Current mood:

satisfied

Well then! Here goes nothing.
Title: Don't Let It Go to Your Head
Author: Marvolo
Pairing: Draco/Pansy
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Spanking, teen/teen sex.
Summary: The summer between fifth and sixth years, a raucous fight, and a rather satisfactory resolution.
Notes/Etc.: Aspen totally made this fic happen, to the extent that I owe her one of my vital organs. Seriously.



"I knew it," he said smugly, folding his arms and leaning in the doorway.

Pansy sized up his reflection before turning to face him. Draco was wearing his uniform, too: black slacks, grey vest, white shirt. "Knew what?"

"That you'd be trying it on." He sauntered into her bedroom, flopping back onto the bed, and then waved a hand at her. "Preening in front of the mirror."

"I wasn't preening," she said sourly. "I was checking to make sure nothing needed to be altered."

"No," he corrected, gazing at her chest, "you were admiring your badge. Didn't think you'd be getting it again, did you? I certainly didn't. Not after that terrible abuse of power last year." He paused thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose it would be difficult for Dumbledore to scrape up another competent female in our house, anyway. Don't let it go to your head."

She rolled her eyes, her voice terse and testy. "Abuse of power?"

He stretched out on the pistachio-colored duvet, obviously making himself comfortable. "Well, you know, there was that incident with the party in the prefects' bathroom. I hear Cedric Diggory suffered permanent back injuries after that three-way with goulish hookers. Or wait," he paused, knitting his eyebrows together, "he's dead, isn't he? Maybe it was Ernie MacMillan, then."

Emitting a muffled scream, Pansy snatched a ceramic ballerina figurine from the nearby bookcase and chucked it at his head. "You are really the limit, Draco Malfoy. First you tell me that you fucked Tracey Davis when we broke up for week, someone who is not only supposed to be one of my friends, but is such a class-one strumpet that she makes wallpaper peel as she walks by, and now you want to criticize my abilities to function as a prefect? Or whatever it is you're doing?" She lobbed a hard-cover edition of Westpoint Wands at him with another shriek.

He ducked out of the way of figurine, letting it crash to the floor, and jumped off the bed. The book, however, hit him square in the chest. "Holy Grindelwald," he wheezed, sitting on the edge of the bed and clutching his chest. "You are absolutely insane, Pansy. You're trying to kill me."

"Believe me," she snapped, "I could think of much more effective ways of doing that."

"I never said that I fucked Tracey," he glowered, rubbing his chest gingerly. "And I only brought it up because you wouldn't shut up about Zabini and how much you just adore his company and giving him haircuts and buying him fucking Ice Mice. What's a proper witch like you giving a freak like Zabini haircuts for ANYWAY?"

"It is entirely my business who I associate with. And besides, Blaise isn't trying to get into my skirt, which is more than I can say for the likes of Tracey Davis! That girl would hit on a hamburger if she thought she had a chance with it!"

"Oh, RIGHT, like that dopey little helpless act Zabini puts on isn't entirely constructed so he can peek down your blouse when you're leaning over him and cutting off all his greasy hair!" Wounds forgotten, Draco rose to his feet, and advanced on her with a predatory stride.

Pansy placed her hands on her hips, even while taking two strides backwards. "I suppose that's exactly the sort of thing you would know all about, isn't it? You just can't comprehend someone not being a lecherous, overly-hormonal scumbag because that's precisely what you are."

"WHAT? That's a fine thing for a slut like you to say!" He stepped closer, causing her to bump back against the broad wooden desk that hugged the wall.

"What? What did you just call me?" she sputtered with rage.

"A slut, Pansy! A dirty little slut." He stood so close to her that she could feel his breath on her face as he bit the words off. "I've no choice but to believe you like Zabini staring at your tits."

She stared up at him, her chin quivering with anger and her hands itching to slap the indifferent look off his face. "That is absolutely revolting, Draco. Blaise understands me, we're friends. He cares a hell of a lot more about me than you ever have. And he doesn't abandon me to go FUCK ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS." Pansy planted her palms at his chest and shoved him with all the strength she could muster, savagely hoping that the book had left a bruise and that she was pressing on it.

Draco let her push him away, retreating back to a cordial distance, although his voice grew even more snide, as he girlishly emphasized the same words she had. "Oh, you're friends, are you? I suppose Zabini innately understands how to get you off, then."

Pansy scoffed. "I'm sure pretty much anyone could figure that out better than YOU ever did, Draco. I'm so delighted to hear that you equate friendship with sexual favors, that REALLY sheds some light on a few things."

"I didn't fuck Tracey Davis!" He threw his hands in the air as though truly exasperated. "I was invited to dinner! How does that constitute fucking, Pansy, really! If I'd have bought her Ice Mice I suppose you'd think we were engaged!"

Pansy stared at him evenly, eyes narrowing just a fraction. She was quiet long enough that he wondered if their argument was finally over with, and then she leaned forward a little, gripping the edge of the desk and speaking in a slow, even voice. "Well, that's rather unfortunate for you, because I did fuck Blaise. Twice."

Draco said nothing, narrowing his eyes to slits as he peered at her. "You're lying," he finally said.

Pansy snorted. "What, you think he's too far out of my league? You were certainly willing to believe it a moment ago." She leaned back, folding her arms over her chest. "He and I get along better than you and I do."

He stared at her, as though unsure whether or not she was serious. "When?"

She smiled. "Oh, it was around spring, I guess. We were astronomy partners, remember? We had all of that late-night homework making star charts and sharing a telescope. One thing just led to another." She paused, gazing over at him from under her eyelashes. "It hasn't happened since."

An unnatural, violent red color spread through Draco's cheeks, and his hands, hanging at his sides, flexed into half-fists, as though he were intending to strike her. Pansy sucked her lower lip between her teeth, suddenly nervous, but he didn't move. He just stared at her for a few moments, and then folded his lanky arms, leaned against the bedpost, and averted his gaze to the floor.

Minutes ticked by, each more unsettling and tense than the last. The room, at the east side of the house, was picking up on the brunt of the afternoon sunshine, and was slowly growing stifling.

"I--" Pansy began.

"Shut up," he snapped, not bothering to look up. She swallowed thickly, and studied his form. He looked in many ways how he always did when he was upset - like a petulant six-year-old sulking over not getting a rocking hippogryff. But there was an edge to his sullenness she hadn't seen before, an almost violent quality. He truly seemed wrathful.

"That's rather horrible," he finally said. "Are you sorry?"

A dark line formed between her eyebrows. "Are you--"

"That's different," he interrupted cooly. "I was with Tracey when we were split up, for however long. You cheated on me."

She looked away from his steady, piercing gaze, and absently tapped the toe of her shoe against the floor. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"And you want me to forgive you?" he pressed.

Pansy reached up to tug her collar away from her sticky neck, grimacing. "Yes. I suppose I would."

"Then you need to be punished," he announced, sounding rather pleased with this assessment.

"Punished?" she echoed, slipping off the edge of the desk and to her feet.

"Yes." He turned to face her, tucking his hands in his trouser pockets and rocking his hips forward slightly. "I'd be pleased to do the honors."

She was still staring at him incredulously. "Punished? How on earth do you propose to do that? And-- and why should you be able to punish me?" she demanded, fingering her own prefect pin. "Wouldn't you say our power is about equal?"

He stepped up next to her, and touched a finger to her lower lip, lingering in the dent her teeth had recently made. "I'm older than you are, Pansy."

"By three months." But her voice was faint. The corners of his mouth curved up, and he moved his hand down to her upper arm.

"And what a long three months they were." He fell back into the desk chair, and brought her down with him, although she fell to the floor between his knees. "Just enough to give me a wiser perspective on the world."

She glared up at him from her spot on the floor. "So what exactly do you propose, Draco? Shall I go stand in the corner? Or perhaps you'll confiscate my pudding after dinner. Or-- no, not even you would be cruel enough to take away my comic book collection under the bed."

His mouth twisted up into an even deeper smile, his eyes looking deceptively shadowy. "No, Pansy. I think you need a spanking."

She stared up at him for a moment, her mouth slightly open. "You're serious," she said, when he didn't laugh. "You want to spank me."

He shrugged, tearing his gaze away from her and focusing it out the window. She knew he could see the lake from where he was sitting; she was momentarily gripped with thoughts of how cool it would be against her over-warm skin. "You're the one who wants me to forgive you so badly." He glanced back down at her. "I can hold a grudge for quite a long time."

Pansy licked her lips thoughtfully, saying nothing. His hands, lying placidly on his thighs, twitched again, as though he was already anticipating touching her. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of her face, which she wiped away absently. It was difficult to get a good deep breath in the dry, thick warmth. "All right," she said, still watching his fingers as she slowly eased up. "If that's what you want. I suppose I deserve it."

She shut her eyes for a moment, and then draped herself across his lap, her arms stretched down to steady herself against the floor. Her skirt hitched up a little as she slid down into position, and his hand ran up the back of her bare thigh, shoving it all the way off her arse.

Her knickers were a creamy color and rather plain, and he slid his hand against them, tracing the curves of her skin through the thin material. She shivered as he touched her, his fingers skimming over her white skin with an eagerness they hadn't possessed in ages. It nearly made her remember when they would first take off each other's clothes and marvel at each layer of material and gender-specific tailoring. Nearly, Pansy thought, eyeing the carved foot of the desk and trying to concentrate on the fingertip that was straying down to the material over her cunt, but not quite.

She was just beginning to give into the hazy pleasure of his nervous, nimble fingers when his hand suddenly moved away, and came down against her with a smack! She jumped involuntarily, her heart kicking into high speed at the shock. He paused for a moment, allowing for the stinging to subside, and struck again, harder. Pansy made a faint noise that Draco didn't acknowledge, slapping her arse again-- and again, and again, and again, his momentum building as each crack sent his hand bouncing back. Pansy nearly bit through her lower lip, until she was breathless and dizzy with the effort to not cry out. She could hear his labored breathing as he finally paused, running his fingertips against her reddened, sensitive skin.

"Say it," he whispered, fingers digging into the soft, supple flesh of her arse. He peeled back the edge of her panties-- they had begun to ride up, anyway -- and lightly caressed the skin there. He waited a few moments, as though carefully considering the silence that met his request, then he slapped her once again.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, sucking in breaths. She squirmed in embarrassment and soreness, grinding down onto his half-stiffened cock. He couldn't tell if it was accidental. "I'm sorry. I didn't," she paused, still trying to catch her breath, "I--I didn't fuck him."

Draco went perfectly still for a moment, and then suddenly stood up, dragging her upright with him. She stumbled slightly as he jerked her around to face him, one hand gripping her jaw as he leaned in and clamped his mouth over hers. Pansy gripped his shoulders, letting him shove her backwards, step by step, to the edge of the bed. He pulled his mouth away from hers long enough to look at her, and then held her against him for a moment, her face crushed to his dark woolen vest, just above his hammering heart.

"Well, I didn't fuck Tracey Davis," he said into her hair, just before tossing her back onto the bed. She landed in a pool of sunlight, bright yellow and scorching.

He followed her down, settling his knees on either side of her hips, and covered her mouth with his again. She shut her eyes tightly as his teeth grazed her lips, tongue, and then moved down to slide across the sensitive skin of her neck. He let his kiss rest there for a moment, against the throb of her pulse, before she murmured his name again.

Draco leaned back and rolled his shirtsleeves up, exposing the pale skin of his arms. She could see the muscle beneath flex with his movements; he wasn't particularly strong, but his thin frame was filling out. He looked older than he used to, stronger, and somehow more commanding. His cheeks were flushed, from exhilaration and the heat, the stifling heat of the upstairs bedroom.

She reached her hand up to touch his face, damp and stern-looking with lust. She reached down to tug the button of his trousers from its clasp, freeing his straining cock at last. Draco sighed audibly in pleasure as he tugged it from his shorts, and Pansy watched with fascination as it sprang nearly against his stomach. He closed his eyes and slid his hand up and down the length a few times before finally turning his attention back to her.

"Why did you lie to me?" he whispered, pinning her legs apart with his own. He was still wearing his entire uniform, and his tie draped down across her breasts when he leaned over her.

"I wanted to make you jealous," she muttered, pushing an errant lock of hair away from his face. "Did it work?"

He reached under her skirt and yanked her panties down, rocking backwards to tug them all the way past her kneesocks and off her shoes. His eyes glinted as she squirmed, sliding her legs apart and reaching for him.

"Not like this," he finally said, shaking his head and pulling her up off the bed. Before she could say anything, he spun her around and shoved her back down.

Pansy's breath hitched in her lungs as he pressed her down into the bed, his hand around the base of her neck, gripping her head against the delicate bedspread while he moved in behind her. Her hips remained up in the air, knees apart enough to give him a full view of her. She knew he was gripping his cock with the hand not restraining her; she could hear the shakes in his own labored breathing. There was a long pause, and she tensed, in nervousness and anticipation.

"Pansy."

She shut her eyes as he drove into her, her fingers twisting in the slippery soft material of the blanket. It stung slightly-- it had been too long since she had him in her, too many weeks without that inner pressure. He paused, hips flush against her, letting his cock stretch her. She flexed around him and Draco made a faint noise in his throat as he pulled out and then slammed back in. His fingers gripped her hips, and after a moment, he leaned in against her, propping his hands up on either side of her torso to better angle himself against her back.

"Yes," he muttered muzzily, resting his lips against the material of her blouse, just over her spine. He rolled his hips, moving in and out of her just a fraction. "Yes, Pansy. You like that, don't you?"

She turned her head to the side, pressing her lips together, and made a vaguely affirmative noise. She could feel the outline of his prefect badge against her back, right in front of his heart and right behind hers. Her breath was still labored and uneven; it was as though she couldn't quite come to terms with this turn of events, she couldn't quite come to terms with Draco wanting her again, so sudden and so violent.

He lengthened his strokes a little, shifting his weight so that he could slip his hand under the front of her skirt. Pansy braced herself for the touch of his fingertips, and let out a small scream as the blunt silver head of his ring made contact with her slick flesh. Draco traced the tip of his nose down the curve of her neck as he ground the delicate carved serpent back and forth against her clit. His cock jumped inside of her at her savage, desperate whimper; Pansy turned her face back against the bedspread, biting down on the fabric and grinding her teeth against the cotton. She could feel herself sweating into her uniform, the wool sticking to her skin, her hair falling limpidly around her face. Draco felt like a furnace, waves of heat rolling off of him as he covered her. He whispered nonsense against her shoulder, his breath hot as it seeped through the fabric.

"My Pansy, my Pansy. Sweet, sweet Pansy."

He wiped his fingers on her thigh as he withdrew them, and after a few more thrusts, more desperate and amateurish than before, pulled out and roughly turned her over. His cock was shiny and wet in his grip, and Pansy curled her fingers over his, tugging even harder at it than he had.

"This is it," he breathed, and she twisted out of his grasp, leaning down to brush her mouth over the head of his cock. Draco groaned and let his hand slip away as she jacked him harder, the combination of precome, spit, and her wetness making her fingers glide. His cock was flushed so much darker than the rest of his skin, even as pink as that was, the veins risen up visibly against her fingertips. Pansy stared up at him, up the straight line of his buttoned shirt to his rumpled, hiked-up vest, his askew tie, and the wetness of his mouth that gleamed in the late-afternoon sun. The first string of hot come splattered on her cheek, the second on her nose. She curved her tongue around the edge of his cock, and the third spurt hit her right above the eye.

Pansy laughed as she fell back on the bed, smearing it off her eyelid and down her cheek. Traces glittered wetly on her eyelashes as she scooped it into her mouth, licking her fingertips lazily. Draco collapsed next to her with a groan, pulling her against him even as he tugged open the buttons on his shirt to ease the feverish warmth.

She lolled her head over onto his shoulder and studied his face; his cheeks were flushed unnaturally red, creating a stark contrast to the rest of his pale face. He opened his eyes slowly, focusing on her, and then quirked the edge of his mouth up a little. Their mouths brushed together lightly as he swept his crooked finger against her cheek, catching a smudge of come she had missed.

"So you forgive me?" she whispered.

"Yes." He brought his knuckle to her lips. "I suppose I do."

.