#if anyone wants to tell me about them. do it. message me (unmess i fall asleep in the next minute)

[roblnwheeler]

Fandom: Harry Potter Rating: Explicit Warnings: None Word Count: 1869 Character(s)/Pairing(s): Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson Summary: Pansy passes her classes thanks to her tutor, Neville Longbottom. She doesn’t like being indebted to anyone, and she insists on repaying him, her way…

“I passed,” Pansy enters the green house with a pleased look on her face and a smooth step in her gate. She’s practically crowing, as far as Neville can tell. Even before he’d started tutoring her, before the war, Pansy had never been an easy person to read.

Snarky and indiscriminately callous to those outside her social circle, her genuine emotions had always been hidden behind a thick wall. One that had only grown thicker once the war had come to a close.

She hadn’t asked for his help per say, to pass some of her harder classes, but it had been put under strong advisement that she find someone to help her pass her eighth year, or else.

Neville, as far as he can tell, was her easiest option. Or rather, she seemed to think he’d be the one least resistant to the idea. Most people don’t exactly like spending time with a traitor like her, and even some of the Slytherins went out of their way to avoid her, doing what they could to salvage their own reputations.

Neville, though a Gryffindor and past victim to her torment, would still occasionally point things out to her in class when she was about to make a mistake. He hadn’t really thought anything of it, only wanting to avoid the mess that’d undoubtedly come from her error, but his actions left an impression none the less.

“Tutor me,” Pansy cornered him one day after class. Really, Neville had been planning to stay late in the Herbology lab anyhow. He just hadn’t been expecting company.

He was never terribly opposed to the idea, and agreed readily enough, after a few fumbled questions to clear his confusion. Pansy didn’t like to talk much beyond the academic questions she asked and the ones Neville answered in kind. It made things simple, and disregarding the few attempts Neville made to facilitate an actual dialog (to put himself at ease), Neville couldn’t find fault in their uncomplicated routine.

The surprise is plain on Neville’s face, seeing Pansy walk back through the greenhouse doors. He had assumed they’d return to a mutual state on nonexistence after her exams were over. It wasn’t as if they’d grown any closer since she’d first approached him.

“That’s great to hear,” Neville finds himself saying, his wand relaxing in his hand as a quiet smile appears on his face. He’s happy for her, even though they’re not that close. He knows just how hard she’d worked for the grade, and he feels partially responsible for the outcome.

Pansy approaches the table he’s standing by, but she doesn’t stop advancing, not until she’s pressed herself against him rather intimately. Her approach is steady and confident, but without room for escape. Not that Neville’s mind can even facilitate the thought. His arse is pressed against the back of the table and he hears the empty pot on it wobble uncertain as he knocks against the wood.

“P-Pansy?” He stutters, returning her smoky look with an owlish stare. Her hands weave themselves into his robes and she leans forward slowly, messaging his jaw with her lips.

“I’m going to thank you now,” It’s not a request, and Neville’s body jerks without permission when her skin touches his. Eyes darting about the room wildly, Neville doesn’t know quite what to do with himself.

“It’s- alright Pansy,” he whimpers as her mouth begins to travel down the side of his neck. She has no way of knowing how sensitive he is there, but she sucks on his collarbone as if she’s always known, “I accept your- gratitude. You don’t ha-ve to,”

Nipping his skin with her teeth, Pansy nicks him hard enough to make him yelp, “I don’t like being in people’s debts, Longbottom. Let me thank you, my way.”

Her breath’s hot against his neck, and he feels her still momentarily, waiting to see if he’ll consent to her offer. Neville swallows, and the lump in his throat travels past her touch, causing shivers to run down his spine. Of course he was going to say yes, it wasn’t as if he’d never noticed her during their sessions. He had. The skirts she wore just a little too high, the one’s that revealed too much when she sat down… He’d fantasized about them when he was by himself. It didn’t make him proud to sexualize a woman like that, even Pansy Parkinson, but he couldn’t stop himself from envisioning her as he rode himself to completion during those late nights in the dorm.

“Al-alight,” Neville forces the word out of shallow lungs, and feels her hips immediately roll against his steadily shrinking trousers.

She’s pleased with his answer, and returns to her work on his neck, drawing such guttural sounds from Neville’s throat, he’s not entirely certain he’s going to last nearly as long as he’d like. Her hands untangle themselves from his robes, only to wander the expanse of his chest, drifting dangerously close to his waistline.

Neville’s unsure of what to do with his own hands, because, being honest, he hasn’t really had that much experience with anything like this before. He’s been with himself, as much as normal for a man his age, but he’s never had a proper girlfriend to shag or even a righteous snogging from another person before.

Pansy seems to sense the tense uncertainty in him and she lets out an impatient groan of her own, using her own hands to guide his to her waist, “Touch me, if you want.”

He does want, very much so, and hesitantly, Neville slips a callused thumb under her skirt line, brushing softly against her hip bone. Pansy nips the juncture of his neck unexpectedly and she moans into him as Neville presses harder.

It brings some confidence to Neville and he leans against the table more comfortably. Pulling her closer and tilting his neck, he opens himself to more of her touch. Eyes closed, enjoying what she’s doing to him, Neville let’s his hands travel underneath her shirt, exploring the smooth planes of her stomach. Her hands have also found their way under his clothes, and Neville can’t help but let out an appreciative noise when he feels her run a finger pad over his left nipple.

Eyes opening, looking down at her in wonder, his own hand travels up her side, slipping under her bra, and repeating the motion. She shudders under his touch and Neville has to bite his bottom lip to keep an unsightly groan from escaping his throat at the site of her.

She looks up at him, meeting his foggy gaze with her own smoldering stare, her lips giving way to small pants, cheeks glowing red against her perfect porcelain skin. She seems to decide something in that look, and her hands dart down to his pants, taking him into her grasp. Neville gasps, shocked, and his hand unintentionally tightens against her chest.

She grins, the whimper of pleasure slipping past her lips almost an afterthought. She strokes him a few times before gently disengaging his hands from her body and withdrawing her own from beneath his waistline.

Neville blinks, more confused than anything, and he reaches for her again but she shakes her head, “I think these should come off,”

Unbuttoning his trousers as she speaks, Pansy slips her fingers against the band of his boxers and pulls both down in a calm, fluent motion. Neville’s cock springs free, rising happily between their bodies and both of them look down to gaze upon it.

“I’m glad I hadn’t known you were so well off before my exams,” Pansy says huskily, “I wouldn’t have been nearly as interested in passing.”

Neville’s chest swells with pride, listening to Pansy’s comment. It’s nice to know his cock’s first public debut is so positively received. Pansy sinks onto her knees, her hands roaming down his sides, coming to rest against his thighs. She squeezes them appreciatively and licks her lips in anticipation of her next move. Neville’s dumbstruck, and his cock jumps with excitement, longing to feel her delicious touch again.

She engulfs him, swallowing him in one sweeping motion, and Neville’s hands fly to the edge of the table, gripping it with all the strength he has to stop himself from falling. Neville almost feels as though Pansy’s laughing at him but her mouth’s too busy and he’s too absorbed in the sensation to bother asking.

He rides her mouth, almost howling when she runs her tongue up the underside of him, thrusting into her lips as gently as he can manage. Pansy seems experienced in this kind of thing, and she moves with him, her fingernails pressing ever deeper into his thighs, undoubtedly leaving marks that’ll bruise later.

Neville whimpers, feeling the tightness beginning to form in his balls, and he wants to warn Pansy, but he’s too consumed in the heat he feels, and the words he tries to strangle out take the form of an indistinguishable shout as he erupts unexpectedly, his grip on the table tightening impossibly as he comes.

He pants heavily, and his vision feels blurred as he looks down at Pansy, closer to her now as he’s bent nearly in half. He would’ve collapsed right to the ground with her, were it not for the grip on the table, and he leans against it as much for support as he does for sanity. He’s just allowed Pansy Parkinson to give him the first and best blowjob of his life.

Pansy’s chest is heaving as well, but she doesn’t look much worse for wear, despite his unexpected arrival in her mouth, and she swallows him without complaint. Looking up at Neville, she seems pleased with her work. And she reaches for him, taking his hair in her fingers, and meets him halfway to share a kiss. Their first kiss, Neville realizes startled. He wonders how much of himself he’s tasting on her lips and how much of it simply her.

She lets go of him to stand, rearranging her skirt and running a hand loosely through her relatively unmessed hair. Neville thinks, foggily, that he might’ve liked to run his hands through her ebony hair. If he could’ve in the moment, he’s sure his cock would’ve stirred easily at the image created in his head.

Pansy smirks, one of her nonthreatening but closed off smiles, “You’re welcome Longbottom. And thanks, this’s been surprisingly fun.”

She turns to leave, and Neville’s voice croaks to life, “Do you want any help, down there?”

Pansy throws a look over her shoulder, one Neville’s not seen before, and it’s more open than he expects, “Maybe next time.”

Next time.

Neville’s face contorts radically as he processes the implication, and when he finally figures out what he wants to say, she’s already disappeared through the greenhouse doors.

He didn’t think he’d ever make much of an impression on someone like Pansy Parkinson, but evidently, he was wrong. And he’s never been quite so delighted about a misgiving in his entire life.

“Next time, Parkinson.” Neville settles for, talking to no one but the empty room around him.

Yeah, he’s looking forward to that.