Chapter 38

Pet Snake (Pansy Parkinson)

Pet Snake (Pansy Parkinson)

Harry was leaving the dungeons after Slughorn’s class, bag slung over his shoulder, when he turned a corner and nearly ran straight into Pansy Parkinson.

She smirked before he even had a chance to say anything. “Well, well. If it isn’t the Boy Who Can’t Watch Where He’s Going.”

Harry grinned, shaking his head. “Maybe I just wanted to bump into you.”

“Mm,” she said, her eyes flicking over him in that way she always did, lazy but sharp. “Haven’t seen much of you lately. Thought you’d gone off me.”

“Not a chance,” Harry said easily. “Been busy. You know how it is.”

“Busy saving the world? Or busy screwing half the castle in your little secret club?”

He laughed under his breath. “So you’ve heard.”

“Everyone’s heard, Potter. Rumours everywhere. Something about a… Den?” Her smirk widened. “Sounds very you.”

Harry leaned in a little. “Haven’t seen it yet, then?”

“Not exactly invited, was I?” Pansy said, raising a brow.

“Well,” Harry said, his grin turning sharper, “consider yourself invited.”

She tilted her head. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Harry repeated, already turning and nodding for her to follow. “Come on.”

For a second she didn’t move, then she gave a short laugh and hurried after him, her shoes clicking on the stone floor.

“You’re serious,” she said, catching up at his side.

“Completely.”

“You know, it’s been… what, weeks since we—”

“Too long,” Harry cut in smoothly.

Pansy smirked again, biting her lip for a second before shaking her head. “You really don’t mess about, do you?”

“Never,” Harry said, eyes forward.

They didn’t talk much after that, just walked — out of the dungeon corridors, up toward the quieter parts of the castle, Harry leading with purpose, Pansy curious but clearly excited. She kept sneaking glances at him, like she was trying to read if he was winding her up.

But he wasn’t.

Finally, they stopped in front of an unmarked stretch of wall. Pansy frowned, looking from the stone back to Harry.

“This is it?” she asked.

Harry just smiled.

“Welcome to the Den.”

The wall shimmered out of existence, and Harry stepped through first. Pansy followed — and gasped as her clothes vanished the second her foot hit the floor.

She looked down at herself, completely bare, then back at Harry, who was grinning like he’d been waiting for this reaction.

“Potter,” she said, eyes flashing but not hiding her smirk, “what the fuck was that?”

“Little trick of mine,” Harry said smoothly. “Banishing charm on the entrance. Clothes are gone until you leave. You’ll get them back at the door.”

Pansy let out a low laugh, unabashed as she tilted her chin up and let her eyes flick around the room. “So it’s like that, is it? Public. No secrets.”

“Exactly,” Harry said. “Everyone here plays by the same rules.”

And it was obvious. The Den was busy. Ginny was flat on one of the couches, her head tipped back, mouth open as Daphne worked between her thighs. Lavender was straddling Parvati in front of the fire, the two of them grinding shamelessly against each other. Luna was perched on the arm of a chair, giggling softly while Cho’s fingers moved lazily between her legs. Hermione and Susan were tangled up in the corner, Hermione’s hair falling forward as she kissed down her friend’s stomach while Hannah cheered her on.

Pansy whistled low, smirk twisting into something sharper. “Merlin’s balls. And here I thought the Slytherins were shameless.”

Harry just leaned in close enough for only her to hear. “Told you the rumours weren’t even close.”

She turned back to him, still completely naked, still smirking. “So what now, then?”

Harry caught her wrist, tugged her forward through the centre of the room until they reached the wide spread of cushions. He sat down like he owned the place — because he did — and pulled her into his lap.

Eyes turned toward them. Not everyone stopped, but people noticed.

Harry looked straight into her eyes, calm as ever, voice low and deliberate.

“Now,” he said, lips quirking into that cocky grin of his, “it’s time to give them a show.”

Pansy’s laugh was short, wicked, and genuine. “About fucking time.”

She was still smirking, perched in Harry’s lap, completely naked and surrounded by the low hum of moans and gasps from every corner of the Den. But when Harry’s hands slid up her thighs and gripped her hips, the smirk faltered into something hungrier.

“Everyone’s watching,” she murmured.

“Good,” Harry said simply.

He kissed her hard, biting her lip just enough to make her gasp, then shifted and rolled her onto the cushions beneath him. Pansy let out a short laugh as her back hit the pillows, her legs falling open without hesitation.

“Showman,” she teased, though her voice was already shaky.

Harry didn’t answer. His head dipped low, mouth on her neck, then down between her breasts, leaving marks as he went. His hands held her steady, pinning her in place while his mouth travelled lower.

Pansy’s breath caught when his tongue flicked against her, slow at first, deliberate, dragging out every second. She arched her back, a moan slipping free before she could stop it.

“Oh, fuck—”

Harry didn’t stop. He licked her again, then sucked hard, and she swore loudly, one hand grabbing at his hair.

“Merlin, Potter—”

“Louder,” he muttered against her, his voice muffled.

Her laugh broke into another moan. “Bastard.”

The Den was watching now. Lavender had paused in kissing Parvati just long enough to glance over, her lips parted. Ginny, still flushed from Daphne’s attention, was smirking lazily at the sight. Hermione murmured something to Susan, both of them grinning as they watched Harry work.

Pansy writhed under him, no shame at all, her thighs clamping around his head before she forced them open again. He kept the rhythm steady, building her up until she was swearing freely, every other word breaking into a gasp.

“Fuck— yes— don’t— oh, don’t stop—”

And when she finally came, she was loud enough that half the room turned their heads fully. Her hips bucked hard, her back arched, and her nails dug deep into Harry’s shoulders as she screamed his name.

Harry pulled back slowly, licking his lips, eyes dark as he looked down at her.

“Still think the Slytherins were shameless?” he asked.

Pansy laughed breathlessly, hair stuck to her face, chest rising and falling fast. “You’ve… got a point.”

He grinned, kissed her quickly, then pushed her thighs wider apart and lined himself up without hesitation.

Harry pulled back from kissing her, his lips wet, his breath rough. Pansy’s smirk was gone now, replaced with parted lips and flushed cheeks.

“You’ve no idea what you’ve walked into,” he muttered, lining himself up.

“Then show me,” she panted.

He thrust into her hard, burying himself to the hilt in one motion. Pansy’s cry echoed off the walls, her nails instantly digging into his shoulders, her legs wrapping tight around him.

“Oh— fuck, yes—” she gasped, her head falling back against the cushions.

Harry growled low in his throat, gripping her thighs and pounding into her without restraint. There was nothing measured about it now, no teasing — just raw, relentless force.

And Pansy welcomed every bit of it. Her moans rose with his thrusts, wild and shameless, filling the Den. She clung to him, her body moving with his, not resisting, not fighting for control, but surrendering herself completely to the pace he set.

“Yes— Harry— fuck, don’t stop—”

“Not planning to,” he grunted, his voice almost feral in her ear.

Around them, the Den had stilled slightly, people slowing in their own fun just to watch. Ginny had a lazy smile as she leaned back, Daphne between her legs again, though her eyes were on Harry. Hermione whispered something to Susan, both of them smirking knowingly. Lavender and Parvati had paused their grinding to watch the centre of the room, wide-eyed.

Pansy didn’t care who was looking. She screamed his name loud, nails raking down his back, her hips meeting his thrusts in messy, desperate rhythm.

“You’re— fucking— unreal,” she gasped, her voice breaking.

Harry’s lips crushed hers again, swallowing her moans as he drove harder into her, his grip iron on her body. He broke the kiss just long enough to growl, “You wanted in the Den— this is the price.”

“Yes,” she moaned instantly, clutching at him tighter. “Yes— I’ll take it— all of it—”

Her body clenched around him and she came hard, her cry ripping through the air, trembling beneath him as her orgasm hit like a storm.

Harry didn’t stop. He fucked her through it, his pace just as wild, dragging wave after wave out of her until she was shaking, clinging to him, her voice hoarse from screaming his name.

And she loved it. Every second.

Pansy was already trembling from the last orgasm, her chest rising and falling in ragged bursts, but Harry didn’t let up. He shifted her hips higher, pinning her down against the cushions, and drove into her harder than before.

“Harry—” she gasped, voice shaking, “Fuck me!”

“Yes, Bitch,” he growled, his thrusts unrelenting. “Good girl.”

Her head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut as another loud moan ripped from her throat. She clung to him, nails digging deep into his arms, her body jerking with every thrust.

The Den was alive with the sound of it. Ginny, flushed and lazy against Daphne’s lap, smirked as she watched. “He’s going to ruin her,” she murmured.

“Looks like she wants him to,” Hermione replied, her hand absently stroking Susan’s thigh as her eyes stayed locked on the centre.

Pansy’s moans turned to cries, raw and broken, but there was no fight in them. Every time he slammed into her, she met him, her hips rising to take it, her voice spilling his name over and over.

“Harder— fuck, Harry— don’t stop—”

He gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his temples, and leaned over her, his lips brushing her ear. “You want harder?”

“Yes— yes— please—”

He flipped her onto her stomach in one quick motion, yanking her hips up, and thrust into her again from behind. Pansy screamed, clutching at the cushions, her body arching under him.

“Oh my— fuck— Harry—”

Her voice was hoarse now, but the pleasure was clear. Every movement from him pushed another cry from her lips, her body rocking forward under the sheer force of it.

“You take it so well,” he muttered, pounding into her, his hands gripping her waist so tightly she’d be sorecome morning.

“Yes— Merlin— yes—” she moaned, her voice muffled against the pillows, but still loud enough for everyone to hear.

She came again, her whole body shaking, her cry ragged and desperate. Harry didn’t let up. He fucked her through it, wild and unrestrained, until she collapsed forward, arms giving out.

But even then, she turned her head, her cheek pressed against the cushions, and smiled weakly through her gasps. “Don’t stop.”

Harry smirked, pulling her back up, his pace somehow even rougher than before.

The Den was silent for a moment, everyone caught in the spectacle of it, with Pansy giving herself over completely, Harry showing no mercy, each wave breaking harder than the last.

Pansy was wrecked. Hair plastered to her face, chest heaving, body twitching from orgasm after orgasm. But her grin was still there, shaky and wicked.

Harry pulled out, dragged her upright, and kissed her rough enough to steal her breath. She barely had time to gasp before he hauled her to her feet.

“On your feet,” he muttered.

She laughed breathlessly, wobbling as she stood. “What—”

He didn’t answer. He spun her, shoved her back against the stone wall, and lifted her legs around his waist in one motion.

Pansy cried out, clutching at his shoulders as he pushed inside her again, deep and brutal. Her scream echoed around the Den, her back arching against the wall.

“Holy— fuck— Harry—”

He grunted, slamming into her, the wall shaking with every thrust. His grip under her thighs was iron, his chest pressed tight against hers, his mouth claiming hers between her moans.

Pansy held on for dear life, her nails digging into his shoulders, her voice breaking with every cry. But she wasn’t complaining. She was begging.

“Yes— yes— don’t stop— harder— fuck—”

Around them, the Den was almost silent, all eyes on the centrepiece. Lavender’s mouth hung open. Hermione whispered something against Susan’s neck, her own face flushed. Ginny was still smirking, though her eyes were dark as she watched Harry let loose.

Harry’s thrusts got faster, rougher, his breath ragged in Pansy’s ear. “You wanted it wild,” he growled.

“Yes— Merlin, yes—” she gasped, her head tipping back, hitting the wall.

Her body tightened around him and she screamed again, coming so hard her legs shook, nearly slipping, but he held her up, fucking her through it without missing a beat.

She collapsed against him, limp and trembling, but still smiling, still moaning his name.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his lips against her neck.

Her weak laugh broke into another moan as he thrust deeper, chasing his own high now. The sound of their bodies slamming against the wall filled the Den until Harry finally groaned low, burying himself deep and spilling inside her.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of both of them panting.

Harry finally lowered her gently back onto the cushions. Pansy collapsed flat, sweaty and gasping, her grin still there.

“Well,” she managed between breaths, “consider me… initiated.”

The Den erupted in laughter, claps, and whistles.

Harry just smirked, kissed her once more, and leaned back against the cushions, chest heaving.