Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Oblivion	By : bohemianlove Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 10843 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Oblivion
- 1
Oblivion

A/N: This was a birthday
present for a friend who requested Harry/Pansy of all things�so there you have
it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any money off this, nor do I intend any copyright infringement by writing this, and so on. It's all JK Rowling's works and the rights belong to her and whomever she shares them with, which does not include me. If you're not convinced not to sue me yet, you really needn't bother, because I have no assets to speak of.

~

It was crazy, insane, and a
number of other synonyms, but he was doing it anyway in a blind, rebellious
passion. He was kissing her, and he didn't care what anyone would think.
Harry was tired of being their hero, tired of trying to live up to impossible
expectations, just...tired. So what if he couldn't stand the sound of her
voice or the sight of her face? So what if he was just using her? He'd been
used all his life.

She helped him forget,
though she never actually meant to. He needed to forget that he had no one
left to talk to, that he was now alone. Ron had his own life, his own
problems; Harry couldn't talk to him. Ron never understood anyway. He
couldn't possibly comprehend being the child of a prophecy. Hermione had
understood - she'd always known him better than anyone else - but she had a
boyfriend now. Their friendship might have remained - she might have never
dated at all - if he hadn't been so goddamned scared of putting her in harm's
way - of losing her. He'd lost her anyway; the bitter irony of it was
constantly tearing at him.

Now he drowned all of his
problems and loneliness and frustration in her. She was so damned convenient.
The bitch didn't care about him or his feelings or his bloody destiny. She'd
just wanted his body for a change, and he'd been miserable enough to give it to
her, to an extent.

n stn style='font-family:Arial'>

It was easy, you see, for
him to close his eyes and vent it all into her mouth, which wasn't quite as
unbearable as the rest of her. Her hands weren't so bad, either. There were
better hands in the world. Softer hands, warmer hands - but as long as they
were down his pants, he didn't give a fuck.

She pulled away, and he was
forced to look at her. "Not in the hallway. Come on, there's a closet
around here somewhere."

He followed her
unthinkingly, ignoring the stiffness in his groin. He didn't want her; he
wanted the release.

She pu him him into the dark
closet, a janitor's cupboard, it seemed, and it was the perfect place for it.
Pitch black within, he didn't have to watch her or pretend he was thinking
about her at all. She began to unbutton his shirt, and he shoved her skirt off
her hips, ready to feel her. He didn't have any other experiences with naked
women, bur bor body was nice, unlike her face, and she could have been any
other woman, he supposed - any one he wanted.

She pushed his shirt off his
shoulders, and then her nails were there, skimming down his body to unbutton
his pants. The pants weren't baggy enough to hide his erection - she drew it
out, making him ache harder; she was that kind of girl.

His pants were finally down
to his ankles, along with his boxers, and then things went in a blur. Her
clothes always went quickly. He was always too tired to tease her. First
shirt, then bra, then thong - she thought he liked them for some reason. Then
he had her up against the wall, wrapped around him, shoes and stockings still
on.

Once he was inside her, it
always got better. He ignored her moans, pumping into her. She always turned
shrill when she came; he didn't have to pay close attention to her. He took
her nipples into his mouth, one after another, giving them each pr
ar
attention. He loved breasts. Hers were rather nice - somewhat large, but
firm. He got out of foreplay by doting on them during the act itself. She
loved it.

She was always oh-so-tight
around him, too. Evidently, he was the biggest she'd had, or perhaps the only,
but he doubted that. She was a slut; he knew it. As long as he had her wet
walls clenched around him, he didn't care.

Harry liked how wet she
always seemed to be, no matter how inattentive he was. It was good to be
wanted, even if the feeling wasn't fully mutual.

In and out, in and out,
ignoring that her hair was straight - he wanted curls.

He closed his eyes. Brown
eyes. Deep, like coffee with just a little bit of milk. They were watching
him as his lips and hands traveled her body, and they were hazy. She
wanted him as much as he wanted her, squirming and sweating beneath him, her
gasps and whimpers and moans coming out softly. He would never have
enough of her - pale and smooth and perfect, and his damnit.

A shrill scream broke
through the bright fantasy in his mind, and he opened his eyes to darkness,
finally letting go now that she was satisfied. She would keep coming back if
he always let her go first. He came quickly, spilling his seed into her as she
clenched even more tightly around him.

He pulled out of her and set
her gently on the floor. "I can get away tomorrow night," she said
as he pulled up his boxers and pants, "You want to?"

"Sure," he replied
blankly. They both finished dressing and then he left her, having forgotten
why he needed to go to her at all.

~ fin
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