he cast an Unperturbable spell on the door before closing the window and repeating the spell. The last thing he wanted was to have strangers – or worse, friends – come to investigate if Pansy screamed. Once the room was soundproofed to the best of his ability, Neville put away the wand and stood behind Pansy.

The first blow startled him, the crack of leather against flesh shockingly loud. Pansy let out a squeal, followed by a low gasp, and Neville struck again. The room filled with the sound of leather smacking skin, augmented by Pansy’s gasps. The gasps became choked cries, rapidly devolving to great, wracking sobs. She didn’t ask him to stop, however. Her body shifted from foot to foot, and occasionally she’d twist away so that the leather licked her hip instead of striking solidly across a buttock, making her wriggle and cry.

Neville stopped when he saw deep red welts, crisscrossing her flesh despite the cover of sheer pink lace, dropping the belt onto the floor and crossing to Pansy, one hand touching her shoulder gently. It shook beneath his fingers from her sobs, and he bit his lip before gathering her into his arms.

“Shhh,” he murmured softly. “It’s over. It’s done.” Pansy buried her face against his shoulder, still sobbing while Neville smoothed a hand up and down along her spine, still whispering soothingly.

She drew back with a tiny whimper when his hand slipped between them, her tear-filled gaze wide. “What are you doing?”

“Lie back,” Neville said gently. “You’ve done your penance, and now I’m giving you a reward.”

Drawing a hitching breath, she obeyed, lying back against the duvet, whimpering when the thick material pressed against her backside. Neville hooked his fingers beneath her knickers, pulling them down her legs and off before kneeling between her thighs, burying his face in her cunt.

His tongue darted out, licking at the slick wetness he found there, thrusting shallowly in and out while his finger circled her nub. Pansy moaned above him, hips beginning to move in time with each thrust of his tongue; and he switched, sliding his finger inside and fucking her with it. His tongue continued moving, lapping over her clit, alternating between flickering touches and broad swipes. Pansy’s moans became inchoate cries, spiralling upward while Neville licked and suckled at her. His teeth closed over her clit, tugging gently, and Pansy screamed as she came, hips bucking, body wracked with convulsive shudders. Neville lapped at the flood of fresh wetness before turning his head, brushing his lips over the pale skin of her inner thigh.

“Okay?” he asked, peering up at her.

Pansy nodded once, chin trembling before she launched herself into Neville’s arms, crying again. He held her close, surprised at the tender possessiveness clenching his chest.

“Let it go,” he whispered. “Let it out. I’m here, and I forgive you. It’s all right now. It’s all right, it’s all right.”

It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was a start.