Or the time that Pansy Parkinson was going to lose her mind, again.
She sat in the Slytherin common room, staring at an Arithmancy textbook she hadn't actually read a single word of in the past hour. The fire crackled in the ornate hearth. Other students murmured in small groups around her. Everything was perfectly, deceptively normal.
Except for the persistent, throbbing erection currently threatening to tear through her expensive French fucking knickers.
Draco wore another sweater today… her traitorous brain supplied unhelpfully. At dinner. He stretched to reach the bread basket, and it rode u,p and you could see the barest sliver of his stomach—
Pansy crossed her legs tighter, wincing.
This was unbearable. Three days after the support group meeting, things had only gotten worse. She'd tried helping herself—but it wasn't enough. The relief lasted an hour at most before the ache returned, worse than before.
She needed more, and started wondering whether she'd have to go with Granger's idea and actually ask one of the other dickgirls for help, but—
"Pansy."
She jumped so violently that she nearly knocked her textbook off the table.
Blaise Zabini stood beside her chair, looking irritatingly composed in his perfectly tailored robes. His dark skin gleamed in the firelight, and his expression was... odd. Almost nervous, which was entirely unlike him.
"Blaise." She forced her voice to remain steady. "What do you want?"
"A word. In private." He glanced around the common room, lowering his voice. "Meet me in the abandoned corridor on the third floor. Ten minutes."
Pansy's blood ran cold.
"Why?" she demanded, but Blaise was already walking away, slipping out through the common room entrance without looking back.
He knows.
The thought hit her like a Stunning Spell.
Somehow, he knows. About the—about my—
Her cock twitched, as if responding to the thought.
Oh Merlin. Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin.
For a wild moment, she considered simply not going. Staying right here, pretending she'd never received the summons. Maybe packing her bags and fleeing to the continent. Her mother had a villa in Nice. She could live there. Become a recluse. Never show her face in wizarding society again.
But no. If Blaise knew, hiding wouldn't help. He'd just find another way to confront her—or worse, tell others.
Better to face this head-on. Deny everything. Obliviate him if necessary.
She gathered her things with trembling hands and made her way to the third floor.
龴ↀ◡ↀ龴
The abandoned corridor was dark and dusty, clearly unused for years. Pansy cast a quick Lumos, picking her way past broken desks and moth-eaten tapestries until she found Blaise waiting by a grimy window.
"You came," he said, sounding almost surprised.
"Did I have a choice?" Pansy kept her voice icy, her Slytherin mask firmly in place. "What is this about, Blaise? If you're trying to blackmail me—"
"I'm not trying to blackmail you."
"Then what—"
"I know about your... condition."
Pansy's heart stopped.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Pansy." Blaise's voice was gentle, almost kind. "I saw you. Yesterday, during class. You thought no one was watching when you let your hand fall in your lap and massage something… a curious bulge."
The room spun. Pansy reached for the wall, steadying herself.
"That was—I was just—"
"I know what I saw." Blaise took a step closer. "I'm not going to tell anyone. I swear on my magic."
"Then why—" Pansy's voice cracked. "Why are you telling me this? What do you want?"
Blaise was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his usual confident demeanour had slipped, revealing something vulnerable underneath.
"I want to help you."
"Help me?"
"I'm gay, Pansy."
She blinked, momentarily derailed from her panic. "You're... what?"
"Gay. I like men. I've known since the fourth year." He smiled wryly. "Surely you suspected. I've never shown the slightest interest in any of the girls who've thrown themselves at me."
"I thought you were just... discerning."
"I'm discerning about men, yes. Women have never done anything for me." He paused, his dark eyes meeting hers. "But you're not entirely a woman anymore, are you?"
Pansy flinched. "That's—"
"I'm not saying it to be cruel. I'm saying it because..." He took a breath. "I've been curious. Since I saw. You're still Pansy—still female in every other way—, but you also have something I find attractive. I want to know if that combination works for me."
"You want to... experiment on me?"
"I want to help you and satisfy my curiosity in the process." Blaise shrugged elegantly. "Mutual benefit. Very Slytherin."
Pansy's mind raced. This was insane. This was absolutely, certifiably insane.
But her cock was throbbing, straining against her skirt, and she remembered the support group meeting. Remembered Granger talking about how much better it was when Lavender helped. Remembered Lovegood's serene smile when she discussed what Susan Bones had done for her.
She'd been so alone in this. Handling things herself in bathroom stalls and behind locked doors, never finding real relief. The thought of someone actually wanting to help, actually finding her attractive despite—or because of—her condition...
"What exactly are you proposing?" she heard herself ask.
Blaise's smile widened. "I'm proposing that you…"
龴ↀ◡ↀ龴
Chapter 17: Blaise's hole
Chapter 18: Professor in need
Chapter 19: Professor in need II
Chapter 20: Lavender's dreams
Chapter 21: Midnight cravings
Chapter 22: Train ride
...
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