October 2025 Exclusive Poll Winner - Kreacher's Quest - Harry/Pansy

AN: All characters are over the age of eighteen at the time of this story.

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Once again, Harry buried his head into his hands. He didn’t know how many damned times that Kreacher had tried this by now, but Harry was sick of it.

“Please stop inviting women over for me,” Harry mumbled into his hands.

Kreacher, his loyal and dutiful house-elf looked utterly perplexed. “But you are the head of House Black and House Potter,” Kreacher said, gesturing with his hands towards Demelza Robins.

“Hey, Harry,” Demelza said with an awkward wave. He hadn’t seen her since his sixth year when he was the head of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. He supposed that he may have spotted her during the final battle, but if he had, he didn’t remember it. She looked much as he remembered, albeit slimmed down a bit and with a cuter hairstyle than the permanent loose ponytail that she always seemed to sport.

“I’m sorry, Demelza,” Harry told her sincerely. “Kreacher is… well… he’s doing things that he shouldn’t. I don’t know exactly what he told you…”

“Err, he said that you were looking for a partner… or a date… something like that,” Demelza said nervously. “I figured that you had some event that you had to go to and that you sent him to me to see if I’d be willing to accompany you.”

“Yeah, no,” Harry sighed loudly. “That’s just Kreacher being Kreacher. I’m sorry about all of this. I don’t need a date for anything.”

“Oh,” Demelza muttered.

Suddenly, Harry felt like a prat. Maybe she’d come hoping that he’d take her out on a fancy date or for something else. But she was just stuck here now round his probably feeling as much of a fool as he did.

“Hey, I—”

“I’m sorry,” Demelza interjected. “I think I got the wrong idea. I’ll see you around, Harry.”

She left the room, not even knowing where the fireplace to floo out of here was. It took her over a minute to find it, and in that time, Harry and Kreacher remained in absolute silence.

The second that the sound of the floo came to a close, Harry rounded on Kreacher.

“I can’t count the number of times I’ve told you to stop bringing random witches to me,” Harry snapped.

“But she wasn’t random, master,” Kreacher insisted. “You knew her, didn’t you? She was on your Quidditch team. Kreacher only thought that she might be more suitable to your tastes.”

“She isn’t,” Harry groaned. “I get that you feel a need to nurture and fulfil the duty of prolonging the lifespan of the houses that you now serve, but you can’t keep bringing witches around here with the expectation that I’ll shag them and provide heirs.”

“Then what would you like Kreacher to do, master?” Kreacher asked.

“Nothing!” Harry exclaimed.

“Kreacher cannot do that,” Kreacher replied instantly. “Kreacher’s magic compels him to do his duty by acting in the best interest of your houses. That includes finding a suitable match for you to create heirs with.”

It was that fact alone that’d stopped Harry from ordering Kreacher against doing what he was doing. He still remembered Dobby and how much he physically hurt himself for going against Lucius Malfoy by informing Harry of the plot to harm him at Hogwarts back in his second year. If Harry ordered Kreacher to go against whatever was compelling him to aid both House Black and House Potter then he feared that Kreacher would harm himself too, and the old house-elf didn’t seem like he’d be able to take much punishment before dying.

“I can find my own match,” Harry tried to assure Kreacher.

“You’ve been alone for over two years now,” Kreacher pointed out. “After you and Miss Weasley ended your relationship after the war, you’ve been alone in this house except for Kreacher. You should have had children by now.”

“Agree to disagree on that front,” Harry said.

“You shouldn’t disagree,” Kreacher responded with as close to a pout as the old house-elf could muster. “You need to continue your families’ lines.”

“I will,” Harry insisted. “I just… need to find the right witch is all.”

“Then why won’t you try to see if the witches Kreacher invited are the right ones?” Kreacher asked him without a hint of frustration. “Kreacher tries so hard to find witches who are not only suitable for your houses but also kind and good-hearted witches that master might like. Won’t you please try for once?”

How many times had they had this discussion?

“Kreacher, I promise you that I’ve tried,” Harry insisted. “I’ve been on dates with witches that I’ve thought would be good matches, and none of them have worked out.”

“Then what about witches who you didn’t think would be good matches?” Kreacher asked innocently.

“What—” Harry came up short as Kreacher’s words processed through his mind.

What about those witches that he’d written off for one reason or another before attempting to date them? Well, for one, many of them were repulsive for one reason or another. Some were simply unattractive, whether that be physically or personality-wise, but there were others whom he’d merely had poor experiences with in the past. He supposed that people could change—he certainly had since the beginning of the war against Voldemort.

After several seconds of thought, Harry let out a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “There are a lot of people who are just trying to date me for my fame or my wealth—”

“Kreacher wouldn’t pick any witch who wanted you just for that,” the house-elf stated firmly.

“Be that as it may, I’m just unsure about the entire thing,” Harry admitted.

Kreacher nodded with a degree of understanding that almost seemed foreign to him. The house-elf was either so confident in his own opinions or so utterly deferential that finding any middle ground with him seemed impossible.

“If you give Kreacher the chance, he will pick the perfect witch for you,” Kreacher said. “Kreacher asks that you trust him in this. You have the Ministry Ball coming up in a few weeks. Let Kreacher pick out a date for you.”

Harry thought that he might be losing his mind for sincerely considering Kreacher’s offer. He didn’t have a date to the ball, nor did he have anyone in mind to bring with him, so it wasn’t as though he’d be displacing anyone if he went with Kreacher’s suggestion. Still, given his questionable track record of inviting the oddest witches over to 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry was uncertain if this would end up as a disaster or merely an awkward night.

“If I do this,” Harry began tentatively, “and it doesn’t work out, will you promise to drop the issue and let me find my own dates from now on?”

Kreacher mentally debated the issue for quite a while. At first, it looked as though he would reject the idea entirely, but after some more thought, the expressions on his face relaxed.

“Kreacher agrees to this,” he said. “As long as master promises to take it seriously.”

Harry offered his hand to shake, and Kreacher took it.

One more bad date. That was all that Harry had to suffer before Kreacher gave up this tedious game.

If Harry could make it through that, then he’d be home free. He only hoped that everything would go smoothly until then.

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In the lead-up to the Ministry Ball, Kreacher constantly poked and prodded at Harry to ensure that he looked as good as ever. He spent a tremendous amount of time insisting upon trimming Harry’s hair to the perfect length and style as well as watching his diet so that his attractive form remained perfect. It was tiring having Kreacher look after every last second of his day, but Harry tolerated it in the hopes that after tonight, he wouldn’t have to deal with this ever again.

True to his word, Harry had the perfect set of robes tailor-made to fit his body. They were a dark black verging on green that fit him like a second skin. They had just the right amount of flow to attract the gaze of any onlooker without getting in the way of his dancing. Kreacher helped to style his hair perfectly too, managing to tame its wildness without undoing its charm. A few spritz of cologne and last-minute trim of his eyebrow and nails completed the look.

In short, Harry felt confident that he had done his utmost to look as presentable as he ever had. He didn’t want to leave any room for Kreacher to complain that he hadn’t done his best to look presentable to whatever date he’d managed to collect for him.

He stood in the entry hall of 12 Grimmauld Place with a slightly-nervous energy. Out of anyone that Kreacher could find to go to this ball with him, Harry had no clue as to whom he’d choose. Kreacher had already brought so many witches to him that Harry struggled to imagine anyone new that he could possibly bring. Maybe he was bringing someone that Harry had previously turned down in the hopes that his new attitude would lead to a different outcome?

His mind wandered with the possibilities up until the moment that he heard Kreacher’s tell-tale snap-like sound ring out behind him.

He’d returned with Harry’s date for the evening.

Harry turned around with a pleasant smile on his lips, only for that look to die the moment he spotted who was behind him.

“Oh, fuck no,” Harry cursed loudly.

“Please, master,” Kreacher insisted, rushing ahead with a fervent plea. “You promised. You promised!”

“I promised to go on a date with whoever you chose, not to like them from the start,” Harry blurted out.

“Trust me, Potter, I didn’t imagine this either,” Pansy Parkinson said as she stepped forward.

In spite of his hatred of her, Harry had to admit that Pansy looked gorgeous. When he’d once thought of her as a pug-faced girl, she’d certainly grown into that short, upturned nose of hers and made for a striking beauty. Her long chestnut-brown hair dangled past her shoulders down past her shoulders and framed her face in a beautiful way. The set of dark green dress robes she had on complimented his perfectly and hugged her perfect figure better than any robes he’d seen on any other witch that Kreacher had brought over to him.

But even as his mind focused on her attractive body, another part of it recalled just how cruel she’d been to him and his friends back at Hogwarts.

“Seriously, Kreacher?!” Harry snapped. “You’d bring her of all people around mine? Pansy was awful to me back at Hogwarts.”

“People change, master,” Kreacher replied, his eyes wide with desperation to try to mend this wound before it grew into something impassible. “You said it yourself that you’ve been different lately.”

Yes, he had been, but that didn’t mean that Pansy…

Harry stopped himself there and took a moment to reflect. In the past few years, even before the start of the war, he still could hardly believe just how much he’d changed. His quiet shyness had turned into a subtle confidence, and his thoughts and opinions on countless matters had evolved as well. Pansy had tormented him and loved to poke at his friends' insecurities, but that didn’t mean that she was still that same way.

Still, he wasn’t ready to let her off the hook without proving herself.

“This one date, Kreacher,” Harry reminded the house-elf.

“You won’t regret this,” Kreacher told him.

Harry wasn’t so confident, but he was willing to deal with one miserable night to end this altogether.

He held out his arm for Pansy. “Shall we?”

She took it, though he could see an annoyed look upon her face. Evidently, she hadn’t taken his words to Kreacher very well. It didn’t matter, Harry supposed. Either she’d decide that he wasn’t worthy of her attention or he’d appear in the opposite situation. Either way, after tonight, everything would be done with.

The floo took them to the Ministry of Magic, which was excitedly celebrating the second anniversary of the end of the war. Hundreds of witches and wizards were in attendance, including all of those who’d fought in the final battle.

As they were spat out in the atrium, Harry looked around at so many smiling faces and felt a burst of happiness rise up in his chest.

“There’s so many,” Pansy murmured so lowly that only Harry could hear it.

He cocked his head to the side as he looked at her. “I’m surprised that you haven’t been here before. I figured that even the pure-bloods that didn’t fight—”

“I fought,” Pansy interjected sharply. “And not for the side that you're imagining.”

Harry hadn’t said anything, but he couldn’t admit that her words were wrong. He had imagined her fighting alongside the Death Eaters or at least aiding them. After all, she’d tried to convince everyone in the Great Hall to give him up to Voldemort.

“What did you do then?” He asked her sincerely.

“I kept my house safe,” she stated firmly, refusing to look at him. “The Death Eaters didn’t treat pure-bloods much better than muggleborns. They were crazed lunatics getting high off of whatever power the Dark Lord gave to them. I kept the children in my house safe and fought off those who challenged us. I…”

Harry had stood truly transfixed at her words. In the months after the war, all he’d ever heard about were how much his efforts had meant to the war. Of course, he’d heard the stories that his friends had told about what they’d done during the war, but he hadn’t heard much about what had gone on around the Slytherin Common Room.

“I killed Travers and Selwyn when they came to recruit us to help the Dark Lord in his attack against you,” Pansy continued, trying her best to shake off the awkwardness of her quiet moment. “They wanted children to fight in their bloody war that wasn’t even worth it in the first place, and I…”

Her hands were trembling, and before Harry realised what he was doing, he took them into his. He stroked his thumbs across the back of her hands in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, but it didn’t stop the rest of Pansy’s body from shaking.

“Are you okay?” He asked her sincerely.

“I’m fine,” she lied blatantly to his face. Her trembling only grew worse.

“Take a breath, a deep one,” Harry quickly corrected himself.

As Pansy sucked in a deep breath, he did the same. He held it for several seconds, ensuring that Pansy did as he did, before finally releasing it. Pansy mirrored him, even when he took in another breath and repeated the same motion.

She was struggling. Harry could see the pain in her eyes. Whatever she’d been through during the Battle of Hogwarts, she still hadn’t truly processed or moved past it yet.

“Again,” Harry said for the third time.

“I’m fine,” Pansy lied again.

“No, you’re not.”

She stared at him with pure openness in her eyes. Harry felt like he could read everything about her: her struggles, her fears, her hopes, her losses.

“Let’s just get to this stupid ball,” Pansy said.

“Not until you’re alright,” Harry insisted.

“Why do you even fucking care?” Pansy snapped, pulling away from him. She wrapped her arms beneath her chest and dipped back into an alcove in between fireplaces that were continuing to spit out witches and wizards who were arriving for the ball.

“Because…”

Why did he care? She was Pansy Parkinson of all people. She’d tormented him and his friends, even cackling when Draco had made Hermione’s teeth oversized. But right now, he could see just how terrified she was. Whatever it was that she was confronting by appearing at this ball was putting a significant strain on her, and she was doing everything she could to fight past it.

That was something that Harry could sympathise with.

Since the end of the war, there were countless things that he’d learned to wrestle with. First and foremost was with the death he’d caused, even as justifiable as it was. He still often struggled to sleep all throughout the night without waking up to a nightmare of another life that he’d taken.

Was that what Pansy dreamt of too? Or was it something else?

“Because you don’t deserve to suffer,” Harry finally said.

She’d fought against the darkness when it came down to it, and that was enough for Harry to forgive most of her sins.

But it wasn’t enough for Pansy.

“I tried to make everyone send you off to the Dark Lord,” Pansy finally said in an emotional tone. “Back in the Great Hall, I—”

Her voice choked up, and Harry gripped her arm more tightly as soon as she tried to pull away.

“You did it out of fear, am I right?” He asked her.

Although she didn’t answer verbally, he could see the truth in her eyes.

“You made the right choice when you fought against the Death Eaters,” he continued. “I’m sorry that you had to go through with what you did to them. War isn’t a pretty thing. But I’m glad that you’re still around. You did right by so many children by protecting them. You deserve to stand alongside the other veterans of the battle up on stage tonight.”

“I don’t want to,” Pansy said quietly. “I don’t deserve to. I made so many wrong choices before I chose right.”

“That’s okay,” Harry insisted. “Darkness can make people fearful. They can choose the wrong thing. What ultimately matters is what happens in the end, when their choices truly can make a difference that can change the world.”

Pansy let out a scoffing laugh. “You make it sound so simple, like you know all of the answers.”

“I don’t,” Harry told her. “But I believe that you aren’t as bad of a person as you’re trying to make yourself out to be.”

Pansy shook her head and pulled away from him slightly, but not enough to let his arm go. “You’re not such a bad guy, Potter.”

“I’d hope not,” Harry chuckled. “Otherwise how would the Wizarding World manage with a hero like me?”

She laughed at his sarcastic title. “I don’t know,” she said. “But they’d be a lot worse off without you in it.”

Harry smiled at her. His eyes lingered upon the way the corners of her lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. All thought about his deal with Kreacher was gone from his mind; all that mattered was tonight and his date.

“I don’t know about that,” Harry said jokingly. “Imagine how much less drama there’d have been at Hogwarts.”

“Draco would’ve complained a lot less,” Pansy laughed. “Or maybe not. He always was a prat.”

“A prat that you fancied,” Harry replied playfully.

“Only because my parents insisted that I get close to him,” Pansy rolled her eyes. “By fourth year, well, I realised that he wasn’t someone I wanted to spend my life with. I guess it took me a couple years more before I really started to pull away from him.”

“And now? What does the Pansy of today want?” Harry asked her sincerely.

Finally, she met his eyes full on. She twisted her body to mirror him perfectly and stared up into his gorgeous green eyes.

“I want something real,” she told him. “Not something forced upon me or arranged. I want to live my life to the fullest with someone who understands me and wants the best for me.”

“I feel the same way,” Harry replied, his voice deepening slightly without him realising it.

He didn’t notice his head moving in close to Pansy’s, nor hers moving in closer to his, but he certainly noticed the moment that their lips connected.

Harry would always remember the moment in Olivander’s Wand Shop when he found his phoenix-feather wand. The euphoria that’d rushed through his body was impossible to describe and even harder to replicate, but his kiss with Pansy somehow transcended both.

Her lips were sugary-sweet upon his tongue. They tasted faintly of strawberry with just a hint of lemon. He pressed her back against the wall in their darkened alcove. No one passing by noticed a single second of the two of them kissing, but Harry wouldn’t have cared even if they had. What he was doing with Pansy felt utterly divine. She was his everything in that moment.

When their lips finally pulled away, they were both breathless. Neither could believe what had just happened, and to ensure that it hadn’t simply been a fluke, they both leaned back into each other and kissed again.

Minutes passed. They finally pulled away with swollen lips. The atrium was quieter now. Most people who were attending the ball had already arrived, and the few stragglers that remained were clinging to the entrance into the ballroom.

“We should probably make an appearance,” Harry said. “If you’re alright with that.”

Pansy shifted her weight across her feet. “As long as I can hold onto you,” she said tentatively.

Harry held out his arm again, and she took it.

She clung to him like a sailor adrift at sea who’d finally found a life preserver. Her grip cut off his circulation, but Harry couldn’t find it within himself to adjust her arms. As long as she was by his side tonight, then he’d suffer whatever she made him.

The ballroom was grander than last year's. The enormous room was split into two tiers: the ground floor was expansive and decorated with white lilies all along the pillars and tables while the first floor was a u-shaped balcony that overlooked the dance floor and held countless private rooms for important conversations. There were massive magical windows that showed open fields that’d just been planted, distant forests, and a setting sun. Fairies danced in small groups around the lilies while house-elves delivered tasty plates of food to various small tables spread throughout the ballroom.

It took only moments before Harry was recognised and promptly swarmed. He shook a countless number of hands of people who’d either hid away from the war or did nothing to contribute to those fighting against Voldemort. It made him sick to think that any of them believed that they had his support or even tacit approval of their behaviours.

But even as he struggled against the onslaught of those who wanted to appear close to the wizard who’d stopped the war, Pansy remained close at his side. She too was well aware of the statuses of the well wishers and made her opinions of them far more well known than Harry’s. She’d sneer at them or make snide comments whenever one tried to get too close to Harry, which he was surprisingly grateful for.

By the time that all of the fake supporters had come and gone, Harry was pleased that he’d allowed Kreacher to convince him to take Pansy with him to this ball.

“Another heroic moment for Potter. I can’t believe that…”

Neville’s friendly voice trailed off as Harry turned around with Pansy. Neville’s brown eyes met Pansy’s, and Harry saw the roiling emotions coursing through Neville.

“It was a lot, but Pansy really helped me deal with it all tonight,” Harry said quickly, ensuring that Neville saw the sincerity in his gaze.

It took a moment before Neville truly recomposed himself. He was still looking at Pansy like she was some type of wild dog that was capable of biting him without a moment’s notice, but he trusted Harry enough to keep her in check that he didn’t flee right away.

“That’s good,” Neville said with an awkward laugh. “I can’t imagine many people willing to confront you. Are you… err… going to be dancing a lot tonight?”

“I suppose we should,” Harry smiled, glancing down at Pansy. “It’d be a shame to waste the evening without a bit of fun.”

“Indeed,” she agreed with a smile matching his.

Neville recused himself moments later just as the music began to pick up, but Harry didn’t abandon Pansy. She was proving to still be as brilliant as he’d found her to be earlier in the night.

Pansy made no protest as Harry guided her towards the dance floor. Several other couples, upon noticing Harry, made space for him so that he’d have plenty of room in the centre of the floor for him to twirl Pansy about as he pleased. And as the songs continued, Pansy showed no signs of slowing.

Even though Harry found Pansy far more attractive tonight than he ever had before, he wasn’t ready to give into her so easily. Dancing was one of his favourite hobbies as it closely resembled duelling stances and how one could switch between them.

As Harry twirled Pansy around, he expected her stamina to flag, but she showed no signs of stopping. Even when Harry pulled out his most intensive moves that’d lead to most people requiring a break at the end of the song, Pansy merely offered him a smile and an indication that she was ready for more.

Whether that was merely bravado or an ability to handle more physical exertions, Harry wasn’t quite certain. What he did know though was that he was continually impressed with Pansy.

Eventually, others came to ask for dances with Harry. Last year, he granted them with ease. Tonight though, he wanted to see how far Pansy could push herself.

“Once she tires out, I’ll be ready for a dance with you,” Harry told at least ten women while Pansy still clung to his arms.

She seemed to take it as a challenge. Not once throughout the night did Pansy let go of him. Even when Harry finally flagged and asked for a brief retreat to grab a drink, Pansy refused to release his arm.

So, like a gentleman, he guided her over towards the bartender serving drinks and ordered exactly what she asked for alongside his classic drink.

“Can’t believe you’ve got a snake on your arm, Harry,” Seamus commented as he passed by them.

“Tragic that you’ve only got a worm in your pants instead of a snake,” Pansy bit back at the man, whose face went a deep shade of red.

At Harry’s incredulous look, Pansy shrugged her shoulders.

“I’ve heard stories,” she said. “He talks a big game without much to back it up.”

“I’d rather my close friends not be belittled tonight,” Harry told her.

“If I see any of your close friends, then I’ll be sure to do so,” Pansy smiled.

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. He knew that he wasn’t exactly close to Seamus or Dean, but that didn’t mean that he wanted Pansy to be rude to either of them. Then again, Seamus had been the one to start things.

He pulled Pansy back onto the dance floor and ignored the calls from the other women who wanted his attention.

“They’re jealous of me,” Pansy eventually said.

“They have reason to be,” Harry told her. “How many beautiful witches can say that they’ve appeared on my arm?”

“One,” Pansy answered confidently.

“And what about Hermione?” Harry joked.

“Alright, two then,” Pansy corrected herself, well aware that Harry only said that in order to remind her of the snide comments she used to make towards Hermione when they were back at Hogwarts. It was nice that she was willing to work with him on this though. If she was going to be Mrs Potter—

Merlin, was he already sincerely thinking of her like that? It’d barely been a few hours since they’d first reunited, and it wasn’t as though he still wasn’t sure about her as a person. Her snarky behaviour didn’t seem anywhere near as annoying as it had back at Hogwarts. In fact, it was quite funny. Maybe he’d just gotten better at flirting to be able to recognise when she was making a joke versus an attack.

The longer they danced, the more Harry’s mind wandered with visions of what could be between the two of them. They bantered back and forth playfully, and Pansy even snapped at a few witches who tried to cut in. Honestly, Harry wasn’t even upset about her behaving like that. He didn’t want anyone to come between the two of them tonight.

A little past halfway through the evening, Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared at the top of the stairs leading up to the balcony. With an enchanted microphone in hand, he invited all of the veterans of the Battle of Hogwarts to join him up there for a group photo.

“Come on,” Harry said, tugging Pansy’s hand.

She held back awkwardly. “I’ve never done one of these things before. It feels weird starting now.”

“You fought just as much as anyone else,” Harry argued. “You deserve to have your contributions remembered.”

Pansy avoided his gaze. “What if people don’t believe me or ask me why I’m up there?”

“Then they’ll have me to deal with,” Harry said firmly. “Please, join me up there. I’d feel a lot better with you by my side.”

That seemed to do the trick. Her eyes softened as she met his, but she couldn’t agree without putting up just a little fight.

“Fine,” she scowled. “But I’m only doing this for your sake.”

“So generous of you,” Harry teased her.

Finally, Pansy let him lead her up to the balcony. They were among the stragglers getting up to the top, and he could hear the whispering coming from above and below. There were precious few Slytherins up on the balcony; only Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass, and Draco Malfoy stood up there among the students from the other houses who’d fought.

Naturally, Harry was quickly jostled towards the centre of the group right next to Kingsley. He refused to release Pansy’s hand, so she was brought along right beside him, squeezing in tightly to the gap made for them.

A round of applause went up from the crowd below as the veterans had their photo taken. It lasted several seconds where everyone moved around with smiling faces, turning into a living memory that would be viewed for years to come.

Harry thought about leaning in for a kiss with Pansy. If things didn’t work out between them, then it’d make looking back on this photograph a bit awkward, but the more he thought about it, the less he seemed to care. His heart told him to go for it, so he did.

In the middle of everyone, Harry pulled Pansy close and gave her a sweet kiss. There was a range of reactions stretching out throughout the ballroom, but none was better than the one he got from Pansy. Her lips were initially frozen in shock before she relaxed and kissed him back. She let her body mold itself against his, making the most of the moment exactly as he was. And just as they were about to pull away, she subtly stomped on his foot.

“A little warning next time, prat,” she said, but there was no malice to her words. In fact, the smile radiating off her face after the kiss seemed brighter than the one she’d had after their first kiss.

As the party resumed with music playing, all of the veterans seemed to converge on Harry and Pansy. Dozens of questions about their relationship were thrown at them all at once, but the only answer that Harry gave any of them was a coy smile.

“I’m sorry,” he told them all. “But I’d much rather spend time dancing with Pansy than gossipping about us.”

Pansy leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “I was thinking of something a bit more exciting than dancing, if you don’t mind leaving the party early that is.”

Harry had to use his entire willpower to stop himself from blushing in front of his friends. Pansy seemed quite pleased with the strained reaction on his face. She gave him a cheeky wink and slipped out of his grasp, escaping down the stairs towards the dance floor.

“Sorry,” Harry said as a way to excuse himself as he chased after Pansy. Her dark-green dress robes disappeared into the crowd, and Harry did his best to follow after her as he contorted his body to slip through any gap that he could find.

She took him on a trip around the ballroom towards the exit. Harry finally emerged from the crowd but couldn’t see her anywhere.

“Got you,” Pansy said with amusement as she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind him. “I would’ve thought that you of all people would be better at tracking.”

“You’re surprisingly nimble to move through the crowd like that,” Harry replied as he grabbed a hold of her wrists and spun himself around. Pansy’s body twirled with him, and he finished by hooking his arm around hers and pulling her close against his side. “But now I’ve caught you.”

“So you have,” her eyes sparkled up at him as she bit her lower lip. “And what are you going to do with little old me?”

Time for a little payback.

Harry whispered into her ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Instead of a blush like he expected, Pansy just grinned at him. “That’d better be a sincere promise.”

A strong desire to pin her against the nearest wall and fuck her brains out filled Harry’s entire being. Had they been alone in this place, he probably would’ve done exactly that.

“Let’s get out of here and you can see just how sincere I intend to be.”

It was easier than expected to make their way back to the atrium; Harry had expected to be bogged down by well wishers and countless ‘important’ people looking to make a connection with him, but something about his presence must’ve kept them away. They reached the fireplaces with ease, and Harry threw a handful of floo powder in to send them swirling back to Grimmauld Place.

As Harry stumbled out of the fireplace, Pansy pounced on him from behind. She shoved him forward and twisted his body at the same time so that his back smacked hard against the wall, but then she was all over him, kissing every inch of bare skin that she could get her lips on. She was hungry, desperate, and so was he.

The first thing that Harry grabbed was Pansy’s ass. Dancing with her all night gave him a new appreciation for Pansy’s figure, but her perky ass was what had drawn his attention the most. A few times when he’d twirled her around in his arms, her ass had brushed across his crotch, and his body had reacted almost instantly. Feeling those plump cheeks in his hands now felt like receiving a just reward after being teased for hours.

“My bedroom’s upstairs,” Harry managed to get out before he captured Pansy’s lips with his own.

She kissed him wildly until she forced herself to pull back. “Don’t think I can make it up there. Merlin, I’ve never needed anything as bad as I need you right now. Find somewhere else, closer. A cushioning charm or two can handle the rest.”

Before he could reply, her lips were back on his again. She jumped into the air and wrapped her arms and legs around him, forcing him to carry her.

Where could they go? Harry was stumbling around blindly, letting his feet guide him. They crossed through a threshold into the dining room. The long wooden table had a beautiful tablecloth stretched out across it but thankfully no place settings. Harry continued forward until his legs hit the edge of the table, and he slowly lowered Pansy back down onto it.

Without breaking their manic kisses, Harry cast a cushioning charm on the table itself to make it a more comfortable experience for all of them.

“I need you to fuck me,” Pansy whined into his mouth.

In reply, he roughly tore at her dress robes. The neckline was sheared straight down the front of her dress, making her breasts bounce free as the silky material parted on either side of her creamy skin.

“You ruined my dress,” Pansy said as she grasped his cock through his trousers. She didn’t sound too mad about it.

“I’ll buy you another one,” Harry said as he continued tearing the dress in half. It split all the way down to the hem, and with one last powerful tear, Harry ripped it completely open.

Between Pansy’s milky thighs laid some lacy black panties that looked just as easy to rip as her dress, but Pansy stopped him.

“These are my favourites,” she told him sternly. “You rip these and I’ll rip your bollocks off.”

“Fair enough,” Harry chuckled.

Instead, he hooked his thumb through the waistband and helped Pansy lift her legs high up into the air before he slowly pulled them down her legs. As he peeled them back from her core, a long, thick strand of her juices stretched from her pink pussy to her panties.

“Fuck,” Harry groaned. He couldn’t help himself. The second her panties were high enough, he dove in and started licking her pussy. She tasted sweet and musky, a flavour that was unique to her. His tongue collected all of the juices that he could, and he drank them down eagerly before softly flicking his tongue over her sensitive nub of flesh.

Instantly, Pansy cried out in pleasure. Her body tensed and her back arched off of the table before collapsing back down as she grabbed the back of his head to keep him in place, not that Harry had any intention of going anywhere else. He continued lapping at her core, relishing in all of the sweet sounds he could usher from her lips with just the simplest of touches.

Pansy kicked her panties all of the way off and spread her legs wide so that she could stare down at him through the valley between her breasts. Her eyes were filled with lust as she ran her fingers through his dark hair. Her moans quickly grew louder as Harry’s tongue managed to find the perfect pace with which to attack her clit.

“Please, Harry,” Pansy squirmed. “I need more.”

Harry pressed two fingers to her pink slit. He teased past her labia and slid in easily as her juices coated his fingers, lubricating him thoroughly. He curled them up inside of her and felt around for just the right spot that—

Pansy let out an intense sob borne out of the overwhelming sensation of having both her clit and g-spot touched at the same time. Her hips bucked up as Harry continued his ministrations, trying to maximise the amount of contact she had with him.

“Such a good girl,” Harry cooed as his tongue swirled around her clit. “Let go. Cum for me.”

Pansy’s scream echoed through the halls of Grimmauld Place as she came hard. Her walls tried to squeeze the life out of his fingers while her nails tore at the back of Harry’s head. She was thrashing about on the table, her breathing completely erratic and her eyes filled with tears of pure bliss as pleasure overtook everything about her.

Harry was breathless too. Seeing Pansy come so undone before him like this was perhaps the single-most erotic experience of his life. Never before had he made a witch cum like this. It wasn’t as though he’d suddenly developed new skills or anything of the sort; it was their connection that made this so intense.

His cock throbbed with need. He needed to be inside of her right now.

As Pansy’s shuddering breaths steadily slowed, Harry started stripping. His eyes never left her beautiful body for even a second, and once he was fully undressed, he climbed onto the table and positioned himself directly above Pansy. With a possessive growl, he leaned down and kissed her, letting his erection stretch out across her belly.

“Are you ready to be fucked until you can’t walk?”

Pansy chuckled. “I don’t know if I can walk even now. What you did to me… it’s never been that intense before.”

Still, she reached down and grasped his long, girthy shaft and tugged on it. Harry kissed her again and shifted his body slightly so that his cock was closer to her pussy.

The moment that Pansy spread her legs again, she simultaneously lined the tip of his cock up with her slit. Harry rocked his hips back and forth a couple of times, just barely spreading her lower lips to give her a taste of what was to come.

“Fuck me already,” Pansy whinged.

Harry grinned as he pushed forward, sinking into her depths. Her tight, wet heat felt utterly heavenly as he pushed forward inch by inch, filling her up steadily. Pansy’s mouth opened into a wordless scream, which shifted into a low, guttural moan as the tip of his cock kissed her cervix. He was fully inside of her, filling every last bit of space he could as her walls clenched down hard around him.

Pansy’s eyes were dilated as she wrapped her limbs around him, pulling him down onto her. Her pillowy breasts squished up against his chest, and her ankles interlocked around his back.

“You’re so fucking big,” she murmured sultrily into his ear. “And you’re not going anywhere until you fuck me into a quivering mess.”

“I never had any intentions otherwise,” Harry said as he started to move.

At first, Pansy tried to keep him completely buried in her pussy, but even she couldn’t resist the tantalising pleasure that came from a good, hard thrust. Harry reeled his hips back and pushed forward a lot harder than he’d initially intended, but Pansy didn’t show any sign of pain. In fact, she was quite vocal in the exact opposite way.

“Yes!” She hissed loudly, kissing his neck. “Just like that! More! Give me more!”

Harry grinned and gave her exactly what she asked for. He enjoyed a rough fuck just as much as the next bloke, but something about doing it with Pansy felt different. Maybe it was a way of the two of them venting out whatever lingering frustrations they had with each other over the years of regularly fighting and bickering. Or maybe it was simply what the two of them needed tonight.

Pansy’s breasts bounced wildly as the table rocked underneath them. Harry was ramming into her pussy with a fiery passion that was met by Pansy’s enthusiastic moans and plentiful kisses. She looked just as utterly thrilled by the encounter as he was, and she kept begging for more.

“So fucking good,” she moaned loudly. “Fuck, Harry, you’re ruining me!”

Good, he thought smugly to himself. She deserved only the best.

Pansy groped her breasts and pinched her nipples between her fingers as her walls began to pulse around his cock. She really pushed her breasts up against him as her back arched off of the table when he hit just the right spot inside of her. At this angle of thrusting, his pelvis brushed across her clit each time he filled her up.

“I’m so wet for you. You can feel it, can’t you? Look at what you fucking do to me—” Pansy’s words faded into a rough moan as she used her legs to pull him into her faster. “I need you to cum in me, Harry. I need it more than life itself! Fill me up! Please!”

Harry’s hips stuttered as he groaned in pleasure at the thought. His mind painted a beautiful picture of Pansy laying back with his cum dripping out of her well-fucked pussy, ruining the lovely tablecloth, not that he cared about that.

He hoped that Kreacher kept around a few contraceptive potions just in case. Or, more likely knowing how the house-elf loved to complain that he didn’t have a full family to look after, he probably didn’t keep any in stock.

Honestly, Harry couldn’t truly be bothered to care tonight. Pansy felt too damned good for him to do anything but finish inside of her perfect pussy.

He picked back up his pace and pounded hard into Pansy’ pussy, using the passion of the moment to fuel his thrusts.

“Cum for me, oh Merlin, fuck, Harry, I’m so close, I need you—” Pansy babbled on as her pussy twitched around his cock.

“Take it all,” Harry groaned as he slammed all the way inside of her.

Suddenly, on that final thrust, the table rocked forward and two of the legs snapped. Neither Harry nor Pansy noticed instantly though because they were both lost in their simultaneous orgasm. Pansy’s walls spasmed wildly around his cock, squeezing out his cum as he shot it deep into her womb. When the end of the table they were on hit the floor, Harry crashed forward into Pansy, thrusting his cock inside of her again. He kissed her wildly as he made tiny thrusts into her again and again until they were both thoroughly spent.

“That was bloody amazing,” Harry said breathlessly as Pansy’s limbs all went limp. He pulled his cock out of her and stepped back to survey the scene.

The legs of the table had snapped off awkwardly, but there was nothing that a simple repair charm couldn’t fix. There were grooves in the carpet that’d need to be touched up too. Kreacher could deal with that. After all, he was the one who’d invited Pansy over in the first place.

Pansy tried to stand up, only for her knees to buckle. Harry quickly swooped down and wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her up onto her unsteady feet. “It really was intense,” she agreed with a bright smile. She tried to give him a peck on the cheek, only for her legs to nearly give out entirely.

So, Harry swept her up into his arms.

“How does a warm bath sound?” He asked her.

“Wonderful, but only if you’ll join me in it,” she added quickly at the end with a look that told him he had no choice in the matter.

“Only if you’ll spend the night here,” Harry countered with a chuckle.

“Oh, I didn’t think that either of us were done with each other quite yet,” Pansy said, licking her lips.

Harry hoped that Kreacher wouldn’t mind an overnight guest. Who was he kidding, the house-elf was probably off somewhere celebrating that his plan had worked.