Disclaimers: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: This is the second story in my series called "The Blossom and the Dragon". This series is made up of nine instalments: four one-shots, two two-shots, two drabbles and a novel-length story (which is this one, 210,000 words ca, 14 chapters in total). The story revolves around the forbidden love of Pansy and Draco from after the Second Wizarding War, to the epilogue and beyond. All the stories are perfectly canon, except for the little fact that J.K. Rowling said that Draco didn't like Pansy. Here he loves her with a passion. Updates will come every Saturday and will continue for the upcoming six months. What to expect from the series: no sex god!Draco or slutty!Pansy. If that's what you're looking for, you have to keep searching. Here there's love, pain, lust, infidelity, torture, murder and redemption. I really hope you'll like this, if you do, please let me know. This was beta-read by the amazing QueenBtchoftheUniverse. Thank you! Happy reading!
Warnings: Graphic Depiction of Violence. Torture. Major Character Death. Rape/Non-Con. Dubious Consent. Explicit Sexual Content. Oral Sex. Anal Sex. Infidelity.
A Marriage of Convenience
Pansy Parkinson wrapped her black trench tightly around her body. At the end of May, the temperatures in London were still far from summery and, from time to time, her petite body still shivered in the cold air of dawn. It was six in the morning and Diagon Alley was completely deserted; the shops were still closed and not a sound could be heard except for Pansy's shoes on the cold stones of the street. Occasionally, a cat crossed the path of the witch as she walked briskly towards the corner where Diagon Alley bent sharply into Knockturn Alley.
The air suddenly became even colder, and she had to stuff her hands in her pockets to warm them up. Knockturn Alley was just as empty as the other street. For once, there were no vendors who tried to grab Pansy's wrists to get her attention, nor suspicious-looking wizards who accidentally bumped into her and got hold of either her money or her fleshy bits. In those occasions, she had hexed more than one individual and some of them had even hexed her back. She shook her head bitterly at the memory of her teeth turning pink by the hand of a young pickpocket.
Suddenly, a black owl flew past her head and landed on the window sill of 13B Knockturn Alley with a great fluttering of wings. She recognised the bird, a fiery, well-fed animal which had tried to snap its beak around her fingers more than once in the past.
Borgin and Burkes was still closed, and no light could be seen in the window above the shop. Pansy was grateful for that. It meant that she still had time before she heard Mr Borgin's spiteful voice ordering her around, or felt his sweaty and smelly hands unexpectedly brushing against her before she could withdraw.
She stopped in front of the owl and the animal looked at her with contempt. Then, slowly, as if it did it only because its owner had told it to, the bird held out its claw to Pansy. There were two letters tied to it, and as she untied the complicated knot, the owl hooted impatiently at her. She shot it a glare, but the owl glared back at the witch. Pansy's small fingers fumbled a little bit longer with the twine and when she finally managed to untie the post, the owl hooted once again and took off, sending feathers to flutter all around Pansy.
She glared at it as it disappeared behind the dark buildings of Knockturn Alley, her head already filling with recipes where the main ingredient was an owl. She rummaged through the pocket of her trench and took out a big, heavy and rusty key. She put it in the door lock of Borgin and Burkes and turned it. The door opened with a sinister creak. She walked into the dimly lit shop and closed the door at her back, locking it once again from the inside.
Pansy stepped as quietly as she could towards the counter. She unbuttoned her trench and went to the back to hang it on a rusty nail in the wall. She glanced at her reflection in a mirror and cringed. Her fair skin was even paler than usual, her hollow cheeks gave the impression that she was ill and her eyes seemed tired beyond recognition. Her hair, slightly longer than her usual pageboy haircut, was pulled up in a pony tail that highlighted her cheekbones. She didn't like what she saw, but decided that it was better not to linger on such things as her appearance at that moment. With what Mr Borgin paid her, putting on some weight was out of the question and since she didn't have prospects of a better career taking shape anytime soon, she preferred to gloss over her look instead of whining about it. She didn't have to be beautiful for anybody anyway. Plus, all Mr Borgin asked of her was to be neatly dressed and to smile constantly when the clients came in.
She walked back to the counter and sat on one of the dusty stools. The letters lay in front of her: two identical envelopes, coming from the same place. Two very different writings on the envelopes though, from two very different people. One of the letters, the one addressed to Mr Borgin, was written in an elaborated and tidy calligraphy. The other one, for Miss Pansy Parkinson, had been scribbled down quickly, as if someone had wanted to add that letter to her as a second thought.
She took the letter addressed to her and slowly slid her finger under the seal flap, tearing the parchment open. There were two pieces of parchment in it. The first one was printed beautifully with green ink on a silvery parchment. It was a wedding reminder and it read:
Mr and Mrs Hyperion Greengrass
Would like to remind you
The marriage of their daughter
To the son of
Mr and Mrs Lucius Malfoy
Saturday the twelfth of June
At four o'clock in the afternoon
At Malfoy Manor
The other piece of parchment was much shorter. It was written in an untidy and slurred writing, as if the person who had written it were in a hurry.
Do come. – D.
That was all it said.
Pansy clutched her fingers around the smaller piece of parchment and clenched her jaw, her muscles tensing. What kind of family had to send two invitations and a reminder for a wedding? That kind of family, naturally.
She slid her fingers over Draco's words and felt a little bulge around the dash. When she brought the letter closer to her eyes and looked attentively at it, she saw that dash between the message and Draco's initial had been written over something that he had been hastily erased.
She raised the letter and tried to look at the parchment through the light, but since the shop was darker than outside, she had to make some illumination by herself.
"Lumos," she murmured, and her wand shone brightly behind the parchment. She looked closely. 'P'. A 'P' that had been quickly discarded. Malfoys don't beg, she reminded herself bitterly.
"Turn off that wicked light," hissed a voice at her back. "Isn't it bright enough in here?"
Pansy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The answer was no, but she didn't want to start her day with the wrong foot. She pocketed her wand and the light wore off.
"You have post," she informed him evenly.
Mr Borgin grabbed the letter that sported his name and tore it open. He had received the same wedding reminder that Pansy had, but there was no additional message for him. He grumbled something impossible to understand and glanced at Pansy's letter. She closed her fist over Draco's message when she felt the eyes of the old man lowering on her.
"So, we've both been invited to the wedding of the century apparently," he spluttered. "The status of those pureblood families must have dropped a great deal to invite underprivileged people like us."
Pansy lowered her eyes, feeling the rage boiling inside of her at his words, but there was no use in talking back to her boss, not if she wanted to keep her job. So she didn't reply.
"I will have to think about letting you attend the wedding, though," added Mr Borgin, folding the invitation back in the envelope. "I need someone to look after the shop."
Pansy took a sharp breath. Probably that would not have been a bad thing. Did she want to attend Draco's wedding? No, not really. She hadn't seen him in ten months and she felt like seeing him getting married to Astoria would have been an unnecessary pain to inflict to herself. On the other hand, she was burning with the desire to see him once again. She had no business at Malfoy Manor and had never been invited there, but at the same time Draco had never come to visit her in Knockturn Alley. And Merlin! She was longing for a glimpse of his smug face and the gentle touch of his hands.
"Have you turned the sign?" asked Mr Borgin, sitting on the stool next to her.
"No," admitted Pansy, collecting her letter and putting it back in the envelope.
"What are you waiting for, girl?" the old wizard questioned her. "Not everybody is a late sleeper such as yourself."
Pansy had to bite her tongue. She was up before dawn every single day, just to be at the shop before Mr Borgin himself was awake. She stood up and pocketed the letter, next to her wand. She walked to the door, unlocked it and turned the sign that said 'Closed' to 'Open'. Her eyes wandered through the misty window and she saw that the alley was still empty. Too early for the wizards who had nothing to hide, too late for those who did.
"Bring me the coins you bought yesterday," Mr Borgin told her from the counter. "I still haven't had time to check them out."
Pansy nodded slightly, tearing her eyes away from the street. She made her way to a massive wardrobe and opened it. Inside there were tons of boxes and treasure chests, placed one above the other, and she took the one on the top of the pile. It was a crimson little box with an eagle and a snake engraved on the front. She brought it to the counter and placed it carefully in front of Mr Borgin.
"Good," he grunted, his greasy hands patted hers before she could withdraw. "Now, give me my glasses and my gloves. Do I still have to tell you everything?"
His glasses and gloves were resting on the counter at a reaching distance from Mr Borgin, but Pansy pushed them towards him anyway. He opened the box and studied its content. A collection of golden coins with dragons engraved on one side and the head of some wizard on the other were piled on the velvety interior.
Theodore Nott, the wizard who had sold them to Pansy the day before, had said that he didn't exactly know what they did, but that they were surely cursed. To prove that, he showed her his two fingers. He had tried to pick one up the day before and she could see his skin burned and blistering.
"You sit here and wait for the clients," ordered Mr Borgin, patting the stool next to his. "They seem to like doing business with you." He grabbed her chin without squeezing. "Remember to smile," he added.
Pansy jerked away from his hand and nodded darkly. She liked dealing with the clients more than anything else. She always managed to get some really good deals out of them. And despite Mr Borgin's constant nagging at her, she knew that he needed her there as much as she needed that job. Business had improved greatly ever since he had employed her and Pansy was aware of the fact that he knew it and that he somehow felt the power that she held over him. In reality, though, she didn't hold that much power at all, because that position was her only steady income and she seemed unable to find another job despite her constant attempts to do so.
"Wonderful, wonderful," mumbled Mr Borgin, looking at the coins closely. "Such art."
Pansy knew he wasn't talking about the engravings, but about the curse, but she didn't comment. Luckily, the door opened and the first customer of the day came in. An old man who had something heavy under his robe as he walked briskly towards the counter.
Mr Borgin placed his gloved hand on the small of Pansy's back and pushed her off the stool. "Smile," he hissed, before going back to his coins.
And Pansy smiled, even though what she really wanted to do was to roll her eyes at him.
Draco walked into his study for the first time. It was a big and bright room that used to be one the guestrooms before his father had it converted. The work had taken a couple of days, but now there was a solid wood desk with a massive chair, two wide windows and bookshelves that covered most of the walls.
"I hope you like it," murmured Lucius behind him. "As I told you, you need a study now that you are getting married."
Draco made his eyes wander through the books. There weren't many, yet. Some of his old school books and some other given to him as presents through the years, but it was up to him to build his own library.
"Yes," replied Draco softly, "I needed a study." He walked to the window and looked out. From that side of the Manor he could see the orchard and the rose garden. There had never been an orchard or roses at Malfoy Manor, but that was one of the many changes that Astoria had brought with her when she had visited in April.
He didn't know if she had wanted the orchard and the rose garden to be in that particular position so that they would have been the only thing that he saw from his study or if it was just a coincidence. But she had insisted on that particular room for Draco's study and it looked like she always obtained what she wanted with his parents. More than he did anyway.
Draco turned away from the window. He pushed the chair back and sat down, sinking in the soft filling. On the desk lay an endless roll of parchment that had the wedding guest list written tidily in alphabetical order. More than a thousand people had been invited, and almost all had already confirmed their presence. Relatives, friends, acquaintances, people that had to be invited, but that nobody really remembered who they were anymore. Draco had skimmed through the list lots and lots of times, always looking for the name that kept turning up missing.
Pansy. Pansy Parkinson. After the save the date card. He had sent her two invitations and a reminder, and she had never replied to any of them. He was burning with impatience and, more than once, he had thought to grab the first valuable thing they had in the Manor and bring it to Borgin and Burkes just to see her. The desire to just at least catch a glimpse of her from the dusty window of the shop was burning intensely inside of him and lately Pansy's body was the first thing that sprung to his mind late at night when his hand was the only companion he had to give himself relief.
He wanted to believe that she was thinking about him as well, maybe waiting for him, wondering why he wasn't coming to visit her. But surely she couldn't imagine that every single one of his moves were strictly controlled by his mother. He couldn't Apparate nor travel to any place at all without her knowing. She had strictly interdicted any unnecessary travels to London and when he had to find a suitable dress suit for his wedding an expensive tailor had been called to come to the Manor to make a unique creation.
But all that was about to end. Once he was married and became the Lord of the house, he could have done as he pleased. And Draco knew what pleased him. He knew that his mother awaited his wedding day with a mix of excitement and fear. Excitement because no Malfoy had ever gotten out of a wedding; till death do us part was taken so seriously that many a Malfoy bride had died in mysterious circumstances, but none had ever been divorced. And fear because from that moment on she would have lost all control on her son, and she was not sure that Astoria would be up to the challenge.
"Has everybody sent their R.S.V.P.s?" asked Lucius from one of the two armchairs that rested in a corner of the room and that Draco hadn't noticed before.
"Almost," he replied tightly.
Lucius nodded thoughtfully, then he stood up. "I guess you will want to acquaint yourself with your study." He caressed one of the shelves with an almost loving touch. "I will leave you to it." And without adding a single word he walked out of Draco's study, leaving him in there alone.
Draco didn't know what he was supposed to do to acquaint himself with a room – maybe sniffing the curtains and fondling the desk? – so he decided rather to write to Pansy one more letter. He opened one of the drawers and smiled as he saw a pile of blank letters with just as many envelopes and a bottle of ink with a brand new feather. He took everything out and placed it on the desk. Carefully, he dunked the feather in the ink bottle and stopped in midair. What could he have written to her? If she hadn't already decided to attend, there was nothing his brain could come up with that would have made her come to the wedding.
Ink started to drop down on the parchment and Draco swore under his breath. He put the feather back into the ink bottle and used the envelope to pad the stain, creating a bigger spot on both the letter and the envelope. Frustrated, he tore the parchment and threw it away.
"Writing to Astoria, I suppose," remarked Narcissa icily.
Draco looked up to meet his mother's eyes and from her face he knew that she knew perfectly well to whom he was writing. He didn't reply.
"Your Father said that you were settling down into your new study," she continued, walking in. "Is it to your liking?"
"Indeed," replied Draco flatly. "I couldn't have asked for anything better."
Narcissa smiled coldly. "I'm glad," she told him. "I just received a letter from Astoria and her parents."
"Calling off the wedding?" asked Draco casually.
Narcissa ignored him. "They will be here the night before the wedding," she informed her son. "There will be a rehearsal dinner with both of our families and they will sleep in the north wing of the Manor."
"Isn't it bad luck to see your bride the night before the wedding?" asked Draco coolly.
Narcissa's cold, grey eyes looked to the window past him. "As long as you don't spend the night together, you have nothing to worry about." Her voice was like ice.
"Great," murmured Draco without emotion.
Narcissa looked back at her son. "I am sure you won't embarrass your name next week," she stated, then stopped to think for a moment. "Our name," she corrected herself.
Draco gritted his teeth. "I'm sure I won't," he hissed.
Narcissa smiled coldly, she turned on her heels and stopped. "And Draco," she called after him, "consider it a blessing if Pansy Parkinson doesn't show up."
Draco swallowed hard as she exited his study. Oh, how much he wanted Pansy to come now, just to show his mother after that retort. And now he would never forgive Pansy if she didn't.
"I don't suppose you can raise your offer a bit," grunted a tall wizard with a black beard and a tattoo under his left eye.
Pansy feigned a smile. "I don't suppose you want to start our transaction from the beginning once again."
The wizard looked darkly at the young witch. "You are quite good at your job, Miss Parkinson," he whispered, placing a transparent box with a shrunken cat paw inside.
"You should let Mr Borgin hear you, Mr Higgs," she told him as she counted the Galleons and the Sickles that she owed him.
"Should hear what?" asked Mr Borgin suspiciously, walking into the shop from the back room.
Mr Higgs looked at him, while Pansy lowered her eyes, pretending to be counting the money again even though she already had the exact sum in her hands.
"That your assistant knows what she is doing," he told him. "She is a young, pretty thing with a brain, and she is worth marrying." He looked at Mr Borgin and winked.
Mr Borgin looked at him without understanding, then, all of a sudden, he seemed to realise what the wizard was talking about. His features became hard as he looked coldly at Mr Higgs. "She doesn't have time for these things," he growled curtly. "Give him the money, girl," he ordered to Pansy. "I'm sure Mr Higgs has other things to do."
Pansy raised her head and gave the money to the customer. "Thank you for doing business with us today," she said with no emotion and a plastic smile on her face.
Mr Higgs took the money and nodded darkly to Mr Borgin and to Pansy, before walking away with a loud screech from the door.
"Marrying," Mr Borgin muttered, once his client was gone. "You have no time for such things, girl." He looked at Pansy with fake gentleness, his slimy hand sliding on her cheek to make her look at him. "Don't go around and get married; you and I make a good team, girl."
Pansy pulled away from his hand and took a couple of steps back. She looked at him with severity. There was something she had to tell him and now, when he appeared to have softened, was probably a good time to break the news with him. "Mr Borgin, I've decided to go to the wedding this Saturday."
Mr Borgin stiffened at her words. "And who's going to look after the shop, girl?" he asked her coldly.
Pansy looked at him, her eyes burning. "We keep it closed for the day," she told him sensibly. "I don't think Mr Malfoy would be glad to know that you have kept me away from the wedding of his only son to look after your shop." She had to suppress a smile when she looked at his troubled face. "I suppose he would think you rather impolite," she continued, "and you don't want Mr Malfoy to think that about you. They have always been such good clients." She bit her bottom lip at that last sentence. Draco had not set foot in Borgin and Burkes in ages and Pansy had only seen Lucius Malfoy once since she had started working there. Still, they knew Mr Borgin well and had always brought a lot of interesting items to his shop.
Mr Borgin seemed to think hard at her words. She was right, she knew that and she also knew that he was well aware of her being right. He pushed his dyed, black hair away from his eyes and looked at her as if she had been very naughty. "No, I certainly wouldn't want that," he replied slowly. "I suppose you can go."
Pansy nodded, she bit her lip to hide a satisfied smile. "Thank you," she mumbled.
"Yes, yes," he grumbled, "but I'll withhold the money from your salary."
Pansy turned her back to him before she rolled her eyes. Now she had more important things to think about. Her dress for example, and how to style her hair in a fashionable way without going to the hairdresser.
And what to say to Draco when she saw him.
Draco had come to the conclusion that rehearsal dinners were the most unnecessary things that had ever been invented. Endless conversations about tedious matters such as flowers and table arrangements bored him to death and he didn't wish to spend a minute longer than necessary seated at that dinner table.
To him, the arrival of his future wife and in-laws a day before the wedding had been a nuisance more than anything else. As this was their first time at Malfoy Manor, Mr and Mrs Greengrass had asked and obtained a visit to every single room of the house, with the great displeasure of Draco who had been chosen as their personal guide.
He replied as politely as he could to their incredibly dull questions about the kind of wood used for the desks and the significance of the symbols engraved on the doors. Draco knew very little about those things and he cared even less. All he wanted that day was to go to his study, sit down, take out a letter he had received from London that morning and tear it apart. He had recognised the writing and his heart had been beating furiously all day long. The anticipation of reading her message was making him numb towards his guests. But, as he was dragged from room to room and finally to the dining room, it looked like his desire to open the letter had to be kept unsatisfied for much longer than he would have liked it.
"I suppose you're starting to get anxious about tomorrow, Draco," chirped Mrs Greengrass as she was served a tiny portion of lobster with a delicate buttery sauce. "So many guests and you and Astoria being the centre of attention. It must be quite intimidating to think about it." She smiled coldly as if she were enjoying making him fret. Little did she know that he felt no emotion at all concerning the following day. He couldn't have cared less if he were on a desert island or in the middle of Diagon Alley on a Sunday afternoon, the only thing that mattered was the letter he kept clutching and what was written on it.
"No," replied Draco, biting his lobster and chewing slowly on it. "Not in the least."
Mrs Greengrass smiled, her eyes studying him coolly, probably deciding if he was joking or if he was just hiding his true feelings. Draco's face was a mask, as he looked stubbornly away from his future mother-in-law.
"Draco," Daphne called him, flashing her white teeth in a captivating smile from the other side of the table, "have you invited any of our fellow schoolmates?"
Draco looked at her. She was just as cute as her sister, and even if she sported a round belly that let everybody know that she was in the last trimester of her first pregnancy, she hadn't changed much from Hogwarts. "Of course," he replied rather curtly, "there are more than a thousand guests."
Daphne didn't seem to mind his tone. "Zabini?" she asked thoughtfully.
"Is this a man or a woman?" asked her husband distractedly.
"A man," replied Draco. "And yes, he is my best man."
"Millie? Oh, please tell me you've invited Millie," she piped. "She is so funny…"
Draco swallowed another bite of his lobster. He had never particularly liked Millicent Bulstrode, but it just didn't feel right not to invite her. She had been friends with Pansy back at school and… he didn't know. Probably he had hoped she would convince Pansy to come. "Millicent, Tracey, Goyle," Draco assured her. "You can have your school reunion while we pose for pictures."
Daphne played a little with the food in her plate. "And Pansy? Have you invited Pansy?"
Draco stiffened. He could feel Astoria and Narcissa's stares as he took time to reply. Why did Daphne have to be so chatty? With great displeasure, his mother answered in his place.
"We've sent her an invitation, Daphne," Narcissa informed her, "but I'm afraid she hasn't replied."
"How rude!" exclaimed Mrs Greengrass with a bit more drama then necessary, probably Astoria had informed her of Draco's time with Pansy the last time she had visited.
"I'm sure she has her good reasons," chirped Daphne thoughtfully, "she just adored you in school, Draco."
Draco closed his eyes. If he could have thrown his lobster into Daphne's face he would have done so. He didn't quite understand if his former classmate's feelings were genuine or if she had been made aware of the whole story as well and just wanted to cause trouble. He suspected the latter.
"What is she doing now?" continued Daphne, unabashed.
"Working as a shop assistant at Borgin and Burkes," Astoria chimed in, her voice cheerful as she informed everybody that Pansy was at the base of the food chain, ready to be devoured by any other organism.
Daphne smiled. "See? She must have been busy, that's why she hasn't written," she said matter-of-factly.
"Yes," conceded Narcissa, "but she was still incredibly rude."
Mrs Greengrass and her husband nodded in agreement while Lucius just cleaned his mouth on his napkin and downed a big gulp of champagne.
Astoria and Daphne exchanged a quick smile and Draco knew that they were all taking extreme pleasure in being nasty to Pansy. He felt rage burning inside of him and he could feel his ears becoming hotter. He put his hand in his pocket and closed his fingers tightly around the letter he had been keeping there. His other hand going to his glass. He needed to drink.
"Is it true that her parents disinherited her?" asked Daphne after she had swallowed another piece of lobster.
"They didn't have much anyway," replied Astoria mischievously.
Draco put down his glass with force, his cutlery clinking on his plate as he did so. Everybody turned to look at him. "She wrote today," he hissed, taking out the letter from his pocket. "Arrived this morning with the post."
Narcissa seemed to become even paler than usual, her face became harder and she arranged her fork and knife together on her plate. "And?" she asked coldly. "Is she coming?"
Draco took a sharp breath. "I haven't had the time to open it yet," he admitted curtly, the letter clutched in his hands.
He stayed still for a long moment with everybody's stares on him. He didn't want to open the letter there, but now that he had showed it to everybody he couldn't have possibly put it back without reading it. As he tried to focus on a solution that would have made everybody happy he felt the envelope being snatched from his hands.
"I can't see the problem," insisted Astoria, tearing the letter open in front of everybody.
"No!" shouted Draco, leaning forward to take the letter back from her hands.
She raised it before he could reach it though and unfolded it. "Oh," she murmured, disappointed. Draco stared at her, holding his breath. "She is coming," she finally announced, folding the letter and giving it back to him.
Draco seized it from her hands and opened it. He too was disappointed. He had expected a longer message, but all she had to tell him was, Okay. – P. He stared at it for a long moment, forgetting his guests, forgetting Astoria and forgetting his parents. Slowly his disappointment left space to a strange excitement in his guts. She was coming. She didn't need to send him any message. He would be seeing her the following day. Now, he was getting anxious.
From that moment on, dinner seemed to proceed particularly slowly and in a complete haze for Draco. He wasn't aware of most things and ignored a lot of the conversations, he was unsure of the taste of the food he was eating. It was only when everybody stood up to move to the drawing room that he seemed to become once again aware of his surroundings.
He stood up as well and when most of the people had moved to the other room he grabbed Astoria's arm and held her back. She whined quietly under his grip.
"Don't you dare read my correspondence again," he hissed to her, his face only inches from hers. He squeezed her arm to stress his words and she suffocated a moan. "Do you understand me?"
Astoria's eyes burned with anger. She didn't move, she didn't reply and it was only when Draco let her go that she massaged her arm where it hurt her and turned on her heels, reaching the others on the couches. She sat gracefully down and smiled to her sister as if nothing had happened.
Draco looked darkly at her from the other room. He squeezed the letter in his hand again and took a few steps towards the drawing room. He stopped almost immediately, convincing himself that nobody would miss him, he turned and went towards the door that brought him to the hallway. It was enough for that night. He needed to sleep before he hexed someone.
Pansy felt the familiar tug of Apparition grabbing her from the inside out. Her shabby flat in Diagon Alley disappeared before her eyes and she found herself at the arrival point that had been set up especially for the wedding. It was just a corner of the garden, near an ancient oak tree that Pansy remembered fairly well. They had set up a white tent where people could all arrive in safety. Those who arrived by broom had a place to leave it and those who arrived using Apparition knew that they wouldn't have bumped into anybody in there. Before exiting the tent, there were a few mirrors lined up for the guests to check their appearance after the travel and Pansy gladly stood in front of one of them and smoothed her dress.
She didn't look as bad as she had expected. The dress that she had found at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was just perfect. It made her breasts look fuller and her whole figure taller. It was an emerald Empire style dress that reached her ankles. It twisted on her breasts, in a bow-like fashion, and from her bust down it loosely fitted her thin figure. It had no straps, so her pale, bony shoulders were the first thing that people would have noticed, but she could live with that. Her silvery shoes matched the silver, pansy-shaped pin that she had used to gather up part of her hair. Her black locks had been curled with attention and great difficulty, and to her they seemed to look good. She didn't know if they would keep the shape that she had given them for the whole day, though. Her makeup was light, but her lips were the colour of blood and made her mouth look fleshier. She swallowed and walked out of the tent.
"Champagne?" squeaked a house-elf as soon as she set her foot into the garden. He raised a tray with a dozen flutes of champagne and she took one.
As she sipped from the glass, she looked around herself. The Manor and its grounds were bustling with life like Pansy had never seen them. House-elves and people were running about, putting up the latest decorations and attending to the guests who had already arrived.
The stage where the wedding would be taking place stood between a rose garden and an orchard which Pansy had never seen before and in front of a thousand white wood chairs. Flowers covered every inch of the ground and drapes and ribbons decorated the chairs and the stage. The decorations didn't look like something that Draco would have chosen for his wedding day, but they probably fitted Astoria's personality. She had surely been the one choosing the embellishments that day.
"Pansy!" someone called her from amongst a crowd of people. She turned slowly, not quite so ready to face a reunion with some of her old schoolmates who had surely turned out to have more successful lives than herself.
"Millie," she let out as the square built witch hugged her, crushing her body in her arms.
"Look at you," drawled Millicent, taking a step back and studying her long lost friend. "You look so… small."
Pansy freed herself from the other witch, an annoyed smile on her face. "And you look so big," she replied coldly.
Millicent patted her stomach, well visible under her tight dress. "I'm pregnant!" she exclaimed loudly. "Or I think I am…" she added after a moment. "My belly keeps getting bigger and bigger."
"Then you've been pregnant for the past eight years," snorted a smug voice at Pansy's right.
She turned towards the owner of the voice, a tall, slim, dark-skinned boy with a smug smile on his slips. He winked at her. "Hello Parkinson," he addressed her in a low, sensual voice that usually had all the girls swooning for him.
"Hello to you too, Zabini," she replied, smirking.
"Bulstrode," he added flatly towards Millicent, glancing quickly at her.
Millicent flushed. "Zabini," she replied in a whisper. "I think I haven't got my flute of champagne yet. I'll see you later, Pansy, yes?" she added. "We are probably at the same table, anyway." She started towards the stage, then seemed to remember that she wanted some champagne and turned on her heels towards the house-elves.
"Well, what was that all about?" asked Pansy, eyeing Blaise suspiciously.
Blaise snorted. "A mix of too much Firewhiskey and an extremely cold night," he replied, grimacing. "I'd rather not talk about it though. Not one of my highest points." He eyed his friend and furrowed his brow. "Do you look thinner than usual or is it because I've just seen you standing next to Millicent?"
Pansy took a sharp breath. "I'm sure it's an optical effect," she replied, not too keen on admitting that she didn't have enough money to eat regularly, especially when most of her funds had been used for the dress she was wearing. "Everyone would look petite next to Millie."
Blaise chuckled. "I guess so." He grabbed a flute from a passing house-elf and downed it in one gulp. "So, what's your part in the wedding?"
Pansy looked puzzled at him. "I'm a guest," she replied slowly, "what is your part in the wedding?"
"I'm Draco's best-man," he let her know, showing off his expensive dress suit. "Just a guest? Are you sure?" He looked smugly at her as if he knew something that she didn't.
Pansy nodded. "Yes," she replied slowly, "just a guest." She looked at him expectantly, as if he owed her some kind of explanation. "Why?"
Another house-elf zoomed through their legs and Blaise grabbed Pansy's half-empty glass and put it on the tray with his own.
"Hey…" she started to complain, but her protestations were cut short by his hand on her wrists and the feeling of being pulled into an Apparition alongside with her friend.
When she managed to put her feet back on the ground she had to steady herself against his chest not to fall. She opened her eyes and found out that they were standing in one of the many guest rooms of the Manor. He let her go and walked towards the door that led to the hallway, he opened it a little and peered out.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked irritated by the sudden Apparition. "You couldn't have warned me that you were Apparating?" The fact that they had just managed to Apparate inside the Manor didn't surprise her, probably they had taken away the anti-Apparition jinxes to leave the guests free to use the bathrooms whenever they needed.
He turned towards her and brought a slender finger to his full lips, reducing her to silence as a group of people walked past the door.
"Blaise?" she called him with irritation once their voices had died out in the corridor.
Blaise turned to look at her, he took a couple of steps and came to stand in front of her. "Listen," he murmured seriously, "I'm just his best-man." He pulled a curl of her hair away from her eyes. "I don't know what he wants from you, but he asked me to bring you to him if I saw you before the ceremony."
Pansy was taken aback by the sudden revelation. She had not expected Draco to want to make any sort of personal contact with her. Maybe she had hoped for him to look her way and walk towards her at some point of the day, but she hadn't thought he would want her to be brought to him. She fretted, she hadn't thought of what to tell him, and as her brain was trying to work out something intelligent enough, her heart started to beat furiously in her chest.
She raised her eyes to look at Blaise and saw that the young man was looking attentively at her. His eyes scrutinising every reaction on her face.
"So…" he started arrogantly, "just a guest?"
Pansy glared at him. "Yes," she replied coldly. "I don't know what he wants."
"Well, one of us is going to find it out soon enough," he replied matter-of-factly. He gestured for her to follow him and, unnecessarily, guided her through the corridors of the Manor. Pansy knew the place like the back of her hand, but she didn't need Blaise to know that.
The tall boy came to a stop when they reached what Pansy recognised as Draco's door. Blaise winked at her and knocked on the door with a firm hand.
"Stay the hell out," came Draco's irritated voice, "I'm not ready yet."
Blaise snorted and pushed the door open just enough to let him inside. Pansy heard Draco's complaints die in his throat as he saw his best-man.
"You should be ready, Malfoy," he nagged him in a fake stern voice, "you are getting married in an hour."
"Shut up, Zabini," hissed Draco. "Or I'll hex you like I've hexed Nott twenty minutes ago."
Blaise raised his hands over his head, Pansy could see his movements from the hallway. "I come in peace," he smirked, "I brought you an early wedding present."
Draco went quiet all of a sudden as Blaise opened the door wide and let Pansy into the room. He was standing between his bed and a full length mirror, his dress suit lay tidily on his bed. He was still in his underwear and seemed to have been caught struggling with his bow tie the moment Blaise had opened the door.
He didn't move. His breath seemed caught in his throat, since Pansy couldn't hear him exhale. She took a step forward and walked into the room. Some more voices could be heard from down the hallway and Draco glanced hurriedly at Blaise, who seemed to understand and closed and locked the door.
"Hey," Draco finally greeted her, his big, grey eyes looking into hers.
Pansy tried to smile, but she felt like she couldn't control the muscles of her face. "Hey," she replied, her voice hoarse.
When it was clear that there would not be another exchange for quite a while, Blaise snorted out loud. "Well, this is not awkward at all," he chuckled, leisurely sitting on the bed. Draco glared at him. "What?" asked Blaise, then he sighed and waved his hand. "Alright, alright." And he Disapparated.
Pansy felt her heartbeat deafening her ears as she stood alone with Draco in his room. She couldn't quite feel her fingertips and all her skin seemed to have become extremely sensitive to the breeze that was coming from the open window. She didn't quite know how long they stood there, but it seemed an eternity to her. Finally, she couldn't take the silence anymore and took a step towards him.
"Do you need help with that?" she asked, her voice coming out much more fragile than she had expected.
Draco looked down at his bow tie, still untied around his neck. "Yes," he mumbled softly, "I guess so…"
She walked to where he was standing and stopped in front of him. Her small, manicured fingers went to his tie and she started to knot it with slow and secure movements. It took her only a few seconds to fasten a perfect bow and when she finished she smoothed Draco's shirt on his shoulders. She raised her eyes to look at him, expecting to see him checking out her work in the mirror. She felt her heart skip a beat when she found his eyes were still locked on her, a confused expression on his face.
Then it happened so quickly, she didn't even have time to react. He lowered his head and kissed her fervently, his hands finding their way to her arms. She opened her mouth and replied quickly to his kiss. She closed her eyes, her hands curling on his chest. He sucked on her tongue and let it go, licking the inside of her mouth with his own.
His hands slid down her sides and came to rest on her hips, he traced her hipbones through the fabric and she sucked in her breath. One of his hands circled her body, worming its way to her left buttock, he squeezed while with the other one he started to pull her dress up her leg.
Pansy withdrew, her hand going to his wrist as she tried to keep him from inching her dress up any more. "No," she let out in a strangled voice.
Draco looked at her. His pupils black with lust. "What?" he growled, pulling Pansy towards him.
Pansy put her hand on his chest. "You are getting married in an hour," she reminded him, her eyes huge.
"I need less than an hour with you," he informed her, licking his lips.
Pansy looked away. She knew it, and she wanted him so much. Why did she stop him then? She just couldn't do it. Not on the day of his wedding to someone else. She didn't like it. "I waited for you," she whispered, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. "You never came."
Draco let her go and collapsed on the bed, carelessly sitting on the trousers he was supposed to wear that day. "I couldn't," he told her, "I think people in Azkaban have more freedom than I do."
Pansy smirked. "It's hard being the only heir to an immense fortune," she mocked him, "poor Draco."
Draco looked up at her with a glare, but when his eyes caressed her figure he didn't reply anything.
"So, the day has finally arrived," she continued, "the happiest day of your life. The wedding of the century." She pretended to think. "Wasn't there an article on Witch Weekly about you?"
Draco snorted. "The Daily Prophet and it was a short article." He looked at her in the eyes. "Why did you come?" he asked her. He had asked it so many times the last time she had been at Malfoy Manor.
Pansy looked a bit confused to him. "You sent me an invite," she reminded him.
Draco shook his head. "No, I know. I just figured you weren't coming."
"You never replied until yesterday," Draco pointed out.
Pansy shrugged one of her bony shoulders. "I wasn't sure Mr Borgin would have let me have the day off." She was lying, she knew perfectly well how to obtain a day off from Mr Borgin. Her work at the shop was too valuable for him to forbid her a day off when she wanted one. The only glitch was that he withheld money from her salary like he was doing that day.
Draco snorted. "Mr Borgin," he repeated, "is he treating you well?"
Pansy raised her eyebrows. "As well as he can," she replied, her voice getting colder as she spoke of her boss, "he needs me, which gives me a little advantage."
"Why did you come?" he asked again, obviously not believing her first answer.
Pansy rolled her eyes. "I came for you, Draco," she replied irritated, "is that what you wanted to hear?"
Draco looked at her, his face grave. "Only if it's the truth."
Pansy bit her bottom lip. "Well," she scoffed, "do your Arithmancy, won't you? I certainly didn't come here to see Astoria or your mother, now did I?" She smirked softly. "But maybe I came for the food after all."
Draco grunted something, but Pansy couldn't understand it. Then he stretched a hand towards her and she placed her palm against his. He curled his fingers around her tiny hand and pulled her to him, making her fall onto his lap.
"You are so small," he breathed against the hollow between her neck and her shoulder. His arms hugged her tightly.
She shifted on his legs, trying to keep her curls from getting ruined against his face. "I've always been small," she murmured, irritated at how her size was already cause of constant comments.
She felt his hands on her hip, once again he tried to inch her dress up her legs and somehow this time she didn't feel like stopping him. She felt the material caressing her legs until his hands were resting on the warm skin of her thigh. He looked at her as if to ask for permission and she raised her head to plant a kiss on his lips. He raised her from his lap and made her turn, guiding her down to straddle his legs once again and facing him this time, her knees on the bed, pushing against his sides. She could feel her groin brushing against his member. She ground her hips onto his and he let out a strangled moan.
"I missed you," he murmured, when she withdrew a little.
She circled his neck with her arms and smiled. "I know," she breathed as she kissed him.
She felt his hand on her knickers as he moved them aside. He rubbed his finger gently but urgently against her clit before he removed his hands from her body and started to fumble at his underwear, freeing his erection.
She raised her hips, her dress bobbed around her waist, and prepared to lower herself on Draco. He looked at her and she looked back, one of his hands on his erection, the other on her waist, she started to slowly inch down on him.
She had just started to feel the head of his erection slipping through her folds when someone knocked forcefully on the door.
"Draco," called Narcissa, "are you ready?"
Draco's eyes darted to the clock and when he looked back at Pansy he looked irritated and worried.
"I should go," whispered Pansy, her legs hurting as she strained her muscles to keep herself up.
Draco clenched his jaw. "No," he told her resolutely. He grabbed her waist and pushed her down while he thrust up to meet her. He penetrated her in one swift motion and she had to bite down on her lip to stifle a cry of pain. She was not nearly wet enough yet and she had always been too small for Draco.
"Draco?" Narcissa called again, trying to open the door.
He hugged her tightly and started to pound into her furiously. She threw her head back and gritted her teeth, trying to swallow her cries of pain mixed with pleasure. Her hands went on his shoulders and she grabbed him tightly. She felt her orgasm building up quickly, almost as if Narcissa's presence on the other side of the door hurried her on. She bit her lips forcefully and contracted around him as he drove frantically into her. She came and her muscles quivered. Then, suddenly, he slowed down and with a couple of deep and unhurried shoves he came into her. One of Pansy's hands had to worm its way onto his mouth and stifle his loud moans.
They had to come down from their orgasms quickly. Draco's breath was ragged as he leaned his head against Pansy's raising breasts.
"Draco? Open this door," ordered Narcissa, pounding on the wood.
Draco squeezed Pansy's body against his own and she brought her mouth to his ear. "She knows how to unlock a door," she reminded him.
He nodded and when she moved back, he captured her lips in another long kiss. She kissed him back, then got off his lap, put the knickers back in place and let the dress fall down to cover her legs. He tucked his flaccid member back into his underwear.
"Alohomora!" hissed Narcissa from the other side of the door.
The door started to open and Draco glanced at Pansy; his worried eyes were the last thing she saw before she Disapparated from his room.
The ceremony dragged on forever. Vows. Rings. Magical binding. Flowers from the sky. Fireworks. Floating lanterns. A beautiful bride in an expensive dress covered in pearls and real flowers. A bored-looking groom who kept looking at his wife-to-be with narrowed eyes.
Before the wedding had started, Pansy had sat down in one of the last rows of chairs, and fanned herself with her hand, her cheeks and insides were still burning with her recent orgasm. Then a house-elf had run to her and informed the witch that the chairs were numbered and that she had number 43, which meant that she was in the second row.
From there, the view on the stage was perfect and she could painfully follow every step of the ritual that joined in wedlock the man with whom she had just had sex to a girl she could very easily admit she detested. Narcissa was sitting a row ahead of her and a couple of chairs down and she never missed the opportunity to turn her head and look at her with a cruel smile every time Draco had to kiss Astoria or put a ring on her finger.
After almost two hours of torture, Pansy was grateful it was finally over and now she was just excited at the thought of all the food that awaited her. The banquet would take place under a tent in the middle of the grounds. Malfoy Manor was of a respectable size, but it couldn't possibly fit more than a couple hundred guests, and those attending the wedding were five times that number.
Pansy walked into the tent and found herself inside a richly decorated castle covered in white and gold. Probably Narcissa's doing to style her son's wedding banquet hall that way, because nothing said power like the splendour of a palace. At the entrance of the tent, there was a chart that showed the table disposition. Astoria and Draco were sitting in the middle of a long table, her parents at her right, and his parents at his left. Daphne and her husband were sitting next to her parents and Blaise was near Lucius.
She started looking for her name in the intricate labyrinth of surnames when someone called her from the other side of the hall. "Pansy!" cried Millicent at the top of her lungs.
Pansy turned to look at her and the witch waved her plump hand into the air. "Pansy, this way!"
Pansy sighed. How much she didn't want to sit amongst her former classmates and listen to hours and hours of how wonderful their lives had been in the past few months! She wondered if she could maybe grab some food and Disapparate home, after all with a thousand guests who would have noticed her absence?
At least one person, she knew it because that person was already waving at her.
She made her way to where Millicent was sitting, her high heeled shoes scraping on the floor as she dragged her feet without much will.
"Told you we would be at the same table," chirped Millicent, raising Pansy's place card to show her that she wasn't lying.
"Great," mumbled Pansy sitting next her friend. The table was not too big and there were only three more places. Pansy had a look at the names on the place cards and sighed. Tracey Davies, Gregory Goyle and Theodore Nott, all of her fellow Slytherins. She swapped Goyle's and Nott's cards to make Theodore sit next to her. At least she already knew everything there was to know about Theodore, since she saw him at the shop from time to time.
"You owe me one, Parkinson," announced Theodore, slumping down on the chair next to her. "I just talked to your boss."
Pansy raised her eyebrows. Mr Borgin, she had completely forgotten about him and she was happy that way. Now that Theodore had reminded her about him, she hoped that she wouldn't bump into him.
"Why?" she asked flatly.
Theodore checked the other names on the table and Pansy suppressed a giggle when she saw that he was swapping the place cards again, putting Tracey next to him and Goyle between her and Millicent. "He was complaining with some wizard," he replied nonchalantly, "about the fact that he was old and had no heir and didn't know who to leave his fortune in case he died."
Pansy's eyes became two slits. "And?" she asked coldly.
"And I reminded him that he had a young and beautiful shop assistant," he chuckled, winking at her, "and that he should take advantage of the situation."
If a glare could kill, Theodore would have already been dead. "Excuse me?" she asked icily.
Millicent giggled. "Theodore is trying to be a matchmaker."
Theodore looked at the plump witch with a puzzled expression. "What are you talking about?" he questioned her without understanding.
"You just suggested to him to marry Pansy," she giggled a bit more.
Theodore looked from Millicent to Pansy, his mouth half open for the surprise that he seemed to feel at Millicent's revelation. "No, I didn't," he finally growled, "I meant that he should make you his heir and leave you the shop in his will."
Pansy crossed her arms on her chest, her head cocking as she looked at him. "Did you tell him that?" she asked.
Theodore scratched his neck. "No," he admitted, "I thought that was clear."
Pansy took a deep breath. "Well then, if he proposes, I know who to hex," she let him know calmly. Luckily, she was sure he would never propose to her. After two wives, he had more than once expressed his desire to spend the rest of his life alone. And even though his wandering hands had ended on her buttocks more than once, she was somehow convinced that he didn't find her a suitable wife. And if he proposed she would say 'no', she was a free witch after all.
"Pansy and Borgin sitting on a tree…" chanted Millicent at her left.
Pansy turned to glare at her. This was going to be a long, long banquet and when Goyle and Tracey joined them she knew that it would be extremely hard to endure.
It became even more of a torture when Draco and Astoria walked in the tent and everybody cheered the newlyweds. They seemed unable to take a step before people were chanting, "Kiss, kiss, kiss!" all around them. They kissed at least ten times – Pansy counted them – between the entrance and their table, and every time it was fast and business-like. When they reached Pansy's table, though, Astoria stopped and pulled Draco into a longer kiss, opening her lips to welcome his tongue. Draco kissed her back, but without parting his lips and leaving Astoria a bit flustered.
Luckily for Pansy, her mind was taken away from all of that when food started to appear on their plates. She hadn't had so much to eat in months, probably since her last time at the Manor, and she just didn't seem able to get enough of these exotic tastes. She wasn't racing anybody, but she always finished first, even before Goyle and Millicent.
"So small and she eats so much," sighed Tracey with envy in her voice.
Pansy didn't reply, better for her to think that she had a fast metabolism rather to let her know that she was starving.
She caught a glimpse of Draco every now and then, and she found him staring at her twice, but sitting as he was between his mother and his wife – how that word hurt Pansy! – he couldn't do much except steal a glance every now and then.
When the banquet was over and the house-elves made the tables disappear to make room for a dance floor, Pansy decided that it was time for her to go home. She knew the party would go on for the whole night and she had an early morning the day after. She disappeared amongst the crowd before Blaise could make his way to her and reclaim her to the dance floor. She walked alone to the Apparition point, turning every now and then to see if anybody was following her. She shook her head and called herself stupid when the realisation that nobody was coming hit her. She glanced one last time to the tent and Disapparated home.
Draco's eyes were wandering through the crowd when the music stopped. The wedding was over and now most of the people were leaving the tent, drunk and wobbly on their legs. House-elves had to transport some of the wizards and witches that had passed out to the Apparition point and had to shake them awake and dunk them when some of them threw up.
Draco was standing near the high table where he had been served the banquet. He was looking for a certain black-haired witch, but she wasn't anywhere to be found.
A muscular, dark-skinned arm circled his neck and Draco's head was pulled against Blaise's head. His breath, just like Draco's, smelled of alcohol. "Looking for someone?" he asked, his words a little bit slurred.
Draco disentangled himself from his best-man. "No," he lied, "just delighting in the sight of this crowd that came to pay their homage to me."
Blaise chuckled. "Liar," he snorted. "Hey, Malfoy," he added, his voice low as he looked around them with circumspection and gestured to him to come closer. "Do you know what to do now?" he whispered.
"What?" asked Draco without really understanding what he was talking about.
"Yes," continued Blaise seriously, "do you know where to stick your family jewels tonight or you need a drawing?"
Draco shook his head and pushed Blaise off of him. "I know," he smirked.
Blaise laughed loudly. "Of course you do," he drawled out loud, "your lady friend was very flushed when she Apparated out of your bedroom."
Despite being slightly drunk, Draco was quick as he grabbed the front of Blaise's dress suit. "Shut up," he hissed, looking around himself. Luckily nobody seemed to have heard him. "Forget what you saw, Zabini, or I'll make you forget." Draco wasn't afraid of the consequences of his actions. Not for himself at least. He dreaded what his family could have done to Pansy though.
His father had had countless of affairs ever since he had married his mother – even though Draco was afraid he had him beat by having sex with another woman on his wedding day – but Narcissa had never been as passionate as she was with Draco and Pansy in destroying Lucius' extra-conjugal relationships. A couple of times, though, they had found the lifeless body of one of his father's lovers in some dodgy side street of Knockturn Alley. He wanted to spare Pansy the same destiny, even though he knew that she could take care of herself, he was still unsure of what lengths Astoria would go to assure himself to her and only her.
"Sorry," mumbled Blaise, taken aback.
Draco let him go and shook his head. "It's okay," he hissed.
"You two look awfully close," joked Astoria, walking gracefully to stand between the two of them. "Should I be jealous?"
Draco looked at her and couldn't help but feeling a surge of hatred and resentment towards the young witch that had managed to tie him down to herself.
"No, no," assured Blaise, faking to fear Astoria, "it's all yours." He winked to the bride and gave a thumbs-up to his friend, before Disapparating away.
Astoria turned to look at Draco. "It's late," she murmured sweetly. "Aren't you tired?"
He was tired, but didn't particularly care to admit it to her. This was their first night of marriage and he knew his duties as a husband well enough. Astoria would be the second girl with whom he had ever had sex. He knew Pansy like the back of his hand, what she liked and where she liked to be touched and he just felt lazy at the thought of having to start all over.
He shook his head, he didn't have to start all over, he didn't care for Astoria, he didn't have to give her pleasure, and he didn't want to give her pleasure.
Draco looked at her, his eyes cold. "Do you want to go to bed?" he asked her flatly.
Astoria's lips curled into a smile. "Very much," she admitted in a whisper.
Draco obliged. He grabbed her wrist and she placed her hands on his chest. He Disapparated, taking Astoria along with him. He could feel her fingers curling against him as they Apparated gracefully in Draco's bedroom.
Astoria giggled, her eyes rising to look at Draco. "Wrong bedroom," she giggled sweetly.
Draco stared at his bed for a long moment. There was still a dent on the bedspread where he had sat with Pansy on top of him. He was glad that he and Astoria would have their own bedroom because too many memories were imprinted on that mattress.
"Let's go," whispered Astoria, leading the way. She opened the door and walked down the hallway. Their new room, the one that she had so carefully chosen was only a few doors down from his parents' and it was probably one of the biggest bedrooms of the house.
Draco had been in there only a few other times before but he couldn't remember it being the way it looked now, after Astoria had had her way with the pieces of furniture. Crimson was the main colour. Crimson were the curtains, crimson the bedspread and the many cushions, crimson the wallpaper on the ancient chest of drawers near her vanity table. There were four doors that opened in that bedroom. One on the hallway, one on a small, private sitting room, one on a walk-in closet and another door that led to an en-suite bathroom with travertine walls and silver details.
Astoria locked the door at Draco's back and came to stand in front of him. She stretched her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoes to kiss him. He placed his hands on her waist, but didn't respond to the kiss, letting her inexperienced lips try tentatively to entice a response from him.
She stepped back, apparently unfazed by his lack of reaction. She smiled and sat down. Her long and voluminous wedding dress covering most of the king size bed. She put her hands in her lap and fidgeted nervously, something Draco had never seen her do before.
He didn't say anything, but started to loosen up his tie.
She looked up at him, her eyes slightly troubled. "Draco, I've…" Her words trailed away as she lowered her eyes again.
"You've never done it before?" asked Draco, his voice cold.
Astoria shook her head softly and Draco smirked. He stretched a hand towards her and she looked up at him, a tiny smile on her face as she took his hand. He helped her on her feet.
"You need to lose the dress, first," he instructed her, reaching behind her and starting to undo the long line of little buttons. She shuddered when he reached the small of her back, and when the last button was undone he made his hands slide slowly on her shoulders and down her arms, taking the dress off her body.
She stood in front of him wearing a white corset, lacy knickers and suspenders. She was a delightful sight and her soft curves would have affected any healthy man. Draco didn't have to question his health, he felt something stirring inside of him as he stared at his wife. She was inviting, and the knowledge that she was a virgin was just too much for him. The only time he had taken a virgin girl, he had been a virgin too and he hadn't really know what he was doing. Now, he did just too well.
"Strip naked," he commanded her, his voice hard.
She squealed under his stern look, but her hands went to her corset and she fumbled around the lace that closed it on the front. It didn't take her long before her breasts appeared from the tight piece of underwear. She opened it and made it slip on the floor, on top of the wedding dress that lay at her feet. Her suspenders were next and finally she brought her hands to her knickers and hooked her fingers in the elastic hem, she raised a foot and then the other to make them slide down her legs and off of her. She stood in front of Draco, completely naked, shivering under his stare.
"Get on the bed," he ordered.
She swallowed, her flawless throat moving sensually. She sat on the bed and looked at him.
Astoria pushed herself on her hands and slid on the bed until her head was resting on the decorative cushions. She brought a hand to her breast and touched her nipple with a slender finger, her other hand travelling south towards her folds.
"Don't," Draco warned her, his eyes on her hand as he undressed. He took off his tie and jacket and let them fall on top of her dress. When his shirt reached the pile of discarded clothes, he kicked them towards a corner of the room. He undid his trousers and took them off, his shoes falling on the floor with a thump when he pushed them off his feet. When he took off his underwear, he heard Astoria gasping slightly. He looked up at her and saw that her eyes were staring at his erection.
He smirked, his hand going to his member. He stroked its length a couple of times before stepping towards the bed. He knelt on the bedspread and Astoria, instinctively closed her legs.
Without a word, he pushed her thighs apart with his hands and settled between them. He came to rest on top her, his erection pushing against her inner thigh.
He lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, "This is going to hurt," before grabbing his erection and guiding it into her.
He could feel her body writhing under his own as he inched inside of her. She was still dry and he found himself hurting against her walls as he pushed in. Her hands went to his back, and he could feel one of her nails puncturing through his skin.
She screamed when he finally took away her virginity. He stopped then and looked down at her. Her eyes were scrunched up, her cheeks were flushed and her lips parted, all her body was tense and she was shaking slightly.
He couldn't help himself. He traced her lips with a finger and looked as she opened her eyes to look at him, small tears collecting at the corner of her eyes. He kissed her softly, but this time she was the one who didn't respond, her body probably still aching.
He brought his cheek against hers and grabbed one of her supple breasts with force, pinching the nipple between his fingers. "The pain will wear off," he whispered, then, suddenly, he started to move out of her. She bent her knees near his sides, giving him better access to her body. He pushed back in with force and she cried in his ear.
His hand left her flushed breast and went to her mouth. He pressed his palm on her lips and started to pick up a pace. She cried out against his hand as he thrust into her with force. He could feel something lubricating her entrance now, but he ignored whether it was her arousal or her blood. It took him longer than he had expected to reach his orgasm. Longer than it had ever taken him with Pansy.
Finally, he felt his balls tighten. He moved his hand from her mouth and grabbed her waist, he pushed her to him as he pushed up to meet her body. He fisted the cushion with his other hand, before doing something that he had never done before when he made love to Pansy. He took out his pulsing erection and rested it on her groin, showering her lower abdomen with the warm rain of his seed.
She groaned out and Draco didn't know if it was for the fact that he had finished without waiting for her, or because he had just denied her his seed inside of her. He wasn't ready for a child, even though he imagined that that was probably Astoria's mission now: giving him an heir.
He rolled off of her, panting for air and resting on his back. She turned slowly on her side and laid her head on his shoulder, but he shook her off rudely, turned away and gave her his back. He closed his eyes and without a word he let her know that that was all the intimacy they were going to have. She didn't try to touch him again, he felt her shifting on the bed, standing up and walking away, and then the door of the bathroom closed behind his wife.
Later that night, when he was lying under the covers, he heard her laboured breath as she touched herself. She moaned through gritted teeth when she reached her orgasm and then everything went quiet. Draco couldn't sleep for hours, but when he did, the last thought on his mind was Pansy and what he could do to see her again.