Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Forbidden Fruit	By : scarletladyy Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Pansy Views: 17329 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in Harry Potter universe in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Forbidden Fruit
- 1
“Congrats, Hermione.” Harry patted his best friend on the back. She had just gotten a job in the Department of Rebuilding – the Ministry had decided to add another department to build everything back up to how it was before, and Hermione had been given the title of 'Housing Manager'.

“Thanks, Harry.” She grinned at him. “I'm really excited about this, you know; I have some great ideas.”

Harry took a muffin from her desk. “Oh? Like what?”

“Well, you know about the recent housing shortage?”

Harry nodded. It was common news that the Death Eaters had destroyed hundreds of houses leaving many wizards homeless. “I've decided to impose a Housing Law whereby you need as many room-mates as your house can tolerate.”

Harry raised his eyes. “Is that such a good idea? And how do you know people will listen?”

A huge smile spread across her face. “Because I'll be choosing who lives where.”

“Ahh, Hermione, you know we've always been best friends—”

Hermione laughed. “No, it's alright. I know who will be living with us, I've already done that.”

“Oh? Care to tell me?”

“Alright, but you can't tell Ronald. At least, not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because he's not living with us.”

“I'm not sure I want to hear this.” Harry felt a little sick. Surely she hadn't invited anyone they didn't like to live with them—they had plenty of friends, and he had no idea why she hadn't invited Ron.

“Right. Padma Patil, Colin Creevey, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, you and I.”

Harry nearly leapt out of his seat. “You invited three Slytherins—three Slytherins—to live with us?”

Hermione nodded, her cheeks blushing bright red.

“Why, oh why would you do that, Hermione? I can cope with Padma and Colin, but Malfoy and Parkinson?” As though Hermione didn't know what she had done, Harry repeated himself. “Malfoy and Parkinson?”

“Please stop repeating yourself, and I did it for a reason.”

Harry's eyebrows raised, as though he didn't really believe her.

“I thought we could keep an eye on them, make sure they don't get into trouble.” Before Harry had the chance to interrupt her again, she asserted her authority. “Besides, my decisions are fixed by law—it's final, none of you can change that, and if you think you can try, you'll spend some time in Azkaban.”

“What? Hermione this is insane! You can't just—” He stopped to think about what he wanted to say. “So, say I refuse, I'll be in Azkaban, in a cell next to a mass murderer? How would that conversation go?'Oh, what are you in for mate?' ' I murdered seven Muggle families. You?' 'I wouldn't live where I was told.' That's absurd!”

“It sounds a little amusing when put like that.” She let a giggle escape from her pursed lips. “But seriously, we need to force people to live together, whether they like it or not. It's the only way until we can get houses rebuilt.”

Harry sat and thought for a moment. Hermione did have a point; people were undeniably selfish and few would give up their homes to others. “What about Ron?”

“He'll be staying at The Burrow with the rest of the Weasleys.”

“Makes sense. When do the others move in with us?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight? That's quite soon. We'll have to get back from work early to tidy the place up. We've made quite a bit of mess the two of us,” he said with a wink. “Do they know yet? The rest of them?”

Hermione shook her head. “I'm just going to tell them now; Malfoy and Zabini work here, and they can contact Parkinson for me. Padma and Colin already know. I told them last night and they seemed okay with it.”

“Good luck telling Malfoy,” snorted Harry, putting the empty muffin wrapper in the bin to the side of him.

“Thanks,” she smiled. “I'll need it!”

OOO

“I heard a knock, I think they're here,” called Hermione, who was in the kitchen.

Harry quietly came down the stairs so as not to wake Mrs Black. Padma and Colin had arrived an hour ago, but the Slytherins were biding their time.

Harry opened the door to three clearly angry faces: Malfoy on the left, Zabini on the right and Parkinson in the middle. Harry stepped aside to let them in as they all exchanged glares with one another.

“I'm not happy about this, Potter,” Malfoy said fiercely, setting off Mrs Black's screaming portrait. “My ears!” screamed Malfoy as he and his friends clasped their hands over their heads. “What in Merlin's name is that?”

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione came running down the hallway, ignoring the arrival of the new guests and shut the portrait up.

“I forgot to mention,” Harry said slyly, “that you need to be quiet in the hallway and up the stairs.”

“Potter,” Malfoy said quietly through gritted teeth.

Parkinson touched Malfoy's arm gently. “Come on, let's go through this—” She pinched her nose. “—hallway.”

Hermione led the newcomers into the kitchen at the end of the hallway, Harry following behind them; he noticed that Malfoy was carrying Parkinson's luggage for her, and found it quite odd when she could easily carry it herself with magic.

“I think we should sort out bedrooms,” Hermione said as soon as they arrived in the kitchen, hardly having time for everyone to sit round the table where Colin and Padma already were. “Padma and I will share the bedroom on the first floor, Colin and Harry, you take the first bedroom on the right on the second floor ....” She stopped and looked at the three Slytherins and, pointing to Malfoy and Parkinson, she spoke. “Are you two, you know, together?” she asked meekly.

“Oh no,” smiled Parkinson.

“We're just good friends,” remarked Malfoy, putting his arm around her.

Hermione nodded. “Okay, well, Zabini and Malfoy, you have the only bedroom on the third floor, and Parkinson you take the bedroom opposite Harry and Colin's.”

There was silence around the room for a few moments, until Zabini finally spoke up. “I'm hungry.”

“So?” asked Harry, bewildered.

“So make me something.”

“We're not your house-elves, Zabini!” snapped Harry.

“It's alright, it's alright,” Hermione tried to calm the situation down. “I'll whip something up.”

Harry tugged on her sleeve. “No, Hermione, don't. If he wants something, he can get it himself.”

Hermione quietly sat down next to Harry, avoiding eye contact.

Zabini snapped his fingers. “Parkinson.”

Quickly, Parkinson shot up and tried to find her way around the kitchen—everyone except the Slytherins astonished at the way he was treating her.

Hermione kindly got up and offered to show her where everything was, but she received a stony response.

It wasn't long before Parkinson had a meal on the table for Zabini and sat back down next to Malfoy, everyone in shocked silence at what had just happened.

“Always treat your friends like that, do you, Zabini?” snapped Harry, outraged that he would speak to anyone like that, let alone a friend.

“It's none of your business,” Zabini snapped and left the room, banging the kitchen door loudly behind him, causing the portrait to scream and Hermione to run out and fix it.

“Don't mind him,” said Malfoy, playing absently with a fork on the table.

“But he didn't even eat what she made him!”

Malfoy shrugged and whispered in Parkinson's ear, causing her to giggle and the two to wander upstairs, quietly this time, as a weary Hermione came back into the kitchen.

“Thanks, Hermione,” snapped Harry at the sign of her, leaning forward with his head on his arms.

“You were the one that made it worse,” she retorted, grabbing her coat and taking it upstairs, Padma following behind her.

Harry was now awkwardly sitting in a room alone with Colin Creevey, who had his camera by his side, just waiting to take a picture.

“Harry! Can I get us all together for a picture?” he said eagerly, and as much as Harry didn’t want to, he couldn't dismiss the look in the boys' eyes.

“Fine,” he said and found himself wandering upstairs to collect the rest of the household. The first room he came to was Hermione and Padma's. The two girls were looking at the latest copy of Witch Weekly and giggling.

“Oh, Harry,” Padma giggled as he knocked lightly and walked into the room.

“Colin wants us all downstairs for a picture.”

“Sure, sure,” Hermione answered, still smiling. “We'll be there in a minute.”

Climbing the stairs to the second floor, he felt anxious at confronting the Slytherins. He was sure they would make this as difficult as possible. He rapped on Parkinson's closed door, but there was no answer; after a few minutes he decided to just go on in, but there was nobody there. She had already decorated her room though, seemingly with a flick of her wand, as it was bright pink—the walls, the carpet, bed covers—everything was pink. Feeling quite blind, he made his way quickly up to the third floor where he found the boys' dorm wide open.

Harry knocked lightly, and was shocked to find all three of them cuddled up fast asleep on one of the beds. “Malfoy!” he yelled, and the three of them woke up, dazed and blurry-eyed, glaring at Harry.

“What do you want, Potter?” he asked, pushing Parkinson off him and getting up quickly.

“Colin wants a photo of us.”

“Yeah, well you know where he can shove—” Zabini started, but Malfoy hit his shoulder and dragged him up.

“Fine. We're coming,” he said restlessly, checking his hair in the mirror.

Surprised at Malfoy's ability to drag all the Slytherins with him, and the fact that he wasn't putting up a fight, Harry almost danced down the stairs to find the girls in the kitchen already posing for photos.

Malfoy stormed into the room, Zabini and Parkinson behind him. “Alright, where do you want us?”

Colin had already moved the table aside, leaving a massive space in the centre of the room, and he pointed for Harry, Malfoy and the others to join Hermione and Padma in the centre of the room. “Just a little left, Malfoy, move closer to Hermione,” he called. “And Parkinson, you're not in the picture because you're standing a foot away from Harry.”

“I might catch something!” she said defensively, reluctantly edging closer.

“I won't bite,” Harry said mockingly, receiving a hard punch in the arm from her.

“Zabini, you need to be at the back—you're covering Padma.” As Zabini dragged himself to the back, Harry forced a nervous smile at Colin's camera as he felt it about to click. “Cheese!”

“Cheese,” the rest of the group called back, forced smiles from pretty much everyone at the very awkward situation they were in.

“Thanks, guys,” voiced Colin as he put his camera away, yawning, and sending the whole group off.

“I'm heading up to bed,” yawned Harry, saying good-night to his friends and climbing the rickety staircase quietly. His room was the same as always, except now there was a bed for Colin in it, and there wasn't as much space with his things all over the room. Exhausted, Harry collapsed into bed and fell straight to sleep.

OOO

It seemed like only seconds Harry had been asleep and dreaming when he was woken up by a bucket of freezing cold water being dropped on him. “WHAT THE HELL?” he screamed, jumping up out of bed, soaking wet, staring at the very innocent, but giggling face, of Pansy Parkinson. “PARKINSON! YOU BITCH!”

Parkinson laughed louder, calling the attention of everyone else in the house. When the Slytherins entered, they were roaring with laughter, but Hermione fetched Harry a towel straight away.

“I'll get you back for this.” Harry pointed his finger at Parkinson as she left his room, high-fiving Malfoy and Zabini.

“Sorry, Harry,” Hermione said sympathetically, getting her wand out to dry him and his bed off and warm him up again.

“It's alright, it's alright. I'll just have to make sure I get her back good.” An evil glint sparked in his eye and a narrow smile passed over his pursed lips.

“Oh, Harry! You don't want to make more trouble!” she pleaded with him.

“Don't I?” He got back into his now dry bed and rolled over, wrapping his duvet around him, leaving Hermione to walk away, slightly upset.

OOO

When Harry went down to breakfast the next morning, he saw the three Slytherins sitting in the corner of the kitchen table, eating toast and giggling as he came in.

“Dry yet, Potter?” Pansy nearly choked on her breakfast because she was laughing so hard.

“I'll get you back, Parkinson,” he said quietly, through gritted teeth so Hermione didn't hear him.

“Ahh, Harry!” Hermione was getting toast out of the toaster and spreading butter on the slices, then passing them to the Slytherins who took them from her without thanking her for them.

“Hermione,” he sighed. “Don't let them treat you like this.” He stroked her arm and took over the breakfast, making her some as she was clearly exhausted.

“Are you doing anything today?” he heard Hermione ask the Slytherins, who just ignored her and carried on their own conversations.

Harry, frustrated at the treatment of one of his best friends, spoke up. “She asked you a question.”

“Shove off, Scarhead,” scowled Malfoy, who was then hit on the head with the nearest thing to Harry's right hand—a spatula. “POTTER!”

Harry and Hermione laughed and were soon joined in the kitchen by Colin and Padma, who were quite confused at the tension and death glares going on around the table.

“Morning.” Padma sat down next to a disgruntled Hermione, and the girls started their own secret conversation.

“Hey, Potter.” Parkinson was sitting with her legs on the table, giving him a cheeky grin, and Harry couldn't help but notice she looked pretty alright.

“What do you want, Parkinson?” He glared at her. Despite how she looked, she was still a bitch.

She giggled. “Nothing.”

“Don't play games with me.”

Parkinson got up from her chair and stood in front of Harry. Within a moment, one of her hands was holding onto his tie and the other was around his neck.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Harry pulled out his wand and pushed her back with it.

“Ooh, calm down, Potter.” She winked at him and stood behind Malfoy, her arms around his head.

Harry sat down next to Hermione, stroking her hand. “Want to go somewhere today? We could meet up with Ron...”

Hermione looked up. She didn't look as happy as Harry had expected her to be. “I'll send him an owl.” She left the kitchen slowly, as though putting it off, but Harry didn't really think too much of it as he was left in the awkward presence of a non-speaking Colin and Padma and the three Slytherins at the end of the table whispering.

“I'll take these away.” He collected Hermione's, Padma's and Colin's plates from the table and took them to the sink, then heard a lot of giggling behind him. “What?” He glared at the obvious suspects who were suppressing—though not very well—their giggles.

Padma got up and made him face the sink, peeling something off his back.

“A note? You stuck a note on my back?” Harry raised his eyebrows. “And I thought Slytherins were meant to be ambitious.”

“Oh get off it, Potter,” spat Parkinson, grabbing Draco's hand and leading him out the room.

“Wait,” Harry called, stopping the Slytherins in their tracks.

“What?”

“Are you going to the ball tonight? The Ministry one?”

Malfoy and Parkinson nodded before scowling and leaving the room.

“Why would they be going?” asked Padma.

“Everyone's invited. It'll look good if they go. Show there's no hard feelings and all that.”

OOO

Harry, Ron and Hermione were all in the Leaky Cauldron later that day, sipping on butterbeers as Harry moaned about living with the Slytherins from hell.

“I mean, it's not just that they're always pranking me—and it's not even been a week yet—it's that they're there in the first place.”

“You'll get used to it, mate.” Ron patted his friend's shoulder.

“Yes,” agreed Hermione. “Besides, it's better that they're here than—”

“Than where, Hermione?” Harry was glaring at her. “I can't believe you did this to us. And without Ron as well. Anyone would think you two hadn't got together.”

Hermione looked around shiftily. “Well, we haven't.”

“You haven't?” Harry nearly spat out his drink.

Ron shyly nodded. “It just wasn't working for us.”

“Oh, come on. You two are made for each other. You're just too stubborn to see it.”

Hermione sighed. “Like you and Ginny, you mean?”

“No, not like me and Ginny. That was completely different.”

“It's always different with you, Harry.”

Trying to stop an argument between his two friends, Ron intervened. “So who’s the worst to live with then? Malfoy, Parkinson or Zabini?”

“Parkinson.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don't know,” Harry said with a sigh. “She's just, well, she seems to have the other two under her control.”

“I hate women like that,” chuckled Ron.

“You just hate women who think for themselves,” Hermione pointed out.

“That's not true!”

“Course it is. That's why you've started dating Lavender again.”

“She can think for herself!”

Hermione laughed spitefully. “Only on what clothes to wear.”

“Well, at least she cares what she looks like!” retorted Ron, defending his new girlfriend and leaving Hermione to grab her things and run out of the pub without another look behind her.

“Pity you're not with us,” Harry said, feeling awkward.

“Yeah, I'd tell Parkinson where to get off.”

Harry finished the last of his drink and started to get up. “Well, I'd better be off – I've got some things to do before the ball tonight. You coming?”

Ron nodded. “Though I doubt Hermione will want me there.”

“Just keep things with Lavender low heat around her and she'll be fine.”

“Yeah, don't want the same situation as in sixth year,” he said with a laugh.

OOO

When Harry walked into the ballroom that night he felt like a fool—it was a masquerade ball, but nobody had told him.

“Harry!” called Dean Thomas, coming over to shake his hand. “I see they didn't tell you either? No worries, there's a stall selling masks right over there. Apparently a lot of people weren't told.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something...”

“Go ahead.” Harry started to walk across to the stand, hoping this was going to be over quick as he was pretty sure he knew what Dean wanted to say.

“It's Ginny.”

Harry sighed inside, he was right.

“I wanted to know if it would be alright if I went out with her?”

Harry stopped in his tracks. He had been prepared for this, but it didn't make it any easier to cope with.

“I really like her and I think she really likes me too, but she wants to know if you're okay with it.”

“Well then, why didn't she ask me?”

Dean shrugged, which was followed by several moments of silence in the crowded room. “Well?”

Harry took a long time to answer. “Yes, yes. It's fine.”

“Thanks, mate!” Dean patted him on the back and ran off into the crowd, presumably to find Ginny and tell her the good news.

The stand Dean had pointed to was full of lots of different masks, but Harry went for a black one that covered most of his face to match his suit and delved into the crowd to see if he recognised his friends.

The room was darkly decorated, which Harry found odd as it was supposed to be a celebration of the light side winning.

“Hey mate.” Ron came up behind him. His mask didn't cover even half of his face, and his flaming red hair was very visible. “That you, Harry?”

Harry nodded. “Where is everyone?”

“Either they're disguised very well and can't find us, or they're just not here yet.”

Harry was about to respond but he was interrupted by a loud voice, who he figured out to be the DJ after looking at where the spotlight was pointing.

“It's time for all those lovers out there to get their dancing grooves on, so grab a partner and head to the floor.”

“Man, he's corny,” laughed Ron, and Harry had to agree, not being able to understand why flocks of couples fled to the dance floor.

“Ronniekins!” A very loud, girlish voice appeared out of nowhere, and the owner of it grabbed Ron's hand, dragging him off to the centre of the dance floor where she put her head on his shoulder.

“Hi.” A girl in a bright green dress walked up to Harry and tapped him on the shoulder—with a glass of wine in her her hand, she looked as though her party had already started.

“Er, hi,” responded Harry, his hands in his pockets; he didn't know how to react, not having much experience with forward women.

“I'd tell you my name but I think it would defeat the point.” She laughed, taking a sip of her wine.

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled awkwardly.

“I like your suit. It was what drew me to you.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you here with anyone tonight?”

“You mean like a girlfriend?”

The girl nodded.

“No.”

She smiled at him. “Would you like to dance?”

Harry shook his head. “No, thank you. I can't dance.”

“Sure you can.” She grabbed his hand and led him onto the dance floor right by Ron and Lavender.

“Er, no.” He pulled away from her and sat himself in the nearest chair. The girl looked fairly disappointed, but Harry just wasn't in the mood after hearing about Dean and Ginny, who had just decided to dance in front of him. “I need some fresh air,” he said to himself and found the nearest exit, the cool air giving him time to calm down.

“She looked alright, mate.” Ron had somehow managed to drag himself away from Lavender to join Harry outside.

“Too forward. And I just had Dean telling me he wanted to be with Ginny.”

“Ahh.” Ron nodded in acknowledgement. “Have you seen Hermione? I wanted to apologise.”

Harry shook his head. The only people he'd seen were Dean, Ginny, Lavender, and the girl who had come onto him. All he wanted was to go home and get a quiet night's sleep—he gathered the Slytherins would be out all night so he could get some peace and quiet for once and not have to worry about any other pranks as he slept.

There was silence as both Harry and Ron enjoyed the peace without anyone bothering them, but it didn't last long as the girl Harry had talked to before came bouncing out.

“Hey, where'd you go? You don't like me?” she laughed, stroking his arm. “Ew.” Her attentions turned to Ron. “Why would you hang out with a Weasley?”

Harry gave her a surprised look at her audacity.

“Come on!” Harry felt himself being dragged back inside to the bemusement of Ron.

“I don't want—” he started to say but it was clearly no good; she was not taking no for an answer as she threw her arms around him and started to sway.

After a few minutes she leant her head on his shoulder. “See,” she smiled up at him. “Nothing to worry about.”

Harry had to admit this felt kind of nice, and apart from her comment to Ron earlier, she didn't seem so bad—up until the point where she lowered her hands, fondling his bottom.

“Er, what are you, er,” he stammered, panicking in case anyone was watching.

“Relax,” she whispered into his ear, continuing to roam her hands around the lower part of his body.

“Can we have some drinks?” Harry loosened his tie, trying to catch his breath.

The girl nodded and made her way over to the bar, ordering a couple of butterbeers.

About two hours later saw Harry and the girl drinking shots while trying to stay on their stools; they had gotten completely wasted together.

“Want to come back to mine?” the girl asked, stroking Harry's thigh suggestively.

Harry nodded eagerly, his head spinning and his vision blurry, made worse by the Apparition to the girl's home.

They landed in a bright pink room which Harry recognised as being quite familiar, but thought nothing of it as the girl pushed him violently on the bed, ripping his suit as she tore off his clothes. Frantic, Harry did the same to her, and it didn't take long until they were both naked and eager.

The girl climbed on top of Harry, inserting his rock hard cock into her own wet pussy. It didn't take long to get the whole of Harry's cock inside her, and he got the feeling she had done this before.

Leaning forwards towards Harry, the girl rocked up and down and whispered in his ear. “Hold me.”

Slightly bewildered, Harry put his arms around her as she quickened up the pace, moaning as Harry's cock found her g-spot.

“Oh, yeah, that's it,” she moaned, and Harry turned her over, pulling himself on top of her.

Moving his fingers down to her groin area, he fumbled around and found her clit, making her moan with pleasure and move faster.

Harry leaned in to kiss her and felt her breasts as he quickened his pace.

“Faster,” she moaned between kisses and grabbed Harry around the neck.

Harry obliged and ploughed into her harder, causing her to groan loudly. With one last push, the two orgasmed at the same time, out of breath and clearly satisfied.

Harry got off of her and lay by her side, catching his breath.

“We're good,” the girl said between breaths, and the last thing Harry remembered was nodding as everything went black.

OOO

The next morning Harry was awoken by a loud scream.

“WHAT THE BLEEDING HELL IS GOING ON HERE?”

Startled, Harry jumped nearly two feet into the air and promptly grabbed the cover around him as he saw the rest of his housemates staring at him with confused looks on their faces.

“Wha....?” The girl that had been lying next to Harry awoke, holding her head and looking around surprised.

“Parkinson?” Harry said slowly, grabbing his glasses and allowing his vision to come back slowly.

“Potter?”

“YOU TWO SLEPT TOGETHER?” Draco screamed, his face bright red while Hermione just looked disappointed.

Parkinson jumped up out of bed, taking the cover with her, leaving a very naked and cold Harry in full view of everyone.

“MY EYES!” yelled Draco, putting one hand over his eyes as Harry put a hand over his now exposed genitals.

“You bitch! Give me that back!” Harry tried to tug the cover away from Parkinson with his one free hand, but she just smirked at him and edged nearer to Draco.

“Can you stay away from me, please?” Draco raised his eyes at Parkinson. “At least until you've had a shower. You have Potter on you.” He frowned at her, leading to a shrieking scream of acknowledgement and running out of the room very fast on her part.

“I just cannot believe this...” mused Hermione, looking anywhere but at Harry. “How could you two sleep together?”

“I didn't know it was Parkinson!” He frowned, leaning over for his boxers. “It was a masquerade ball, for Merlin's sake. And where were you anyway? This might not have happened if I'd come across you.”

Hermione sighed. “I didn't go.”

“Aww, Granger didn't have a date?” mocked Malfoy and promptly left the room with everyone else, leaving Harry and Hermione alone together.

“Why didn't you go?” asked Harry sympathetically, pulling his shirt over his head.

“I didn't want to see Ron with...” She sighed. “With her.”

“He'll come round soon enough.”

“I doubt it.”

“Why?”

“Things ended badly. You don't know what it was like, Harry.”

“So tell me.”

“You don't want to know.” She started to play with her hair to try and distract herself.

“Then why did I ask?”

Hermione chuckled; she hated that reply. Harry always used it to get information out of her that she didn't want to give. “He was cheating on me—with her—and then when I found out, he blamed it on me because he said I didn't give him what he wanted.”

Harry was shocked; he didn't realise that Ron could be so cruel. “I'm so sorry, Hermione.” He stroked her hair to comfort her. “Is there anything I can do?”

Hermione shook her head. “Although seeing you with Parkinson wasn't high on my list of things to see before I die,” she responded with a laugh.

“Yes, well, that was a surprise to us all, apparently. Right, well, we're still in her room, aren't we?”

Hermione nodded, a grin on her face.

“Come on, let's go have some breakfast. Not that that will get rid of the scars but...”

As Harry and Hermione walked downstairs, the kitchen was full of people – the Slytherins, Colin and Padma were all there, but so were some of the Slytherins' friends from school: Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, Crabbe, Goyle and Theodore Nott.

“You slept with Pansy!” laughed Nott as they entered the kitchen.

“Yeah, don't expect it on a regular basis, Potter.” Pansy was playing along with the rest of them. Somehow she had managed to turn it around to be all his fault and nothing to do with her.

“I wouldn't want it again,” retorted Harry.

Malfoy laughed. “Clearly she didn't show you her best moves.”

“Hang on,” interrupted Hermione. “I thought you two were just good friends...?”

“We are,” Malfoy winked at Parkinson. “Good friends with benefits.”

“Ahh,” Hermione nodded knowingly and showed an air of disapproval as she fumbled with the kettle awkwardly.

Harry sat down next to Colin and grabbed the Daily Prophet.

“So did anyone else besides Potter and Parkinson pull last night?” asked Goyle.

Crabbe shook his head.

“I did,” replied Nott. “With this lucky lady here,” he put his arms around the oldest Greengrass girl, Daphne.

“Hardly news,” spat Parkinson.

“Oh, I'm sorry it wasn't as much as a big surprise as you and Potter,” retorted Nott defensively, leading the rest of the Slytherins to laugh as Parkinson crossed her arms and huffed. “Tell me, have you always fancied him or...?”

Parkinson glared at Nott. “I'll get you for this, Potter.”

Harry looked up from his paper. “Me? How is this my fault? Although I guess I got you back good, just accidentally...!”

“You're the guy!”

“So?”

“So you're supposed to know who you're fucking!”

Harry sighed. “So girls are always oblivious to their one night stands are they then, Parkinson? Because that seems to be your logic.”

“No, but...”

He cut her off. “But nothing. We both had a lot to drink and we were wearing masks. The way you're going on it's as though you want to do it again.”

“Ugh!” Parkinson pulled a foul, disgusting face and threw a piece of toast at him, hitting him right on his nose.

“Do you mind?” Harry jumped up, dropping his paper and eyeing Parkinson up, but she wasn't backing down either as she stared him down.

“Alright you two.” Hermione, as always, tried to intervene, but Malfoy silenced her, hoping to get Potter's attention.

“Thought you cared about Granger,” Malfoy laughed.

“I do,” Harry said through gritted teeth, not taking his eyes off Parkinson and noticing for the first time that her eye colour was green—he'd always just assumed she had brown eyes to match her hair. “But I'm busy.”

“Hear that, Mudblood? Potter's too busy with his new friend Parkinson to care about you.” Malfoy leant back on his chair, looking smug, but it wasn't long before Harry broke his gaze and lunged at Malfoy, knocking him backwards onto the floor and in turn landing on top of him.

While everyone else stood around watching, as though it was a humourous game, Hermione and Padma grabbed Harry off of Malfoy and held him back as Malfoy got up, fuming.

“I'll have you for that, Potter.”

“The last time Parkinson said that she ended up in bed with me. Will you repeat her mistake, or do you have another plan to seduce me?”

A fuming Malfoy and Parkinson promptly left the room, the other Slytherins following behind them.

“Here.” Harry undid the Silencing Spell Malfoy had placed on Hermione. “I'm sorry about that, I do care about you...”

“I know, Harry.” She smiled at him. “But you ought to be careful. You don't want to get too mixed up with them, you know. We don't really know what they're capable of anymore.”

“Oh, come on, Hermione, I can handle myself with Malfoy, he's just a bully and Parkinson's not much different.”

“Yes, well.” Hermione seemed to have run out of anything else to lecture Harry on, and she quietly left the room with Padma at her side.

“So, Colin...” Harry hadn't really had much of a chance to speak to him and he still had that damn camera by his side.

“Yes?” he responded eagerly, as though he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“How are you?” Harry felt very awkward and he didn't know what to do.

“Fine, thanks.” Colin suddenly got very excited. “Hey! Can I show you my new pictures?”

“Er, sure.”

Colin leapt out of his seat. “Follow me then!”

“Right.” Harry reluctantly followed Colin out of the kitchen and into the hallway, but to escape from his clutches he jumped in the nearest closet—to find he wasn't alone.

“OW!” came a voice.

“Sssh,” said Harry. “I'm hiding from Colin. Who're you? Never mind, Lumos.” Harry took a look around the closet which was a lot bigger than Harry had remembered it. “Oh, you have to be kidding me. Parkinson? What the hell are you doing in here?”

“It's none of you business,” she croaked, a tear in her eye. “Will you just get out? I was here first.”

Harry shook his head. “Ahh, no can do. I'm not looking through his pictures again.”

“You're testing my last nerve, Potter.”

“Oh come on, you can't say you aren't pleased to see me.”

“Er, yes, I can.” She glared at him.

“I know I wasn't the only one who enjoyed last night. I seem to remember that your comment was 'we're good'.”

“Oh, what do I know?” she spat.

“That's a good question,” mused Harry. "Anyway, how come you were crying? I thought Slytherins never cried."

"It's none of you business," she said stonily. "But it was Draco, if you must know. He called something off."

"He called what off?" Harry asked, intrigued by their relationship.

“Shove off.” Parkinson pushed her way past Harry and left the closet, and he couldn't help but notice the tension between the two of them.

As Harry exited the closet—checking first for signs of Colin and his camera—Hermione was walking past and looked annoyed.

“Did I just see Parkinson come out of there seconds before you?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.

“It's not as bad as it looks—”

“Did I?” she prompted.

Harry nodded. “Yes, but it was an accident—”

Hermione sighed and walked past him right into the kitchen.

“Girlfriend trouble, Potter?” laughed Malfoy as he headed for the front door.

“Where are you going?”

“Pansy's not coming so you won't be missing her,” he joked.

“I don't care about Parkinson, alright?”

“Be in denial all you want...” he trailed off as he left the house.

Just as Harry was walking upstairs for a lie down, there was a knock at the door.

“PARKINSON?” screamed Ron, setting Mrs Black off, which Harry had to remedy quickly in his sleepened state.

“Morning, Ron,” yawned Harry.

“Hermione was joking, wasn't she? I knew it, she's so...”

“No, she wasn't joking.”

“Are you going to let me in, or is it her that's only allowed in your house now?”

Harry glared at Ron. “I wish everyone would stop with the Parkinson jokes. They're not funny.”

“Yes they are!” Ron grinned, taking his coat off and hanging it on the bannister. “Seriously, what were you thinking?!”

“Well, I wasn't. We had a lot of drinks and it was a masked ball!”

“Oh come off it, you could at least be honest with me!”

“I am.”

Ron raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Right. So how are things between the two of you now?”

“Tense. And Hermione's annoyed with me because she thinks she caught me and Parkinson at it in the closet.”

“You were in a closet with Parkinson? Just the two of you?”

“Yes, but it's not as it sounds, I mean—”

“Save it, mate.” Ron leant against the staircase. “I don't want to hear the sordid details of you and Parkinson's new-found raw passion.”

“Why won't anyone hear me out?!”

“I really don't think there's anything else to explain. Anyway, I came to ask if you wanted to go to Diagon Alley.”

“Sure, I'll just let Hermione know.” Harry walked into the kitchen where Hermione was baking cookies. “I'm just going to Diagon Alley with—”

“Parkinson, right?”

“No. With Ron.”

“Oh,” Hermione whispered. “Well, bye then.”

OOO

“Where do you want to go first?” asked Harry as they arrived at Diagon Alley, which was full of busy shoppers.

“I don't know about you, but I need a drink.” Ron sighed, heading for the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry grabbed them a table while Ron ordered a couple of Firewhiskys.

“I heard about what happened between you and Hermione...” Harry had been mulling over whether or not to bring it up, but he felt he couldn't not.

“Oh.” Ron set the drinks on the table. “Yeah, well, I'm not proud of what I did...”

“I think you should apologise.”

Ron had a massive swig of his drink. “I guess... I just, it's hard, you know?”

“Yeah. You and Hermione have always been close, so I can imagine what it's doing to you guys.”

“I think it's safe to say we no longer have a friendship to speak of.”

“Yeah, well, she misses you—I can tell.”

“How?”

“She talks about you, and you can tell she still cares deeply for you. If you'd just make it up, maybe in a few months you could be together again.”

“Maybe. But why can't she make the first move?”

“Because you were the one that cheated.”

“Ahh. Right. I knew there'd be a logical reason for it.”

“I'll be back in a minute.” Harry set his drink down. “Just going to the toilet.” Harry made his way through the crowded pub to the back where the men's toilets were, and upon opening the door he noticed it was empty except for one person in the cubicle at the end.

Harry unzipped his fly and got ready to pee when the person in the last stall came out—and it was no guy.

“PARKINSON? What the hell? This is the men's room!”

“Ugh, you again,” she sighed. “The ladies was full.”

“So?”

“So I couldn't wait.”

“Oh, too much information. Now will you please go? I'm a bit busy here,” he said with a frown.

“Aww, ickle Potter can't pee when someone's in the room,” she taunted, coming closer to him.

“No, I just can't pee when you're here.”

“Didn't know I meant so much to you, Potter,” she laughed, close enough to touch shoulders with him. “Come, let me help.” Parkinson moved her hands down to Harry's trousers and took his cock, pointing it at the urinal. “See, it's not that hard. Now the rest is up to you.” When Harry didn't move, frozen from shock, Parkinson seemed miffed. “What's wrong with you?”

He brought himself back to his senses. “Nothing. Can you please go now?”

“Oh come on, you were all for it this morning. What's the matter, lost your nerve?”

Harry sighed. As much as he tried to admit to himself that he really didn't want sex with her again, deep down he knew he did. She was attractive and a lot more feisty than anyone else he had been with. “No, I just don't want to.”

Ultimately, Harry decided he had to reject her. Fucking Parkinson wasn't something you just did, well, unless you were a Slytherin. But Harry wasn't. He was a Gryffindor—a brave, courageous Gryffindor, and he would stick to his word.

Just as Harry was arguing with himself, Parkinson leaped forward and stuck her tongue down his throat, and all the Gryffindor bravery went out the window as he kissed her back.

“That's it, Potter,” she moaned as she took off her top. “You know you want to.”

Harry couldn't agree more as he followed her by removing his clothes too, faster than he had ever moved in his life.

“My, you're fast,” she moaned and pushed him backwards into the stall she had previously occupied.

OOO

“Hey,” called Ron as a dishevelled Harry came out of the bathroom. “You were ages. Are you alright?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, fine mate, just, er, yeah...”

“You seem out of breath,” noted Ron, who was finishing off Harry's fire whiskey.

“I suppose you want to go somewhere else now you've drank my drink,” remarked Harry, changing the subject.

“Yeah, well, not really. You were so long, and I have to get back for dinner—you know what's mum's like.”

Harry laughed; Mrs Weasley freaked if her children weren't there to share dinner with her. “I'll see you another time then.” He smiled and shook Ron's hand.

As Harry entered the front door of Grimmauld Place, all he could hear was Mrs Black screaming her head off and arguing coming from the kitchen. He opened the kitchen door to find Hermione yelling at Parkinson, who he didn't notice slip past him in the pub.

“What's going on?” he asked.

“It's her!” cried Parkinson. “She stole my lipstick!”

Harry laughed. “You can't seriously be arguing about make-up!”

“I didn't steal anything,” Hermione said calmly, a tone of anger behind her voice.

“Yes you did, you're wearing it right now!”

“Hermione, did you steal her lipstick?”

Huffing, Hermione glared at him. “Trust you to take her side.”

“I'm not taking anyone's side, I'm just trying to find out what's going on!”

“I've had enough of this.” Hermione grabbed her bag and left the kitchen sharply, giving Harry a death glare as she walked past him.

“Women,” he sighed under his breath.

“Potter.”

“Parkinson.”

“I think I know why she stole it,” offered Parkinson.

“Oh? It's not like Hermione to do anything like that.”

“She has a crush on you, I heard her telling that girl...what's her name -”

“Padma?”

“Yes!” Parkinson jumped. “Anyway, after she saw us, I think she thinks you like me.”

“Like you?” scoffed Harry. “She's insane.”

“Yes, well, that's what I tried to tell her, until I noticed her lipstick.”

“I couldn't possibly like you,” he said, lying to himself.

“The feeling's mutual, Potter.”

He winked at her. “I love it when you call me that.”

“Oh, come on,” she said as she edged backwards. “We can't just keep having sex every time we get horny.”

“And why not?” He moved closer to her, backing her up against the sink.

“Because I've got Malfoy for that.”

“Well I haven't got anyone,” he kissed her left cheek. “Wouldn't it be a shame to deny me of something so special?”

“Maybe,” she moaned slightly as he kissed her other cheek and worked his way down to her neck.

“HARRY!” Hermione was running down the stairs and he leapt a foot in the air so as not to be caught kissing her.

“Er, yeah, you okay?”

“Oh. You're here alone, I see.” Hermione arched her eyebrows and placed a bowl on the table. “I want to talk to you.” She eyed him suspiciously and snapped her fingers.

“Course.” As Hermione turned to leave the kitchen, he shot Parkinson a last lingering glance to tell her it was not finished between the two of them, and followed her around the house and up the stairs.

Hermione slammed her bedroom door behind him as he sat on her bed. “Alright, you can tell me, Harry. Is there something between you two? Because I think it's wrong—she's a Slytherin! She's trouble.”

Harry shook his head. “No. It was just a drunken mistake.”

“Don't lie to me,” she said as she narrowed her eyebrows and straightened her top.

He held his hands up in surrender. “I'm not, I swear...”

“That's alright then.” She sat down next to him on the bed and edged closer. “I just thought, maybe...” Hermione put her hand on his thigh and stroked it gently. “Me and you could...”

“Er... ah...” Harry started, moving backwards in a hope to stop her, though she only moved closer, so he was squashed against the headboard. “I'm sorry, Hermione, we just can't...”

She looked taken aback. “And why not?”

“Because I see you as my sister! I love you as a best friend, but nothing more; i'm sorry. And as much as you want to deny it you still love Ron, and that wouldn't be fair—to either of you.”

“Well, I don't care about him, so there's no problem...” Hermione leant in for a kiss and Harry leapt up from the bed to see a look of upset all over Hermione's face.

“I think you should talk to Ron – make up with him,” Harry left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him before Hermione could try and come onto him again; as hurtful as it was for Harry to reject Hermione, he knew it was the right thing to do and that she didn't really mean it, she just wanted the affection Ron used to give her.

OOO

“So what are you up to today then?” Harry asked Hermione as they both sat in the kitchen, a couple of days later, having breakfast. Nobody else in the house was seemingly up yet.

Hermione grinned. “I owled Ron last night and I think he really wants to talk, he said to meet him in Diagon Alley today!”

“That's great, Hermione.” He grinned at her to the wolf whistling of Pansy Parkinson as she strode into the kitchen confidently.

“You two getting it on then?” She winked at Harry.

“No.” Hermione's reply was frosty and cold. “I'm seeing Ron today.”

“Ahh,” she nodded, knowingly, taking a piece of toast off of Hermione's plate.

“Do you mind?”

“Not really.” Parkinson leant against the counter behind Hermione, staring at Harry as they were both unable to take their eyes off each other. “Malfoy, Zabini,” She greeted them with kisses. “Doing anything today?”

“Me and Blaise are playing Quidditch.”

“Right,” she whispered, looking from him to Harry.

“Where's Padma?” Hermione asked Harry.

He shrugged. “Not sure, but I hope she's with Colin and they're out. I don't want to run into him and his camera again.”

“Whatever, Potter,” Malfoy indicated for Blaise to follow him, and the last thing he heard was them slamming the door, waking up Mrs Black's portrait, which Hermione had to run out and fix.

“You up to anything today, Potter?” Parkinson asked casually.

“Nope. Not a darn thing.”

Hermione came running hurriedly back into the kitchen. “Well I'd better be off,” she smiled at Harry. “See you, Harry!”

“Bye 'Mione.”

There was silence for a few moments as Harry and Parkinson couldn't take their eyes off each other.

“Last time was good.” she smirked at him, remembering the events of the last time they had sex.

“Yeah, we definitely shouldn't do that again...” He sighed.

“Definitely not.” Parkinson raised an eyebrow at him.

“There's nobody home...”
- 1
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