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hp_rarefestTitle: Dirty Little Secrets
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
plaidphoenix
Prompt: Prompt # 186 byshiftylinguini
Pairing(s): Pansy/Rose, implied Harry/Ginny/Rose
Word Count/Art Medium: 1322
Rating: R
Warning(s)/Content: Suggested sexual content, implied incest.
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: I made a slight change to the prompt which I hope the prompter is ok with.
Summary: At a Ministry function, Pansy is bored, rude and obnoxious. Her usual self, until a certain Weasley comes along to turn her world upside down.
LIVEJOURNAL LINK
I hate these Ministry functions. Spend all day getting dressed up so you can spend all night wondering when you can go home.
And the people. I couldn’t stand them at Hogwarts and I’m no more fond of them now than I was then. Well, there’s Draco but it’s not like he’s willing to acknowledge me now that Astoria has him wrapped around her little finger.
So I wanted to give Potter and his friends over to Voldemort. It’s not like I took the Mark, like certain people I won’t name. He’s forgiven me, why can’t you Draco?
Ah, there goes the new Minister. Enjoy your time in power Granger, we all know how you got there, I just hope your husband never finds out.
“Hello, Ms. Parkinson,” a demure voice says, bringing Pansy out of her thoughts. “How are you this evening?”
“Well, if it isn’t the Ministry’s newest darling,” Pansy observes as Rose Granger-Weasley comes into view. “Basking in the glory of your mother’s ascension? Or reveling in the glory of having vanquished the last of her opponents?”
“I don’t bask, Ms. Parkinson,” Rose asserts in a rather dry, dull tone. “Nor do I revel and if I did, I’d be doing it at the Three Broomsticks with my friends and several bottles of firewhiskey. Besides, it isn’t my fault Undersecretary Boot left those photographs unguarded in an unlocked desk drawer.”
“And that is why your mother is now the Minister of Magic,” Pansy observes wishing she had a fresh drink in her hand. She isn’t nearly drunk enough for this conversation and not nearly sober enough given the danger she knows comes from associating with the first Weasley to ever be sorted into Slytherin.
She is, however, liberated enough to take in the form hugging dress the young witch is wearing and the fact that if she’s wearing anything under the dress, it has to be both form fitting and skin tight.
“So tell me,” Pansy continues, letting her mind wander back to the party and her curiosity guide the conversation, “was it natural talent that let you help your mother ascend to the height of her ambition? Or was it being a Slytherin?”
“A bit of both,” Rose responds. “Being a Slytherin merely brought out what was already there, for the most part.”
“And what does that mean,” Pansy inquires, her curiosity piqued, “for the most part?”
“Oh nothing,” Rose tells her with a dismissive wave of her hand as she snags a flute of champagne from a passing waiter with her other. She downs it immediately and takes another serving, consuming it a bit more slowly than the first.
Despite her better judgment, Pansy can’t help but be intrigued by the young woman before her. She’s the spawn of two Gryffindors and not to be trusted but at the same time is a Slytherin and the embodiment of everything Pansy respects.
“Would you like to get out of here?” Pansy asks, feigning disinterest and boredom. She isn’t fooling anyone and she knows it.
“And go where?” Rose asks, an eyebrow arched in curiosity.
“Back to my place,” Pansy blurts out before clamping a hand over her mouth and trying her hardest not to blush furiously
“And why should I do that,” Rose asks, boredom and disinterest dripping off her voice. She doesn’t even know how she’s dominating the conversation and how Pansy is finding it harder and harder not to obsess over her.
“Because I want to get to know you and I can’t do that here,” Pansy remarks, a causal observation that doesn’t deceive either of them. “And because I have a liquor cabinet stocked with the finest alcohol at my house and I think I’d like you to help me make a dent in my collection.”
“Oh, so you want to take me home, get me drunk and screw me senseless is what you’re saying,” Rose remarks with the dead calm face of a total professional.
“I…that is….” Pansy sputters, totally speechless and unable to form a coherent thought. Who is this girl and where did she come? “Am I that obvious?”
“Of course you are,” Rose says with the kind of cheeky grin that made her parents want to slap her when she was a child. “You forget who you’re dealing with here. There’s a reason my mother hired me to help her become Minister. I have a natural talent for searching out any embarrassing pieces of information that would give her an edge over her opponents. She doesn’t know you’re a lesbian, mostly because I decided she didn’t need to know.”
Pansy does a good job of hiding her relief. She isn’t ashamed of her lifestyle but her still living parents are purebloods and that part of her life is something no self-respecting pureblood would ever admit, even if they were hiding behind a perfectly respectable, perfectly fake marriage like Narcissa Malfoy, if rumors are to be believed.
“Of course my mother would die of apoplexy if she knew what I get up to in bed,” Rose confesses.
“Somehow I doubt that,” Pansy observes. She knows there’s some random, defective trait for reckless adventurism in the Weasley family tree but it can’t be that defective. The girl’s mother married into the family, just like Potter did.
“Oh please,” Rose teases, her eyes dancing with laughter. “You should see some of the letters that McGonagall sent home to mom and dad. For that matter you should see what I get up to with Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny.
Pansy gasps at this revelation and her eyes are as big as saucers. Rose must be putting her on, she has to be. There’s no way the daughter of Ron and Hermione Granger-Weasley could be a total wild child, not if she’s a Slytherin. Besides, the abnormals usually get sorted into Hufflepuff. Usually.
It’s an impossibility that she doesn’t want to believe but can’t totally discount. Not if the rumors are true about how she’s the go-to dirty tricks girl for the new Minister.
Then again, maybe Granger-Weasley would be callous enough to sacrifice her own daughter on the altar of political expedience. There’s one certain way to find out but maybe taking her home and getting her drunk isn’t the best idea in the world. Even if she’ll wind up getting laid in the process.
“Do I really want to know what you get up to with them,” Pansy manages to ask as thoughts and schemes start to coalesce in her mind.
“Of course you do,” Rose says as she leans in to whisper in Pansy’s ear, “and if you’re lucky, I’ll even show you.”
“Tell me young lady,” Pansy asks with all the dignity she can muster, “how is it you aren’t locked up in some dark, dank dungeon somewhere? It’s obvious you’re a menace to polite society wherever it may rear its ugly head.”
“Haven’t you been paying attention?” Rose asks with such a straight face it might as well be made out of granite. “My business is secrets, everybody’s secrets. The Malfoys. Your family. My family and most importantly, my parents. If it’s not worth knowing, I don’t know it and if it is, trust me, I’ll find it.”
She’s beaten. Defeated. All her defenses are in ruins. The only thing she can do is give in and let this succubus of a woman do what she wants with her.
“Do you need to say goodbye to anyone?” Pansy asks. “Or stop off at your place to grab anything? My appetites can be quite extreme and take days to satisfy.”
“Oh no, I’m ok,” Rose tells her as Pansy feels a soft, warm hand flow into hers. “All I need is a hot coffee in the morning and a good shag at night and I’m good to go and besides it’s not like my house-elf hasn’t seen me do the walk of shame before.”
Author/Artist:
plaidphoenixPrompt: Prompt # 186 by
shiftylinguini Pairing(s): Pansy/Rose, implied Harry/Ginny/Rose
Word Count/Art Medium: 1322
Rating: R
Warning(s)/Content: Suggested sexual content, implied incest.
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: I made a slight change to the prompt which I hope the prompter is ok with.
Summary: At a Ministry function, Pansy is bored, rude and obnoxious. Her usual self, until a certain Weasley comes along to turn her world upside down.
LIVEJOURNAL LINK
I hate these Ministry functions. Spend all day getting dressed up so you can spend all night wondering when you can go home.
And the people. I couldn’t stand them at Hogwarts and I’m no more fond of them now than I was then. Well, there’s Draco but it’s not like he’s willing to acknowledge me now that Astoria has him wrapped around her little finger.
So I wanted to give Potter and his friends over to Voldemort. It’s not like I took the Mark, like certain people I won’t name. He’s forgiven me, why can’t you Draco?
Ah, there goes the new Minister. Enjoy your time in power Granger, we all know how you got there, I just hope your husband never finds out.
“Hello, Ms. Parkinson,” a demure voice says, bringing Pansy out of her thoughts. “How are you this evening?”
“Well, if it isn’t the Ministry’s newest darling,” Pansy observes as Rose Granger-Weasley comes into view. “Basking in the glory of your mother’s ascension? Or reveling in the glory of having vanquished the last of her opponents?”
“I don’t bask, Ms. Parkinson,” Rose asserts in a rather dry, dull tone. “Nor do I revel and if I did, I’d be doing it at the Three Broomsticks with my friends and several bottles of firewhiskey. Besides, it isn’t my fault Undersecretary Boot left those photographs unguarded in an unlocked desk drawer.”
“And that is why your mother is now the Minister of Magic,” Pansy observes wishing she had a fresh drink in her hand. She isn’t nearly drunk enough for this conversation and not nearly sober enough given the danger she knows comes from associating with the first Weasley to ever be sorted into Slytherin.
She is, however, liberated enough to take in the form hugging dress the young witch is wearing and the fact that if she’s wearing anything under the dress, it has to be both form fitting and skin tight.
“So tell me,” Pansy continues, letting her mind wander back to the party and her curiosity guide the conversation, “was it natural talent that let you help your mother ascend to the height of her ambition? Or was it being a Slytherin?”
“A bit of both,” Rose responds. “Being a Slytherin merely brought out what was already there, for the most part.”
“And what does that mean,” Pansy inquires, her curiosity piqued, “for the most part?”
“Oh nothing,” Rose tells her with a dismissive wave of her hand as she snags a flute of champagne from a passing waiter with her other. She downs it immediately and takes another serving, consuming it a bit more slowly than the first.
Despite her better judgment, Pansy can’t help but be intrigued by the young woman before her. She’s the spawn of two Gryffindors and not to be trusted but at the same time is a Slytherin and the embodiment of everything Pansy respects.
“Would you like to get out of here?” Pansy asks, feigning disinterest and boredom. She isn’t fooling anyone and she knows it.
“And go where?” Rose asks, an eyebrow arched in curiosity.
“Back to my place,” Pansy blurts out before clamping a hand over her mouth and trying her hardest not to blush furiously
“And why should I do that,” Rose asks, boredom and disinterest dripping off her voice. She doesn’t even know how she’s dominating the conversation and how Pansy is finding it harder and harder not to obsess over her.
“Because I want to get to know you and I can’t do that here,” Pansy remarks, a causal observation that doesn’t deceive either of them. “And because I have a liquor cabinet stocked with the finest alcohol at my house and I think I’d like you to help me make a dent in my collection.”
“Oh, so you want to take me home, get me drunk and screw me senseless is what you’re saying,” Rose remarks with the dead calm face of a total professional.
“I…that is….” Pansy sputters, totally speechless and unable to form a coherent thought. Who is this girl and where did she come? “Am I that obvious?”
“Of course you are,” Rose says with the kind of cheeky grin that made her parents want to slap her when she was a child. “You forget who you’re dealing with here. There’s a reason my mother hired me to help her become Minister. I have a natural talent for searching out any embarrassing pieces of information that would give her an edge over her opponents. She doesn’t know you’re a lesbian, mostly because I decided she didn’t need to know.”
Pansy does a good job of hiding her relief. She isn’t ashamed of her lifestyle but her still living parents are purebloods and that part of her life is something no self-respecting pureblood would ever admit, even if they were hiding behind a perfectly respectable, perfectly fake marriage like Narcissa Malfoy, if rumors are to be believed.
“Of course my mother would die of apoplexy if she knew what I get up to in bed,” Rose confesses.
“Somehow I doubt that,” Pansy observes. She knows there’s some random, defective trait for reckless adventurism in the Weasley family tree but it can’t be that defective. The girl’s mother married into the family, just like Potter did.
“Oh please,” Rose teases, her eyes dancing with laughter. “You should see some of the letters that McGonagall sent home to mom and dad. For that matter you should see what I get up to with Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny.
Pansy gasps at this revelation and her eyes are as big as saucers. Rose must be putting her on, she has to be. There’s no way the daughter of Ron and Hermione Granger-Weasley could be a total wild child, not if she’s a Slytherin. Besides, the abnormals usually get sorted into Hufflepuff. Usually.
It’s an impossibility that she doesn’t want to believe but can’t totally discount. Not if the rumors are true about how she’s the go-to dirty tricks girl for the new Minister.
Then again, maybe Granger-Weasley would be callous enough to sacrifice her own daughter on the altar of political expedience. There’s one certain way to find out but maybe taking her home and getting her drunk isn’t the best idea in the world. Even if she’ll wind up getting laid in the process.
“Do I really want to know what you get up to with them,” Pansy manages to ask as thoughts and schemes start to coalesce in her mind.
“Of course you do,” Rose says as she leans in to whisper in Pansy’s ear, “and if you’re lucky, I’ll even show you.”
“Tell me young lady,” Pansy asks with all the dignity she can muster, “how is it you aren’t locked up in some dark, dank dungeon somewhere? It’s obvious you’re a menace to polite society wherever it may rear its ugly head.”
“Haven’t you been paying attention?” Rose asks with such a straight face it might as well be made out of granite. “My business is secrets, everybody’s secrets. The Malfoys. Your family. My family and most importantly, my parents. If it’s not worth knowing, I don’t know it and if it is, trust me, I’ll find it.”
She’s beaten. Defeated. All her defenses are in ruins. The only thing she can do is give in and let this succubus of a woman do what she wants with her.
“Do you need to say goodbye to anyone?” Pansy asks. “Or stop off at your place to grab anything? My appetites can be quite extreme and take days to satisfy.”
“Oh no, I’m ok,” Rose tells her as Pansy feels a soft, warm hand flow into hers. “All I need is a hot coffee in the morning and a good shag at night and I’m good to go and besides it’s not like my house-elf hasn’t seen me do the walk of shame before.”
