Can't Get Enough

Pansy stepped outside the castle for a breath of fresh air. It was risky, but she just had to do it. The oppressive fear inside the castle was stifling her, smothering her, squeezing her until she was about to scream. She had to get away from everyone else!

Walking slowly from the castle's main door to the greenhouses - staying in sight of others; no sense in being reckless - Pansy tilted her head to listen to a low, rumbling sound. Once she noticed it, she realized she had been hearing it for a little while. It was very deep, deeper than the lowest notes of a cello, but just as melodious. She turned her head, trying to locate the source of the sound, but it remained elusive.

Finally giving up as the twilight faded, Pansy made her way back to the castle's interior. She felt strangely uplifted. She didn't know whether it was from the walk or from the sound. No matter. It would be easier to face the next day then it had been in some time.

Waking up the next day was, indeed, easier. It was always easier to get up when you have had a good night's sleep, and last night's was the best sleep she'd had in some time. Since "the troubles" started a few weeks ago.

Humming to herself a little tune inspired by the half-heard melody of the previous evening, Pansy got herself ready to face the world, then headed down to breakfast.

Her good mood and the bright day came to a screeching halt when a handful of other students came screeching in from the main entrance.

"There was another one! Oh, God, we saw another one! Just like the others!"

Why wasn't Dumbledore doing anything about this? Where were the teachers? Where were the aurors? Where were her parents?

Dumbledore was a senile fool. The teachers were cowards. The aurors were useless. And her parents... Where were they? Pansy had sent three letters now. The first was right after the first body had been found, when it was nothing but a horrifying but singular event. And, secretly, maybe not all that horrifying when you considered who it was.

But when the second and the third bodies were found, exactly the same as the first, it was no longer a singular and secretly satisfying event.

Where were her parents? Why were they leaving her here? Why didn't they care?

Pansy made it through the day just like the rest of the students. She gagged down a bite of breakfast because she had already lost too much weight in the past few weeks. Classes were canceled, again, while the teachers dealt with the problem or covered up the problem or hid and drank themselves into not caring. Whatever they were doing, they were out of sight all day. Again.

Pansy said barely a word to anyone all day. Even if she hadn't spent years in establishing herself as the bitch queen of Slytherin, not many students were talking at all. It was almost funny, in a macabre way. Everyone, especially the girls, was afraid to be alone, but nobody trusted anybody else and everybody kept their distance from everybody else.

Too uneasy to go outside today, even in the bright spring sunshine, but still desperate for fresh air and a break from the miasma of terror, Pansy sat in a window alcove. A spot of magic removed the glass and let the air in. The elves could fix it just like new and that squib Filch wasn't around to give her detention for using magic in the hallway.

Pansy breathed deep of the fresh air. Flowers were only just beginning to bloom, so she couldn't take in the explosion of scents, but it was a thousand times better than the stale fear sweat of the other students.

Her breath caught in her throat. The deep, melodious sound from yesterday was back, clearer than before. It was definitely a tune of some sort, deep and rich as a string bass in an orchestra. She still couldn't find the source, crane her head around as she might.

Uplifted, Pansy had no trouble getting through the rest of the day and eating a good dinner that evening. She slept well for the second night in a row.

... Only to find that the next day was a repeat of the one before. "Why why why? Why does this keep happening? What could be doing it? No animal could do it! No man could do it!"

More disturbed than before, Pansy went back to the same window. Though she waited there all day, she never heard the deep melody. Dispirited, she skipped supper, went to bed early, and didn't sleep all night.

The next morning, at least, the students were spared the site of yet another mutilated girl. Who or what could possibly be ripping these girls apart? It had to be some kind of large, strong animal. But not a predator because the girls were returned to the school from wherever they had been killed and mutilated. Hagrid was the obvious expert on large, dangerous creatures, but the few times the oaf had been spotted since the killings began, he had been in his hovel, so drunk he couldn't stand.

A few students early on had the thought that some new, fierce predator had taken up residence in the Forbidden Forest. The monster could have killed the first girl, then been driven off by the centaurs, who brought her body to the castle entrance. There were holes in that theory, but it was the best anyone could think of. However a small delegation of upper year students who went into the forest to ask the centaurs had been driven off, each with an arrow in his left arm. There were no answers to be found amongst the centaurs.

And where were the teachers? Where were the aurors?

The students were trapped on the Hogwarts grounds, the wards keeping them in unless the headmaster opened them. He had canceled the last Hogsmeade weekend "for the safety of the students". Another girl had been left in front of the main entrance the Monday morning after that canceled weekend. So much for safety.

No teachers. No aurors. No parents.

Pansy, like all the girls, like all the students, went through the day with her wand in her hand, looking over both shoulders every second.

This was no way to live.

This was the way the girls were dying.

Pansy couldn't take it. In spite of the risk she had to get outside, get some fresh air.

And there it was again! Louder this time, closer. This time she was able to follow the sound, the melody which went through her ears and straight into her bones. She tracked it like a hound on a hare's scent. "Goodnight, my love. Pleasant dreams and sleep tight, my love."

"Hagrid! Was that you? I never knew you could sing. It was so beautiful!"

"Eh, yeh, me pap always liked them Barry White songs. Said it was the only thing to calm me mum down when she got in a rage."

"Can you sing any more? Your voice is amazing! I never would have guessed." That was certainly true. Pansy, like most properly brought up persons, regarded Hagrid as the lowest form of human, his great, fur-clad body barely distinguishable from some large, ungainly beast.

But if he could sing like that...

"My darling, I can't get enough of your love, Babe. Girl, I don't know, I don't know why, can't get enough of your love, Babe."

Pansy melted. Weeks of stress, weeks of lost sleep and missed meals, weeks of isolation and suspicion and fear had all taken a toll on her. A toll on her psyche, her emotional stability, even more than on her body.

"Do you sing all day? Why haven't I ever heard you before? If you're going to sing can I stay with you? I can help you with, er, whatever it is you need to do." With classes canceled, it seemed Hagrid was catching up with grounds work.

"I us'ly only sing when I'm down. And yeh must admit, there's a lot to get a feller down these days."

"Oh, you're right. But now you've made me sad and scared again. You owe me a song to make up for it."

"Tell me a secret. I don't just wanna know about any secret of yours. I wanna know about one special secret. Because tonight I want to learn all about the secrets in your garden."

Pansy gulped. Her secret Garden was feeling very fertile right at the moment.

Somehow she made it through the afternoon, helping Hagrid with his many chores around the Hogwarts grounds, pushing through the mental fog, the increasing lustful haze.

At the end of the day Pansy licked her lips and rubbed her thighs together. "Hagrid, could I have supper with you? In your hut? Just the two of us?"

"Now I'm sure tha's a bad idea, Miss Parkinson. I'm a teacher an' you're a student, and it wouldn' be proper."

"Please? No one would have to know. It's just, I've been so scared but around you I feel safe and happy."

It took her a few more minutes and she even resorted to puppy dog eyes and a quivering lower lip, but Hagrid finally relented. Warning her that his meal was simple and plain, like himself, and not fancy like the elves made up in the castle, Hagrid welcomed Pansy into his hut for their evening repast.

The meal certainly was plain, living down to Hagrid's advisory, but Pansy ate more than she had in any three meals in weeks. Hagrid ate a great deal himself, naturally, but he was focused more on his tankards of mead. He mentioned in passing that he had won an entire keg of mead in some game in some bar recently. Pansy didn't mind. The more he drank, the less he ate and the more he sang. His amazing basso profundo voice was having a profound effect on her base. "Thank you so much, Hagrid. It's true what they say, the company makes the meal."

The two cleaned the dishes, a simple enough task with Pansy's magic despite Hagrid's help, and Hagrid sang the entire time. "I've got to keep you pleased in every way I can. Got to give you all of me, as much as you can stand."

Pansy rubbed her thighs together harder. Was he attempting to seduce her? It was working. Draco wanted her to save herself for their wedding night, but Draco had never made her feel like this.

Hagrid had put himself to bed, the mead finally getting to him.

Pansy dithered. Then she glanced out the window. Her dithering had made her decision for her. It was dark out there and the monster was still out there. She couldn't go back to the Castle tonight.

Pansy dithered a moment more, then dropped all her clothes on the floor and joined Hagrid in bed.


Hagrid wept bitter tears as he trudged up to the castle. In front of the main entrance he arranged Pansy's body as neatly as he could. It wasn't easy, with her being split from crotch to ribs. As he trudged back to his hut he wept more and started singing.

"I was her first, her last, her everything."

Author's note: Because horror/humor stories are almost as rare as parody/tragedy. This one was inspired by grenouille7777's "Snorkack and Other Mating Habits in the Wild" (story 8045106 on FFN), which, amusingly, was inspired by my "2 Girls 1 Cup". I can only hope the back-and-forth inspiration continues until every English-speaking person in the world has thrown up at least once.

Disclaimer: I own neither the characters or setting of the Harry Potter books nor the lyrics to Barry White songs.