[Exclusive] Poll Winner: Harry/Pansy – Next Week’s Choice (3)

This one-shot is inspired by the results of Next Week’s Choice (3), where you voted for Harry/Pansy. Thank you for participating, and I hope you enjoy the story! Don’t forget to vote in the next poll for more exciting pairings!

The Slytherin common room was alive with chatter, but it all blurred into the background the second Harry stepped inside. He wasn’t supposed to be here, but that had never stopped him before. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, letting his eyes drift over to Draco Malfoy, who was dead center, soaking up the attention like the smug bastard he was.

“Bet’s simple, Potter. You’re not catching the Snitch,” Draco said, lounging back like he had all the time in the world.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You sound nervous.”

“Please. I’m just bored. You’ve been shit on a broom lately.”

“So what’s the bet?”

Draco stood up a little straighter, his smirk spreading. “If you lose, Gryffindor forfeits the match. And you admit I’m better than you. To everyone. Publicly.”

“And if I win?”

“You won’t.”

Harry took a step closer, grinning. “Humor me.”

Draco waved a hand. “Fine. Whatever. Anything you want. Because it’s not happening.”

Harry’s grin widened. “Anything?”

“Yes, Potter. Anything.”

Harry glanced past Draco to where Pansy Parkinson was sprawled on one of the green sofas, looking like she couldn’t care less about any of this. Except she was watching him now, a little too carefully.

“What about her?” Harry asked, tilting his head toward her.

Draco frowned. “Her who?”

“Pansy.”

The room went quiet, every pair of eyes now locked on them. Even Pansy sat up a little straighter, her smirk slipping just a fraction.

“What about her?” Draco repeated.

“If I win,” Harry said slowly, “I get her for the night.”

Draco let out a laugh, loud and sharp. “That’s it? That’s pathetic, Potter.”

“Is that a no?”

Draco sneered. “Fine. Whatever. Take her. You’re not winning anyway.”

Harry didn’t back off. His voice dropped lower, his grin turning sharper. “Not done yet.”

“Of course you’re not,” Draco muttered. “What now?”

“If I win,” Harry said, “I’ll do something you’ve never done for her. Something no one’s ever done for her.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Harry didn’t even look at him this time. His eyes were locked on Pansy, whose smirk was long gone now.

“I’ll fuck her in the ass,” Harry said, calm as anything.

Draco flinched like he’d been slapped. “You’re disgusting.”

Harry shrugged. “Figures you wouldn’t know what to do with her.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“She looks like she’d enjoy it,” Harry added with a casual shrug, just to twist the knife.

“Better hope I lose, Malfoy,” Harry said, turning on his heel and heading for the door. He didn’t look back, but he could feel Pansy’s eyes on him the whole way out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The crowd was deafening, but Harry tuned it all out. The only thing that mattered was the Snitch, hovering near the Gryffindor goalposts like it was daring him to make a move.

Draco was right behind him, close enough that Harry could hear the rush of his broom slicing through the air. “You’re slipping, Potter,” Draco called out, his voice carrying over the wind.

Harry didn’t answer. He leaned into his broom, his grip tightening as he shot toward the Snitch. Draco could talk all he wanted—Harry had one thing on his mind, and it wasn’t just winning the game.

This wasn’t about the Cup anymore. It wasn’t about Gryffindor or Quidditch pride. This was about Draco and the look on his face when Harry beat him at his own game. It was about watching him lose everything, right there on the pitch.

And, yeah, it was about her.

Pansy Parkinson sat in the Slytherin stands, her legs crossed and her skirt riding high on her thighs. She looked bored, like none of this had anything to do with her, but Harry knew better. The way she shifted in her seat, her ass pressing perfectly against the tight fabric of her skirt—it was enough to make his jaw clench. Heart-shaped, round, perfect. The kind of ass that left guys thinking about it long after she walked out of a room.

Draco didn’t deserve her. He wouldn’t know what to do with her even if she threw herself at him.

Harry smirked at the thought. He could already picture it—her on her knees, her hair wrapped around his fist, her hips up high as he gripped that perfect ass. Draco probably couldn’t even handle her. He’d been too busy protecting his stupid pride to think about what she might actually want.

Harry shook off the thought, adjusting his grip on the broom as the Snitch darted toward the edge of the pitch. Draco was still shouting something, but it didn’t matter. Harry could feel the game tipping in his favor.

He dove hard, cutting past a Gryffindor Chaser, the Snitch just inches ahead. Draco tried to block him, veering too close, but Harry swerved at the last second, his hand snapping out.

And just like that, the Snitch was in his fist.

The whistle blew, and the Gryffindor stands exploded. Harry didn’t look up. He didn’t need to. He already knew he’d won.

He landed hard on the grass, ignoring the roar of his teammates as they rushed toward him. Ginny was shouting something, her broom raised in victory, but Harry didn’t hand her the Snitch. His eyes were locked on the Slytherin stands.

Draco was standing there like a statue, his broom dangling at his side, his face pale.

Harry let his gaze slide past him, to where Pansy sat frozen. Her smirk was gone, replaced by something sharper—something almost nervous. Her hands were gripping the edge of the bench, her knuckles white, but her eyes stayed locked on Harry.

She looked away first.

Harry smirked, tossing the Snitch to Ginny as he walked off the pitch.

The corridor was quiet when she found him.

“Potter.”

Harry stopped, turning slowly to face her. Pansy was standing a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest, her jaw set.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “You came all this way to tell me that?”

She stepped closer, her heels clicking on the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you? Betting on me like I’m… like I’m some thing you can win.”

“I didn’t bet on you,” Harry said, his voice calm. “Draco did. Don’t blame me because your boyfriend was stupid enough to agree.”

Her glare sharpened. “He didn’t mean it.”

Harry tilted his head. “Didn’t he? Because I seem to remember him agreeing pretty fast.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Maybe. But I won.”

Her breath hitched, just barely, and Harry stepped closer. She didn’t move, didn’t back away, but her hands dropped from her chest.

“You hate me,” he said, “I get that. But you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t at least a little curious.”

Her cheeks flushed pink, but her glare didn’t falter. “Curious about what?”

Harry let his eyes drag over her. The curve of her hips, the way her skirt clung to her thighs, the way her lips parted like she was already half out of breath.

“You want to know if I can give you what he couldn’t,” he said, smirking.

“Fuck off, Potter.”

She turned on her heel and stormed off.

Harry grinned, watching her disappear into the shadows.

“Better tell Draco I’m coming to collect,” he called after her.

She didn’t look back.

The classroom was silent, except for the faint creak of the door as Harry stepped inside. His eyes went straight to her.

Pansy was standing by the desk, just like they’d agreed. Her white blouse was thin enough to show everything—nipples poking against the fabric, no bra underneath. The choker around her neck sat snug, a perfect little detail that made Harry’s mouth twitch into a smirk. Her skirt barely covered anything, the hem stopping high on her thighs.

Draco stood in the corner, stiff as a statue. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, but he didn’t say a word.

Harry let the door click shut behind him and walked in slowly. His smirk widened as he looked between the two of them. “Good to see you both,” he said.

Pansy didn’t answer. She didn’t even look up. Her chest was rising and falling, slow and deep, and Harry liked the way she was already falling into place.

He stopped in front of her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. “On your knees.”

She dropped without hesitation.

Harry’s eyes ran over her as she knelt in front of him. Her skirt slid higher, exposing the soft curve of her thighs. She was breathing faster now, her lips parted, and he could feel the tension rolling off her.

Pansy let out a soft sound, almost like a whimper, and Harry caught the way her hands twitched, resting lightly on her knees as she waited. He didn’t rush. He took his time pulling himself free, letting her see exactly what she was about to take.

Pansy’s eyes widened the second he freed himself.

Merlin, he’s… huge.

She couldn’t look away, her chest rising and falling faster now. Her thighs pressed together, her body responding in ways she couldn’t control. Without thinking, her hand lifted. She hesitated for half a second, her fingers hovering just shy of touching him, and then she gave in.

Her hand wrapped around him slowly. Her fingers tightened as she slid them along his length, testing the weight of him. The warmth of his skin, the firmness beneath it, sent a shiver down her spine.

Her lips parted, and a small, shaky breath escaped her. She shifted closer. Her eyes flicked up briefly, catching Harry’s calm expression and then darted to the corner of the room.

“Draco,” she murmured “Can I…?” She didn’t finish, but the way her lips brushed together, the way her tongue darted out nervously, made her meaning clear.

Draco didn’t answer right away. He stood there, stiff and silent, his jaw clenched so tight she thought it might snap.

Pansy hesitated, her hand slowing for a moment as she waited, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her strokes picked up again, her thumb brushing over the head, smearing the slickness there as she glanced at Draco again.

“Well?” she pressed, her voice shaking.

Harry grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her closer to his crotch. Her lips were just inches away when he spoke.

“Don’t ask him. Ask me.”

Pansy’s cheeks burned, but she didn’t pull away. She looked up at him through her lashes, her voice trembling. “Can I suck your cock, sir?”

Harry’s smirk deepened. He let go of her hair, straightening up and resting his hands on his hips, looking every bit as smug as she expected. “Go ahead,” he said.

And just like that, Pansy leaned forward and started a new chapter in her life. The chapter devoted to Harry Potter’s cock. Big and throbbing. She just couldn’t’ stop.

The classroom filled with wet, eager sounds as Pansy worked him with an almost feral intensity. Her head moved in rhythm, bobbing into Harry’s lap with a focus that made his jaw clench. He groaned unable to stop himself.

“Mmmm… Mmmm…” she moaned softly.

Slurp. Slurp.

Her head moved faster, saliva dripping down her chin and onto the floor as she took him deeper.

Draco stood in the corner, fists clenched, his jaw tight as he watched. He hated this—hated the sound of her moans, the wet slurps, the way she looked so desperate for Potter. His chest burned with fury, his face hot with shame.

And yet, his cock was hard, straining against his trousers. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t look away.

Harry glanced at him. “Enjoying the view, Malfoy?”

Draco’s stomach twisted, but he stayed silent. His shame was loud enough.

Harry groaned, his hand tightening in Pansy’s hair as her moans grew louder, but he wanted more.

“That’s enough,” he said, pulling her back by her hair. She gasped, her lips wet and swollen, but didn’t say a word.

“Go to the desk,” he told her.

Pansy stood, her skirt shifting as she moved. She walked to the desk without hesitation.

“Knees on the chair,” Harry said as he followed her.

She climbed onto the chair, gripping the edge of the desk for balance.

“Bend over,” he said.

Pansy did as she was told, lowering herself until her chest was flat against the desk. Harry stepped behind her, his hands on her hips as he pulled her skirt up, baring her completely.

“Spread it,” he said.

Her hands moved, trembling slightly as she reached back, pulling herself open for him.

Harry pressed against her, the slick mess of spit she’d left on him making it easy to slide into place. His grip on her hips tightened as he pushed forward, the resistance giving way to pure heat.

Pansy let out a loud, guttural moan, her hands clawing at the desk. “Oh fuck—yes!” she cried, her voice shaking as her knees wobbled beneath her. The stretch was sharp, overwhelming, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. Nothing would.

Her body tensed, then shuddered as she adjusted, her breath coming fast and shallow. The spit she’d left on him made every inch easier, the wet slickness letting him take her without pause. She rocked back instinctively, desperate for more, her moans turning into shameless whimpers.

Harry groaned, the sound guttural as he watched her body take him. “Look at you,” he muttered, his fingers digging into her hips. “You’d let anyone do this, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes—yes—oh God,” Pansy moaned, her head falling forward. She didn’t deny it. She didn’t care. All she could feel was him filling her, stretching her, giving her exactly what she craved.

“You’re a fucking mess,” Harry said as he thrust deeper.

Harry moved harder now, his hips slamming into her fast. The sound of their bodies meeting echoed through the room.

Pansy couldn’t hold back the noises spilling from her lips—loud, desperate, shameless. Her body trembled with every thrust, the desk creaking beneath her as she clung to it for balance.

Her head turned, and when she looked back at Harry, her expression was pure surrender. Her mouth hung open, her tongue slipping out, her eyes rolling back as she lost herself completely. It was overwhelming—everything she’d never dared to imagine—and it tore every thought from her mind, leaving only this moment.

Harry groaned, gripping her hips tighter, his nails digging into her skin. “Such a dirty slut,” he muttered. “Getting fucked in the ass like this.”

Pansy’s moans turned into a sharp cry, her body arching beneath him as her hands clawed at the desk. She couldn’t form words, couldn’t do anything but take it, her breath hitching with every punishing thrust.

Draco’s chest heaved as he stood in the corner, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. He hated this—hated the way Potter moved behind her, the sound of their bodies colliding, and the filthy, breathless moans spilling from Pansy’s lips.

But he couldn’t look away.

When Pansy let out another loud, desperate scream, Draco couldn’t stop himself. His hands moved on their own, undoing his belt and shoving his trousers down just enough to free himself. His cock was already hard, painfully so, and he wrapped his hand around it, groaning softly as he stroked himself.

He watched her—watched the way she bent over the desk, her face twisted in pleasure, her body shaking as this bloody Potter pounded into her. The way she moaned his name, not Draco’s, made his stomach twist, but it only made him stroke himself harder.

She was so fucking hot like this. A filthy, submissive mess.

Pansy was gone—completely lost in the way Harry filled her, stretched her, claimed her. The pressure was perfect, the rhythm relentless, and she couldn’t get enough. She started rocking her hips back, meeting each thrust with her own, her ass slapping against him as she moved faster.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she screamed, her words cutting through the sound of their bodies colliding. Her back arched, her nails scraping the desk, and she moaned shamelessly, her head spinning.

She wanted it harder, deeper, rougher. She didn’t care how loud she was or how pathetic she looked. Nothing mattered except the way he fucked her—like she was made for this, like she belonged to him.

“I’m your slut—fuck me harder—please!” she cried, her voice breaking as she threw herself into it, pushing back against him. The slick mess between them only made it easier, letting her move with him, for him.

Her whole body shook with each thrust, and the desperate moans pouring from her lips turned into incoherent screams. She just wanted more—wanted to give him everything.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop—yes! Fuck, yes!”

Harry’s hand tightened around her neck, keeping her pinned to the desk as his other hand came down hard on her ass. The slap echoed through the room, followed by Pansy’s loud, broken scream.

Her body bucked against him, her hips slamming back harder as if she couldn’t get enough. Her legs shook, her nails scraped at the desk, and she let out a strangled cry. “Oh my God—Harry—yes! Yes! I’m gonna—oh fuck—yes!”

She came hard, her body tightening around him, shaking violently as wave after wave hit her. Her screams turned into sobs of pleasure, her voice breaking as her movements turned frantic, desperate to ride it out.

Harry groaned, his cock twitching inside her as he kept up his pace, slapping her ass again just to hear her scream. “That’s it,” he muttered, gripping her neck tighter as her body trembled beneath him. “Good fucking girl.”

“Fuck—” he groaned, his head tipping back as his cock twitched inside her. Hot spurts of his cum filled her, and he couldn’t stop the guttural noises that escaped him, his whole body tensing with each pulse.

Pansy moaned loudly beneath him, still trembling, her face pressed to the desk as she gasped for air. “Oh fuck—yes—fill me, Harry,” she muttered breathlessly, her words slurring together in her haze.

He held her there, hips pressed flush against her ass as he rode out the last waves, his breath ragged. The room was filled with nothing but the sound of his groans and her soft, contented whimpers.

Harry pulled out slowly, watching as Pansy shuddered beneath him. She let out a shaky breath before collapsing to the floor, her skirt still hiked up and her knees weak. A breathless, giggling laugh spilled from her lips as she leaned back against the desk, her chest rising and falling.

Harry smirked down at her, adjusting his trousers. “Enjoy yourself?”

Pansy nodded lazily, still catching her breath, but before she could say anything, Harry’s attention shifted.

Draco stood frozen in the corner, his shirt rumpled, his belt undone, and his softening cock still in his hand. A streak of cum glistened on his stomach, and his face was flushed with a mix of shame and something darker.

Harry let out a low chuckle, his smirk widening. “Guess you had fun too, Malfoy,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery.

Pansy tilted her head, following Harry’s gaze. Her eyes landed on Draco, and her giggles grew louder, her lips curling into a satisfied, wicked grin.

“Looks like we were all busy tonight,”

Draco didn’t respond, his knuckles white where he gripped the edge of the desk, his face twisting with fury and humiliation.

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