Title: Hell of a Night
Author: thusspakekate
Characters/Pairings: Draco/Pansy
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: adolescentism
Other Warnings: dirty talk
Word Count: 6,300
Summary/Description: Some memories are best re-lived.
Author's Notes: This is my first humble offering to the DD community. Thanks to the mods for the invitation; I'm super excited to become a member! And thanks to JJ for the beta work. Any remaining mistakes are totally mine. (Mods: may I have an author tag, pretty please?)



Tonight was going to be hell. Of that, Draco was already sure. He'd only been there thirty minutes, but it'd felt so much longer. He took another sip of his overly sweet punch and glared into the crowd.

The Ministry's annual Halloween Party was the event of the year, much more debacherous than the relatively staid Christmas Party, which he'd be forced to attend in just a few short weeks anyway. There was something about Halloween that made his otherwise milquetoast colleagues abandon their inhibitions and turn into drunken fools.

Perhaps it was the false sense of anonymity that their costumes provided. But how dim were they really, if they thought they their identities were actually hidden? He'd recognize Gerald from Ridiculous Patents' gut anywhere, bee costume or not. And Brumhilda from Magical Creatures! What a fool she looked—a woman her age dressed up like a sexy kneazle!

Thirty more minutes of this hell and then he'd be able to leave. He just needed to make sure his boss saw him first, so he wouldn't be chastised for “not being a team player” at his next evaluation. Merlin, the indignities he had to suffer for this post were outrageous.

There was a tap on his shoulder and Draco groaned inwardly. Gwendylyn Smart had been giving him the eye earlier, but he'd be damned if he was going to let her paw at him on the dance floor the way she'd done last year. He was going to escape this year's party with at least some of his dignity intact.

Reluctantly, he turned around.

It was not Gwendylyn Smart standing behind him with a cheeky grin, but Pansy Parkinson. He wanted to throw his arms around her and thank Merlin that he had found an ally to suffer next thirty minutes with, someone who would be equally repulsed by their coworkers' ridiculous displays.

That is, until he saw what she was wearing.

“Why the long face, sour puss?” she asked, smirking over the top of her glass as she took a sip of punch. “And where's your costume?”

Draco looked down at his plain wool trousers and black turtle neck sweater. “I'm a hit wizard,” he said with a shrug. “They're supposed to dress plainly.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “That's the lamest thing I've ever heard.” She took a step back and spinned. “Do you like mine? I found it a couple months ago when I was cleaning some things out of my parents' attic. It still fits. Well, sort of.”

Draco's eyes swept over her body. Though slightly faded from nearly ten years in storage, it was clearly one of her old Hogwarts uniforms. He should have been able to recognize it instantly, considering the fact that a large portion of his teen years had been devoted to trying to talk her out of it

While it had once been a bit loose on her, the fabric now stretched over curves she hadn't fully developed at sixteen. He was sure that if he looked underneath the green and silver tie, he'd find the buttons of her shirt straining to keep closed. And while she had always used a hemming charm to make sure her skirts were slightly shorter than permitted, the addition of three inches in height made the skirt look impossibly short, as though her entire backside would be exposed if she leaned forward even an inch.

Draco took a breath and tried to push away the things that were creeping into his mind. He was certainly not going to wonder if she was wearing a pair of those pale pink cotton knickers she used to favor. He knew that sometime after graduation she'd switched to lacy little black things, but by then they'd broken up and it wasn't really his business what her knickers looked like anyway.

But those soft little pink things? He remembered those very well.

“Um, hello?” Pansy asked, snapping her fingers in his face. “Earth to Draco. You still in there?”

“What? Oh, um, sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, I like your costume. It looks good on you. It's very...authentic.”

Pansy's smile was sheepish as she smoothed out the pleats of her skirt. Draco thought he caught a hint of a blush on her cheeks, and for a moment she looked more like the girl that he used to know than the woman she'd become.

“It's kind of strange,” she said, fingers plucking at the hem of skirt, lifting it absently to reveal a few more inches of pale thigh. “I used to wear this every single day for seven years straight. I hated this fucking thing by the end. But wearing it now, I feel kind of...” she trailed off with a helpless shrug.

“Nostalgic?” Draco offered.

“I guess. I mean, all I really want to do right now is sneak a cigarette in the broomshed and bully some Hufflepuffs.” She laughed. “Merlin, we were such little shits in school, weren't we? I miss it sometimes though. Don't you?”

Draco's throat tightened. School was a sensitive topic for him, and she knew it.

“Oh, come on,” she continued, stepping closer and slipping her fingers through his. “I know Hogwarts wasn't the happiest place for you, but you've got to admit: there were some good times too.”

Her gaze drifted over his shoulder. Draco turned and followed her line of vision until he found Ron Weasley, dressed in a patchwork Manticore costume, loading his plate high with pumpkin pasties at the refreshment table.

She went onto tiptoes, holding onto Draco's shoulders for balance. Leaning in, her breath tickling the shell of his ear as she began to sing quietly.

“Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.”

“Remember that?”

Of course Draco remembered; he was pretty sure he still had the accompanying badge shoved in a drawer somewhere back at the Manor. He remembered the night that they'd written it. They'd stayed up until almost two in the morning charming the badges for every Slytherin in the school to wear. The very first time they'd sung it at a match, Potter had had such a tantrum that he'd gotten himself banned from Quidditch! Of course, he'd socked Draco in the nose right before that, but it'd definitely been worth it.

“All right. I'll admit it,” Draco said, fighting a grin. “There were some good times too.”

Pansy flashed him a brilliant smile and reached for her wand, tucked neatly into the elastic of her knee socks. Before he could protest, Draco's black ensemble was transformed into a surprisingly good imitation of his own Hogwarts uniform.

“Come on, Malfoy,” she said, pulling his hand. “Let's go make old Salazar proud.”

Draco had no choice but to follow as she tugged him away from the wall. She'd always been a very bossy girl.

“Cover me,” she hissed as they drew up short at the concession table. She pulled a small metal flask from the waistband of her skirt.

Draco looked around, pulled out his wand, and hit her with a discreet Notice Me Not spell. “But there's already alcohol in that,” he whispered into her ear.

“This isn't alcohol. It's a mild lust potion.” She gave him a sly glance over her shoulder. “Remember when we spiked the coffee in the professors' lounge?”

Draco's mouth fell open, but there was no time to respond, because Pansy was already skipping away, a self-pleased smirk on her face. He hurried after her, letting out an almost comical cry of surprise when she grabbed him and shoved him behind a large, potted tree.

“Look!” she said, peeking through the rubbery leaves. “There! It's Potter.”

Draco peered between the leaves, and sure enough, Potter was standing a few feet away, easily identifiable even with a long white beard and tall cone-shaped hat.

“Who's he supposed to be? Merlin?” Draco asked. “Christ, the size of that man's ego!”

“We should hex him,” Pansy whispered. “You know, for old times' sake.”

Draco had every intention of telling her she was mad; they'd be sacked—maybe even sent to Azkaban—if they were caught hexing The Prat Who Just Wouldn't Die. But just then, Potter waved at someone and began to walk away. Draco had less than a second to make a decision. Impulse overtook him, and before he knew it, his wand was out and a Trip Jinx was shooting through the air.

Potter landed face first in a tangled mess of purple robes.

Around him, people rushed to his aid, but behind the potted tree, Pansy squeaked and slapped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to muffle her laughter.

“Let's get out of here,” said Draco, grabbing her by the wrist. He couldn't believe he'd done that. It was such a pointless, juvenile thing to do. He and Potter were almost civil to each other these days, but an unwarranted hexing would surely ruin then tenuous truce. The last thing he needed was Potter on his case. Again.

“You'd think someone hit him with an Unforgivable,” Pansy muttered, jerking her head towards the small crowd that had gathered as he pulled her away. “Oh no, ickle Potter's got a boo-boo. Alert the Prophet! Our precious savior's been hurt!”

Draco suppressed a smile, taking her by the elbow and steering her towards the other side of the room, far away from the scene of the crime. He felt alert and peculiarly alive as they weaved through the crowd, their steps a little too quick to be natural.

From behind them, a soft, feminine voice called out, “Pansy! Hey, Pansy!”

Glancing over his shoulder, Draco doubled his pace. Luna Lovegood was just a few feet behind them, waving her arms above her head. She was dressed as a—well, Draco wasn't sure what her costume was supposed to be, or if it even was a costume. All he knew was that she was a part of Potter's little gang and had likely seen them.

“Shit!”

He knew it'd been a terrible idea to hex Potter. Damn that Pansy! She'd always been such an instigator.

“What?” Pansy asked, looking over her shoulder. “Draco, no—”

Before she could finish, Draco spotted their salvation, and shoved her inside a small, storage cupboard. He slid in behind her, slamming the door shut and casting a quick locking charm. Finally out of sight, he let out a sigh of relief and slumped against the wall.

When he opened his eyes, Pansy was on the other side of the small cupboard, arms across her chest and hip resting against the edge of a small counter next to the utility sink. She looked slightly smug, and more than a little amused.

“What?” he demanded.

“That was only Looney, coming to say hello. We work together, you know. Paranoid much, Malfoy?”

Thankfully, it was dark, so she couldn't see his embarrassed flush. “Yes, well,” he stammered. “I was just—”

She cut him off with a wave. “You're a little rusty, that's all. You've been out of the Potter baiting game for way too long. And, admittedly, the stakes are higher these days.”

“Yes.” Draco stood, straightening his grey sweater vest, grateful that Pansy was gracious enough to save his face for him. “Perhaps I was a bit overly cautious.”

“Perhaps.” She gave a lazy smile and hopped onto the counter, her feet swinging so that her heels bounced against the cupboard below her as she looked around. “I wish I had a fag.”

Draco dug into his pocket, thankful that the transfiguration spell she'd cast on his clothes hadn't vanished his belongings. “Actually,” he said, pulling out a half-crushed pack of cigarettes.

Pansy grinned as she took one and placed it between her lips. She leaned forward, cupping her hand around his as he lit it with the end of his wand.

“I thought you quit?” she asked as she leaned back and exhaled. “I haven't seen you smoke in years.”

Draco shrugged and lit one for himself. He'd have to remember an air freshening charm before they left. “I did. For the most part. I just keep some on me in case of emergencies.”

One of Pansy's eyebrows quirked. “This qualifies as an emergency then, does it?”

He picked an invisible piece of lint off of his sweater and made a show of dropping it to the floor disdainfully. “Locked in a cupboard with you? I'd say it definitely does.”

“Oi!” She said with a laugh, swinging her legs out to kick him. “We used to spend a lot of time locked in cupboards together. I don't exactly remember you complaining about it then.”

Draco didn't know how to respond to that, true as it was. There were a lot of things they didn't talk about out of a mutual, unspoken agreement, and the gritty details of their failed relationship was one of them. He focused on his cigarette, trying vainly to ignore the awkward silence that stretched between them.

The indistinct chatter and muffled music of the party filtered into the tiny cupboard through the crack beneath the door. A dim light hung from the ceiling, casting half of the room in shadows.

“Pansy, I...” he began, not sure he even knew what he wanted to say. He'd never been good with silence.

She hushed him with a hiss. “Do you hear that?”

All he could hear was the bass line of the song playing out on the dance floor.

“You don't recognize this?” she asked, hopping off the counter. “It was all over the wireless during Fourth Year. The Weird Sisters' 'Magic Works'? We danced to it at Yule Ball.”

She pressed her ear against the door, her toe tapping quietly to the slow beat. She tripped over the words and the melody at first, but soon she was singing along, her cigarette dangling from her lips.


So, believe that magic works
Don't be afraid of being hurt
Don't let this magic die
The answer's there
Oh, just look in her eyes

And make your final move
Don't be scared, she wants you to
Yeah, it's hard, you must be brave
Don't let this moment slip away

At the instrumental, she pushed away from the door. “Do you really not remember that song?”

“Of course I do,” Draco said, shifting uncomfortably. It'd been the last song they'd played that night, the only slow dance she had been able to drag him onto the floor for. But before it had even ended, he'd been able to maneuver her into a corner, where they'd snogged until the Great Hall was nearly empty. Snape had had to pull him off of her by the scruff of his neck. “I remember everything about that night.”

“Oh, do you?” Pansy asked, a mischievous lilt in her voice. “So you remember the after party?”

Draco nodded. Some of the older boys had sneaked Firewhiskey into the dorms, and Draco had been able to buy some of it off of them. He and Pansy had sat by the fire, sipping their spiked pumpkin juice in quiet anticipation, waiting for the rest of their housemates to wander off to bed.

“And what about after the after party?”

Draco swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded. It'd been the first time Pansy hadn't pushed his hand away when it'd inched up her skirt. He'd been so excited and overwhelmed by the thought of slipping his fingers inside her knickers that he'd actually come in his pants.

How was it, Draco wondered, that the half-forgotten memory of one of his earliest and most embarrassing sexual experiences could have such an effect on him now, more than ten years and a half dozen other partners later?

He closed his eyes and let more memories wash over him: all of their fumbling firsts and cautious experimentations. It was hard to believe they'd ever been so young, so carefree, so devastatingly naïve.

He felt her hand on his belt. “Do you remember the broomshed?”

Draco's groan was out of his mouth before he could bite his lip to stop it. The broomshed had been the place they'd always met for a quick snog when ducking class or shirking their prefect duties.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice coming out gruffer than he'd expected. “I remember.”

Pansy dropped her cigarette, crushing the butt beneath her black Mary Jane. When she looked up at him again, it was through her lashes, as though she were suddenly too shy to meet his gaze.

“Then you should remember that practice is over soon. The Gryffindors will be wanting to get in here to put their brooms back. We don't have much time.”

It took Draco a second to catch on, momentarily confused by her random and rather nonsensical jump in topic. He flicked his cigarette to the floor and ground it beneath his boot.

“Don't worry. I locked the door.”

Her breath hitched as he leaned closer, palms flat on the wall behind her. She looked up at him, chest heaving, and eyes full of nervous excitement. “But they might hear,” she whispered.

“Let them.”

Pansy's lips were as soft and pliant as he remembered, and just as sweet. Her hands hovered indecisively above his shoulders as he coaxed her tongue out of her mouth, but then she sighed and wrapped them around his neck, fingernails scraping through his hair. Draco pressed himself against her, wanting her to feel the heavy weight of his cock against her thigh, to show how far he was willing to take this game.

She moaned into his mouth, and he was lost to the fantasy.

For a few minutes, they could be young again: reckless and free and totally irresponsible. They were no longer thankless Ministry workers pushing thirty, locked in a dingy little storeroom, but hormonal adolescents with their whole lives ahead of them, meeting to steal a few kisses in a cramped little shed somewhere in northern Scotland.

Her grip tightening around his neck as she shifted, her legs parting just enough he could slide his thigh between them and pull her onto it. He pressed her against the wall, grinding himself against her like some sort of...well, some sort of randy teenager.

Wrenching her mouth free, Pansy let her head fall back against the wall. “Fuck,” she said, panting for breath. Her hands moved to his shoulders as she lifted one leg to hook around his waist. “We'll get expelled if we're caught.”

Draco dropped his head to her neck. “Then we won't get caught.”

He grabbed her other leg and wrapped it around his waist. Pansy's ankles crossed behind his back and her grip strengthened to the point of pain as he lifted her into the air, but he refused to be distracted. The only thing that mattered in the world at that moment was snogging her as much as he could before the Gryffindors arrived.

With his hands cupping her arse and her arms flung around his neck, he carried her away from the wall. She made a squeak of surprise against his lips, but didn't protest as he deposited her on top of the counter. He tugged at the her green and silver tie, almost choking her with it in his haste. Taking a step back, he admire the tight fit of the white cotton, stretched so taut against her heaving chest that the buttons looked fit to pop off at any second.

He pressed the heel of his palm against himself in a vain effort to quell his growing erection as he watched her unbutton her shirt, parting the fabric with care, so that inch after creamy inch of skin was reveal to him with slow precision. The shirt was barely off her shoulders before Draco lost the battle with his self control and lunged towards her with a growl, attacking her mouth with his and palming her breasts through the cups of her bra.

She laughed, high pitched and breathless, as she shoved at his shoulders. “I think you want to get caught!”

Draco dropped his hands to her legs, pushing the pleats of her skirt up her thighs, still unable to believe how soft a girl's skin could be. Despite her protests, Pansy's legs parted easily for him. She sucked in a deep breath as his fingers slipped beneath her knickers.

“Maybe I do,” he said, tracing the length of her slit. He looked up, watching for her reactions as pressed one finger inside her.

He couldn't even remember the last time he'd fingered a woman. It always seemed so unnecessary, an unfulfilling detour on the road to the main event. But now, watching the way Pansy's lips parted and her eyes fluttered shut as he slid in a second finger and curled them inside her, he remembered why he used to love it so much, why they'd spent so many evenings sharing a sofa in the Slytherin common room, a blanket draped discreetly over their laps.

“Maybe,” he continued, circling her clit with his thumb and feeling a shiver of power shoot up his spine at her corresponding moan. “Maybe I want everyone to know. They'd be so jealous, knowing I was fucking the sexiest girl in school and they weren't. All the boys in Slytherin wank to you, you know.”

“I know,” Pansy panted. “They all want me, but only you can have me. Only you.”

Her hips circled and she bore down, trying to press Draco's fingers deeper inside herself. Despite her breathless gulps for air and the thin sheen of sweat breaking out across her brow, she still managed to sound imperious.

“But it's going to be hard for you to fuck me with your trousers still on.”

Looking down, Draco laughed. Keen as he was to get her out of her kit, he'd yet to remove any of his own clothing. Ignoring Pansy's whine, he pulled his hand free and reached for his belt. She was quicker, slapping his hand away and sliding off the counter.

They stripped each other between sloppy kisses. Draco's foot got caught in the leg of his trousers and he had a hell of a time unhooking Pansy's bra. But finally, finally they were both naked and against the wall, pressed together tightly as they explored each other's bodies with open mouths and bold hands.

Draco couldn't remember the last time he felt this desperate, this needy, as though he would explode if he didn't fuck someone right fucking now. His cock, aching and red, was trapped between their bodies, leaking precome onto their sweat-slicked skin.

“How do you want to do this?” he asked between laving her breasts with open mouthed kisses.

Her grip on the back of his head strengthened. “Don't care,” she panted, her hand squirming between their bodies to wrap around him. “Don't care. Just want it now.”

Reluctantly, Draco pulled away and looked frantically around the room. In the corner, he spotted an old mop. It would have to do in a pinch. He hurried to his discarded trousers and pulled out his wand. With a swish and a flick, he'd transfigured the mop into a small, bare mattress and levitated it to the center of the room.

Before his wand had hit the floor, Pansy was wrapped around him again, tugging him towards the mattress. They fell onto it with a bounce and a laugh, Draco's body covering hers and her dark hair fanned out above her head.

He ran his hand up the back of her thigh, delighting in how fluidly she parted her legs and lifted one into the air, hooking it around his waist. He fumbled between the bodies for his cock, trying to find the right angle. When he felt the fleshy tip of his cockhead press against the rim of her entrance, he bit back a moan and hung his head. It took every ounce of self-control he had within him not to just drive forward blindly.

He waited until her eyes met his and asked, “Ready?”

She bit her lip and let her head fall back against the mattress. “Ready,” she said, her eyes fluttering shut.

He pushed inside slowly, a strangled moan escaping from his chest as he sank inside her wet, clinging heat. God, how could she possibly be this tight? Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as began to move, dragging himself slowly out of her, until just the tip remained inside. And again, he pushed forward, unable to believe how marvelous she felt, how tightly the walls of her cunt gripped his swollen cock.

“Shit,” she wheezed, her eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, it's so big.”

Draco didn't want to be the type of man who was so easily flattered by the meaningless prattle people spouted during sex, but he couldn't help the way her words stroked his ego. Maybe it was because she'd actually said that to him once and meant it, a long time ago, in a cupboard not unlike this one.

“Yeah?” he asked, shoving into her a little more roughly than before, thrilling at her tiny gasp. “How's it feel?”

“So good,” she moaned, wrapping her other leg around his waist. She reached up, grabbing the edge of the mattress above her head, using the leverage to push back against Draco's increasingly quick thrusts. “I've never been so full before. God, your cock feels so amazing. Fuck me with it, Draco. Make me bleed.”

Draco's thrusts faltered. “Er...?”

Pansy laughed. She pushed herself up on her elbows and pulled him down for a kiss. “Did I forget to tell you?” she whispered into his ear. “I'm a virgin.”

Draco had never been one to fetishize virginity; inexperience was not a turn on to him. But even then, her whispered confession made him pulse inside of her, and for a mad second he worried he might lose it then and there.

“Come on,” she continued, rolling her hips. “I've been saving myself for you. I want you to be the first to fuck me, Draco. Of all the boys in school, I want it to be you.”

Draco tried to exhale, only to find his lungs were already empty. He collapsed on top of her, burying his his cock inside her completely and his face in the curve of her neck. “You're killing me,” he groaned against her skin, unable to keep his hips from moving completely.“If you don't stop talking like that, I'm going to come before we even get started.”

“But I want you to come,” she said. Her hands trailed down his back to cup his arse, pulling him against her. “The Gryffindors will be back soon. Don't you want them to hear us? Hear you coming, shooting your load deep inside my little virgin cunt? Hear me coming all over your cock? God, Draco, they'll be so jealous.”

“Fuck,” Draco gasped, no longer fighting the urge to move. Pansy had always had a filthy mouth, but she'd definitely grown bolder with time. He knew he wouldn't last long, not with the way her body clung his, not with the images she was planting in his brain.

“That's it,” she hissed, her hands back on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “Just like that, love. Come on, Draco. Fuck me. Harder!”

The force of his thrusts were pushing her up the mattress, until her head hung over the edge, her hair dragging across the dirty floor. He'd warned her it was going to be short, but that didn't mean it couldn't be good. If she wanted it hard, he could give it to her like that: fast and brutal and completely artless, driven by blind need and lust. Forget all of the tips and tricks he'd learned over the years, this would be sex at its most basic, its most primal level.

“Merlin, yes!” Pansy cried, shoving her hand between their bodies. Draco felt the flex of her forearm against his stomach and knew she was playing with herself, rubbing her clit as he pounded his cock into her.

“I can't hold on,” he groaned through grit teeth. Pleasure was building at the base of his spine, his balls tightening, hips snapping of their own accord. He tried to remember the things he'd used to stave off his premature orgasms when he was younger, but couldn't be distracted long enough from Pansy's bouncing breasts or grunts of pleasure to imagine anything else.

“Then don't.” She surged forward, capturing his mouth in a messy kiss that landed more on the side of his face than his actual lips. The change in angle made Draco gasp, his vision darkening as his eye rolled back.

“Come for me, Draco,” she urged, rocking her hips. “I want to feel you come inside me.”

He couldn't fight it anymore. He pushed her back against the mattress and collapsed on top of her. He buried his face between her breasts to muffle his broken gasp as the building sensation behind his bollocks exploded, shooting through him like lightening. His hips faltered, and he held himself still as his cock pulsed inside of her.

Her hands—sticky with her own juices—cupped either side of his face, pulling him towards her so she could kiss him gently, coaxing his tongue from his mouth with her own. “That was so hot,” she whispered.

“But what about you?” he asked, glancing down.

Pansy gave him a sly smile and pushed at his shoulders. He rolled off of her and onto the mattress, watching through tired eyes as she climbed onto him and straddled his hips. She reached behind her, taking his softening cock in her hand and giving it a few gentle tugs. If they were actually still sixteen, Draco wouldn't have doubted his ability to get instantly hard again, but at nearly thirty, his body was slower to recuperate.

Pansy, however, didn't seem to mind. She didn't try to take him inside her again, but scooted back a few inches, so that his half-hard cock nestled between her legs. Grinning, she put her hands on his chest for balance and began to rock, rubbing herself against him, smearing his groin with her wetness as the head of his cock butted against the cleft of her cunt, the ridge rubbing against her tender clit.

Draco relaxed into the mattress, content to watch his own private sex show as she rubbed herself off against him. She moved with a languid assurance that could only come with experience, but her cheeky, mischievous grin would have looked at home on any smug teenager's face. He let his hands roam over her body as it moved, weighing each of her full breasts in his palm before pinching the nipples, twisting them harshly as he looked into her face for a reaction.

She sucked in a quick breath, and let it out shakily. Her hips picked up speed, and when he twisted her nipples again, the grin slipped from her face, replaced by a look of sheer ecstasy as her eyes closed and her head fell back.

“Are you going to let them hear?” Draco asked, rolling her nipples between his fingers. “Are you going to let them hear you coming on my cock?”

“Yes,” Pansy said breathlessly, her smooth grind becoming jerky.

“You're not a virgin anymore,” he continued. He let one hand trail down her body, between her legs, seeking her clit. “Do you want them to hear what a little slut you are now?”

She gasped, bearing down against his hand. “Little slut,” she repeated dumbly. “Your little slut.”

“Yes,” Draco hissed as he reached down, fumbling to free his cock from between her legs. All her sexy squirming had managed to get him hard again; even if he didn't come again, he could at least be inside her when she did.

Feet planted on the mattress, he raised his hips and guided himself to her entrance. Pansy sat back, engulfing him once more.

At this angle, she had to do little more than rock back and forth to grind her clit against his hand and spear herself on his cock in turn. Her breaths became shallow and beads of sweat dripped from her hairline as she fucked herself both ways, her palms splayed across his chest for support.

“Goddammit,” she said, her voice taking on the tone of a whine. “How does it feel even bigger?”

“Because you're so swollen,” Draco answered, rubbing the pad of his thumb against her clit. “You're so close to coming, aren't you?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. “Going to come. Going to come so hard.”

“Do it,” he hissed, rocking his hips against her. “Let me feel that tight little virgin pussy of yours come around my cock.”

Pansy's head lolled forward, her fingers digging into his skin. “Oh my god,” she whined. “Please, Draco. Please. I'm so close.”

He ground his thumb against her clit as hard as he could, holding her hips in place as he fucked up into her. Above him, she whimpered, breathing hard through her nose, until finally, her entire body began to tremble. The muscles in her cunt seized tight, pulsing around him. Her nails scraped sharp lines down his chest, and Draco couldn't help but wince at the pain.

“Sorry,” she panted, sounding not the slightest bit remorseful as she collapsed against his chest, his hand caught between her legs and cock still half inside her body.

Gingerly, she reached behind herself and pulled him out. With a sigh, she rolled over, flopping onto the mattress beside him.

“Holy shit. That was...”

“Intense?”

Pansy gave an unsteady laugh. “That's one way to put it.” She sat up with a groan, reaching between her legs. “Dammit, I'm going to be sore for days. No one's fucked me like that since...Well, since school. I'm going to be walking bowlegged for the rest of the night.”

Draco sat up next to her, feeling suddenly very naked. Now that the game was over, they were back to be twenty-something exes, hiding in a dingy storage cupboard.

“Shit,” he said, scrambling to find his wand on the ground. “Did you think to put up a Silencing Charm?”

Pansy stood, bending over the scoop up her knickers “Of course not. Why would I?”

He looked from her, to the door, back to her. Did he really need to explain?

“Oh, please,” she said, pulling her shirt onto her shoulders. “Remember that time I snuck into your dorm? Did we put up a Silencing Charm then? And you know every damn boy in that room was awake too.”

Draco grabbed his trousers, jumping into them as quick as he could. “Yes, but that was then. This is—”

“What?” Pansy interrupted. “So now that we're old we've got to be boring? Come on. You said it yourself: you wanted them to hear.”

“In the context of the—” Draco cut himself off and reached for his shirt. “Nevermind, it doesn't matter.” The party outside was sufficiently loud. It was unlikely that anyone would have heard them anyway.

She rolled her eyes and waited by the door for him to finish dressing. He stepped next to her and they looked at each other for a moment, unsure how to proceed.

“Well, uh, thanks, I guess,” Pansy said, flashing an almost shy smile. “That was unexpected. But fun.”

“Yeah,” Draco agreed. He had the strange urge to tuck the piece of hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear. “We should, uh, reminisce more often.”

One of Pansy's delicately arched eyebrows rose. “Should we?”

Draco felt his face growing hot. He hadn't really meant it like that, but now that he thought about it...they were both adults, they were both unencumbered. Why not?

With a flick of her wand, Pansy canceled thr locking charm. Her hand twisted the doorknob. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

She yanked open the door and stepped out, almost barreling straight into Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who were standing directly on the other side of the door, glasses of punch in their hands and mouths hanging open.

“Gentlemen,” Pansy said coyly, batting her lashes as she breezed by them. She grabbed Draco by the wrist and tugged him behind her, laughing as she went.

Draco looked over his shoulder as he was pulled away. Finnegan and Thomas had yet to move, watching them with gobsmacked expressions. He thought he should feel some sense of shame, some sort of embarrassment, but instead his chest puffed with pride.

She dragged him towards the lifts, and for once, Draco didn't protest. He had no clue what they were going to do now, but he had a good feeling it was something pointless, destructive, and incredibly fun.

As the lift's metal door rattled shut in front of them, he leaned down and whispered, “I guess some Gryffindors did hear after all.”

“I guess they did,” Pansy replied, suppressing a smirk as she pressed the button for Level Two. “Fancy paying a visit to the Auror Offices? I know which cubicle is Potter's.”

Draco reached out and squeezed her arse as the lift began to descend. It was going to be one hell of a night.