Pansy Parkinson’s voice is almost as smooth as the fairy-spun silk of her designer blouse. She lounges back against Hermione’s desk, cunningly positioning herself between Hermione and her work. Pansy may be the most tempting obstruction to Ministry business that Hermione has ever had to deal with.
Hermione can’t help the secretive smile that twists her lips as she looks up at the seductively poised Undersecretary for Pureblood Relations. Pansy always has been good at making a show; even if Hermione is the only one in the audience. Maybe especially then.
“I can think of a thing or two,” Hermione says. Slytherin tendencies must be catching, because Hermione uncrosses her legs, slow enough that there’s no mistaking her intention. Pansy has always brought out the very best parts of Hermione’s worst side.
Pansy’s breath catches and her eyebrow arches, but her smirk doesn’t drop at all. A flick of Pansy’s wand locks and wards the door.
It might be 10 o'clock at night but you really never know when people might burst into the Minister of Magic’s office looking for said Minister. Hermione loves her job but it can be rather demanding. Luckily she has all of Pansy’s many talents at her disposal to help her unwind.
Pansy licks her lips and slides to her knees the moment the door locks. This time it’s Hermione’s turn to catch her breath. Pansy is always stunning, genuinely breathtaking, but like this even Hermione starts to run out of words to describe the depth of her own attraction.
Pansy’s hands are warm on Hermione’s skin, she starts soft and slow. It had been a surprise, the first time, how tender Pansy can be when she wants to be. When no one else is looking. Now it’s a comfort and a secret all at once. Something that warms her, even when it scares Hermione how much Pansy can make her feel and want.
Hermione relaxes further, forces her already frantic heartbeat under control. Pansy looks up at her, knelt on the floor between Hermione’s knees like she belongs there. Maybe devastating is the word for that destructively heated look in Pansy’s endlessly dark eyes. Breathe, Hermione reminds herself. One shuddering breath at a time.
They shouldn’t do this here. They both know it and it just makes them both want to even more. The Sorting Hat had never seriously considered Slytherin for Hermione, but sometimes she wonders if it should have. She’s certainly devious enough where Pansy is concerned. Then again, maybe it’s the Gryffindor daring that’s catching, because Pansy doesn’t hesitate, not even for a second.