Title: Dance With the Devil (1/1)
Author: Elle (aka elle_blessing at LiveJournal)
Fandoms: Harry Potter & The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Characters: Damon Salvatore/Pansy Parkinson
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1,278
Summary: Damon Salvatore has a weakness for toxic, beautiful women. Pansy Parkinson is exquisite poison.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is JKR's sandbox, and Vampire Diaries is LJ Smith's and the CW's. I just like to build sand castles.
Author's Notes: I was actually attempting to do a 500 word drabble for the prompt "Bad Things" by Jace Everett (theme song to the show True Blood), but ended up with this instead. I've never done a crossover before so please be gentle, y'all. Thanks for the quick beta, Sam!fiery_flamingo!

oOoOo

She was beautiful with long dark hair, moonlight skin and a petite, curvaceous figure she didn't even try to hide, not with the skin-tight jeans and thigh-high leather boots that didn't fit small town Mystic Falls at all. But there were many beautiful women Damon had stalked in his ridiculously long life. Beautiful women were a dime a dozen, easily had, and there was no reason to be interested in this particular one. She was no Elena, no Katherine. But she was beautiful, disinterested, and if he wasn't entirely mistaken - hostile. The fire in her eyes when their gazes met was anything but friendly.

His flippant wink only caused her to dismiss him entirely and he watched, interest piqued, as she strode purposefully for the bar's exit.

She'd practically invited him to follow her, had seduced him by walking down the alley where no one would see. "Haven't you heard it's dangerous to walk around in alleyways after dark, princess?"

She didn't turn around right away and Damon took a moment to admire the snug fit of her black jeans, but then she spun on the stiletto heel of her boot to face him.

Pansy raised a brow at the darkly handsome man. "I don't know who the bloody hell you think you are, but do fuck off."

A smirk curled Damon's lips and he ambled closer, eyes intent on hers. With a temper like that, she was sure to taste delicious. "Tsk tsk," he said, shaking his head. "You want me, princess. You want to do bad things to me." A little compulsion, a little fun, a little blood. Or a lot.

"I wouldn't, vampire," she warned as she pulled her wand and pressed the wood into his neck. Occlumancy was fortunately useful for more than wizarding attacks to the mind. "I have seen how you and your brother stay clear of the little hedgewitch." The smile that curled her lips was dark, and full of promise. "I'm bigger and more frightening. I can show you there are worse things than death."

"Witch?" he ventured, blue eyes clear and intently focused as he pressed into the tip of the wood. It wasn't a stake, but it burned as she did, and he liked it.

"Mmm. You seem to grasp the situation," she hummed as she stepped into him. "And this," she said as she pressed her wand harder against his throat, "can do all number of things, darling. Incineration with a thought, a true binding of every part of your body, or perhaps I could turn you inside out and leave you to your eternal consciousness while you stared at your innards." A tiny smirk curled her lips. "Be a good puppy."

"Ruff." Damon smirked and stepped closer, her wand digging into his flesh as their bodies pressed together. He could feel the hot, heavy beat of her heart, could smell the blood racing beneath her skin.

"Who are you?" he asked, blue eyes dropping to the beat of her pulse at her neck before ticking up to her mouth, to her eyes. The cadence of her voice betrayed her as foreign. He didn't quite believe her claims – there was no reason to as his world had yet to implode – but she knew what he was and was not as afraid as she ought to be.

Though Pansy could protect her mind, she was not immune to her own stupidity. Namely, that she was always attracted to the worst men. That she was often a slave to her own impulses was not going to bode well for her, either, not with the way heat was sluicing through her with his body pressed against hers. She should hex him, obliviate him, but her dark eyes dropped to his mouth.

"Bloody hell," she swore even as she reached up with her free hand and raked her nails through his hair. She pulled him down, pulled his lips to hers even as her wand pressed ever harder to his throat between them.

Only the Pierce women were so daring, save Elena. This woman though – she knew what he was, knew what he was capable of, and yet she was - goddamn, she was biting him. His own blood coated their tongues. Vampire speed had her pressed against the wall of the building several yards away and Damon slanted his mouth over hers, fangs pricking the soft flesh of her lip.

Their blood mingled and the moment hers touched his lips, his tongue, as he drank the tiny taste down, Damon felt power surge through him, felt the heat of her blood buzz to every corner of his body. He'd tasted witches before - hedgewitches this woman had called them - but none had tasted like this. None of them felt like fire in his veins.

Growling, he brought his hands up to cup her face and sucked at her lip.

She was an idiot. She was a bloody impulsive fool with a bloody death wish, but even as the thought crossed her mind, Pansy pressed into him, tongues sliding, teeth scraping, blood spicing everything. Gods, it had been too long.

He didn't even know her name, though it shouldn't matter. Names were irrelevant. There'd been thousands of women, and none save two were of any import. And yet he still wanted to know this one. She was a riddle, a mystery - fearless - and her blood tasted like nothing he'd ever had before. He had to know her.

He had to truly taste her.

When Damon's lips left hers and began to trace over her jaw, Pansy's grip tightened in his hair and she wrenched his head back, wand pressed firmly into his neck again. "Tap a vein and I will kill you slowly and painfully."

Her lips were stained red, her skin was flushed and her hair was mussed. Damon smirked. "Sounds like fun, princess."

He struck, too fast to really see, and a tiny sound slipped her lips – pain or pleasure she wasn't sure. He was sucking and she could feel it at her core, could feel it pull at every sweet spot in her body as if his mouth was everywhere at once. Pansy's lids fluttered, but he growled and alertness sizzled through her.

Her grip tightened on her wand. "Confringo."

He looked like a ragdoll as he was thrown across the alley, body smashing against the brick and sinking in a heap to the ground. He didn't move, but that didn't mean a damn thing. He was the undead and nothing but a stake to the heart or fire until he was but a pile of ashes would kill him.

She could feel blood sliding down her skin, but the pain - for that's what it was now without him pulling other reactions from her body - was ignored. Bending down, she pulled the heavy ring from his hand. At least something productive had come of her stupidity.

"Parkinson," she said, finally answering his question as he groaned through the regaining of consciousness. "Auror Pansy Parkinson." The tiniest of smirks touched the corner of her mouth when piercing blue eyes finally turned up to her. "When you're ready to be a good puppy, perhaps I might allow you to greet the dawn once more."

Pansy stood and took several steps back then, blowing a kiss before disappearing with a soft 'pop'.

Damon groaned as he found his feet. Beautiful women were the fucking bane of his existence.