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the_water_clockAuthor: Clio
Title: The Willow Turns Her Back
Pairing: Pansy Parkinson/Millicent Bulstrode
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Pansy has a plan for losing her virginity that involves Draco Malfoy, but the oncoming war puts an end to that. Well, wars are stupid anyway. And there's always Millie.
Warning: (Note: this is not a spoiler if you've read EWFS and Trick is to Keep Breathing and know who dies in those stories. Both are offscreen deaths in this story as well.) (skip) Character deaths, both off-screen, first Narcissa, later Millicent.
Length: 4900 words
Notes: This is more post-GoF AU based on the events of Eight Ways From Sunday, though this story should be fairly well self-contained. A companion of sorts to With One Breath.
Thanks as always to Heidi and Verity for the encouragement!
Pansy Parkinson had a plan for losing her virginity: immediately upon her return to school at the start of her sixth year. She and Draco had been properly dating for nearly two years, since early fourth year, an entirely respectable period of time. She was now sixteen, an equally respectable age. They'd been practically betrothed since birth by their mothers, so if anything unexpected happened—an unfortunate anti-pregnancy spell mishap, for instance—there would be little scandal. It wouldn't be ideal, but it could be weathered.
She'd hinted as much to Draco the last time she'd seen him, less than a week before. They'd gone for a long tramp through the fields out behind the Manor, with a stop for some action that Pansy put a strategic stop to. But feeling him hard against her leg gave her a thrill, that she had such power over him, and she knew better than to waste her advantage.
Not that Pansy saw anything wrong with girls who did as they pleased, of course. She would have, too, if she weren't hunting bigger game. As a matter of fact she did, with the other girls in her dorm. It was an excellent release on those nights when she didn't want Draco to know that she was just as worked up as he was. She would lay with Millie, or Daphne, or sometimes both, and find physical satisfaction while they gossiped or schemed about this and that.
Millie, resourceful girl that she was, had even obtained some very lifelike marital aids for them to practice on. They adhered with the use of a spell, transferred all sensations to the wearer, and hardened and released just like the real thing. Millie had taken to it immediately, to no one's surprise, while Daphne and Pansy took turns practicing their manual and oral technique on her. But Pansy did have one of her own, and she could see the appeal.
Daphne was abroad for the summer, but Millie was a quick Floo away, and Pansy was just returning from an overnight visit when everything was thrown into chaos.
"Pansy, sweetheart, I'm so glad you're home," said her mother, Pippa, rushing to the hearth. She looked as though she'd been crying.
"I'm not late," Pansy replied. She brushed the ashes from her shoulders.
Pippa startled. "Oh, I just assumed you—but of course you don't. Let's sit down."
Instinct told Pansy to let herself be led to the couch without protest. She willed herself to be calm in the face of her mother's distress. "Just tell me."
Pippa took a deep breath. "Narcissa Malfoy was killed last night," she said.
"Oh no," Pansy said, taking one of her mother's hands in her own. Then, as the news sunk in, fear shot through her. "Is Draco—"
"He's in some sort of protective custody," Pippa said. "No one knows where Lucius is now. Apparently several people have disappeared with him."
She nodded. "I see. Could I—would I be able to send something to him?"
"I'm not sure. We'll ask the Ministry. Perhaps they can get something to him."
"Poor Draco. All this and now he's with strangers. It's not right." She straightened her shoulders. "I should be with him."
"Of course you should, sweetheart," Pippa said, and squeezed her hand tighter.
The simple gesture pulled Pansy out of her own thoughts. "Oh Mum, I'm so sorry," she said. "Mrs. Malfoy was a good friend to you."
"She was," Pippa replied, "which is why your father and I will be leaving for France shortly after Christmas."
"What?" Pansy asked. "But why?"
Pippa cleared her throat and leaned in, speaking more softly though they were the only ones in the room. "You know that your father never went in for any of this Death Eater business, and neither did I, not really. We've no intention of doing so now. We're going to decamp to the cottage until this is over, perhaps do some traveling. Of course we hope that you will come with us, but you are a young lady now, and you'll have to make your own decision."
Pansy blinked. Her head ached; this was too much to take in. "You really think that will be necessary?"
"For those who refuse to choose a side in this ridiculous conflict? I do, yes."
"Well." She looked out the nearby window at the breeze stirring the leaves in the trees. "Either way I suppose packing is in order."
The next few weeks passed in a blur. Pansy still visited Millie frequently, and it was clear from the way Millie spoke that she was going to take the Mark when it was offered. Pansy kept her speech carefully neutral, partially for the sake of her parents, and partially because she couldn't commit to anything until she'd spoken to Draco, which didn't look likely to happen until they were back at school.
There was no funeral for Narcissa Malfoy, given that Draco was in hiding and Lucius absent. Pippa did have a few of Narcissa's friends over to tea, and the conversation carefully avoided anything unpleasant like the coming war, though that left them with few topics to discuss. Pippa made sure there was no visible sign of her own plans to leave the country.
And then, a few days before school was to start, Pansy was dutifully packing in her room when she got a howler from the recently-returned Daphne:
She stared at the little pile of disintegrated parchment and willed herself to think and not to feel. Becoming hysterical would not help her situation.
So Draco had been hiding at The Burrow all summer and had gone native. Pansy wondered if the Weasley girl was some kind of present, a blood traitor for a blood traitor. She wouldn't be surprised; war was a nasty business and getting Draco to change sides would be quite a feather in Harry Potter's cap. Why wouldn't he give up the girl everyone presumed was his own prize in order to secure Draco? There had always been ... rumors about the Weasley girl, rather nasty ones that Pansy had never given much credit to, but perhaps the girl was just as easy as she seemed.
Her first idea was that two could play at that game, that as soon as school started she would carry out her plan to endow Draco with her virginity, as if nothing had happened. Ignoring clearly ridiculous dalliances was good training to be the wife, after all. Perhaps she should refocus on that goal, practice while she still had the privacy to do so.
Pansy locked her bedroom door before shedding her trousers and pants. She opened the bottom drawer of her bedside table, pulled up its false bottom, and took out the—dildo, that's what it was called, and that's what she would call it now. No more euphemisms, just stark reality. The dildo had already been charmed so it was easy to affix to her body, dead center on her clitoris, just where the folds of skin began to open.
She stood and looked at herself in the mirror. The dildo was soft, of course; she was distinctly not in the mood. But it didn't look quite as strange, hanging there between her legs, as she might have thought.
Of course she'd seen Millie wearing hers, but Millie was solidly built and a head taller than Pansy, and the dildo looked as though it belonged. She'd fucked Daphne while a few of the others watched, because Daphne said she wanted "to get it over with" and be able to do as she pleased. Pansy never mentioned to Daphne that Millie had offered it to Pansy first. Of course she'd refused, because of Draco.
But now, looking at herself with her appendage, thoughts of Draco seemed incongruous. She pulled her pants back on, though of course the dildo wouldn't nestle in her pants the way it might in boys' pants, so she pushed it further back, between her legs, and managed to pull up and fasten her trousers around it. It felt strange, a bundle of nerves between her legs.
Pippa looked up as she came down the stairs, concerned, and Pansy panicked for a moment that her new appendage showed despite her efforts.
"Pansy, sweetheart, Draco—"
"Daphne told me," she said quickly, because she couldn't endure her mother's concern, not now. "I'm going for a walk."
"All right," Pippa said as Pansy shut the door behind her.
The sun was starting to set, red-orange light making the slightly neglected and yellowing back garden glow as if on fire. Pansy cut through a nearby stand of trees and wandered along the brook that divided their property from their neighbor until she reached the old stone bridge. The two paths it connected were rarely used now, making the bridge a convenient spot for solitude despite its relative exposure. She leaned against the stonework, watching as the sun sank below the low hills to the west.
She felt strangely comforted by her trousers and the extra bit within them. Pansy had always been envious that the boys could wear trousers with their Hogwarts uniforms. As with everything else she bowed to tradition, and the skirts were full enough that they didn't restrict her movement, but it still rankled. She did appreciate the shirt-and-tie aspect, and her sharply cut jacket. But then she'd always liked boys' clothes better; as a girl she'd been quite the tomboy, only donning pretty dresses when the occasion demanded, such as a tea party or a birthday meal at Malfoy Manor.
Likely there was to be no more of those for some time. Millie had said that whatever happened the night that Narcissa Malfoy died had wrecked the front rooms of the Manor. Pansy had nodded, thinking that as its future mistress she would be the one to restore them to their former glory.
Now, though, she wasn't sure if she'd take back Draco even if he asked. She was furious that he hadn't consulted her—after all, they'd grown up together, been confidants for so long. Now he'd betrayed and humiliated her, and what was worse, become a hanger-on to the Potter set. She'd been reluctant to be the spouse to anyone who followed You-know-who, but then it felt inevitable. This, going against ones friends and family and house, no. Perhaps she was more her parents's daughter than she'd thought.
She kept her trousers and the dildo on through dinner with her parents, just because she could. It wasn't particularly comfortable for sitting and she'd struggled to find a comfortable position. Luckily her parents seemed to attribute her fidgeting to her emotional state.
"I'm going to Millie's," she said, after the dishes had been cleared.
"Of course, dear," her mother said, putting her hand atop Pansy's. "Be with your friend."
She didn't give much thought to whether Millie was available before taking the Floo; Millie was always home, lifting weights so she could become a better Beater. Pansy was the only one who visited her at all regularly.
And indeed, Millie was laying on the front room floor, listening to the wireless, but she sat up when Pansy arrived. "You heard from Daphne?"
Pansy nodded once, sharply. "Where are your parents?"
"At a meeting," she replied, shrugging. "They said not to expect them until morning."
"Let's go upstairs," Pansy said. "I want to fuck."
Millie raised her eyebrows at that, and Pansy couldn't exactly blame her as she was rarely so vulgar, but she was in a mood. "You what?"
"I want to fuck. Are you coming?" Pansy didn't wait for an answer, just turned and walked up the stairs. She soon heard Millie's heavy footsteps behind her, and had to smile if only to herself.
Once upstairs Pansy closed and locked the door behind them. Millie stood in the middle of the room with that familiar, slightly blank stare.
"Well?" Pansy said. "Take your clothes off."
Millie blinked, then did as she was told. As she was wearing a romper, it didn't take long before she was naked, still staring.
"Good," Pansy said, nodding, and let herself stare back as she took off her own clothes. Millie had always been a sturdy girl, but with the exercising her muscles had become more defined, the soft layer of baby fat gone now. Her stomach almost rippled and her arms and legs were taut and strong. She was standing up straight, too, not hunching over as she sometimes did when the boys were around.
Pansy itched to touch her.
"You're wore it under your clothes?" Millie asked, shocked.
It wasn't that Pansy had forgotten, but that the dildo had become enough a part of her in the last few hours that she hadn't thought of the effect it might have on Millie. "You never did?"
"At school? Of course not!" Millie said, but her eyes hadn't left the dildo.
Pansy reached down and took hold of the dildo, pulling it out from between her legs. It was warm from her body and her hand felt good, wrapped around it loosely. She gave it a stroke or two and her toes curled, gripping the rug beneath her feet. "Does it look good?"
"Yes."
"You want it in your mouth?"
Millie nodded.
"Well, come here, then," Pansy said, and Millie did, kneeling before her. Pansy was small enough that Millie had to sit back on her haunches to get to the right height, so Pansy widened her stance, straddling Millie's knees, and guided the dildo into Millie's open, willing mouth. "Get it hard and then I'll fuck you with it."
Millie moaned, closing her eyes, so apparently she was amenable to that idea—even if, as far as Pansy knew, she was just as much of a virgin as Pansy was. Her hands were on Pansy's hips and ass, as much to keep her own balance as to hold onto Pansy, but she was strong, too. She wouldn't let Pansy fall.
It was good, Millie's mouth on her, wet and warm if a bit clumsy. "Have you been practicing on your own dildo, Millie?" Pansy asked. "Or do you have some little boyfriend you never told me about?"
Pansy's dildo came out of Millie's mouth with a slurpy pop. "Just doing what I learned from you," she said, shrugging, then went back to work
Well, two could play at that game. Pansy tried to remember how it had looked the couple of times that Millie had fucked Daphne, how she'd moved, how Daphne had reacted. The thought of it, along with Millie's efforts, made her harder still—hard enough, she reckoned, to do what needed doing.
"Right, up on the bed," Pansy said, stepping back even though she hated to lose the feel of Millie's soft, wet mouth around her. But, small sacrifices for big victories.
Millie did as she was told, laying on her back in the prescribed position. But then, Pansy didn't think she was up to carrying Millie's weight, and from behind was so … impersonal. Pansy followed, kneeling between Millie's spread legs, and reached for her pussy, a nice bit of familiarity among all the novelty. It was wet, but then, it generally was.
"Ready?" Pansy asked. "Want to come first?"
"No. I'd like to see what happens."
"All right." Pansy lined herself up, her dildo as sensitive as anything, and then pushed, slowly, into Millie's pussy. It was a tight fit, not that Pansy's dildo was all that large, and Pansy reckoned that was one reason why men seemed to prize virgins so much. She pulled and pushed, pulled and pushed, until she got a little rhythm going and there, she was fucking now.
"Pansy?"
"Hmm?" she replied, because fucking properly took a surprising amount of concentration.
"Could I get a kiss?"
Pansy looked up at Millie, who wore the most charmingly vulnerable expression, so incongruous on her hard features.
"Just a little one?"
Pansy smiled. "Of course, darling. Anything."
It took a bit of doing to get their mouths in the same place without Pansy slipping out of Millie, involving upturned hips and a neck stretched to its fullest. But once they made contact they stayed there, snogging like mad while Pansy pumped away. It was a delicious feeling, wet and warm, sort of like fingering. Except, Pansy still had her hands free to do other things, which mostly involved fondling Millie's breasts. Millie's hands were on Pansy's arse, spurring her on.
"I think I'm going to come," Millie said, after a bit.
"Oh?" Pansy asked. "You can come like this?"
"Feels like it," she replied.
"How fun. Should I go faster, or harder?"
"Both, if you can."
Pansy furrowed her brow, sliding away from Millie's mouth so she could get more leverage, root her knees in the mattress and push. She was getting closer herself, but now she was determined to get Millie to come first. She found herself grunting with the effort, a low, vulgar sound that she was surprised by. But she went faster and faster, pushing in harder with each thrust, until Millie almost hiccuped with the force of it.
"That's it; that's it," Millie muttered. "Keep going."
"You like that?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm—" and then Millie was squishing her face in that way Pansy found almost unbearably adorable. Her pussy clenched down around Pansy's dildo, soft and wet but strong, too, almost milking her. Pansy couldn't last long under such an onslaught, and after a few half-hearted thrusts she was coming, too.
She rolled off of Millie—just because her friend could support her weight easily didn't mean she should—and stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath. She could feel Millie rolling over, away from her, and rooting about in the bedside table before coming back with a pack of cigarettes and some matches.
"Want one?" she asked, sitting up against the headboard.
Pansy followed. "Sure," she said, holding out her hand, and Millie put a cigarette between Pansy's two fingers and lit it for her.
"I thought that was nice," she said, chucking the used match in the cheap ashtray she'd pilfered from who-knows-where.
"Me too," Pansy said, taking a puff and exhaling it very slowly.
"Other way round next?"
"Hmm." Pansy shrugged. "Think I just like it this way."
"That's fine. I can be lazy."
Pansy blinked at her but then started to snicker, and Millie did, too.
"I'm serious though! You girls always made me do all the work."
"Sorry," Pansy said, though she wasn't. Not really.
"Anyhow it really is fine so long as we do it again."
"Of course," Pansy said. "We can do it every damn night if you like."
"I do like," Millie said, and took another draw on her cigarette.
When Pansy got home, still "packing" as Millie had called it, Pippa was waiting for her in the sitting room.
"Any plans today?" she asked.
"More packing, I expect, since I won't be here to help you," Pansy replied.
"Thought we'd go into the Diagon Alley tomorrow to get your books."
"All right," she said, and started to leave the room.
"Pansy, wait."
She turned and faced her mother.
"I don't want you to think—" She paused, clearing her throat. "I mean, Narcissa and I didn't—we weren't trying to force you two together. You just always seemed to suit."
"We did. Seem to."
Pippa nodded. "I just hate to think I was pushing you into something you didn't want."
Pansy felt a rush of feelings then, and went over to the couch to sit down next to her mother. "Oh Mum, no. I wanted it, too. I even think he did. He just changed his mind."
"Well," Pippa said, wrapping an arm around Pansy's shoulders, and Pansy leaned into her. "Bad taste on his part."
"Extremely," Pansy said.
Pansy didn't go after Draco when they got back to school; he was too far gone and she knew when she'd lost. She shared her bed with Millie and considered her options.
In February, Parvati Patil, who'd always been an annoying try-hard, felt the need to announce to everyone that she was a lesbian. Parvati had always frustrated Pansy; what she could have done with Parvati's beauty, but it was wasted on the girl, simply wasted. Such an announcement was superfluous and attention-getting at best, really; the girl didn't even have a lover as far as Pansy knew. And what possible business was it of anyone's who she was having sex with, anyway?
She decided to express this opinion to Parvati, one day when she found herself alone in the corridor with the other girl, and got a punch in the mouth for her troubles. Which just proved, as she'd always thought, that Gryffindors were the real bullies at Hogwarts.
Millie was a dear, of course, and patched her up in the ladies'. Pansy sat on the counter while Millie dabbed at the cut at the corner of her mouth.
"Ow! Can't you just close it?"
"It has to be clean first, or it will get infected, and then you will have to go to the infirmary. Now stay still; the soap will sting."
Pansy couldn't help wincing; she wasn't built to withstand physical pain. But Millie was the expert, being sporty and all.
"You know," Millie said, "those ideas of the Malfoys about queer people and marriage—people go along because they want to be in with them, and of course you were going for Draco. But they really are awfully old-fashioned. Apparently Mr. Malfoy also thinks women shouldn't fight and you don't see Mrs. Lestrange going along with that. You-know-who doesn't have an opinion on it one way or the other as far as anyone can tell. I suppose since queer people aren't going to be creating any Mudblood babies he can't be bothered to worry about it." She put a hand under Pansy's chin and leaned back to survey her work. "There, that'll do."
Pansy turned to look in the mirror behind her, and while her mouth still felt tender, the cut was closed and even the bruising was gone. "Thanks," she said. "I—"
Millie put a finger up to Pansy's lips. "You don't have to say anything. Just think about it."
She nodded.
"I'll take a kiss, though. For my efforts."
Pansy was happy to oblige, though the kiss did sting, just a little.
Ultimately Pansy decided to leave Hogwarts at Easter recess, because everyone was asking her to choose and she simply couldn't.
Of course she left the dildo behind with Millie. She couldn't imagine using it with anyone else.
When Pansy got to Europe and began doing the rounds of parties she saw that Millie was right about all those ideas about marriage and sex being old-fashioned. No one seemed to bother about all that lineage business on the continent in the same way they did back in England. So she did as she pleased, and apparently what pleased her were girls. They were fun, they were everywhere, and the pretty ones seemed to like her, for whatever reason. Perhaps it was the trousers. Her parents didn't even fuss, but then, her mother was still feeling some guilt over losing Draco.
In the spring of what would have been her seventh year the fighting broke out and the letters from Millie and the others dried up. Pansy avoided the news or any mention of what was happening back in England. Instead she went to more parties, met more girls, often brought them home. And why not? There was nothing she could do, would do, about the war.
She was in Greece, having just dined with a Spanish girl whose name she kept forgetting but whose kisses were sweet enough for anything, when she got the news. Pippa had a grey, terrible expression that Pansy had only seen once before. Her shoulders sagged.
"Which one?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Millicent," her mother replied.
"She's gone?"
"I'm afraid she is."
Pansy nodded. She went up to her room, to her bed, and didn't emerge for over a week. By the time she'd crawled out of the worst of her grief the war was over, and her parents were talking about going back to England. Pansy couldn't imagine an England without Millie.
She went back to bed.
When the Parkinsons did return, in early August, Pansy hadn't expected to find Draco Malfoy would be there to greet them. He was thinner now, and even paler, but he moved more deliberately. Even the way he spoke had changed; he welcomed her parents warmly, assured them that they'd have a positive reception in England.
"We all made our choices," he said.
He took Pansy to lunch a week or so later, some little place off Diagon Alley, and Pansy decided she had to make a few things clear.
"I don't know what you're about," she said. "Aren't you still with Ginny?"
"I am," Draco replied, as he studied the menu.
"Well then. And besides, I don't date men anymore."
"So I've heard."
"Oh?"
Draco put the menu down. "Sleep with four or five Beauxbatons girls and Fleur Delacour is going to hear about it, even in the middle of a war."
"Are you saying I have a reputation?"
He laughed then, and she realized how long it had been since she'd heard it.
"Well, so glad I can entertain you," she said.
"You always did," he replied.
The waiter came then and the rest of the lunch was chit-chat, catching up, swapping innocuous stories of the last year or so.
"All right," she said, finally. "What is this about?"
Draco raised an eyebrow, but at least did her the courtesy of not hedging. "I don't have many friends who knew me when and liked me then, as they say. I figure I could use a few. So could you, now that you're back."
"Friends?" Pansy asked, because that was definitely not on the short list of possibilities she'd been thinking of.
Draco shrugged. "We always were, weren't we?"
"I thought so," she said, nodding.
"All right then."
Pansy thought for a moment, then took a deep breath and gathered her nerve. "So, friend, would it be possible—I mean—could you take me to Millie?"
He shook his head sadly. "She was at Bridgerton's when it collapsed," he said. "It's a de facto mass grave until the Ministry decides what to do about it. A mess. I wouldn't take you to that."
"I see," she said, and suddenly felt rather lost.
"But there's something else we might do, if you like."
They contacted Daphne Greengrass, who'd also spent most of the past year abroad, and went out to that old stone bridge near Parkinson Place with some flowers.
"I reckoned, since this brook runs by where Bridgerton's was," Draco said.
"You always were so clever, Draco," Daphne said. "Isn't he, Pansy?"
Pansy nodded. "I think—let's not speak, shall we?"
So in silence they walked up the stone path and tossed their simple bouquets into the water, watched the flowers float downstream. After some time Pansy turned around, saw that the sun was just starting to set. Another August, another sunset on the bridge, but it was all so different now.
At last she said, "Mum has dinner for us."
They walked back to the house, across fields and through the grove. Daphne had got ahead of them when Draco reached out and took Pansy's hand in his. They didn't look at each other, but he squeezed and she squeezed right back.
Maybe there was something left for her in England, after all.
Title: The Willow Turns Her Back
Pairing: Pansy Parkinson/Millicent Bulstrode
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Pansy has a plan for losing her virginity that involves Draco Malfoy, but the oncoming war puts an end to that. Well, wars are stupid anyway. And there's always Millie.
Warning: (Note: this is not a spoiler if you've read EWFS and Trick is to Keep Breathing and know who dies in those stories. Both are offscreen deaths in this story as well.) (skip) Character deaths, both off-screen, first Narcissa, later Millicent.
Length: 4900 words
Notes: This is more post-GoF AU based on the events of Eight Ways From Sunday, though this story should be fairly well self-contained. A companion of sorts to With One Breath.
Thanks as always to Heidi and Verity for the encouragement!
Pansy Parkinson had a plan for losing her virginity: immediately upon her return to school at the start of her sixth year. She and Draco had been properly dating for nearly two years, since early fourth year, an entirely respectable period of time. She was now sixteen, an equally respectable age. They'd been practically betrothed since birth by their mothers, so if anything unexpected happened—an unfortunate anti-pregnancy spell mishap, for instance—there would be little scandal. It wouldn't be ideal, but it could be weathered.
She'd hinted as much to Draco the last time she'd seen him, less than a week before. They'd gone for a long tramp through the fields out behind the Manor, with a stop for some action that Pansy put a strategic stop to. But feeling him hard against her leg gave her a thrill, that she had such power over him, and she knew better than to waste her advantage.
Not that Pansy saw anything wrong with girls who did as they pleased, of course. She would have, too, if she weren't hunting bigger game. As a matter of fact she did, with the other girls in her dorm. It was an excellent release on those nights when she didn't want Draco to know that she was just as worked up as he was. She would lay with Millie, or Daphne, or sometimes both, and find physical satisfaction while they gossiped or schemed about this and that.
Millie, resourceful girl that she was, had even obtained some very lifelike marital aids for them to practice on. They adhered with the use of a spell, transferred all sensations to the wearer, and hardened and released just like the real thing. Millie had taken to it immediately, to no one's surprise, while Daphne and Pansy took turns practicing their manual and oral technique on her. But Pansy did have one of her own, and she could see the appeal.
Daphne was abroad for the summer, but Millie was a quick Floo away, and Pansy was just returning from an overnight visit when everything was thrown into chaos.
"Pansy, sweetheart, I'm so glad you're home," said her mother, Pippa, rushing to the hearth. She looked as though she'd been crying.
"I'm not late," Pansy replied. She brushed the ashes from her shoulders.
Pippa startled. "Oh, I just assumed you—but of course you don't. Let's sit down."
Instinct told Pansy to let herself be led to the couch without protest. She willed herself to be calm in the face of her mother's distress. "Just tell me."
Pippa took a deep breath. "Narcissa Malfoy was killed last night," she said.
"Oh no," Pansy said, taking one of her mother's hands in her own. Then, as the news sunk in, fear shot through her. "Is Draco—"
"He's in some sort of protective custody," Pippa said. "No one knows where Lucius is now. Apparently several people have disappeared with him."
She nodded. "I see. Could I—would I be able to send something to him?"
"I'm not sure. We'll ask the Ministry. Perhaps they can get something to him."
"Poor Draco. All this and now he's with strangers. It's not right." She straightened her shoulders. "I should be with him."
"Of course you should, sweetheart," Pippa said, and squeezed her hand tighter.
The simple gesture pulled Pansy out of her own thoughts. "Oh Mum, I'm so sorry," she said. "Mrs. Malfoy was a good friend to you."
"She was," Pippa replied, "which is why your father and I will be leaving for France shortly after Christmas."
"What?" Pansy asked. "But why?"
Pippa cleared her throat and leaned in, speaking more softly though they were the only ones in the room. "You know that your father never went in for any of this Death Eater business, and neither did I, not really. We've no intention of doing so now. We're going to decamp to the cottage until this is over, perhaps do some traveling. Of course we hope that you will come with us, but you are a young lady now, and you'll have to make your own decision."
Pansy blinked. Her head ached; this was too much to take in. "You really think that will be necessary?"
"For those who refuse to choose a side in this ridiculous conflict? I do, yes."
"Well." She looked out the nearby window at the breeze stirring the leaves in the trees. "Either way I suppose packing is in order."
The next few weeks passed in a blur. Pansy still visited Millie frequently, and it was clear from the way Millie spoke that she was going to take the Mark when it was offered. Pansy kept her speech carefully neutral, partially for the sake of her parents, and partially because she couldn't commit to anything until she'd spoken to Draco, which didn't look likely to happen until they were back at school.
There was no funeral for Narcissa Malfoy, given that Draco was in hiding and Lucius absent. Pippa did have a few of Narcissa's friends over to tea, and the conversation carefully avoided anything unpleasant like the coming war, though that left them with few topics to discuss. Pippa made sure there was no visible sign of her own plans to leave the country.
And then, a few days before school was to start, Pansy was dutifully packing in her room when she got a howler from the recently-returned Daphne:
Pansy! You'll never guess but we ran into Draco Malfoy himself in Diagon Alley this very afternoon. Apparently he's been with the Weasleys all this time, so unfortunate for everyone I'm sure. Well, perhaps not unfortunate for that horrible girl, Ginger or whatever her name is, because they were seen by any number of people snogging, just around the corner from Fortescue's! Can you imagine? In public? Didn't take her long to bring him down to her level, clearly. But we all know how far that sort of thing can go with anyone of quality.
He didn't talk to any of his old friends, just stuck to that girl. He even bought her some trinket of a necklace. I mean, honestly!
We all know how hard you were trying for Draco, and so nearly succeeded. You might feel broken hearted but if I were you I'd call it a near miss and count my blessings. He doesn't seem to be going down his father's path, so you're best rid of him.
I just had to make sure you heard about this from a friend who was present and not anyone who would wish you ill! You know Millie and I and all the other Slytherin girls will be more than willing to lend a sympathetic ear!
She stared at the little pile of disintegrated parchment and willed herself to think and not to feel. Becoming hysterical would not help her situation.
So Draco had been hiding at The Burrow all summer and had gone native. Pansy wondered if the Weasley girl was some kind of present, a blood traitor for a blood traitor. She wouldn't be surprised; war was a nasty business and getting Draco to change sides would be quite a feather in Harry Potter's cap. Why wouldn't he give up the girl everyone presumed was his own prize in order to secure Draco? There had always been ... rumors about the Weasley girl, rather nasty ones that Pansy had never given much credit to, but perhaps the girl was just as easy as she seemed.
Her first idea was that two could play at that game, that as soon as school started she would carry out her plan to endow Draco with her virginity, as if nothing had happened. Ignoring clearly ridiculous dalliances was good training to be the wife, after all. Perhaps she should refocus on that goal, practice while she still had the privacy to do so.
Pansy locked her bedroom door before shedding her trousers and pants. She opened the bottom drawer of her bedside table, pulled up its false bottom, and took out the—dildo, that's what it was called, and that's what she would call it now. No more euphemisms, just stark reality. The dildo had already been charmed so it was easy to affix to her body, dead center on her clitoris, just where the folds of skin began to open.
She stood and looked at herself in the mirror. The dildo was soft, of course; she was distinctly not in the mood. But it didn't look quite as strange, hanging there between her legs, as she might have thought.
Of course she'd seen Millie wearing hers, but Millie was solidly built and a head taller than Pansy, and the dildo looked as though it belonged. She'd fucked Daphne while a few of the others watched, because Daphne said she wanted "to get it over with" and be able to do as she pleased. Pansy never mentioned to Daphne that Millie had offered it to Pansy first. Of course she'd refused, because of Draco.
But now, looking at herself with her appendage, thoughts of Draco seemed incongruous. She pulled her pants back on, though of course the dildo wouldn't nestle in her pants the way it might in boys' pants, so she pushed it further back, between her legs, and managed to pull up and fasten her trousers around it. It felt strange, a bundle of nerves between her legs.
Pippa looked up as she came down the stairs, concerned, and Pansy panicked for a moment that her new appendage showed despite her efforts.
"Pansy, sweetheart, Draco—"
"Daphne told me," she said quickly, because she couldn't endure her mother's concern, not now. "I'm going for a walk."
"All right," Pippa said as Pansy shut the door behind her.
The sun was starting to set, red-orange light making the slightly neglected and yellowing back garden glow as if on fire. Pansy cut through a nearby stand of trees and wandered along the brook that divided their property from their neighbor until she reached the old stone bridge. The two paths it connected were rarely used now, making the bridge a convenient spot for solitude despite its relative exposure. She leaned against the stonework, watching as the sun sank below the low hills to the west.
She felt strangely comforted by her trousers and the extra bit within them. Pansy had always been envious that the boys could wear trousers with their Hogwarts uniforms. As with everything else she bowed to tradition, and the skirts were full enough that they didn't restrict her movement, but it still rankled. She did appreciate the shirt-and-tie aspect, and her sharply cut jacket. But then she'd always liked boys' clothes better; as a girl she'd been quite the tomboy, only donning pretty dresses when the occasion demanded, such as a tea party or a birthday meal at Malfoy Manor.
Likely there was to be no more of those for some time. Millie had said that whatever happened the night that Narcissa Malfoy died had wrecked the front rooms of the Manor. Pansy had nodded, thinking that as its future mistress she would be the one to restore them to their former glory.
Now, though, she wasn't sure if she'd take back Draco even if he asked. She was furious that he hadn't consulted her—after all, they'd grown up together, been confidants for so long. Now he'd betrayed and humiliated her, and what was worse, become a hanger-on to the Potter set. She'd been reluctant to be the spouse to anyone who followed You-know-who, but then it felt inevitable. This, going against ones friends and family and house, no. Perhaps she was more her parents's daughter than she'd thought.
She kept her trousers and the dildo on through dinner with her parents, just because she could. It wasn't particularly comfortable for sitting and she'd struggled to find a comfortable position. Luckily her parents seemed to attribute her fidgeting to her emotional state.
"I'm going to Millie's," she said, after the dishes had been cleared.
"Of course, dear," her mother said, putting her hand atop Pansy's. "Be with your friend."
She didn't give much thought to whether Millie was available before taking the Floo; Millie was always home, lifting weights so she could become a better Beater. Pansy was the only one who visited her at all regularly.
And indeed, Millie was laying on the front room floor, listening to the wireless, but she sat up when Pansy arrived. "You heard from Daphne?"
Pansy nodded once, sharply. "Where are your parents?"
"At a meeting," she replied, shrugging. "They said not to expect them until morning."
"Let's go upstairs," Pansy said. "I want to fuck."
Millie raised her eyebrows at that, and Pansy couldn't exactly blame her as she was rarely so vulgar, but she was in a mood. "You what?"
"I want to fuck. Are you coming?" Pansy didn't wait for an answer, just turned and walked up the stairs. She soon heard Millie's heavy footsteps behind her, and had to smile if only to herself.
Once upstairs Pansy closed and locked the door behind them. Millie stood in the middle of the room with that familiar, slightly blank stare.
"Well?" Pansy said. "Take your clothes off."
Millie blinked, then did as she was told. As she was wearing a romper, it didn't take long before she was naked, still staring.
"Good," Pansy said, nodding, and let herself stare back as she took off her own clothes. Millie had always been a sturdy girl, but with the exercising her muscles had become more defined, the soft layer of baby fat gone now. Her stomach almost rippled and her arms and legs were taut and strong. She was standing up straight, too, not hunching over as she sometimes did when the boys were around.
Pansy itched to touch her.
"You're wore it under your clothes?" Millie asked, shocked.
It wasn't that Pansy had forgotten, but that the dildo had become enough a part of her in the last few hours that she hadn't thought of the effect it might have on Millie. "You never did?"
"At school? Of course not!" Millie said, but her eyes hadn't left the dildo.
Pansy reached down and took hold of the dildo, pulling it out from between her legs. It was warm from her body and her hand felt good, wrapped around it loosely. She gave it a stroke or two and her toes curled, gripping the rug beneath her feet. "Does it look good?"
"Yes."
"You want it in your mouth?"
Millie nodded.
"Well, come here, then," Pansy said, and Millie did, kneeling before her. Pansy was small enough that Millie had to sit back on her haunches to get to the right height, so Pansy widened her stance, straddling Millie's knees, and guided the dildo into Millie's open, willing mouth. "Get it hard and then I'll fuck you with it."
Millie moaned, closing her eyes, so apparently she was amenable to that idea—even if, as far as Pansy knew, she was just as much of a virgin as Pansy was. Her hands were on Pansy's hips and ass, as much to keep her own balance as to hold onto Pansy, but she was strong, too. She wouldn't let Pansy fall.
It was good, Millie's mouth on her, wet and warm if a bit clumsy. "Have you been practicing on your own dildo, Millie?" Pansy asked. "Or do you have some little boyfriend you never told me about?"
Pansy's dildo came out of Millie's mouth with a slurpy pop. "Just doing what I learned from you," she said, shrugging, then went back to work
Well, two could play at that game. Pansy tried to remember how it had looked the couple of times that Millie had fucked Daphne, how she'd moved, how Daphne had reacted. The thought of it, along with Millie's efforts, made her harder still—hard enough, she reckoned, to do what needed doing.
"Right, up on the bed," Pansy said, stepping back even though she hated to lose the feel of Millie's soft, wet mouth around her. But, small sacrifices for big victories.
Millie did as she was told, laying on her back in the prescribed position. But then, Pansy didn't think she was up to carrying Millie's weight, and from behind was so … impersonal. Pansy followed, kneeling between Millie's spread legs, and reached for her pussy, a nice bit of familiarity among all the novelty. It was wet, but then, it generally was.
"Ready?" Pansy asked. "Want to come first?"
"No. I'd like to see what happens."
"All right." Pansy lined herself up, her dildo as sensitive as anything, and then pushed, slowly, into Millie's pussy. It was a tight fit, not that Pansy's dildo was all that large, and Pansy reckoned that was one reason why men seemed to prize virgins so much. She pulled and pushed, pulled and pushed, until she got a little rhythm going and there, she was fucking now.
"Pansy?"
"Hmm?" she replied, because fucking properly took a surprising amount of concentration.
"Could I get a kiss?"
Pansy looked up at Millie, who wore the most charmingly vulnerable expression, so incongruous on her hard features.
"Just a little one?"
Pansy smiled. "Of course, darling. Anything."
It took a bit of doing to get their mouths in the same place without Pansy slipping out of Millie, involving upturned hips and a neck stretched to its fullest. But once they made contact they stayed there, snogging like mad while Pansy pumped away. It was a delicious feeling, wet and warm, sort of like fingering. Except, Pansy still had her hands free to do other things, which mostly involved fondling Millie's breasts. Millie's hands were on Pansy's arse, spurring her on.
"I think I'm going to come," Millie said, after a bit.
"Oh?" Pansy asked. "You can come like this?"
"Feels like it," she replied.
"How fun. Should I go faster, or harder?"
"Both, if you can."
Pansy furrowed her brow, sliding away from Millie's mouth so she could get more leverage, root her knees in the mattress and push. She was getting closer herself, but now she was determined to get Millie to come first. She found herself grunting with the effort, a low, vulgar sound that she was surprised by. But she went faster and faster, pushing in harder with each thrust, until Millie almost hiccuped with the force of it.
"That's it; that's it," Millie muttered. "Keep going."
"You like that?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm—" and then Millie was squishing her face in that way Pansy found almost unbearably adorable. Her pussy clenched down around Pansy's dildo, soft and wet but strong, too, almost milking her. Pansy couldn't last long under such an onslaught, and after a few half-hearted thrusts she was coming, too.
She rolled off of Millie—just because her friend could support her weight easily didn't mean she should—and stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath. She could feel Millie rolling over, away from her, and rooting about in the bedside table before coming back with a pack of cigarettes and some matches.
"Want one?" she asked, sitting up against the headboard.
Pansy followed. "Sure," she said, holding out her hand, and Millie put a cigarette between Pansy's two fingers and lit it for her.
"I thought that was nice," she said, chucking the used match in the cheap ashtray she'd pilfered from who-knows-where.
"Me too," Pansy said, taking a puff and exhaling it very slowly.
"Other way round next?"
"Hmm." Pansy shrugged. "Think I just like it this way."
"That's fine. I can be lazy."
Pansy blinked at her but then started to snicker, and Millie did, too.
"I'm serious though! You girls always made me do all the work."
"Sorry," Pansy said, though she wasn't. Not really.
"Anyhow it really is fine so long as we do it again."
"Of course," Pansy said. "We can do it every damn night if you like."
"I do like," Millie said, and took another draw on her cigarette.
When Pansy got home, still "packing" as Millie had called it, Pippa was waiting for her in the sitting room.
"Any plans today?" she asked.
"More packing, I expect, since I won't be here to help you," Pansy replied.
"Thought we'd go into the Diagon Alley tomorrow to get your books."
"All right," she said, and started to leave the room.
"Pansy, wait."
She turned and faced her mother.
"I don't want you to think—" She paused, clearing her throat. "I mean, Narcissa and I didn't—we weren't trying to force you two together. You just always seemed to suit."
"We did. Seem to."
Pippa nodded. "I just hate to think I was pushing you into something you didn't want."
Pansy felt a rush of feelings then, and went over to the couch to sit down next to her mother. "Oh Mum, no. I wanted it, too. I even think he did. He just changed his mind."
"Well," Pippa said, wrapping an arm around Pansy's shoulders, and Pansy leaned into her. "Bad taste on his part."
"Extremely," Pansy said.
Pansy didn't go after Draco when they got back to school; he was too far gone and she knew when she'd lost. She shared her bed with Millie and considered her options.
In February, Parvati Patil, who'd always been an annoying try-hard, felt the need to announce to everyone that she was a lesbian. Parvati had always frustrated Pansy; what she could have done with Parvati's beauty, but it was wasted on the girl, simply wasted. Such an announcement was superfluous and attention-getting at best, really; the girl didn't even have a lover as far as Pansy knew. And what possible business was it of anyone's who she was having sex with, anyway?
She decided to express this opinion to Parvati, one day when she found herself alone in the corridor with the other girl, and got a punch in the mouth for her troubles. Which just proved, as she'd always thought, that Gryffindors were the real bullies at Hogwarts.
Millie was a dear, of course, and patched her up in the ladies'. Pansy sat on the counter while Millie dabbed at the cut at the corner of her mouth.
"Ow! Can't you just close it?"
"It has to be clean first, or it will get infected, and then you will have to go to the infirmary. Now stay still; the soap will sting."
Pansy couldn't help wincing; she wasn't built to withstand physical pain. But Millie was the expert, being sporty and all.
"You know," Millie said, "those ideas of the Malfoys about queer people and marriage—people go along because they want to be in with them, and of course you were going for Draco. But they really are awfully old-fashioned. Apparently Mr. Malfoy also thinks women shouldn't fight and you don't see Mrs. Lestrange going along with that. You-know-who doesn't have an opinion on it one way or the other as far as anyone can tell. I suppose since queer people aren't going to be creating any Mudblood babies he can't be bothered to worry about it." She put a hand under Pansy's chin and leaned back to survey her work. "There, that'll do."
Pansy turned to look in the mirror behind her, and while her mouth still felt tender, the cut was closed and even the bruising was gone. "Thanks," she said. "I—"
Millie put a finger up to Pansy's lips. "You don't have to say anything. Just think about it."
She nodded.
"I'll take a kiss, though. For my efforts."
Pansy was happy to oblige, though the kiss did sting, just a little.
Ultimately Pansy decided to leave Hogwarts at Easter recess, because everyone was asking her to choose and she simply couldn't.
Of course she left the dildo behind with Millie. She couldn't imagine using it with anyone else.
When Pansy got to Europe and began doing the rounds of parties she saw that Millie was right about all those ideas about marriage and sex being old-fashioned. No one seemed to bother about all that lineage business on the continent in the same way they did back in England. So she did as she pleased, and apparently what pleased her were girls. They were fun, they were everywhere, and the pretty ones seemed to like her, for whatever reason. Perhaps it was the trousers. Her parents didn't even fuss, but then, her mother was still feeling some guilt over losing Draco.
In the spring of what would have been her seventh year the fighting broke out and the letters from Millie and the others dried up. Pansy avoided the news or any mention of what was happening back in England. Instead she went to more parties, met more girls, often brought them home. And why not? There was nothing she could do, would do, about the war.
She was in Greece, having just dined with a Spanish girl whose name she kept forgetting but whose kisses were sweet enough for anything, when she got the news. Pippa had a grey, terrible expression that Pansy had only seen once before. Her shoulders sagged.
"Which one?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Millicent," her mother replied.
"She's gone?"
"I'm afraid she is."
Pansy nodded. She went up to her room, to her bed, and didn't emerge for over a week. By the time she'd crawled out of the worst of her grief the war was over, and her parents were talking about going back to England. Pansy couldn't imagine an England without Millie.
She went back to bed.
When the Parkinsons did return, in early August, Pansy hadn't expected to find Draco Malfoy would be there to greet them. He was thinner now, and even paler, but he moved more deliberately. Even the way he spoke had changed; he welcomed her parents warmly, assured them that they'd have a positive reception in England.
"We all made our choices," he said.
He took Pansy to lunch a week or so later, some little place off Diagon Alley, and Pansy decided she had to make a few things clear.
"I don't know what you're about," she said. "Aren't you still with Ginny?"
"I am," Draco replied, as he studied the menu.
"Well then. And besides, I don't date men anymore."
"So I've heard."
"Oh?"
Draco put the menu down. "Sleep with four or five Beauxbatons girls and Fleur Delacour is going to hear about it, even in the middle of a war."
"Are you saying I have a reputation?"
He laughed then, and she realized how long it had been since she'd heard it.
"Well, so glad I can entertain you," she said.
"You always did," he replied.
The waiter came then and the rest of the lunch was chit-chat, catching up, swapping innocuous stories of the last year or so.
"All right," she said, finally. "What is this about?"
Draco raised an eyebrow, but at least did her the courtesy of not hedging. "I don't have many friends who knew me when and liked me then, as they say. I figure I could use a few. So could you, now that you're back."
"Friends?" Pansy asked, because that was definitely not on the short list of possibilities she'd been thinking of.
Draco shrugged. "We always were, weren't we?"
"I thought so," she said, nodding.
"All right then."
Pansy thought for a moment, then took a deep breath and gathered her nerve. "So, friend, would it be possible—I mean—could you take me to Millie?"
He shook his head sadly. "She was at Bridgerton's when it collapsed," he said. "It's a de facto mass grave until the Ministry decides what to do about it. A mess. I wouldn't take you to that."
"I see," she said, and suddenly felt rather lost.
"But there's something else we might do, if you like."
They contacted Daphne Greengrass, who'd also spent most of the past year abroad, and went out to that old stone bridge near Parkinson Place with some flowers.
"I reckoned, since this brook runs by where Bridgerton's was," Draco said.
"You always were so clever, Draco," Daphne said. "Isn't he, Pansy?"
Pansy nodded. "I think—let's not speak, shall we?"
So in silence they walked up the stone path and tossed their simple bouquets into the water, watched the flowers float downstream. After some time Pansy turned around, saw that the sun was just starting to set. Another August, another sunset on the bridge, but it was all so different now.
At last she said, "Mum has dinner for us."
They walked back to the house, across fields and through the grove. Daphne had got ahead of them when Draco reached out and took Pansy's hand in his. They didn't look at each other, but he squeezed and she squeezed right back.
Maybe there was something left for her in England, after all.
