Denial of A Dalliance - Chapter 1

Summary: “This is the last time Potter! After this, we’ll go our separate ways and pretend none of this ever happened!” Pansy sneered.

Potter’s breath washed over her bare shoulder as he chuckled. His lips were inches from her neck, so close she could practically feel the heat emanating from them. His hands gliding down her ribs forced Pansy to bite her bottom lip lest she moan with excitement.

“Whatever you say Parkinson.” Potter murmured. Then his lips were upon her neck once more, and all hope of ending their trysts died right then and there.

Or

Five times Pansy Parkinson accidentally slept with Harry Potter.

And one time she meant to.

-

Chapter 1: Slytherin’s Know How To Party

-

The first time it happened, it had been a plain and simple mistake. Pansy was a wild drunk. After a few shots, she just had this overwhelming urge to dance and party. Add a few more shots into the mix and well…that usually ended with her pressing the closest attractive bloke up against a wall and snogging the life out of him.

Hey, her breakup with Draco hit her hard so sue her.

The beginning of term party provided plenty of alcohol for both and Pansy was keen to indulge her whims.

She hadn’t exactly been welcomed with open arms to the party. It was supposed to be a sort of late-after-war celebration, which meant as the girl who told everyone to grab Potter so they could turn him over to the Dark Lord, Pansy wasn’t necessarily invited. Still, she was allowed in begrudgingly. It wouldn’t exactly look good if she was denied entry to a party meant to ‘repair the division of war’ or whatever stupid bloody excuse everyone was using to get piss drunk. That was fine by her. It wasn’t like she was here for any other reason.

Her 7th (Technically 8th but did the last year actually count?) year had been by far the worst experience of her Hogwarts career. Well, not the worst. Even she could admit that being subjected to Amycus and Alecto Carrow for an entire year was not exactly the epitome of joy. Those two were malicious for the sake of being malicious, and even she, a pureblood Slytherin witch, was subjected to their ‘unique’ punishments from time to time.

No, this year was bad for an entirely different reason.

Her life, by all definitions, was ruined. Her engagement? Ripped away. Her family fortune? Taken by the Ministry for her father’s actions. She wouldn’t even bother explaining her current social status. That was more dead than the bloody Dark Lord. 

So here she was–Single, broke, and an outcast among her peers attending the same school as many of the other people she, at least in some capacity, helped oppress not even a year prior.

Needless to say, Pansy was fucking miserable, and it wasn’t even October yet.

So yeah, she invited herself to a party meant to celebrate the fall of the man her family supported, held in honor of the one who killed said man and who she also spent the last seven years being a complete and utter bitch to. Getting in was no issue. The way her tits looked in this dress got her past the large Hufflepuff boy they had acting as a bouncer. The looks of utter contempt and not-so-subtle verbal barbs thrown her way as she walked through the crowd were to be expected and only fueled her desire to get hammered all the more. Looking back now, that was probably the first sign her night was about to go tits up.

The first drink she actually sipped slowly. It was some cocktail or another scrawled atop the menu and was, unfortunately, very poorly made. However, it was still liquor, and strong at that, so she drank it regardless. Then some drunken Ravenclaw slob had appeared and had the gall to ask her if she’d be willing to whore herself out to him for a few sickles.

“C’mon, Parkinson! We both know your family is broke!” The oaf slurred with a sneer. “You might as well put that arse of yours to good use now since you’ll probably be working a corner on Knockturn by this time next year!”

She had promptly threw the poorly made cocktail in the arsehole’s face before slapping him for good measure. She left him behind, sputtering angrily and tripping over his own drunken feet while she went to order a new drink.

Said new drink was quickly followed by a second, and then a third, and then, at some point, she threw the last few galleons she had to her name onto the counter and demanded a whole bottle of vodka. That pig had soured her entire mood in less than a minute, and yet it wasn’t his perverse request that irked her so, but the truth behind his words. Her family was broke. Entirely and utterly penniless which meant so was she. She couldn’t count on her family name anymore and even if her grades were a bit better she had no real skillset to fall back on after Hogwarts. That’s IF anyone would even hire her!

Would she resort to whoring herself out? Of course not. But her options were severely limited at best. In short: She was fucked.

Thankfully, the vodka made in her bloodstream dulled all those worries. After downing half the bottl,e Pansy’s mood was a lot better and all she wanted to do then was dance. Well, dance and perhaps find some good-looking bloke for a snog or perhaps even more if she was in the mood.

The loud thumping bass synced perfectly with the thumping blood in her veins, and soon enough, she’d lost track of time as she danced. Through the haze of her inebriation, she could vaguely recall dancing with some bloke or another. He was attractive enough, she supposed, but something inside her desired someone a bit more…exciting. She chose to take her leave the moment he tried to pull her close and push his tongue down her throat. Moving from his reach Pansy gave the nameless man a teasing wink goodbye before she slipped back into the crowd. The look of utter despair and disappointment on his face was enough to have her snorting with laughter, and she moved back to the bar for a breather.

There was a new bartender behind the counter than the one who served her before. This one was much less professional than the last, his eyes immediately zeroing in on her tits. Perfect! She may be able to wrangle a free drink from the imbecile then.

As it turned out, she was able to flirt her way to a whole new bottle of vodka without having to spend a single knut. The sandy blonde-haired boy behind the bar folded almost immediately. All it took was one sultry smile and pushing her tits forward and he was putty in her hands. Her luck, however, would not last. She had barely finished a fourth of her new bottle when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Turning, she was met with the scowling mug of another Ravenclaw boy who looked vaguely familiar.

“Terry claims you slapped him, Parkinson. Got anything to say about that?” A few feet behind the scowling Ravenclaw stood the prat from earlier, glaring daggers into Pansy with a decent-sized purplish welt on his left cheek. Pansy scoffed and took a long sip from her bottle.

“Only tha’ he bloody deserved it.” She said with a slight drunken slur. “Tell your friend th’t next time I’ll do more than bruise his ugly mug.”

The oaf stepped forward with his face twisted in rage yet before he could start his sure-to-be tirade, his friend stopped him with a look. Terry scoffed but did as his friend bid, backing away while the other Ravenclaw turned back to Pansy.

“Yeah there isn’t going to be a next time, Parkinson. You’re done here. Now leave or I’ll have Ernie at the door kick you out.”

Pansy glanced towards the door, where sure enough, the large Hufflepuff boy from earlier stood glaring her way. The smart thing to do would be to bow out now and call it a night, but her mind was far too clouded by the alcohol in her system to think straight. With a sneer she swiped her bottle from the bar and poured a generous amount into her mouth, before turning and spitting the clear liquor into the arsehole’s face.

“Fuck off! Just cause your friend is a pussy doesn’t mean I have to leave!” She spat.

The nameless Ravenclaw sputtered as he frantically wiped the alcohol from his eyes. “Y-You fucking bitc-!”

“You know, you really shouldn’t finish that sentence, Anthony.” A new voice interrupted.

Through the drunken haze clouding her vision, Pansy had a hard time deducing the newcomer’s identity–at least until he turned her way with that oh-so-familiar insufferable smirk of his. She mentally groaned–her night truly was taking a turn for the worse.

“Can’t seem to stay out of trouble, can you, Parkinson?” Harry Potter grinned.

Pansy sent him back a scathing grin and threw her middle finger up. “Up yours, Potter.”

Surprisingly, Potter merely chuckled in response and turned back to the two Ravenclaw boys.

“I’ll take it from here you two. Why don’t you take Boot to get some ice for his face, yeah?” Potter said.

The one she slapped seemed like he wanted to argue, but the other, Anthony Goldstein, she recalled now, seemed to hesitate in Potter’s presence. The Ravenclaw looked to her hesitantly before glancing back at Potter and nodding.

“C’mon, Terry. It’s not worth it.”

“But-”

Before his friend could protest, Goldstein grabbed him by the arm and all but dragged him away, leaving Pansy alone with Potter.

Pansy looked towards the raven-haired boy and grimaced. Even as drunk as she was, she knew better than to pick a fight with Potter right now. Her reputation, or what little she had left of it, couldn’t take another hit such as picking a fight with the saviour of the Wizarding World. With a sigh, she stood, bottle in hand and swaying slightly.

“Guess I have to bugger off now, yeah?”

Potter surprised her with a chuckle as he took a seat at the bar and gestured for her to do the same.

“I’m not kicking you out Pansy. Merlin knows I’ve wanted to sock Boot myself once or twice over the years. I imagine whatever he did to earn that bruise, he probably deserved.” Potter replied.

Pansy narrowed her eyes but retook her seat. “You’re damn right he did. He’s lucky I didn’t cut his fucking balls off while I was at it!”

Potter winced and clicked his tongue. “That bad, huh?”

“Does asking me to suck his cock for a few sickles count?”

“Hmm, maybe you should’ve cut his balls off.” Potter hummed.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the whiplash from suddenly being in the middle of a civil conversation with Potter of all people (It was still probably the alcohol), but Pansy found herself snorting out a laugh at Potter’s response. Potter joined in her laughter after a beat, his chuckle low and smooth that for some reason seemed to scratch an unknown itch in Pansy’s brain. Quickly looking the raven-haired man up and down, Pansy made a decision before she even fully processed what she was deciding in the first place.

“So you just gonna sit there or are you gonna buy a girl a drink, Potter?”

Potter’s smile was her only response as he waved the bartender over.

-

For the life of her, she could not remember what happened after that. She vaguely recalled a handful of drinks mixed between the occasional laugh at something Potter said. Pansy could remember flashes of their conversation–their words shifting to become more…heated. What exactly was said that brought them here? She sure as hell didn’t know.

One second they’d been sitting at the bar sharing a drink and the next she was straddling Potter on her dormroom bed with his face buried between her tits.

Pansy cooed as Potter took one of her tan nipples into his mouth. The light stimulation of his tongue flicking against the small bud was magnified by the small silver piercing hanging from her nipple. Unconsiously she rocked her hips, whimpering as her knicker clad pussy ground itself against the hard thick shape of Potter’s cock. The sheer absurdity of the situation was almost enough to make Pansy laugh if it weren’t for the electrifying pleasure racing up her spine.

She was bloody dry-humping Harry Potter!

She was was dry-humping Harry Potter while his mouth was ravishing her tits!

What. The. Fuck!

Her thoughts were interrupted as Harry–Cause she couldn’t exactly keep referring to him as Potter while grinding on his bloody cock now could she?--pulled away from her breasts and looked up at her with his emerald green eyes shining with lust. A small gasp left Pansy’s lips from the intensity of his gaze, and before she knew it, their lips were colliding together in a hungry embrace of tongues and moans.

Pansy whimpered as he took her bottom lip between her teeth. Her hands fisted the front of his button-up shirt, tangling in the fabric as the desperate need to feel more of him filled her. Growing frustrated, she growled against his lips and pulled away.

“Bloody. Stupid. Shirt.” She hissed, yanking at the buttons until they finally pulled free–some even popping off completely and falling to the ground.

Under her, Harry chuckled and sat up, removing the tattered remains of his black dress shirt.

“You could’ve just asked.” He smirked.

Pansy rolled her eyes. Instead of replying with something characteristically snarky, she chose to push their lips together once more, this time with her hands roaming down the toned muscle of his chest. The heat from his bare skin made Pansy shiver with excitement. The occasional scar ran along beneath her fingertips as she explored his bare torso, serving to increase Pansy’s already fiery arousal. Dear Morgana, she wanted him…

Harry seemed to share her sentiment as he fisted the remains of her dress pooled around her waist.

“Clothes off.” He growled against her lips. “Now.”

She smirked and for once didn’t say something bitchy at being told what to do. Pansy stood, giving a show as she bent over and peeled her dress down with her wide shapely arse swaying in the air. Her knickers came with it, and soon she had them both pooled around her ankles and was able to kick the garments away. Now completely bare, Pansy turned back to the dark-haired man on her bed with a smouldering look, her hands roaming up and down her own body.

“Speechless Potter? I’ve been known to have that effect you know.” She giggled.

It occurred to her that she should not be acting so…free at the moment, especially not with him. Yet the cloud of lust and booze over her mind was far too thick to overcome. In that moment, she couldn’t care less that it was Harry Potter in her bed. Her body had one desire and one desire only. To fuck.

Potter stood, reaching forward and wrapping her in a tight embrace. He kissed her again, his tongue sweeping over her lips as Pansy groaned into his mouth. She allowed him to push her back onto the bed, their lips separating as Harry unclasped his belt and made quick work of removing his trousers. Even in her drunken state, Pansy couldn’t help but gasp in surprise as something thick and meaty slapped against her thigh. Looking down, she marvelled at the monster resting between her legs.

“Fucking hell.” She breathed.

Harry smirked and leaned down, pushing their lips together once more. He let her deepen the kiss as their sexes accidentally ground together. Her tongue swept over his, his mouth tasting of whiskey and the cigarette they shared at the bar as his hands came to rest on her arse. Pansy, in kind, reached between his legs, finding his thick stiffened manhood. She took it in her palm, pumping him with one hand as her other hand moved to tangle itself in his hair–though she didn’t even tug at it–rubbing the head of his cock against her entrance.

Harry pulled away for a moment. “Are you sure?” and Pansy rolled her eyes at that. Of course she was bloody sure! (In hindsight, she couldn’t be sure if she actually was or if it was just the alcohol that was talking.)

Pansy answered him by pushing the tip of hic cock inside her awaiting entrance. They both hissed out quiet breaths as he slid inside her, his hips now moving on their own as he pushed the rest of the way inside. She made a pathetic sound, tilting her hips up towards him when he had fully sheathed himself, his cock absolutely fucking filling her. She pulled his face against hers again, this kiss nowhere near “slow” or “gentle”, pulling his lower lip between her teeth as his hips rocked against her. Her hands danced over his hair, against his throat, as she trailed her fingertips over the shadow of stubble along his jawline.

Fuck.

She wouldn’t last long. She was far too drunk and far too fucking horny to delay her orgasm, as if she was going to bloody even try. That was fine by her, though. Her normal preference for a marathon of sex would have to take a back seat tonight. She wanted to be fucked hard and fast, and Harry seemed more than happy to oblige. Heavy and thunderous were the best ways to describe his thrusts. His cock slammed into her mercilessly forcing strangled moans of delight from her lips that she could neither control nor predict as pleasure ran wild and rampant up her spine. Her fingers raked down his chest, not enough to draw blood but just enough to make him notice, as his pace began to increase. Her legs, which she’d somehow managed to forget about until this instant, came to wrap around his hips, as if she was trying to pull him even deeper inside herself, an impossible feat to be sure, as there wasn’t any more room for him to fill. It was enough, however, to plunge her over the edge, her climax striking light a bolt of lightning.

Under normal circumstances, Pansy was the definition of a screamer. Well, at least when she pleasured herself. Yet, instead of crying out or shouting expletives at the top of her lungs, Pansy wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck and pulled him into a suffocating snog.

Her moans of climax were drowned out by Potter’s tongue, as was his own. It wasn’t long before she felt him stiffen, felt his cock twitch inside of her, as Harry reached his own orgasm.

Fuck.

In the moments that passed, still tangled together with his cum slowly seeping from her folds, Pansy felt almost light-headed with sexual afterglow, so much so a giggle actually escaped her lips. Harry looked down at her in confusion, his breath still as ragged as her giggles grew louder.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with an amused huff.

Pansy giggles morphed into full blown laughs as she answered.

“I just- snort- had sex with Harry-bleedin’-Potter! Bwahaha!” She guffawed.

Potter looked down at her for a beat, before suddenly a wide grin broke out across his face and he joined in with her laughter.

“And I just slept with Pansy-fucking-Parkinson!”

Their laughter grew louder as Harry rolled off of her and collapsed onto the bed beside her. They lay there for Merlin knows how long, giggling like school children as the evidence of their recent act pooled on the sheets below.

-

A beam of sunlight filtered into the messy room, casting a bright haze on Pansy’s face. The Slytherin beauty groaned as the offending sunbeam roused her from her sleep. Consciousness brought with it the pounding pain of a hangover in her head ,and the brunette hissed and rubbed her temples.

Blech.

That’s the only word she could use to describe it. Her mouth was dry and tasted horrid, certainly not helping with the nausea in her stomach. The headache was the worst, but her muscles and joints ached with that familiar dehydrated feeling. She groaned again as she sat up, swaying from a sudden wave of wooziness. Fuck. Her legs were sore too. Why were her legs sore again? What the fuck happened last night??

A groan, one that most definitely was not her own, grabbed her attention as she turned and found the other occupant in her bed. Pansy nearly screamed out in shock as the sleeping face of Harry Potter greeted her, and with it, the memories of the night before came rushing back.

Drinks. Conversation. Flirting.

She remembered bits and pieces of that, but what came after she knew would be burned into her psyche for the rest of her life.

Kissing. Groping. Fucking.

She remembered Potter’s cock–fuck his magnificent bloody cock–inside her. She could remember her cries of pleasure–the unrelenting tsunami of pleasure ask she came again and again around his cock.

Fuck!

Fuck fuck fuck!

She fucked Harry fucking Potter!

What was she supposed to do now?!

As Pansy racked her brain for answers, Potter suddenly stirred and before she knew it, those same dazzling green eyes that bore into her the night before were blinking open. Their gazes met and silence persisted for a beat.

“...Don’t suppose last night was some sort of twisted dream then, huh?” Potter spoke, his voice laced with sleep.

And Pansy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She settled on screaming in frustration.

-

Author’s Note

This fic was inspired by one of MayorHaggar’s fics on Ao3. It’s called “Moving Forward” for those interested! This one will be short as the summary suggests, with only six chapters. I just wanted to start it now cause I always get excited to write Pansy/Harry stories since its one of my favourite parings. Let me know what you all think!

Thanks for reading!