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hp_rarefestTitle: A Professional Relationship
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lash_larue
Prompt: 183 byleontinabowie
Pairing(s): Ginny/Pansy
Word Count: 6,100
Rating: (Oh, say R)
Warning(s)/Content: Sex, naughty language
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: This is one of my favored pairings, I hope it is not too similar to my other stories with them. The reporter angle was something that appealed to me. I hope it works okay for you.
Summary: Pansy finds that professional objectivity may yield some very personal rewards.
Livejournal Link
"Okay Parkinson, let's get this over with," Ginny Weasley said as she took her seat at the table.
"Calm down, Weasley. It's my job to cover the Quidditch playoffs, and you were the top scorer today. Since you're the star, you get to talk to the press, and that's me. Let's just do our jobs like real professionals, shall we?" Pansy replied.
"You're lucky you're not in Azkaban with most of your friends, bitch. Now ask your fucking questions. I'm tired, I'm sweaty, and I think that bludger might have cracked a few ribs," Ginny said.
"About that bludger. How did you manage to stay on your broom? Everybody saw it hit you. I was in the press box and I heard it hit you. Everybody expected you to fall off. Why didn't you?"
"Okay. It's your job to ask and it's my job to answer. Do you really mean to conduct a real, responsible interview, Parkinson? Seriously?" Ginny asked.
"I do. Look, Weasley, we didn't get along at all in school, to put it mildly." Ginny snorted. "And I know that what I said during the battle at Hogwarts didn't win me any friends, especially you."
"You've got that right, Parkinson."
"But that's done. Your side won, and I'll admit that now I'm glad you did, okay? I won't bother to apologize because I know you wouldn't accept it and that you don't give a damn about me or what I think about you."
"Right again. Damn, Parkinson, you're smarter than I gave you credit for." Ginny said.
"Yeah, I am, so I know that you do care about the fans. So let's just get this done, okay?"
"Fair enough. You asked about the bludger?"
"Yes. It hit you squarely. That wasn't a glancing blow, Weasley, and that beater is a beast. So how did you stay on the broom?" Ginny sighed.
"If you screw me over in this interview, Parkinson, I swear you'll regret it. But you're right, I do care about the fans. Without them I wouldn't get paid to do something I love." Ginny paused to organize her thoughts, then looked Pansy right in the eye. "Whenever I get hurt, like tonight with the bludger, I think about the people who died for the cause. My brother Fred, Professor Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Professor Burbage, Dumbledore himself, and so many more. Hell, Harry even kind of died a bit, willingly. I think about the people who were crippled, or disfigured. Please keep her name out of this, but you remember Lavender Brown, how pretty she was, and how her face was shredded even before the final battle. I think of what Luna Lovegood, Garrick Ollivander, and Hermione Granger suffered at the hands of the Death Eaters, about Dobby getting killed saving them, hell, what damn near everybody at Hogwarts went through leading up to the final battle..." Ginny's voice trailed off, and she coughed dryly.
"Here, have some water," Pansy offered.
"Thanks. Anyhow, next to all that, being paid a lot to play a game and getting some busted ribs in the bargain just doesn't seem like something to whinge about. So I think about the people who suffered and died fighting and in so doing gave me the chance to play Quidditch for a living, and I keep going. I keep going for them."
Pansy stared mutely at her, and Ginny shifted uncomfortably.
"We can finish this later, Weasley. Why don't you get the ribs checked out and have a shower? The story doesn't have to be in until 1 this morning. A couple hours won't make any difference right now. I'll just hang around until you get more comfortable. What do you say?" Pansy said.
"The team healer will be gone by now, since I told him I was fine. But the shower would feel good." Ginny stood up and headed to the showers, she paused and looked back. "Thanks, Parkinson, I won't be too long."
Pansy didn't miss the grimace of pain on Ginny's face, but she kept quiet about it. She watched until Ginny was out of sight, and then she rubbed her face vigorously with her hands.
"Fuck it," she said softly.
Pansy had sought out this job for a few reasons. She liked Quidditch and knew a lot about it. She had a genuine talent for reporting, and was a skillful writer. Putting those together as a career had seemed a natural thing.
And she was utterly consumed by thoughts of and desire for Ginevra Molly Weasley. Not romantic love. Pure lust, more like.
The first time she saw Ginny play Quidditch, she had fallen for her like an old wizard off a tower.
That was the real reason she had wanted to give Harry to Voldemort. Pansy had no true allegiance to Voldemort or his cause, she had just gone along with the majority of her house. But when Ginny and Harry had gotten together— well, she wasn't too fond of Harry after that, to put it mildly.
But Harry wasn't in the picture any longer, and so while Pansy had no particular reason to hope that Ginny might ever return her secret longing, she had a little more room for fantasy now. She heard the shower start running, and she allowed her fantasy free reign. Right around the corner from where she was sitting was a stark-naked, soaking-wet Ginny Weasley. And all she had to do was take a few steps and at least one dream would come true.
The expectation that such fulfillment would be instantly followed by a devastating hex was enough to give her pause, but it was a near thing. She shifted in her chair and tried to concentrate on what question to ask next.
Then she heard the sound of something hitting a hard floor, followed by a choked-off scream, and caution evaporated. Pansy ran towards the sound and found Ginny crumpled on the shower floor. She hurried to Ginny's side, heedless of the falling water.
"Ginny?" she said anxiously. "Hey, Weasley! Can you hear me?"
"Slipped on a bar of soap. Can you fucking believe that shit?" Ginny said through gritted teeth.
"I'll get help," Pansy said, and she made to stand up.
"Hang on. Just help me up. No sense making a big deal out of it."
"Ginny, I'm worried about this. That bruise is awful, and it's swelling visibly," Pansy said.
"I didn't know you cared, Parkinson, and since when do you call me Ginny?"
Ginny looked up sharply, and saw the concern written plainly on Pansy's face.
"So maybe I care. So what? I'll help you up, but if the team healer is really gone, I'm taking you to St. Mungo's whether you like it or not. And don't make too much of that, I'll get sacked if you die during my interview."
Pansy turned off the shower, and gently helped Ginny to stand. Ginny took a careful step, wobbled, and Pansy steadied her before she could fall again.
"St. Mungo's might not be a bad idea at that. That's my dressing gown over there, could you —"
"Accio dressing gown," Pansy said.
"Thanks. Shit, this hurts. I guess falling in the shower with busted ribs is not the best idea, huh, Pansy?" Ginny said as Pansy helped her don the robe.
"So it's Pansy now?"
"I'm delirious from the pain. I hardly know what I'm saying. I doubt I'll even remember this tomorrow," Ginny gasped.
"I will," Pansy promised. "Hang on, I'll do this as gently as I can."
Pansy held Ginny to her, and smoothly Apparated them to St. Mungo's.
"I've got an emergency here!" Pansy announced loudly.
Of course Ginny Weasley was instantly recognized, and the response was swift.
"We'll take it from here, Ms. —" a healer said as he levitated a barely conscious Ginny onto a gurney.
"It's Parkinson. I'm with the Prophet, and I'm not leaving her."
"I'm afraid—"
"You should be. I'll stay out of the way, but don't waste time trying to get rid of me. It ain't gonna work, sonny boy, and if anything happens to her, I'll make sure the whole damn world knows your name. Got it?"
The healer looked closely at the dripping-wet witch glaring at him. "Very well," he said stiffly.
"Smart boy," Pansy replied.
(((())))
"It's good that you were able to bring her in so gently, Ms. Parkinson. Much more movement and the broken ribs likely would have punctured her lung. As it is, it's a simple matter of setting the ribs and letting the Skele-gro do its job. The bruising will be quite painful for several days, I'm afraid, but the potions will help with that. Will you be taking her home in the morning?"
"I'm not sure. That's up to her. Is she awake? Can I talk to her?"
"She's awake, Merlin knows how, with all the potions she's had. In fact, she has asked to see you. Right this way."
The healer led Pansy to Ginny's room and excused himself.
"Hey there, Weasley," Pansy said. "I see you didn't pop your clogs after all."
"Disappointed?"
"Nah, like I said, they'd sack me if I let you die."
"Right," Ginny chuckled. Briefly. "Damn! And they say it only hurts when you laugh."
"Is that true?" Pansy asked.
"Fuck no. It does hurt worse though. Thanks, Parkinson. I guess I owe you."
"Well, we didn't finish the interview," Pansy said.
"We can do it now," offered Ginny.
"No. You need to rest, and I'll bet talking is pretty painful right now. Anyway, the moment is gone. There's nothing like interviewing the star while she's all tired and sweaty from the game. It's easier to get a rise out of you and get a juicy quote," Pansy said.
"Well, you can do a piece about how you saved my ass. You know, charging into the shower and all, taking me to hospital. Good copy there."
"Not my kind of journalism. I'll just use what I have, about what inspires you," Pansy said.
"Okay. Thanks again, Parkinson. I'm sorry I screwed up the interview."
"Well, I got to see you naked, that more than makes up for it," Pansy said, laughing.
"Very funny. Anyway, when I'm healed up I'll give you an in-depth, exclusive interview if you want."
"That would be great. Do you need help getting home in the morning?" Pansy asked.
"You wouldn't mind? I sure want to get out of here, but I don't dare do it alone with all the potions I'm taking, and I'd like to keep this as quiet as possible. I don't want the team healers butting in yet, and I damn sure don't want mum fussing over me on top of all the rest."
"I don't mind. I like to finish what I've started. Get some sleep, Weasley. I'll see you in the morning."
Pansy left, and Ginny wondered briefly about Pansy Parkinson helping her before she fell asleep.
Pansy went home and finished up her story before she removed her almost-dry clothes and finished her shower in a more conventional manner than it had started. She was a bit frustrated that the memory of the huge bruise intruded on the memory of a naked Ginny Weasley in her arms, even after she went to bed. She eventually went to sleep, however, and the Ginny showering in her dreams was delightfully healthy.
She woke early and went straight to the hospital.
"What are you doing here, Parkinson?" Ginny asked when Pansy entered her room.
"I came to help you get home. We talked about it yesterday, remember? I brought you here after you fell in the shower," Pansy said.
"Oh. Yeah. Guess that wasn't a dream after all. Damn potions make everything kind of fuzzy. Are we taking the floo?"
"Certainly not," the healer said, having entered in time to hear the question. "There's far too much risk of re-injuring your ribs traveling by floo. It will be much safer if your friend here takes you, she's quite skilled at Apparition."
"She's not my friend, she's a reporter," Ginny said automatically.
"Well whoever she is, she got you here safely and watched over you like a mother bear would her cub until we were done. I imagine she can get you home in one piece as well. Just let me check on the injury, and if it's satisfactory then you can go, Ms. Weasley."
Pansy saw the questioning look Ginny gave her, and found something interesting to look at across the room.
"I'm afraid that's going to hurt for a while, Ms. Weasley. Blood outside its proper vessels is extremely irritating, and this bruising is extensive. Be sure and take the potions. It's not brave to suffer needless pain, it's foolish, and the pain itself will impede your recovery. Let the level of pain guide your activities. Any questions?"
"Can I leave now?" Ginny asked.
"Certainly, Ms. Weasley. Contact us if you have any questions or concerns."
"Right, and thanks." The healer nodded to her, then Pansy, and left.
"Ready to go, Weasley?" Pansy asked.
"Hell yes. Do you know where to take us?"
"I know the address. I'll land us out front since I've never been inside your house, okay?"
"Sure, let's go." Pansy put an arm around Ginny's shoulders, and took her home.
"Damn, Parkinson, you're as good as a house-elf at Apparition," Ginny said as they arrived.
"I learned it from an elf before I ever went to Hogwarts. Petal looked after me like I was her own. I still miss her." Pansy's eyes misted over, and she cleared her throat. Ginny noticed, but made no comment.
"I'm hungry, how about you?" Ginny asked.
"I'm okay, I can get something after we get you inside safely."
"You're welcome to stay for breakfast, Mixte is a great cook," Ginny said.
"You have a house-elf? What does Granger think about that?" Pansy asked with a grin. Ginny choked off the laugh. "Sorry," Pansy said.
"It's better than it was. Anyway, Mixte is free and makes good wages, Hermione is fine with it. Mixte is Dobby's sister," Ginny told her.
"Oh."
"Come on, I owe you breakfast at the least."
"Okay, but you don't owe me anything, Weasley. I'd have done the same for any Quidditch star that nearly died during an interview."
The breakfast was indeed very good. Pansy was so absorbed in enjoying it that she did not even notice Ginny reading that morning's Prophet.
"I'm impressed, Parkinson. This is a very good article you wrote. It's accurate, and you didn't embellish anything. You didn't even mention how nasty I was to you, and you're a damn good writer," Ginny said.
"Thanks. I take my job seriously. And you hating my guts is not news. News, even sports news, has to be the objective truth. That's the whole point of it."
"Yeah, well not all reporters feel that way. I can name a couple who would have written several paragraphs about what I looked like lying on the shower floor and speculating about how much firewhisky it took to land me there. Not to mention selling photographs."
"Like I said, not my style. Thanks for breakfast, Weasley, and my compliments, Mixte. Breakfast was great, you're a marvelous cook!"
"Thank you, Mistress Parkinson, and thank you for taking care of Mistress Ginny," Mixte said.
"Do you remember saying we could do an in-depth interview, Weasley? If not, I understand, and I won't press the point," Pansy asked.
"I do, but after reading this article I have a better idea," Ginny said.
"What's that?"
"Come spend a few days with the team when I'm healed up. Work out with us, fly with us. You played a little quidditch in school, as I recall," Ginny said.
"I'm nowhere near pro level, even if I wasn't out of practice," Pansy said, a little shocked.
"It's not a tryout. Look, the GM has been after us for quite a while to do this. The fans want to know what it's really like on the inside, you know? And it's their team, really. It's England's team. We've just never found a reporter we trusted enough to do it. This will be unrestricted access, you'll see everything that goes on, and you can join in wherever you like," Ginny told her.
"You trust me that much?" Pansy asked.
"I trust you to do a truly professional job. You could have taken advantage of my injury for personal gain, and you didn't. I don't think it even occurred to you. You really do take your job seriously. So, are you interested?"
"Of course, a story like that could really make my career," Pansy said.
"Good enough then. I'll get with you on possible dates after I recover. Right now I want to shower the hospital off and get to bed. The potions make me sleepy," she said with a yawn.
"Need any help?" Pansy asked, only half joking.
"I'm good, thanks. And I'm sure you've seen enough of me naked in the shower to last you a lifetime," Ginny said with a tired grin.
"Not even close," Pansy thought. "It wasn't that bad, Weasley. Except for the bruise. That was pretty gross," She said. Ginny snorted, then groaned.
"I'm not too fond of it myself. Mixte will show you out. Thanks again for the help, Parkinson."
Ginny rose from the table and carefully left the room. Mixte looked anxiously after her,
"I can find my own way out, Mixte, go take care of her."
"Yes, Mistress Parkinson. Mixte thanks you." Mixte hurried after Ginny.
"I can't believe I didn't think to take a picture. I could have edited out the bruise," Pansy muttered on her way out.
(((())))
"Okay gang, the day we've all been dreading is nearly upon us," Ginny addressed the team before practice. "Tomorrow a reporter will arrive and spend three days with us. She's going to be working out with us, eating with us, and flying with us. She played a little chaser in school, and she really knows the game. She also has high ethical standards for her work, so you don't need to worry about a hatchet job. She was a year ahead of me at Hogwarts. Her name is Pansy Parkinson. Before you ask, yes that Pansy Parkinson. Don't judge her solely on that, okay? What matters is her skill and integrity as a journalist. You all read the article she did when I got my ribs busted up, and it was dead-on fair and accurate. She's a pro, guys, let's act like professionals ourselves," she finished up.
"What does she look like?" Smith asked.
"What does it matter?" Ginny asked.
"Just curious."
"You'll find out tomorrow. Anybody else have a question?"
"Do we have to do this?"
"No, Blythe, you can go to the GM's office and tell him you don't care to cooperate with something he's been working on for two years. Maybe he'll let you take some unpaid leave," Ginny answered.
"Did you get on with her in school, Gin?"
"Not at all. But she helped me out with my ribs and didn't expect anything in return, and I wasn't exactly nice to her while she did it. I'm going to give her every chance and treat her with respect while she's here. I'm counting on all of you to do the same. Be straight with her when she asks a question. If you don't want to answer, just tell her that. Don't make the mistake of trying to have her on. She'll know it if you do, and the boss will not be happy if you act like a bunch of dicks, right?" The team nodded in unison, they all knew how important the team image was to their paychecks.
"Let's go, lads." Ginny led the team onto the pitch for their morning drills.
Meanwhile, Pansy was packing the things she thought she would need. She didn't have any quidditch gear, but Ginny had said that would be supplied. Her broom wasn't really up to competitive standards, but she didn't expect to actually fly with the team much, likely just for a photo or two. She had plenty of quills and parchment, a few changes of clothes, and a box of her favorite tea.
She also had a case of nerves. This was an important assignment for her, her publisher had made that quite clear. She was concerned about the sort of reception the team would give her. Teams could be an insular bunch, and she expected to have to deal with at least some resentment of her presence. Well, she was used to that sort of thing, it went with the territory.
She was far more nervous at the thought of being in such close contact with Ginny Weasley for three solid days. She was concerned that something would slip that would let Ginny know about the interest that Pansy had in her. The non-professional interest. The very personal interest.
It never even occurred to her that Ginny might return that interest. Ginny Weasley be attracted to Pansy Parkinson?
"Not in this lifetime, Pansy," she told herself sternly. "Just do the damn job."
She went to bed early, certain that she would need the rest for the upcoming project. Unfortunately her dreams were of a rather stimulating sort, and while quite satisfying, they were not very restful.
She didn't mind all that much though.
(((())))
"Okay everyone, this is Pansy Parkinson. Pansy, you know most of these gits don't you?" Ginny said.
"Of course. I was a fan before I was a reporter. Thank you for agreeing to do this. Hopefully it will be a good experience for us all," Pansy said.
"If it's a good experience you're after, luv, I'm available," Smith said.
"Cut it out, Smithy," Ginny told him. "Chat her up all you like after this is done, but Mister Yardley will string you up if you act like yourself. Mind your manners, right?"
"No offense, Smith," Pansy said, "you're a good beater, but you're not my type. Anyway, I learned long ago not to shit where I eat."
"Did she just call me shit?" Smith asked.
"No. But I might if you keep this up," Ginny answered. "Okay, I'll see you all in 30 minutes for warm ups. Come on, Pansy, I'll show you the locker room."
Pansy followed Ginny down a hall, and into a very spacious room.
"Much bigger lockers than school. All this for you?" Pansy asked, looking at the rows of lockers. "I mean, you're the only woman on the team."
"Equal facilities. It's a rule. And I'm the only woman right now, there have been and will be others. The team can't have inferior facilities keep us from getting a good player, and we often have a woman substitute in the event of an injury. Your locker is right across from mine, just there, and your gear is in it. Use whatever locking spell you like, but it's not really necessary. Not even Smith will come in here," Ginny told her.
"Afraid of bats, is he?"
"It didn't take but once, but I'll spell the door if you're worried. Oh, and if you're modest there are a couple changing cubicles over by the showers, " Ginny said.
"No need." "Like I'm going to miss a chance like this."
Pansy opened her locker, and was surprised to find a complete chaser's uniform with "Parkinson" emblazoned on the back, as well as a current model Firebolt.
"I didn't expect all of this, Weasley," she said.
"For the next three days, you're one of us. The uniform is yours to keep, and we can't have you clogging things up because of a crappy broom. If you clog things up because you suck, we'll just have to deal with that. And while you're with the team, I'm Ginny. Shit, you've seen me naked, so just call me Ginny from here on out."
"Right. What's first?"
"I'm afraid it's just the old fashioned stuff. Calisthenics and a run, then flying practice, then lunch. We start with the basics. Every single day. If we let the fundamentals slip, we're going to get our arses kicked."
Pansy wrote that down verbatim.
"Don't bother with the robes and stuff now, just the boots, trousers, and top."
"Right. Let's do this, then," Pansy said, trying to sound confident.
"Not bad, reporter," Smith said, watching Pansy do her calisthenics. "You seem pretty fit for a quill jockey."
"Piss off, Smithy," Pansy said. "Like I said before, you're not my type. And I know you're married."
"Can't blame a bloke for trying," Smith replied.
"Sure I can," Pansy told him, "and would you fancy seeing this exchange in the Prophet?"
"I would have to say no, Ms. Parkinson. I apologize. Apparently you really are a serious reporter and not a groupie. I promise to behave and cooperate for the rest your time here," Smith said.
"I told you, Smithy," Ginny said, grinning.
"Yes you did, but I had to check, didn't I? I'm not her type, it seems. But I'll just bet she's yours."
"Like the lady said, piss off, Smithy," Ginny said. Smith departed with a grin of his own. "Sorry about that, Pansy. Ignore him, I do."
"What did he mean by that?" Pansy asked
"Time to fly. I remember you fly pretty well, but have you ever flown a real racing broom?" Ginny asked, pointedly ignoring the question.
"No."
"Then be subtle with it. These brooms are much more responsive than ordinary ones. Thinking it is enough to make it happen. Mount up and follow me. If you get in over your head, just say 'stop'. The broom will stop quickly and the charms will hold you in place."
"Okay," Pansy said, and she nervously mounted the broom.
"Kick off gently," Ginny told her. "Ready?" Pansy nodded, and Ginny slowly flew away. Pansy kicked off, and the broom shot skyward.
"Fuck!" screamed Pansy.
"Relax!" Ginny yelled. "Don't squeeze it!" Pansy forced herself to loosen her grip, and the broom smoothly assumed a hover.
"I see what you mean, Ginny. Not like the school brooms, is it?"
"Not really, no. Follow me, and remember that the safe word is 'stop', not 'fuck'."
"Can I quote you on that?" Pansy asked.
Considering that the broom was so different from the ones she was accustomed to, Pansy caught on fairly quickly, and after a time she was able to smoothly follow Ginny around the pitch and through the goals.
"Here," Ginny said, and she tossed a quaffle to Pansy, who caught it neatly. "Let's just play catch for a bit while we fly. That should help you to shake the rust off."
Pansy dropped a few, and whenever she did Ginny would swoop in to retrieve the quaffle. Pansy perhaps dropped a couple of them just to watch her do that, but in the main she tried hard, and was a little surprised at how quickly she improved.
"Not bad at all, Pansy. You'll make a chaser yet. Let's head back and get cleaned up for lunch."
"Shower if you like, Pansy," Ginny said when they were back in the locker room, "I usually don't bother until the end of the day though."
"I can stand it if you can," Pansy replied, "what do we do after lunch?"
"Live scrimmage with full uniforms. You'll fly chaser on the practice squad today, if you settle in okay you can take the other chaser slot with me tomorrow."
"Okay," Pansy said nervously.
After washing up, they went to the dining hall for lunch.
"Help yourself Pansy. The food is usually really good," Ginny said, indicating the buffet.
Pansy was impressed by the variety of food, especially the fruits and vegetables.
"I expected more of a meat and potatoes kind of thing," Pansy said as she selected her lunch.
"If we have dinner here, there's more of that stuff then. Heavy lunches just don't sit very well right before some rigorous flying. The herbed chicken breast is always great, if you want meat protein, and be sure and try the hummus," Ginny told her.
"I hear you were in school with Ginny, Ms. Parkinson," Smedgely said. "Care to share any stories? Preferably really embarrassing ones."
"We were in different years and different houses. We didn't really hang out together. You lot likely know more about her than I do. I do remember finding her snogging the odd bloke here or there about the castle, but that's about it," Pansy replied.
"It would take an odd bloke to snog Ginevra," someone volunteered.
"And a brave one at that," added another.
"Thanks lads, I love you too," Ginny said, raising her glass of water. "She gave me detention once, though."
"What for?" asked Smith.
"Possession of contraband," Pansy said, "she did love to throw dungbombs."
"Guilty as charged. Did you ever get that robe clean?"
"Burned it. Who am I flying with after lunch?"
The members of the practice squad stood and introduced themselves.
"You'll be taking my slot, Ms. Parkinson," Richards told her, "I thank you for the time off."
"Glad to help out. I wouldn't count on much of a vacation though, I'll try, but I'm by no means sure that I'll be anywhere near good enough."
"No worries there," Smith said, "Richards is a rotten chaser."
Richards flipped him off.
The team applied themselves earnestly to lunch.
"See you on the pitch, lads," Ginny said as she stood. "If you're done, Pansy, we'll go sort out your gear."
"I'm ready."
"Everything you need should be there, Pansy," Ginny told her.
"What the heck is this?" Pansy asked, holding up a wide strap.
"Oh, yeah. We didn't have those at Hogwarts. That's your breast band. It's a combination binding strap and breast protector. It provides good support for your gals, and also protection from the bludgers. Cracked ribs are bad enough, but ruptured blood vessels in your breasts are downright serious, and hurt like hell," Ginny promised her. "The practice bludgers have a little cushioning spell since we can't afford serious practice injuries, but it's still a risk."
"Oh, right. How do you..."
"Take off your top, and I'll show you," Ginny said.
Pansy complied.
"Damn. Nice, Pansy. Can't have anything happening to those beauties then, can we? Just wrap the thing around your chest, there's a charm that holds it in place, and a spell to fit it to you properly," Ginny said.
Pansy did as she was instructed, but her pulse was hammering at Ginny's stated admiration of her breasts.
"Okay, now for the spell," Ginny said as she pointed her wand at Pansy's breast band. "Ferula Mammae," she intoned, and Pansy felt the band constrict to a snug but comfortable level. "You only need the spell once, the band will remember how to fit you from now on."
"Okay, and thanks," Pansy managed to say.
Pansy proceeded to get dressed while keeping a bit more than half an eye on Ginny. Ginny noticed.
"What?" Ginny asked. "Have I got something caught in my teeth?"
"No, sorry, I was just trying to see how the bruise was getting on. It was really pretty horrible, Ginny." Well, as lies go, that was a pretty good one.
"Nearly gone, see?" Ginny said as she held her arms over her head so that Pansy could see her ribs. There was just a faint yellow-green tinge on the freckled skin.
"Right. Well that's a relief," Pansy said, "I've got 50 quid on England's next match."
"Easy money," Ginny promised, "in fact, I'll cover your loss if we get beat. Ready to fly against me, Parkinson?"
"You bet your arse, Weasley!"
"Don't be afraid to take a chance, if you come off the broom I'll catch you, and there is also an emergency cushioning spell on the pitch for practices."
Well, Pansy tried, but...
"Cheer up. you're better than Richards, Ms. Parkinson," Smith told her.
"Right. In three hours I scored four goals, and got knocked off my broom five times," Pansy said.
"You just wanted to see if Weasley would really catch you, and that's two more goals than Richards ever scored on us."
"Fuck you, Smithy," Richards said.
"Maybe, if you ask nicely," Smith replied.
"Are they always like this?" Pansy asked Ginny.
"Not when there are outsiders around. They like you, Pansy. And they trust you. Can they?"
"They can. I didn't play that much in school, but I kind of miss this pissing about with the team. I like these people too, Ginny," Pansy answered.
"I'm glad, they really are a good bunch, despite the horndog tendencies. Come on. Let's clean up and I'll take you to dinner. And Smith was right, you weren't half bad out there. You'll fly with the first team tomorrow."
The shower felt really good, and Pansy just enjoyed it. For a while. Then her eyes were drawn to Ginny as she washed herself under the falling water. Pansy avoided eye contact, but she could not help sneaking peeks at Ginny as she dried herself off with a towel.
"Okay Pansy, what's on your mind?" Ginny asked.
"Umm... what?" Pansy stammered.
"You know my ribs are okay, and thanks again for your help. But you really have seen a naked woman before, including me," Ginny said. "So what's on your mind?"
Pansy drew a deep breath, and decided to jump.
"You. You get me hot. You're the biggest reason I went after the quidditch job," Pansy said bluntly.
"This isn't a game? You're serious? You really want me, Pansy?" Ginny said as she stepped so close to Pansy that their breasts just touched.
"Yes."
"All right then," Ginny said, and she backed Pansy up against her locker, took Pansy's face in her hands and kissed her.
"Ginny, I —"
"You talk too damn much," Ginny said ,"see if you can find a better use for that mouth. You really are a pro, and that kind of dedication gets to me. And you look great naked. I may regret it in the morning, but right now 'fuck you' is the farthest thing from an insult that I can imagine hearing you say."
Ginny applied her mouth to Pansy's breasts. Pansy encouraged that with a will.
"On your back, Weasley," Pansy demanded as she pushed Ginny onto the bench. "That settles that, I guess. You really are a redhead. You don't mind if I eat you a bit, right?"
"I don't — FUCK!" screamed Ginny as Pansy forced her tongue into her.
"I'll bet you do," Pansy breathed, "just wait."
Ginny's back arched strongly as Pansy sucked on her clit just shy of the point of pain.
"Damn, Ginny, you're more delicious than I ever imagined," Pansy gasped.
"You've really thought about this? Ohshit, that's good."
"Every damn day since I first saw you play chaser. Mind if I fuck you a little?"
"I do mind. Fuck me a LOT, Pansy, and do it right now... " Ginny hissed in pleasure as Pansy pressed three fingers into her.
"Is this okay? Pansy asked.
"Harder, bitch," Ginny commanded, and Pansy happily obeyed.
"Yes!" screamed Ginny, and she slumped limply on the bench.
"So it was my tits that got to you, was it?" Pansy asked as she licked her fingers.
"Not just those, it was also the thought of you eating me out. I figured a tongue as sharp as yours had to be good for something, and I was right. So let's do that some more, shall we? Finish what you started, or are you just a Slytherin tease?"
"I'm not 'just' anything. But I'll eat you until you cry for mercy, you Gryffindor slut."
"Just like a Slytherin, all talk and no — FUCK!" screamed Ginny yet again.
"Oh, I've got lots of fuck for you. Ginny," Pansy gasped "years of it, in fact."
"Then shift yourself so I can get at you, will you?"
"Right — ohfuck, that's — you're— oh, damn, Ginny, I'm gonna..."
"Good. Come all over my face you Slytherin bitch," Ginny demanded.
"You wish, you — unnnghhh..." Pansy collapsed on top of Ginny.
"Good girl," Ginny crooned as she softly licked Pansy's twitching sex. "Really good. Really, really good, I mean."
"Thanks. You as well, I mean — damn..."
"You do have a way with words, Pansy," Ginny said while kissing Pansy's inner thigh. "What about your story, will this cause trouble for you?"
"No. I won't even have to change the title," Pansy said, and she gently slid a finger into Ginny's twat.
"So what's the title?"
"Inside England's Team"
"Nice," Ginny said, "subtle. Let's go eat. Dinner, I mean. You've got two more days here and I can promise you that you're going to need your strength."
"Fine by me, I'm a glutton for punishment."
"We'll see about that after dinner."
Fin
Author/Artist:
lash_laruePrompt: 183 by
leontinabowiePairing(s): Ginny/Pansy
Word Count: 6,100
Rating: (Oh, say R)
Warning(s)/Content: Sex, naughty language
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: This is one of my favored pairings, I hope it is not too similar to my other stories with them. The reporter angle was something that appealed to me. I hope it works okay for you.
Summary: Pansy finds that professional objectivity may yield some very personal rewards.
Livejournal Link
"Okay Parkinson, let's get this over with," Ginny Weasley said as she took her seat at the table.
"Calm down, Weasley. It's my job to cover the Quidditch playoffs, and you were the top scorer today. Since you're the star, you get to talk to the press, and that's me. Let's just do our jobs like real professionals, shall we?" Pansy replied.
"You're lucky you're not in Azkaban with most of your friends, bitch. Now ask your fucking questions. I'm tired, I'm sweaty, and I think that bludger might have cracked a few ribs," Ginny said.
"About that bludger. How did you manage to stay on your broom? Everybody saw it hit you. I was in the press box and I heard it hit you. Everybody expected you to fall off. Why didn't you?"
"Okay. It's your job to ask and it's my job to answer. Do you really mean to conduct a real, responsible interview, Parkinson? Seriously?" Ginny asked.
"I do. Look, Weasley, we didn't get along at all in school, to put it mildly." Ginny snorted. "And I know that what I said during the battle at Hogwarts didn't win me any friends, especially you."
"You've got that right, Parkinson."
"But that's done. Your side won, and I'll admit that now I'm glad you did, okay? I won't bother to apologize because I know you wouldn't accept it and that you don't give a damn about me or what I think about you."
"Right again. Damn, Parkinson, you're smarter than I gave you credit for." Ginny said.
"Yeah, I am, so I know that you do care about the fans. So let's just get this done, okay?"
"Fair enough. You asked about the bludger?"
"Yes. It hit you squarely. That wasn't a glancing blow, Weasley, and that beater is a beast. So how did you stay on the broom?" Ginny sighed.
"If you screw me over in this interview, Parkinson, I swear you'll regret it. But you're right, I do care about the fans. Without them I wouldn't get paid to do something I love." Ginny paused to organize her thoughts, then looked Pansy right in the eye. "Whenever I get hurt, like tonight with the bludger, I think about the people who died for the cause. My brother Fred, Professor Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Professor Burbage, Dumbledore himself, and so many more. Hell, Harry even kind of died a bit, willingly. I think about the people who were crippled, or disfigured. Please keep her name out of this, but you remember Lavender Brown, how pretty she was, and how her face was shredded even before the final battle. I think of what Luna Lovegood, Garrick Ollivander, and Hermione Granger suffered at the hands of the Death Eaters, about Dobby getting killed saving them, hell, what damn near everybody at Hogwarts went through leading up to the final battle..." Ginny's voice trailed off, and she coughed dryly.
"Here, have some water," Pansy offered.
"Thanks. Anyhow, next to all that, being paid a lot to play a game and getting some busted ribs in the bargain just doesn't seem like something to whinge about. So I think about the people who suffered and died fighting and in so doing gave me the chance to play Quidditch for a living, and I keep going. I keep going for them."
Pansy stared mutely at her, and Ginny shifted uncomfortably.
"We can finish this later, Weasley. Why don't you get the ribs checked out and have a shower? The story doesn't have to be in until 1 this morning. A couple hours won't make any difference right now. I'll just hang around until you get more comfortable. What do you say?" Pansy said.
"The team healer will be gone by now, since I told him I was fine. But the shower would feel good." Ginny stood up and headed to the showers, she paused and looked back. "Thanks, Parkinson, I won't be too long."
Pansy didn't miss the grimace of pain on Ginny's face, but she kept quiet about it. She watched until Ginny was out of sight, and then she rubbed her face vigorously with her hands.
"Fuck it," she said softly.
Pansy had sought out this job for a few reasons. She liked Quidditch and knew a lot about it. She had a genuine talent for reporting, and was a skillful writer. Putting those together as a career had seemed a natural thing.
And she was utterly consumed by thoughts of and desire for Ginevra Molly Weasley. Not romantic love. Pure lust, more like.
The first time she saw Ginny play Quidditch, she had fallen for her like an old wizard off a tower.
That was the real reason she had wanted to give Harry to Voldemort. Pansy had no true allegiance to Voldemort or his cause, she had just gone along with the majority of her house. But when Ginny and Harry had gotten together— well, she wasn't too fond of Harry after that, to put it mildly.
But Harry wasn't in the picture any longer, and so while Pansy had no particular reason to hope that Ginny might ever return her secret longing, she had a little more room for fantasy now. She heard the shower start running, and she allowed her fantasy free reign. Right around the corner from where she was sitting was a stark-naked, soaking-wet Ginny Weasley. And all she had to do was take a few steps and at least one dream would come true.
The expectation that such fulfillment would be instantly followed by a devastating hex was enough to give her pause, but it was a near thing. She shifted in her chair and tried to concentrate on what question to ask next.
Then she heard the sound of something hitting a hard floor, followed by a choked-off scream, and caution evaporated. Pansy ran towards the sound and found Ginny crumpled on the shower floor. She hurried to Ginny's side, heedless of the falling water.
"Ginny?" she said anxiously. "Hey, Weasley! Can you hear me?"
"Slipped on a bar of soap. Can you fucking believe that shit?" Ginny said through gritted teeth.
"I'll get help," Pansy said, and she made to stand up.
"Hang on. Just help me up. No sense making a big deal out of it."
"Ginny, I'm worried about this. That bruise is awful, and it's swelling visibly," Pansy said.
"I didn't know you cared, Parkinson, and since when do you call me Ginny?"
Ginny looked up sharply, and saw the concern written plainly on Pansy's face.
"So maybe I care. So what? I'll help you up, but if the team healer is really gone, I'm taking you to St. Mungo's whether you like it or not. And don't make too much of that, I'll get sacked if you die during my interview."
Pansy turned off the shower, and gently helped Ginny to stand. Ginny took a careful step, wobbled, and Pansy steadied her before she could fall again.
"St. Mungo's might not be a bad idea at that. That's my dressing gown over there, could you —"
"Accio dressing gown," Pansy said.
"Thanks. Shit, this hurts. I guess falling in the shower with busted ribs is not the best idea, huh, Pansy?" Ginny said as Pansy helped her don the robe.
"So it's Pansy now?"
"I'm delirious from the pain. I hardly know what I'm saying. I doubt I'll even remember this tomorrow," Ginny gasped.
"I will," Pansy promised. "Hang on, I'll do this as gently as I can."
Pansy held Ginny to her, and smoothly Apparated them to St. Mungo's.
"I've got an emergency here!" Pansy announced loudly.
Of course Ginny Weasley was instantly recognized, and the response was swift.
"We'll take it from here, Ms. —" a healer said as he levitated a barely conscious Ginny onto a gurney.
"It's Parkinson. I'm with the Prophet, and I'm not leaving her."
"I'm afraid—"
"You should be. I'll stay out of the way, but don't waste time trying to get rid of me. It ain't gonna work, sonny boy, and if anything happens to her, I'll make sure the whole damn world knows your name. Got it?"
The healer looked closely at the dripping-wet witch glaring at him. "Very well," he said stiffly.
"Smart boy," Pansy replied.
"It's good that you were able to bring her in so gently, Ms. Parkinson. Much more movement and the broken ribs likely would have punctured her lung. As it is, it's a simple matter of setting the ribs and letting the Skele-gro do its job. The bruising will be quite painful for several days, I'm afraid, but the potions will help with that. Will you be taking her home in the morning?"
"I'm not sure. That's up to her. Is she awake? Can I talk to her?"
"She's awake, Merlin knows how, with all the potions she's had. In fact, she has asked to see you. Right this way."
The healer led Pansy to Ginny's room and excused himself.
"Hey there, Weasley," Pansy said. "I see you didn't pop your clogs after all."
"Disappointed?"
"Nah, like I said, they'd sack me if I let you die."
"Right," Ginny chuckled. Briefly. "Damn! And they say it only hurts when you laugh."
"Is that true?" Pansy asked.
"Fuck no. It does hurt worse though. Thanks, Parkinson. I guess I owe you."
"Well, we didn't finish the interview," Pansy said.
"We can do it now," offered Ginny.
"No. You need to rest, and I'll bet talking is pretty painful right now. Anyway, the moment is gone. There's nothing like interviewing the star while she's all tired and sweaty from the game. It's easier to get a rise out of you and get a juicy quote," Pansy said.
"Well, you can do a piece about how you saved my ass. You know, charging into the shower and all, taking me to hospital. Good copy there."
"Not my kind of journalism. I'll just use what I have, about what inspires you," Pansy said.
"Okay. Thanks again, Parkinson. I'm sorry I screwed up the interview."
"Well, I got to see you naked, that more than makes up for it," Pansy said, laughing.
"Very funny. Anyway, when I'm healed up I'll give you an in-depth, exclusive interview if you want."
"That would be great. Do you need help getting home in the morning?" Pansy asked.
"You wouldn't mind? I sure want to get out of here, but I don't dare do it alone with all the potions I'm taking, and I'd like to keep this as quiet as possible. I don't want the team healers butting in yet, and I damn sure don't want mum fussing over me on top of all the rest."
"I don't mind. I like to finish what I've started. Get some sleep, Weasley. I'll see you in the morning."
Pansy left, and Ginny wondered briefly about Pansy Parkinson helping her before she fell asleep.
Pansy went home and finished up her story before she removed her almost-dry clothes and finished her shower in a more conventional manner than it had started. She was a bit frustrated that the memory of the huge bruise intruded on the memory of a naked Ginny Weasley in her arms, even after she went to bed. She eventually went to sleep, however, and the Ginny showering in her dreams was delightfully healthy.
She woke early and went straight to the hospital.
"What are you doing here, Parkinson?" Ginny asked when Pansy entered her room.
"I came to help you get home. We talked about it yesterday, remember? I brought you here after you fell in the shower," Pansy said.
"Oh. Yeah. Guess that wasn't a dream after all. Damn potions make everything kind of fuzzy. Are we taking the floo?"
"Certainly not," the healer said, having entered in time to hear the question. "There's far too much risk of re-injuring your ribs traveling by floo. It will be much safer if your friend here takes you, she's quite skilled at Apparition."
"She's not my friend, she's a reporter," Ginny said automatically.
"Well whoever she is, she got you here safely and watched over you like a mother bear would her cub until we were done. I imagine she can get you home in one piece as well. Just let me check on the injury, and if it's satisfactory then you can go, Ms. Weasley."
Pansy saw the questioning look Ginny gave her, and found something interesting to look at across the room.
"I'm afraid that's going to hurt for a while, Ms. Weasley. Blood outside its proper vessels is extremely irritating, and this bruising is extensive. Be sure and take the potions. It's not brave to suffer needless pain, it's foolish, and the pain itself will impede your recovery. Let the level of pain guide your activities. Any questions?"
"Can I leave now?" Ginny asked.
"Certainly, Ms. Weasley. Contact us if you have any questions or concerns."
"Right, and thanks." The healer nodded to her, then Pansy, and left.
"Ready to go, Weasley?" Pansy asked.
"Hell yes. Do you know where to take us?"
"I know the address. I'll land us out front since I've never been inside your house, okay?"
"Sure, let's go." Pansy put an arm around Ginny's shoulders, and took her home.
"Damn, Parkinson, you're as good as a house-elf at Apparition," Ginny said as they arrived.
"I learned it from an elf before I ever went to Hogwarts. Petal looked after me like I was her own. I still miss her." Pansy's eyes misted over, and she cleared her throat. Ginny noticed, but made no comment.
"I'm hungry, how about you?" Ginny asked.
"I'm okay, I can get something after we get you inside safely."
"You're welcome to stay for breakfast, Mixte is a great cook," Ginny said.
"You have a house-elf? What does Granger think about that?" Pansy asked with a grin. Ginny choked off the laugh. "Sorry," Pansy said.
"It's better than it was. Anyway, Mixte is free and makes good wages, Hermione is fine with it. Mixte is Dobby's sister," Ginny told her.
"Oh."
"Come on, I owe you breakfast at the least."
"Okay, but you don't owe me anything, Weasley. I'd have done the same for any Quidditch star that nearly died during an interview."
The breakfast was indeed very good. Pansy was so absorbed in enjoying it that she did not even notice Ginny reading that morning's Prophet.
"I'm impressed, Parkinson. This is a very good article you wrote. It's accurate, and you didn't embellish anything. You didn't even mention how nasty I was to you, and you're a damn good writer," Ginny said.
"Thanks. I take my job seriously. And you hating my guts is not news. News, even sports news, has to be the objective truth. That's the whole point of it."
"Yeah, well not all reporters feel that way. I can name a couple who would have written several paragraphs about what I looked like lying on the shower floor and speculating about how much firewhisky it took to land me there. Not to mention selling photographs."
"Like I said, not my style. Thanks for breakfast, Weasley, and my compliments, Mixte. Breakfast was great, you're a marvelous cook!"
"Thank you, Mistress Parkinson, and thank you for taking care of Mistress Ginny," Mixte said.
"Do you remember saying we could do an in-depth interview, Weasley? If not, I understand, and I won't press the point," Pansy asked.
"I do, but after reading this article I have a better idea," Ginny said.
"What's that?"
"Come spend a few days with the team when I'm healed up. Work out with us, fly with us. You played a little quidditch in school, as I recall," Ginny said.
"I'm nowhere near pro level, even if I wasn't out of practice," Pansy said, a little shocked.
"It's not a tryout. Look, the GM has been after us for quite a while to do this. The fans want to know what it's really like on the inside, you know? And it's their team, really. It's England's team. We've just never found a reporter we trusted enough to do it. This will be unrestricted access, you'll see everything that goes on, and you can join in wherever you like," Ginny told her.
"You trust me that much?" Pansy asked.
"I trust you to do a truly professional job. You could have taken advantage of my injury for personal gain, and you didn't. I don't think it even occurred to you. You really do take your job seriously. So, are you interested?"
"Of course, a story like that could really make my career," Pansy said.
"Good enough then. I'll get with you on possible dates after I recover. Right now I want to shower the hospital off and get to bed. The potions make me sleepy," she said with a yawn.
"Need any help?" Pansy asked, only half joking.
"I'm good, thanks. And I'm sure you've seen enough of me naked in the shower to last you a lifetime," Ginny said with a tired grin.
"Not even close," Pansy thought. "It wasn't that bad, Weasley. Except for the bruise. That was pretty gross," She said. Ginny snorted, then groaned.
"I'm not too fond of it myself. Mixte will show you out. Thanks again for the help, Parkinson."
Ginny rose from the table and carefully left the room. Mixte looked anxiously after her,
"I can find my own way out, Mixte, go take care of her."
"Yes, Mistress Parkinson. Mixte thanks you." Mixte hurried after Ginny.
"I can't believe I didn't think to take a picture. I could have edited out the bruise," Pansy muttered on her way out.
"Okay gang, the day we've all been dreading is nearly upon us," Ginny addressed the team before practice. "Tomorrow a reporter will arrive and spend three days with us. She's going to be working out with us, eating with us, and flying with us. She played a little chaser in school, and she really knows the game. She also has high ethical standards for her work, so you don't need to worry about a hatchet job. She was a year ahead of me at Hogwarts. Her name is Pansy Parkinson. Before you ask, yes that Pansy Parkinson. Don't judge her solely on that, okay? What matters is her skill and integrity as a journalist. You all read the article she did when I got my ribs busted up, and it was dead-on fair and accurate. She's a pro, guys, let's act like professionals ourselves," she finished up.
"What does she look like?" Smith asked.
"What does it matter?" Ginny asked.
"Just curious."
"You'll find out tomorrow. Anybody else have a question?"
"Do we have to do this?"
"No, Blythe, you can go to the GM's office and tell him you don't care to cooperate with something he's been working on for two years. Maybe he'll let you take some unpaid leave," Ginny answered.
"Did you get on with her in school, Gin?"
"Not at all. But she helped me out with my ribs and didn't expect anything in return, and I wasn't exactly nice to her while she did it. I'm going to give her every chance and treat her with respect while she's here. I'm counting on all of you to do the same. Be straight with her when she asks a question. If you don't want to answer, just tell her that. Don't make the mistake of trying to have her on. She'll know it if you do, and the boss will not be happy if you act like a bunch of dicks, right?" The team nodded in unison, they all knew how important the team image was to their paychecks.
"Let's go, lads." Ginny led the team onto the pitch for their morning drills.
Meanwhile, Pansy was packing the things she thought she would need. She didn't have any quidditch gear, but Ginny had said that would be supplied. Her broom wasn't really up to competitive standards, but she didn't expect to actually fly with the team much, likely just for a photo or two. She had plenty of quills and parchment, a few changes of clothes, and a box of her favorite tea.
She also had a case of nerves. This was an important assignment for her, her publisher had made that quite clear. She was concerned about the sort of reception the team would give her. Teams could be an insular bunch, and she expected to have to deal with at least some resentment of her presence. Well, she was used to that sort of thing, it went with the territory.
She was far more nervous at the thought of being in such close contact with Ginny Weasley for three solid days. She was concerned that something would slip that would let Ginny know about the interest that Pansy had in her. The non-professional interest. The very personal interest.
It never even occurred to her that Ginny might return that interest. Ginny Weasley be attracted to Pansy Parkinson?
"Not in this lifetime, Pansy," she told herself sternly. "Just do the damn job."
She went to bed early, certain that she would need the rest for the upcoming project. Unfortunately her dreams were of a rather stimulating sort, and while quite satisfying, they were not very restful.
She didn't mind all that much though.
"Okay everyone, this is Pansy Parkinson. Pansy, you know most of these gits don't you?" Ginny said.
"Of course. I was a fan before I was a reporter. Thank you for agreeing to do this. Hopefully it will be a good experience for us all," Pansy said.
"If it's a good experience you're after, luv, I'm available," Smith said.
"Cut it out, Smithy," Ginny told him. "Chat her up all you like after this is done, but Mister Yardley will string you up if you act like yourself. Mind your manners, right?"
"No offense, Smith," Pansy said, "you're a good beater, but you're not my type. Anyway, I learned long ago not to shit where I eat."
"Did she just call me shit?" Smith asked.
"No. But I might if you keep this up," Ginny answered. "Okay, I'll see you all in 30 minutes for warm ups. Come on, Pansy, I'll show you the locker room."
Pansy followed Ginny down a hall, and into a very spacious room.
"Much bigger lockers than school. All this for you?" Pansy asked, looking at the rows of lockers. "I mean, you're the only woman on the team."
"Equal facilities. It's a rule. And I'm the only woman right now, there have been and will be others. The team can't have inferior facilities keep us from getting a good player, and we often have a woman substitute in the event of an injury. Your locker is right across from mine, just there, and your gear is in it. Use whatever locking spell you like, but it's not really necessary. Not even Smith will come in here," Ginny told her.
"Afraid of bats, is he?"
"It didn't take but once, but I'll spell the door if you're worried. Oh, and if you're modest there are a couple changing cubicles over by the showers, " Ginny said.
"No need." "Like I'm going to miss a chance like this."
Pansy opened her locker, and was surprised to find a complete chaser's uniform with "Parkinson" emblazoned on the back, as well as a current model Firebolt.
"I didn't expect all of this, Weasley," she said.
"For the next three days, you're one of us. The uniform is yours to keep, and we can't have you clogging things up because of a crappy broom. If you clog things up because you suck, we'll just have to deal with that. And while you're with the team, I'm Ginny. Shit, you've seen me naked, so just call me Ginny from here on out."
"Right. What's first?"
"I'm afraid it's just the old fashioned stuff. Calisthenics and a run, then flying practice, then lunch. We start with the basics. Every single day. If we let the fundamentals slip, we're going to get our arses kicked."
Pansy wrote that down verbatim.
"Don't bother with the robes and stuff now, just the boots, trousers, and top."
"Right. Let's do this, then," Pansy said, trying to sound confident.
"Not bad, reporter," Smith said, watching Pansy do her calisthenics. "You seem pretty fit for a quill jockey."
"Piss off, Smithy," Pansy said. "Like I said before, you're not my type. And I know you're married."
"Can't blame a bloke for trying," Smith replied.
"Sure I can," Pansy told him, "and would you fancy seeing this exchange in the Prophet?"
"I would have to say no, Ms. Parkinson. I apologize. Apparently you really are a serious reporter and not a groupie. I promise to behave and cooperate for the rest your time here," Smith said.
"I told you, Smithy," Ginny said, grinning.
"Yes you did, but I had to check, didn't I? I'm not her type, it seems. But I'll just bet she's yours."
"Like the lady said, piss off, Smithy," Ginny said. Smith departed with a grin of his own. "Sorry about that, Pansy. Ignore him, I do."
"What did he mean by that?" Pansy asked
"Time to fly. I remember you fly pretty well, but have you ever flown a real racing broom?" Ginny asked, pointedly ignoring the question.
"No."
"Then be subtle with it. These brooms are much more responsive than ordinary ones. Thinking it is enough to make it happen. Mount up and follow me. If you get in over your head, just say 'stop'. The broom will stop quickly and the charms will hold you in place."
"Okay," Pansy said, and she nervously mounted the broom.
"Kick off gently," Ginny told her. "Ready?" Pansy nodded, and Ginny slowly flew away. Pansy kicked off, and the broom shot skyward.
"Fuck!" screamed Pansy.
"Relax!" Ginny yelled. "Don't squeeze it!" Pansy forced herself to loosen her grip, and the broom smoothly assumed a hover.
"I see what you mean, Ginny. Not like the school brooms, is it?"
"Not really, no. Follow me, and remember that the safe word is 'stop', not 'fuck'."
"Can I quote you on that?" Pansy asked.
Considering that the broom was so different from the ones she was accustomed to, Pansy caught on fairly quickly, and after a time she was able to smoothly follow Ginny around the pitch and through the goals.
"Here," Ginny said, and she tossed a quaffle to Pansy, who caught it neatly. "Let's just play catch for a bit while we fly. That should help you to shake the rust off."
Pansy dropped a few, and whenever she did Ginny would swoop in to retrieve the quaffle. Pansy perhaps dropped a couple of them just to watch her do that, but in the main she tried hard, and was a little surprised at how quickly she improved.
"Not bad at all, Pansy. You'll make a chaser yet. Let's head back and get cleaned up for lunch."
"Shower if you like, Pansy," Ginny said when they were back in the locker room, "I usually don't bother until the end of the day though."
"I can stand it if you can," Pansy replied, "what do we do after lunch?"
"Live scrimmage with full uniforms. You'll fly chaser on the practice squad today, if you settle in okay you can take the other chaser slot with me tomorrow."
"Okay," Pansy said nervously.
After washing up, they went to the dining hall for lunch.
"Help yourself Pansy. The food is usually really good," Ginny said, indicating the buffet.
Pansy was impressed by the variety of food, especially the fruits and vegetables.
"I expected more of a meat and potatoes kind of thing," Pansy said as she selected her lunch.
"If we have dinner here, there's more of that stuff then. Heavy lunches just don't sit very well right before some rigorous flying. The herbed chicken breast is always great, if you want meat protein, and be sure and try the hummus," Ginny told her.
"I hear you were in school with Ginny, Ms. Parkinson," Smedgely said. "Care to share any stories? Preferably really embarrassing ones."
"We were in different years and different houses. We didn't really hang out together. You lot likely know more about her than I do. I do remember finding her snogging the odd bloke here or there about the castle, but that's about it," Pansy replied.
"It would take an odd bloke to snog Ginevra," someone volunteered.
"And a brave one at that," added another.
"Thanks lads, I love you too," Ginny said, raising her glass of water. "She gave me detention once, though."
"What for?" asked Smith.
"Possession of contraband," Pansy said, "she did love to throw dungbombs."
"Guilty as charged. Did you ever get that robe clean?"
"Burned it. Who am I flying with after lunch?"
The members of the practice squad stood and introduced themselves.
"You'll be taking my slot, Ms. Parkinson," Richards told her, "I thank you for the time off."
"Glad to help out. I wouldn't count on much of a vacation though, I'll try, but I'm by no means sure that I'll be anywhere near good enough."
"No worries there," Smith said, "Richards is a rotten chaser."
Richards flipped him off.
The team applied themselves earnestly to lunch.
"See you on the pitch, lads," Ginny said as she stood. "If you're done, Pansy, we'll go sort out your gear."
"I'm ready."
"Everything you need should be there, Pansy," Ginny told her.
"What the heck is this?" Pansy asked, holding up a wide strap.
"Oh, yeah. We didn't have those at Hogwarts. That's your breast band. It's a combination binding strap and breast protector. It provides good support for your gals, and also protection from the bludgers. Cracked ribs are bad enough, but ruptured blood vessels in your breasts are downright serious, and hurt like hell," Ginny promised her. "The practice bludgers have a little cushioning spell since we can't afford serious practice injuries, but it's still a risk."
"Oh, right. How do you..."
"Take off your top, and I'll show you," Ginny said.
Pansy complied.
"Damn. Nice, Pansy. Can't have anything happening to those beauties then, can we? Just wrap the thing around your chest, there's a charm that holds it in place, and a spell to fit it to you properly," Ginny said.
Pansy did as she was instructed, but her pulse was hammering at Ginny's stated admiration of her breasts.
"Okay, now for the spell," Ginny said as she pointed her wand at Pansy's breast band. "Ferula Mammae," she intoned, and Pansy felt the band constrict to a snug but comfortable level. "You only need the spell once, the band will remember how to fit you from now on."
"Okay, and thanks," Pansy managed to say.
Pansy proceeded to get dressed while keeping a bit more than half an eye on Ginny. Ginny noticed.
"What?" Ginny asked. "Have I got something caught in my teeth?"
"No, sorry, I was just trying to see how the bruise was getting on. It was really pretty horrible, Ginny." Well, as lies go, that was a pretty good one.
"Nearly gone, see?" Ginny said as she held her arms over her head so that Pansy could see her ribs. There was just a faint yellow-green tinge on the freckled skin.
"Right. Well that's a relief," Pansy said, "I've got 50 quid on England's next match."
"Easy money," Ginny promised, "in fact, I'll cover your loss if we get beat. Ready to fly against me, Parkinson?"
"You bet your arse, Weasley!"
"Don't be afraid to take a chance, if you come off the broom I'll catch you, and there is also an emergency cushioning spell on the pitch for practices."
Well, Pansy tried, but...
"Cheer up. you're better than Richards, Ms. Parkinson," Smith told her.
"Right. In three hours I scored four goals, and got knocked off my broom five times," Pansy said.
"You just wanted to see if Weasley would really catch you, and that's two more goals than Richards ever scored on us."
"Fuck you, Smithy," Richards said.
"Maybe, if you ask nicely," Smith replied.
"Are they always like this?" Pansy asked Ginny.
"Not when there are outsiders around. They like you, Pansy. And they trust you. Can they?"
"They can. I didn't play that much in school, but I kind of miss this pissing about with the team. I like these people too, Ginny," Pansy answered.
"I'm glad, they really are a good bunch, despite the horndog tendencies. Come on. Let's clean up and I'll take you to dinner. And Smith was right, you weren't half bad out there. You'll fly with the first team tomorrow."
The shower felt really good, and Pansy just enjoyed it. For a while. Then her eyes were drawn to Ginny as she washed herself under the falling water. Pansy avoided eye contact, but she could not help sneaking peeks at Ginny as she dried herself off with a towel.
"Okay Pansy, what's on your mind?" Ginny asked.
"Umm... what?" Pansy stammered.
"You know my ribs are okay, and thanks again for your help. But you really have seen a naked woman before, including me," Ginny said. "So what's on your mind?"
Pansy drew a deep breath, and decided to jump.
"You. You get me hot. You're the biggest reason I went after the quidditch job," Pansy said bluntly.
"This isn't a game? You're serious? You really want me, Pansy?" Ginny said as she stepped so close to Pansy that their breasts just touched.
"Yes."
"All right then," Ginny said, and she backed Pansy up against her locker, took Pansy's face in her hands and kissed her.
"Ginny, I —"
"You talk too damn much," Ginny said ,"see if you can find a better use for that mouth. You really are a pro, and that kind of dedication gets to me. And you look great naked. I may regret it in the morning, but right now 'fuck you' is the farthest thing from an insult that I can imagine hearing you say."
Ginny applied her mouth to Pansy's breasts. Pansy encouraged that with a will.
"On your back, Weasley," Pansy demanded as she pushed Ginny onto the bench. "That settles that, I guess. You really are a redhead. You don't mind if I eat you a bit, right?"
"I don't — FUCK!" screamed Ginny as Pansy forced her tongue into her.
"I'll bet you do," Pansy breathed, "just wait."
Ginny's back arched strongly as Pansy sucked on her clit just shy of the point of pain.
"Damn, Ginny, you're more delicious than I ever imagined," Pansy gasped.
"You've really thought about this? Ohshit, that's good."
"Every damn day since I first saw you play chaser. Mind if I fuck you a little?"
"I do mind. Fuck me a LOT, Pansy, and do it right now... " Ginny hissed in pleasure as Pansy pressed three fingers into her.
"Is this okay? Pansy asked.
"Harder, bitch," Ginny commanded, and Pansy happily obeyed.
"Yes!" screamed Ginny, and she slumped limply on the bench.
"So it was my tits that got to you, was it?" Pansy asked as she licked her fingers.
"Not just those, it was also the thought of you eating me out. I figured a tongue as sharp as yours had to be good for something, and I was right. So let's do that some more, shall we? Finish what you started, or are you just a Slytherin tease?"
"I'm not 'just' anything. But I'll eat you until you cry for mercy, you Gryffindor slut."
"Just like a Slytherin, all talk and no — FUCK!" screamed Ginny yet again.
"Oh, I've got lots of fuck for you. Ginny," Pansy gasped "years of it, in fact."
"Then shift yourself so I can get at you, will you?"
"Right — ohfuck, that's — you're— oh, damn, Ginny, I'm gonna..."
"Good. Come all over my face you Slytherin bitch," Ginny demanded.
"You wish, you — unnnghhh..." Pansy collapsed on top of Ginny.
"Good girl," Ginny crooned as she softly licked Pansy's twitching sex. "Really good. Really, really good, I mean."
"Thanks. You as well, I mean — damn..."
"You do have a way with words, Pansy," Ginny said while kissing Pansy's inner thigh. "What about your story, will this cause trouble for you?"
"No. I won't even have to change the title," Pansy said, and she gently slid a finger into Ginny's twat.
"So what's the title?"
"Inside England's Team"
"Nice," Ginny said, "subtle. Let's go eat. Dinner, I mean. You've got two more days here and I can promise you that you're going to need your strength."
"Fine by me, I'm a glutton for punishment."
"We'll see about that after dinner."
Fin
