Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

It's Not Just Sex	By : Daye Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Pansy Views: 52112 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
WARNING: This chapter departs from the usual pairing and styles and instead has Harry/Bellatrix and Draco/Pansy scenes. Given the plot of the story thus far; one of these scenes contains highly dubious consent and the other is entirely non-consensual, so yeah, we’re suddenly veering into a slightly darker place. WARNING!

Tags: HJ, Oral, Bondage, Anal play. N/C, Dubious consent. Violence.

Chapter Ten: In the Belly of The Beast

Any plan, Harry reflected, where the first step was ‘surrender yourself to the mercy of your notably merciless enemy’ was the very definition of a bad plan. He wondered how he’d let Pansy talk him into it.

He surveyed the room he was in again. It hadn’t changed much in the couple of hours since he’d regained consciousness. While the room was not claustrophobically small, it wasn’t cavernously huge either. The walls and floor were plain dark wood, unadorned except by the marks of age and the stains of fluids that Harry didn’t really want to know the origin of. Harry sat in the centre of the room in hard chair; roped to it with thin cord that was wrapped loosely around his limbs, torso and neck. He could probably have slipped out of the slack if he’d tried but he didn’t; partly because he didn’t have anywhere to go and partly because he didn’t want to give his captors an excuse to abuse him. Not that they really needed one, he supposed. Predictably, there was only one door into the room and it was placed directly behind him where he couldn’t see it.

Still, so far the worst perils that his captivity had thrown at him were simple boredom, anxiety, and some mild cramp in his legs. Not the kinds of things that Harry found difficult to withstand given his experiences. Even so, Harry found his concentration lacking. The sheer monotony was causing him to lose track of time. The excited energy he had started this venture with had long since faded and the weariness of too many disrupted night’s sleep caught up with him as his eye lids began to droop.

He wasn’t falling asleep of course. It would be completely impossible for him to fall asleep given the situation, so all he was doing was resting his eyes, really...

The clatter of footsteps cut through Harry’s drowsiness. He hadn’t heard the door open or shut but then he hadn’t been paying it much attention. His head whipped around to see who was there. The room was empty. Harry frowned; he could have sworn he heard someone walking behind him. He turned back to face the front again.

A pair of dark eyes bore into him. Harry recoiled with a cry as he slammed into the back of his chair, snapping his neck back violently as he jerked awake. His heart pounded against his rib cage frantically, as if trying to escape. He remembered the last image of his dream as the mind filled in the detail around the eyes: a long hooked nose and sallow skin framed by curtains of greasy black hair.

Snape.

Harry panicked, twisting and turning and trying to look in every direction at once. The room was entirely empty but then he’d thought that before and he had also thought that he’d been awake then. It scared Harry that his senses had become untrustworthy and he wondered how his enemies could distort his perceptions so easily. But the answer had already been given to him: Snape. Severus Snape, Legilimens, the reader of minds that had tried- and intentionally failed- to teach Harry Occlumency. Primal terror seemed to well up in Harry; he’d been so stupid coming here never considering this possibility. And never in the brief planning sessions that a restless Harry and Ron had permitted Pansy to conduct had this notion ever come up. Fury rose up in Harry, at his own stupidity, at the fact that everything was lost, but primarily at Snape for being able to do this to him.

The fury saved him. It had always been his keenest defence against Snape’s intrusions. It whirled through his mind burning away at the mental feelers Snape had wound throughout his brain. Now that he was aware of the intrusion Harry tried to wall off his mind. Instead, Snape’s mental attack seemed to pressure him from all sides, as though his skull was shrinking and compressing his brain.

Harry cried out in pain and awoke in spasms. Now, he truly was awake. He could tell with a certainty he’d lacked the previous two times... Only reality could be this harsh and unforgiving. Harry was still in his bonds but now they were all that were holding him in the chair, his head hung limp at the end of his downturned neck, his shirt and trousers seemed drenched in terror sweat and he could feel the track of blood that was seeping from one nostril, down over his lips until it dripped slowly from the point of his chin.

“Snape!” the voice was different from the one he expected, but no less harsh, “What are you doing to the boy?”

“I am simply trying to ascertain Potter’s motives for being here,” came Snape’s quiet, cold voice. The two voices discussing him were stood behind the chair. Harry kept himself limp and tried not to let on that he was awake again.

“And not, say, trying to slip him a key?” Bellatrix Lestrange accused.

“As you have tied him up, I would scarcely see the point,” Snape said, though his voice did not get agitated, “Such accusations grow tiresome, Bellatrix.”

“As does your presence, Severus,” Bellatrix shot back, “Potter is my prisoner.”

“Yours?” Snape said, “Not the Dark Lord’s? Really, Bellatrix; you do not believe this capture is as simple as it seems, either, or you would have alerted the Dark Lord as soon as Potter passed your threshold.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Snape,” Bellatrix growled.

“Perhaps, I should alert our Lord,” and here Harry heard a rustle of fabric as Snape pulled back his sleeve, “It is my duty, after all, as a loyal Death Eater.”

“No!” Bellatrix exclaimed harshly. There was a quick motion and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

“Ah, maybe you fear the Dark Lord does not favour you as much as you claim?” Snape’s tone was highly familiar to Harry; contemptuous and mocking. “Or are you still trying to suggest that simply storing a few mere trinkets for the Dark Lord conveys some kind of deep mystic bond?”

“Mere trinkets?” Bellatrix was outraged, “Mere trinkets? Oh Severus, you betray your own ignorance, the treasures in my vault are far beyond your ken.”

“Far be it that a guest should contradict his host,” Snape said with false courtesy, “I wish you the best of luck with your... interrogation.”

His footsteps clattered on the floor as he left the room and the door swung close with a long, ominous creak, leaving Harry all alone with a very angry Bellatrix Lestrange. He tried not to move as she stalked slowly around his chair.

“Wake up,” she snarled and then backhanded him. The pain exploded across Harry’s face before he even realised Bellatrix was going to strike. Even as his head snapped around, Bellatrix took a firm grasp on him and yanked him line with her face. They locked eyes and Harry once again felt the sensation of a dark gaze boring into him, though from an entirely different source.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” Bellatrix growled.

“You tell me,” Harry said sarcastically, “I asked for a room with a view,”

To his surprise, Bellatrix did not immediately strike again and instead simply laughed in his face.

“Look at the stones on you, ickle Harry,” Bellatrix chortled, slowly pacing around Harry. “Quite the brave and stalwart hero. I suppose I could smack you around but I’d wager you’d just pride yourself on taking it without making a noise, ” she was behind him now, and suddenly speaking into his ear, lips brushing his left earlobe, “I’m just going to have to be creative when it comes to hurting you.”

She started circling again, trailing her fingertips across his back and shoulders then across his chest as she faced him once more.

“I’ve seen your young paramour, Harry,” Bellatrix said, softly, “She is a pretty one, isn’t she? Those big round eyes,” She batted her eyelids at him. “That silky long hair,” she shook her head so her own dark tresses were set in motion and then she leaned close so her nose was barely an inch away from Harry’s. He was suddenly aware of the plunging neckline of Bellatrix’s tight fitting robes. “Her nice tits,” Bellatrix cackled, “They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Harry, I’m touched.”

“She’s nothing like you.” Harry growled automatically.

“Hmm. Such loyalty to the girl who betrayed you, Harry,” Bellatrix said, “that’s almost cute. Oh and please; struggle as much as you like.”

“Wha-?” Was all Harry managed before Bellatrix was on him; straddling his lap and clamping her mouth over his own. Harry was repulsed. His entire body heaved and his arms flailed trying to get her off him. He pressed against the loose rope tying him down, but it contracted, pulling his arms back to his sides and his body hard against the back of the chair. Harry realised this was what Bellatrix had meant about struggling. Even as he forced himself to stay still, the ropes didn’t slack off again. He could even feel the coil against his neck now.

Bellatrix’s tongue played over his lips, pushing past them to slather over his clenched teeth until she grew impatient. Her fingers wound through Harry’s dark locks while her thumbs jammed into his face with brutal strength; forcing his jaws to unclench and let her tongue invade his mouth. There was no passion in the act, instead her marauding tongue swept methodically across the inside of his mouth like a conquering army, battering Harry’s own unresponsive muscle about as she sought to dominate him. Harry let loose a long groan that was entirely muffled by Bellatrix’s presence on top of him and inside him. Even as she pushed past his defences, Harry made another futile attempt at dislodging her. He thrust his hips upwards to try and throw her off him. He didn’t stop trying until he felt the cords digging into his thighs and knees and ankles. Suddenly he realised that the ropes were attached to the chair’s front legs and that every motion he made was causing them to contract and pull his legs wider, exposing him and allowing Bellatrix’s crotch to rub directly onmthis.

Absurdly, Bellatrix seem to interpret his horrified attempts to get rid of her as active participation and responded by grinding herself against him. Harry felt sickened to the core, mentally he had never been less turned on, but nobody seemed to have told his body that. Instead, it was remembering how long it had been since he’d had Pansy pushed up against it. Harry’s skin was flushed throughout but no more so than where Bellatrix’s bust pushed against his chest and her bits ground against his cock, which was twitching and hardening in unwanted excitement.

When Bellatrix felt his hardness start to push at her knickers, her lips curled into a smirk as her eyes glittered victoriously. One hand left Harry’s jaw and pulled out her wand, pressing it against his chest. As she did so Harry felt a warm, itching sensation spread over his chest and down his legs and sagged in relief; obviously this magic was some kind of arousal charm. It was the only explanation; she had to be forcing him to feel like this, he wasn’t remotely attracted to Bellatrix. It was only when he then felt the slap of cold air that he realised that all the spell had done was dissolve his clothes.

Bellatrix stepped back and observed her handiwork; Harry was flushed and bound tightly to the chair, his member was almost completely hardened, bobbing slightly in the cool air.

“You sick... twisted...” Harry gasped.

“Mhmm,” Bellatrix made a deep contented purring noise, kneeling between his spread legs, “Quite right Harry, but then this sick, twisted woman seems to have got you quite hard. You must like it.”

She reached and grasped his shaft with one hand and started up a quick wanking motion, twisting her fist around the sensitive head before plunging it down his length. Her other hand reached behind his balls to rub the shaft there, working her way back. By the time her forefinger was circling his arsehole, he was completely- albeit involuntarily- hard.

“Yes,” Bellatrix murmured over his dick, “You’re loving this aren’t you, slut?”

Then she swallowed him. She didn’t warm up to it, didn’t gag at all, she just plunged his entire length down her gob in one go. Harry’s jaw clenched so hard his muscles ached as he tried to prevent himself from crying out as the warmth enveloped him. Pansy never managed that. The betraying thought seared across Harry’s brain. He really must be a slut, he thought. Then Bellatrix sucked as if she was trying to inhale his knob. Conflicting sensations stormed all over Harry’s lower half, the grip of her lips around his base, the slathering motion of her tongue on his shaft, the soft tickle of her long hair across his hips and inner thighs. Harry clenched his eyes, shutting out the world, he was better than this, he wouldn’t let her win, he would...

Bellatrix’s finger punched upwards, thrusting through his clenched virgin hole and curling around inside him. Harry couldn’t help but react to the intrusion, surging suddenly against his enchanted bonds, which slapped him back down. Harry immediately knew he’d gone too far this time as the loop around his neck contracted enough to start restricting his breathing. Panicked, Harry tried to breathe but the ropes around his chest would only allow so much air in, as it rattled through his windpipe. Harry became lightheaded and his hand and feet started to prickle with pins and needles.

All Harry could do now was force himself not to move against his bonds any further, all other mental and physical resistance he might have made was crushed. Bellatrix’s head started to bob on his shaft, quickly alternating with the thrusting of the finger inside his bum. Harry’s head lolled, his mouth gaped as his breath came out with grunts and moans, completely subject to Bellatrix’s will as she pushed him mercilessly to a glorious high.

There was no fighting it when it came, he simply spilled into Bellatrix’s waiting mouth as she devoured him whole.

Even his bonds recognised his surrender and let him down enough to breathe and hang in their loosened embrace. When he finally managed to look up, it was only to be greeted by Bellatrix’s gleeful sneer.

“Well, ickle Harrikins,” her voice came out in girlish singsong, “that was quite respectable, I suppose. For your age.”

“Fuck... you... Bitch.” Harry rasped.

Bellatrix grabbed his head in one hand and pointed her wand in his face with the other.

“Maybe later,” She sneered, “for now, I’m going to cause you some real pain.”

~0~

Hermione Granger was quite cold. This in itself was not a new thing. However, previously, she had always been able to distract herself from it in some way. Usually with a book or by observing her companions or more recently just any kind of mental exercises: lists of potions and their ingredients, the factors that lead to historical events, arthimancy solutions and times tables. Now, she’d run out and was without any kind of distraction so all she could focus on was the cold. Hermione whimpered and curled up tighter on the cellar’s floor.

There was one small source of warmth, across the side of Hermione’s face where it was nestled in the lap of Luna Lovegood. The younger girl made a small noise of reassurance and stroked Hermione’s hair softly with one hand, trying to soothe Hermione into sleep. That was the arrangement; it was Hermione’s turn to sleep and Luna’s to keep watch.

Hermione had quite lost track of time. It seemed like weeks since they’d left her down here, or months, or years, even. Years, locked down here and the whole world moving on without her, heedless, unknowing and uncaring. Hermione knew she should be glad that the door to the cellar wasn’t opening, that they weren’t being dragged out for questioning or... entertainment. Yet she could take no solace in this, she could only dread that they could come for her at any time and anticipate what would happen to her when they did.

As if in answer to her unspoken fears, light blazed into the cellar as the door was flung open. Hermione clenched her eyes tight shut against the sudden harshness so she only heard, not the thundering of footsteps down the stairs, but an almighty crash of a heavy body landing half way down the stairs, followed by extended series of small thuds and groans as the body rolled down the remaining steps, one by one. Even before the unfortunate new guest of Malfoy Manor had come to a halt, the door had been slammed shut and bolted from the other side once more.

Hermione didn’t open her eyes to see who the new arrival was as the cellar was almost pitch black anyway, it would have been pointless. She only opened her eyes when she heard a very familiar clicking sound and a gentle glow filled the room. Then she started in surprise.

Ron Weasley stared back at her. One eye was thoroughly blackened; abrasions underlined the cheekbone on the other side. His entire face looked red and sore and puffy but as he looked back at her, his face broke into a wide grin.

“Hermione!” he said, joyfully, “We’re here to rescue you!”

Then he toppled over backwards.

~0~

Merely being within Malfoy Manor again was an unsettling experience for Pansy. The ornate corridors and rooms with fantastic inlays had once been a second home to her. Everything was familiar and yet also strangely different. The manor had always been pristine when she had visited. Now the candelabras were covered with grime and the carpets, where they were not going threadbare with heavy use, were laden with a thick layer of dust. With only the three Malfoy’s living there, it had often seemed as quiet and still as a mausoleum, but now there was a constant buzz of activity with Death Eaters and Snatchers coming and going at all hours, talking and jesting amongst themselves in loud, incautious voices.

Returning to places you used to frequent was supposed to make you nostalgic, Pansy thought, not fill you with apprehension and nagging doubt. Then again, the returnees weren’t usually trying to keep so many secrets, either. Like Ron’s wand tucked away in her belongings or the hiding place of the Horcrux locket they’d stashed in the woods before coming here. Hopefully, the very act of bringing Harry and Ron to their doorstep would help to lull most of the Death Eaters into a false sense of security. There was one person, though, who Pansy could not convince herself she was fooling.

Draco Malfoy stood in the centre of the hallway up ahead of her, blocking her path. It had been over half a year since she’d seen him. He’d changed a lot but then so had she, so she couldn’t complain. Draco did not look the better for a year in the company of Death Eaters, he was thinner and gaunter as if stress had eroded away at his flesh; emphasising his already prominently pointed skull structure. His grey eyes glared out of dark hollows and an echo of his old sneer creased his lips.

“Hello Pansy,” He said, sardonically, “fancy meeting you here.”

“Draco,” Pansy said with a curt nod and stepped forward to move past him. He didn’t try to get out her way so she just barged straight past him. His arm moved in a flash. One moment it was limp by his side, next his right hand was wrapped around her left arm and clinging onto her with manic strength. Even his fingers seemed to have lost flesh; wasting down to skin-covered phalanges. Still, that didn’t seem to prevent him from holding her still. Pansy didn’t dare try her strength against his. There was no telling what he might do.

“Now, now,” he drawled, “Is that any way to treat your host in his own home?”

Pansy let loose a small snort of derision.

“What a pleasant fantasy for you,” she said, “to think that this is still your home and not just Death Eater central.”

He yanked on her arm, dragging them face to face in the centre of the corridor.

“What is the matter with you?” He growled, “Do you think this is some kind of game? We used to be friends.”

His grip on her arm loosened and shifted, pushing up her sleeve to grasp her bare skin. The warm contact sent shivers up her arm as he tried to drag her closer but Pansy’s posture stiffened and tensed

“We could still be friends,” Draco said huskily, his meaning inescapable, “you could do with some friends in this place.”

Despite herself, Pansy sucked in an extra deep breath, she hadn’t expected this, hadn’t planned for it; whatever there had been between her and Draco was long gone. She was deeply committed to her relationship with Harry. The only problem with that was... Draco didn’t know that and given the method of her arrival; had compelling evidence to the contrary.

“Maybe,” Pansy said, pushing her palm against his chest, “but I’ve just arrived five minutes ago and even I know you don’t have any pull here.”

Draco ignored her hand on his chest and instead just yanked her closer to him.

“Do you think anyone else is going to stick up for you here?” Draco continued, “Do you think Greyback plays nice?” His other hand found its way to her hip and rubbed at it insistently. “On the other hand, I can be nice if you’re nice to me.”

Pansy’s head spun as she tried to figure out her options. Like it or not, she was playing a role and she had to play it convincingly or the whole jig would be up. If she really had ditched Harry, if she really was here all alone and in need of allies what would she be doing? Making allies she could, of course. She needed to convince Draco, she was on the level or he’d figure it out, if he hadn’t already. She had two options; she could play along or she could attack Draco now but it was too soon. All the Death Eaters would be on their guard against her still on her first night here. She wouldn’t be able to overcome Draco, and find Harry, Ron and Hermione to spring them from imprisonment before being caught.

With great reluctance, Pansy relaxed her body and let Draco drag her into an embrace.

“I’ll...” she forced herself to say, “I’ll be nice, and you know how nice I can be.”

And Draco did not require any more seduction than that. He rammed his face down on hers, capturing her in a savage lip lock. Pansy felt hot breath wash over her lower face, and his grip on her hip tightened, squeezing with unnecessary force. A long groan filled her ears and Pansy was shocked to find it was hers. After an interval that was long enough to leave Pansy breathless, he broke off contact.

“Hmm, now that’s more like it,” He said and then immediately set into motion with Pansy stumbling along in his wake propelled along by his grip on her arm.

She panicked. Her heart hammered in her chest. Even as she was half dragged away by Malfoy, the fingers of the other hand sought out her jeans, searching for the reassuring feel of her wand. She couldn’t do this she thought, she’d curse him rather than doing this again. Her wand slipped away from her seeking fingers though and then it was too late.

They entered one of the Manor’s many guest bedrooms, Pansy had just enough time to take in the bed and notice how pale her reflection looked in the mirrors on the doors of the room’s wardrobe before Malfoy was on her again, crushing her body against his. His arms unknowingly knocked her hand away from her wand as grabbed her. His tongue slithered into her mouth, darting back and forth like a snake. Pansy froze; paralysed in his embrace as he pawed her. One hand traced the length of spine, running upwards from the small of her back until it encountered the end of her pony tail. Draco seized her hair, coiling it around his fist. He broke off the kiss and smirked at her.

“This is new,” he murmured and then yanked at it, pulling her head down and back, arching her spine and baring her throat, “I like it.”

He attacked her neck, assaulting her senses with rough kisses, licks and sharp nips of his teeth. Pansy’s mouth gaped and her legs weakened; before she’d ever been with Harry she’d had many encounters with Draco and he managed to learn at least some of her sweet spots during that time. Even as his grip on her hair seemed to keep her upright, Draco’s other hand clawed at her top and began to yank it up her body. He released his grip on her entirely as he pulled it over her head.

Throwing the t-shirt aside, he smirked at her bra covered chest. Pansy sighed, and reached behind her to undo its clip. It would only get broken if she let Draco attempt to get it off her himseld. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt so uneasy as she tossed the underwear aside, it wasn’t like Draco hadn’t seen her tits before. Then she got a look at the leering expression on Draco’s face and the feeling doubled. The tip of his pink tongue appeared; running over his plump lips lewdly, wetting them as she stood before him topless.

He stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulder.

“You promised to be nice too, Pansy,” He said whiningly and pushed down on her shoulders, in what he probably thought was subtle gesture.

Draco fiddled with his belt as Pansy lowered herself to her knees in front of him. With a triumphant cry, he pushed his unzipped trousers and underwear down his legs.

Pansy’s mouth was suddenly incredibly dry. She’d almost, almost forgotten what it was like. Draco’s dick stood out from his body; its base surrounded in coarse, straw coloured hair. It was completely hard, its length covered in pronounced veins. Pansy couldn’t help but compare it to her most recent lover. Harry seemed larger compared to his slighter frame, but Draco was his equal in length and was even thicker or at least it looked it. Rather than Harry’s elongated tapered head; Draco’s was smooth and rounded, making him look as wide and as blunt as a battering ram.

He was gazing down at her impatiently, even as she was filled with apprehension. A mantra started in her head; You’re playing a role. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a cover. It doesn’t count. Then she extended her tongue and started to run it over the spongy flesh of Malfoy’s cockhead, spiralling quickly across it. Draco must have been pretty hard up, gratification wise, because his response was an immediate loud groan, the hand on her shoulder clamped down as he put more weight on her.

She wrapped her lips around the shaft just below the head and sucked hard, her cheeks hollowed with effort and her tongue lashed at his tip, probing the flesh where foreskin met head. His cock jerked sharply in response, before Pansy managed to wrap a hand around it to control it. The other hand stroked softly against Draco’s inner thigh.

Draco’s hands stroked at her hair as she bobbed her head taking more and more of his member into her mouth and until his head was pressed up against the back of her mouth. She started to withdraw her head back and that was when everything went wrong. Malfoy’s hand clenched hard, his finger tips digging into her head like he was trying to touch her skull and his hips jerked forward using his weight and leverage to drive his meat down her throat.

Pansy gagged. Loudly. She could barely make out Malfoy’s satisfied grunt over the sound.

He dragged her tool from her throat long enough for her to suck in a tiny short breath, and then he did it again. Pansy gagged again, it sounded even louder to her ears. Her fingers didn’t so much stroke Draco’s thigh as dig into them, her nails punching little crescent moons into his skin as she tried to hold him off. It didn’t work. As he fucked her face, Draco’s pleased moans and yelps filled the room, while Pansy’s face flushed and burned with exertion. On about the sixth or seventh gag inducing plunge, Pansy felt the prick begin to pulse with tension.

Please come, Pansy thought desperately, Come and get it over with!

As if he’d her read her mind, Draco quickly dragged her off his cock. Pansy wheezed and sucked in great lungfuls of air in appreciation but Malfoy didn’t give her much time to enjoy the luxury of sufficient amounts of oxygen and hauled her to her feet.

“You don’t get off that easily girl,” Draco sneered, pulling off his shirt and kicking off his trousers and and indicating for Pansy to do the same.

When they were both naked, Draco seized her, whirling her around so she was facing the bed and pulling her close again. His face nuzzled her neck while his hands fondled her bare breasts; he pinched and twisted the hardened tips, eliciting soft shrieks from Pansy.

They walked towards the bed, Draco managing to be sure to walk just a bit faster than her so his spit slicked shaft smacked against her backside with each step. He released her when their shins banged into the bedframe.

“Bend over,” he commanded her. She knelt on the floor, just in front of the bed and bent over the mattress, pressing her front into the covers so her arse stuck out towards him.

“Spread.” She moved her knees as far apart as she could.

“And hold on to something,” He crowed before he thrust into her.

The intrusion was sudden, huge and shocking. Pansy wasn’t exactly sopping wet, but she wasn’t bone dry, either. As Draco shoved the rest of his length into her, his prick grazed something inside her causing her to squeal. The sound elicited a high pitched giggle from Draco and he pulled himself out of her completely just to repeat the experience a couple of times and hear the shocked noises that escaped her.

Then he started to plough her.

There was no rhythm to his sudden, wild pounding. No pattern Pansy could anticipate or adapt to her. Just thrusting as hard and fast as Draco could manage it. Moans and gasps tumbled from her aimlessly as the uneven pattern took her entirely off guard.

“Oh yes,” Draco growled, “That’s what I want. Fuck, yes, take it.”

Pansy’s arse ached from the constant impact, her throat was sore from misuse and her fingers curled and fisted in the bedding at each stroke. She tried to tune out Draco’s constant muttering as she waited for him to finish but what he said next came as a complete surprise.

“You’ve not had a proper shag like this for months, have you?” Draco said to her, “I bet you’re loving every second of it. Aren’t you?”

That was wrong. Very wrong. Draco didn’t care if she liked things. He never cared so long as he got his own pleasure.

“Aren’t you?” Draco repeated insistently and pulled on her ponytail again.

“Yes!” Pansy wailed, more on reflex than anything else, “I love it, I love it!”

It hardly seemed possible but Draco’s pace seemed to quicken at that. He thrust harder, in sharp stabbing motions inside her. He growled an animalistic noise of frustration and lust.

Then he was out of her. Still dazed, Pansy just slumped onto the bedding, barely conscious.

A heavy hand gripped her shoulder and whipped her over on to her back.

Malfoy loomed over her. Looking quite manic, his eyes gleamed madly, strands of his elegant swept back hair had fallen loose around his head and his pale face had gone red in an uneven blotchy pattern across his cheeks. His hand desperately working his shaft, he growled again as he came, semen splattering over Pansy’s chest and face, so she was dripping with it.

“Well that was fun,” Malfoy said as he got off the bed. He went over to a hook on the wall and pulled on a silk dressing gown.

He did not seem to be addressing Pansy and he didn’t sound like he’d been having fun.

“She’s really quite good, isn’t she?” He said pulling a length of hawthorn wood from the robes’ top pocket, “But then she was mine, first. She’s just going back to what she preferred all along, I imagine.”

“W-who are you talking to?” Pansy asked. She was exhausted but the tattered remnants of conscious thought were triggering massive alarm bells in her head.

Draco just sneered at her and gestured with his wand.

Slowly, the mirrored doors of the wardrobe opened.

Harry Potter was inside. Chains stretched from the manacles about his wrists to a hook on the wardrobe’s ceiling and bound him in place. A gag in his mouth prevented any sound from escaping him but that didn’t stop him from communicating with her.

His green eyes burned with rage, screaming for bloody murder.

~0~0~0~

A/n: Seemed like a good place to leave it... Reviews welcome. Review replies posted on the forum here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/14314-dayes-review-replies/

With thunderous thanks to the superb Salon_Kitty for her brilliant beta reading. (Aarg! Alliterations abound!)

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It's Not Just Sex