Title: A Lie With a Hole In It
Author: woldy 
Characters/Pairings: Pansy/Astoria, implied Astoria/Draco, past Pansy/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: cross-dressing
Other Warnings: infidelity, strap-ons, fingering
Word Count: ~3000 words
Summary: Pansy always had a weakness for aristocratic blonds. It was her greatest weakness.
Author's Notes: The title is taken from a line in the poem 'Adultery' by Carol Ann Duffy. Many thanks to my beta, Liseuse, for undertaking the heroic task of unscrambling my grammar. All remaining mistakes are, of course, my own.



Afterwards, she was left standing naked in the wreckage of her kitchen.

Sparks were spitting from the fireplace, the floor was a disaster scene of spilled coffee and broken crockery, and there was a slick of sweat and come soaking into the grain of her rustic kitchen table. Pansy might have to burn it. She certainly never wanted to eat meals off it again.

As Pansy went to retrieve her wand and spell out the fire, something stabbed her in the foot. Gingerly she lifted her leg and saw a shard of broken plate embedded in her sole. Blood blossomed from the wound, dripping onto the floor. It felt oddly appropriate.

~~~~~

Nobody would believe her if she told them, but the first time was a mistake.

Pansy had known Astoria since they were teenagers, for Merlin's sake. She remembered threatening Astoria with a detention for snogging in the corridor after curfew. Three years later, she'd been present when Draco announced his engagement. She'd bought them a set of cut crystal goblets that cost more than her dress, and sat in the third row at their wedding. Yes, her schoolgirl crush on Draco had somehow transferred to his wife, but she was over the worst it by the time Scorpius was born. Besides, Pansy had never seen a hint of reciprocation. Apparently she was wrong about that.

The first time she fucked Astoria was ten days after Pansy moved out of Weasley's flat. They drank two bottles of wine at some bar Astoria knew, and when it closed they Flooed back to Pansy's for a nightcap.

Pansy kicked off her shoes and curled up on the sofa, her bare toes pressed to Astoria's thigh. Over a large scotch it all spilled out: the way Weasley had fucked her into the mattress, the way they spooned together at night, the way he hadn't met her eyes as he told her to leave.

"I want kids," he'd said, eyes fixed on a spot several inches left of her head.

"We agreed that wasn't on the cards," she'd replied, clipped, and saw his jaw clench.

"I've changed my mind."

"I thought you loved me," she'd pursued, reaching for his arm, and Ron had stepped away.

"Yeah, I thought so too, but I don't want this."

Astoria held Pansy's hand as she described how she'd crammed her things into boxes and spent three miserable days at the Leaky Cauldron before finding this flat. She burst into tears halfway through explaining that she saw him having lunch with Granger two days later, and Astoria pulled her in close, Pansy's forehead pressed to her shoulder.

Astoria had murmured reassurance into Pansy's ear and stroked her back until she quieted. When Pansy finally looked up, Astoria was far closer than she had realised. She could see the different flecks of colour in Astoria's irises, the darkness of her pupils, and then Astoria had shifted minutely and their noses brushed together. The moment seemed to stretch out forever, taut and silent, before Pansy leaned in a fraction of an inch and let her lips graze over Astoria's.

Somehow she ended up sprawled on her back, hands clawing at the rug as Astoria ground the heel of her palm against Pansy's crotch. Astoria fucked her hard, urgently, three fingers pressed inside her, and Pansy could no more have stopped herself than stopped the earth from turning.

"I didn't think you fancied me," she said stupidly, when she could breathe again.

Astoria rolled towards her, and Pansy saw the sardonic curve of her eyebrow. "Are you joking?"

"I just thought...I mean, we've known each other a long time."

"Which means," Astoria murmured, breath ghosting over Pansy's neck and sending slow shivers down her spine, "we've got years of good behaviour to make up for."

They fucked upstairs on her bed as the sky faded from blue to pink, and the dawn chorus was just beginning when Astoria pulled away. Pansy walked her to the door, too off-balance to guess at the correct etiquette. Astoria kissed her goodbye, open-mouthed, a hand spread over her heart.

An owl tapping on the window woke Pansy, four hours later. The Malfoy eagle owls were distinctive, and her pulse surged as she pulled the window open.

Hope you managed to get some sleep. We should do that again sometime.

Pansy hesitated, biting her lip, and then grabbed a quill. We shouldn't she scrawled on a corner of the parchment and retied it to the owl's leg.

Within an hour the owl was back. I always find that guilt is the least useful of all the emotions, and therefore suppress it as much as possible. I'm free on Saturday night if you change your mind.

Pansy's thighs still ached from where Astoria had pushed them wider and the room stank of sex. She could almost taste Astoria on her lips.

I don't think that's a good idea. she wrote, and sent it before she could waver.

~~~~~

Pansy hadn't intended to have sex with Astoria the second time, either. She had walked into the bar with polite refusal on the tip of her tongue and a list of reasons crumpled in her bag: Scorpius; Astoria's marriage; friendships; Rita Skeeter's penchant for eavesdropping and splashing messy affairs on the front page of the Prophet; her own fragile heart --

-- then she saw Astoria leaning up against the bar, impossibly tall and lean in charcoal trousers and a waistcoat, and the breath whooshed out of her lungs.

Astoria turned slowly, a cigarette dangling from one hand, and her lips curved into a smile. Pansy found herself frozen like a deer in the headlights, staring at Astoria through the haze of smoke, and then Astoria sauntered towards her and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"You look beautiful," she whispered, lips brushing Pansy's earlobe, and just like that Pansy knew they were going to fuck. There was nothing she could do about it.

Later, after two martinis and a hundred lingering looks, Astoria sprawled on the bed in their hotel room and pulled Pansy onto her lap. The wool of Astoria's trousers rubbed against her bare thighs, and when Pansy sank down she was surprised by the bulge that pressed against her.

"Are you...?"

Astoria gave her that slow, lethal smile. "You may touch my cock," she said, in a tone that was half permission and half order. "I wore it for you."

Pansy ground against her again, dirtier this time, and the shape of a cock beneath the trousers was unmistakeable. "Oh, Merlin," she murmured, and reached down to Astoria's fly.

It took her a moment of fumbling to realise that these were men's trousers, and then the buttons were open and she slid down the zip. The cock was thick and heavy in her palm, straining through thin cotton, and she pulled the waistband of Astoria's briefs aside to get it out. It jutted up obscenely from Astoria's hips, as Astoria lay back with a smile on her face.

"It's there for you to play with," Astoria said, rolling her hips so that the cock nudged against Pansy's clit. Pansy gasped.

Astoria smirked, canting her hips again, and slid her hand under the mess of skirt rucked up around Pansy's hips. Her fingers trailed up Pansy's inner thigh, and then over the damp crotch of her knickers.

"You're so wet."

Astoria's fingers slid back and forth, slow and teasing, and Pansy heard herself make a choked moaning sound that was hardly identifiable as human. Astoria's smile widened. The next moment Astoria was pulling her knickers aside, fingers sinking between Pansy's folds as the cock pressed against her entrance. It made her head spin.

"This is such a bad idea," Pansy gasped, angling her hips as Astoria pushed inside her. She felt every inch of the cock slide in, thick and perfect, as Astoria's fingers settled over her clit.

Sleeping with a married friend wasn't allowed to feel like this. It wasn't allowed to happen at all, but if it did then it had to be awkward, clumsy, and eminently forgettable. A friend wasn't supposed to fuck you exactly the way you needed, as though they could read your mind and feel every flutter of your heart. They weren't supposed to make you want it -- them -- so much.

Astoria thrust again, cock pressing just there. All Pansy's sensations had narrowed down to a few red hot bundles of nerves. It was frighteningly, addictively good.

Pansy felt as though her brain was melting, but she couldn't stop the breathless words flowing from her mouth: "we mustn’t" and "you're married" and "oh, fuck, Astoria". Astoria just smirked, reaching a hand to tangle in her hair.

Being caught between Astoria's hand and her cock was almost more than Pansy could bear; stimulation, pleasure and shame all tangled together. Her body was tightening with every stroke. She was seconds away from coming when Astoria's hands clamped against her hips.

"No. I want you to wait for it."

Pansy found herself flipped over and shoved face down into the mattress, knees spread wide. Astoria's hand wrapped tight in her hair, stinging. Then Astoria's cock slid back into her.

She felt dizzy, unreal, high on hypoxia and pleasure. The orgasm hit her like a spark meeting dynamite.

For a long silent moment they collapsed on the bed. Then the mattress shifted as Astoria pulled away, stripping off her clothes before walking to the other side of the bed and sliding between the sheets. Groggily, Pansy wriggled out of her bra, knickers and crumpled skirt.

"Come here," Astoria murmured, arm outstretched, and Pansy only hesitated for a second before sliding into her embrace.

Their bodies fit together naturally, as though they'd been lovers for years. It felt so safe. It was probably the most dangerous thing she'd ever done.

~~~~~

The third time wasn't planned, but she'd be a liar if she claimed not to have been hoping for it. Pansy hadn't dared Owl Astoria, but she thought of her a dozen times a day.

If Pansy was honest with herself -- which she was, usually, even if she wasn't honest with anyone else -- then she'd always had a weakness for aristocratic blonds. There was something irresistible about a lean body in an immaculately cut suit, the curl of a lip, and the curve of a pale eyebrow. Before Astoria, she'd never been attracted to a woman. Now, recalling the snap of Astoria's hips as she fucked Pansy's brain out, Pansy wonders about that.

On the one hand, there was Astoria's confidence with a cock. On the other hand, there was Pansy's equally vivid recollection of Astoria's curves and soft, pillowy breasts. She can't help drawing comparisons and contrasts. Hours fly by as Pansy imagines sliding her hands under Astoria's skirt, pushing a finger inside her, perhaps even lowering her mouth to taste.

Astoria seemed to know what she wanted. At any rate, Astoria stepped out of Pansy's fireplace one morning, startling Pansy into spilling coffee on her dressing gown.

"Astoria, I um--"

"I only have half an hour," Astoria said, striding towards her on four-inch heels. She looked every inch the society wife in a pencil skirt and cashmere cardigan, a pearl choker gleaming discreetly at her neck.

Pansy was halfway out of her chair when Astoria wrapped an arm around her waist, snug and possessive, and kissed her.

"We need to be quick," Astoria breathed against her mouth, hand drifting down Pansy's spine, and Pansy nodded dumbly.

A moment later, Astoria was steering her back onto the table. There were a series of smashes as her сafetière, mug, and plate hit the floor, and then Pansy's back hit the wood.

"I liked that mug!"

Astoria smiled down at her like a wolf. "Would you rather have great sex or a tidy kitchen?"

"I have to choose?"

"Temporarily," Astoria said, leaning over her and reaching for the belt of Pansy's dressing gown. "That's what house elves are for."

Astoria untied the belt and then pushed her dressing gown aside, leaving Pansy naked on the kitchen table.

"Seems unfair that I'm the only one who's naked."

"Fair?" Astoria asked, stroking down Pansy's stomach. "You sound like a Gryffindor." Her nails dug in for an instant, and Pansy gasped. "I do enjoy you like this. You're so much more amenable when you're being fucked."

"I'm not a--" began Pansy, and then Astoria's thumb swiped over her clitoris.

"Articulate?"

"No, not--" Pansy stuttered, trying to focus.

"Eloquent?"

"No fuck, I'm--"

"Far too distracted to finish a sentence?"

"Fuck you, Astoria," Pansy gasped, and Astoria smiled wide, hand never stopping, as Pansy shuddered against her.

"That was quick," Astoria said archly. "I wonder how many times I can make you come in the remaining twenty two minutes?"

"No," Pansy said, trying to unscramble her brain. "There's something that I want."

Astoria's eyebrow lifted.

Pansy pulled herself into a sitting position. She drew in a deep breath, and let her eyes sweep over Astoria standing there with her conservative clothes and neatly coiffed hair.

"Your turn," Pansy said, sliding off the table.

She stood up on tiptoe to press a kiss to the back of Astoria's neck, and reached around to cup Astoria's breast. Pansy squeezed, feeling the weight of it in her palm, then caught the nipple between her thumb and first finger. Astoria's breath hitched.

"It's tempting to undress you," said Pansy, rolling Astoria's nipple in her fingers, "but since you're in a rush, I'll just have to make do."

She pushed Astoria forward until her hips were pressed to the table, and then reached down to pull up the hem of her skirt. The fabric slid smoothly, exposing Astoria's thighs, and Pansy couldn't resist running her hands over every newly-revealed inch of skin. Astoria's body gave a little jerk when Pansy's fingers reached her upper thigh.

"Do you need something to hold onto?" Pansy asked, savoring this moment of being in control. "I wouldn't want you to trip in those lovely shoes."

Astoria huffed, and Pansy placed a hand between her shoulderblades and guided Astoria's body down until she was leaning on the table.

"There," she said, taking a step back to admire the view. "Just where I want you."

"What, impatient?"

"Good enough to eat." If it wasn't for the fear of Draco and Rita Skeeter, she would take a photo.

Pansy ran her hands slowly up Astoria's legs, tracing her calves and knees, then up over the plump curve of her bum. Astoria shivered as Pansy's hand skimmed between her legs.

"Does this make you amenable?" Pansy asked, and heard Astoria chuckle.

"You're welcome to find out."

The angle was unfamiliar, but the concept was straightforward. Pansy leaned her body against Astoria's and let her hand movements follow the catch of Astoria's breath and the little jerks of her hips. She felt Astoria tense against her, body starting to shake a little.

"Does Draco fuck you like this?" Pansy murmured, leaning over to kiss the side of Astoria's neck. "Does he push you against the kitchen table?"

"Shut up," whined Astoria, pushing back greedily against her hand.

Pansy hadn't realised the power rush of doing this. Astoria was balanced on her finger, writhing and gasping at her command. She could make Astoria scream or beg. Just for a few minutes, she was in control.

"Does he still want you this much?"

"Shut up!" Astoria gasped, back arching, and Pansy felt muscles fluttering around her fingers. Astoria's head sagged forwards onto the table.

It wasn't enough; not nearly enough. A whole day wouldn't be enough to explore Astoria's body, stripping off her clothes piece by piece. Pansy wanted to fuck Astoria on her own bed and curl up with her on the loveseat by the window. She wanted to push Astoria against the tiles in the shower, drop to her knees, and nearly drown in the wetness pooling between her legs.

Astoria shifted, pushing Pansy away. Pansy watched as Astoria smoothed her skirt back into place and then straightened up. Aside from a slight flush, she looked as composed as when she walked in.

"Charming," Astoria said, in the bland tone of a socialite. She leaned in to kiss Pansy's cheek, and Pansy turned her head so that Astoria's lips brushed the corner of her mouth instead, warm and slightly damp. "Until next time."

Astoria was already walking back to the fireplace when Pansy said, "Can I Owl you?"

"Better not. I don't want people to talk."

That shouldn't sting, but it did. Of course Astoria was going back to her husband; of course she didn't want people to know about this. She'd never told Pansy anything else.

The fire flashed green, the colour of a hundred generations of ambitious Slytherins. The colour of a thousand years of politically beneficial marriages held together with hypocrisy and secrets. Why should Pansy think she'd be any different?

"Goodbye," she said, as Astoria disappeared into the fireplace.

Next time, she would have the strength to say no.