Chapter 4

Chapter 4

How often our modest exterior hides a passion that those of the stouter frame would scarce believe rages inside us of the frail breast, and it rages not only in our breast but in parts that those of the ruder temperament imagine would bring a blush to our cheeks if any of our thoughts wandered there, but our thoughts not only stray there but dwell there incessantly, and thus nourished, they wait for opportunities to spring into being, for it is only by action that they can truly flourish, but alas, we of the weaker facilities often discover that those to whom nature gave the bold disposition lack perception of our nature, and hence, circumstances rarely arise to express our inner desire to ravish our special one among those of the heroic stance, ravish wholeheartedly with such vigor that the doughty one is left speechless by the unspeakable acts of his delicate flower.

Biff and Theo read the editor's spiel.

"What do we do with this?"

"Flip the coin."

"I got heads."

"I got tails."

"Both ends are covered."

"We're good to go."

Let them gawk, thought Pansy.

She moved through the lunch crowd to where Remus and Alastor were waiting for her, not certain this was a good idea.

"It's good you showed, lass," said Alastor after she had sat down. "Take advantage of your earned goodwill."

"You're saying that this is my chance to act like an upright member of society and be accepted as one."

Alastor nodded and invited her to return to the office with them to help them write their report on the recent hex out. Pansy looked at Remus and nodded yes.

Those jokers will never understand that girl, thought Cho.

Pansy looked around at the diners. "So, the wizards here were sizing me up for legitimacy, and I had hoped they were undressing me with their eyes."

She watched Alastor chuckle and Remus maintain a dignified silence.

So much for a suggestive comment, thought Pansy. Doesn't Remus know I'm a girl? Doesn't he know what girls are made of, want they want?

On their way to their office, she let her hips sway anyway on the off chance that Remus wasn't as dense as he was acting. Once they were in the building, she assumed a restrained and dignified demeanor for the law officers and administrators she greeted. She was an innocent girl who had been misunderstood.

She hovered over Remus and Alastor as they wrote their version of the recent fracas, correcting their punctuation and grammar. She was wondering if they had learned anything at school besides how to hex each other. A spelling bee, she thought. There was no reason to mention that she had acquired her vocabulary and eye for composition from reading romance novels. Speaking of which, she had always resented the amount of sentimental garbage she had to wade through before getting to the few good passages. She had always thought those novels were secretly written by men, men as clueless as these two klutzy report writers about the raging, seldom satisfied, needs of healthy females. She had her hands on Remus's shoulders, complimenting him every time he managed a correct sentence.

"Keep your quill erect," she encouraged him. "Open the story line. Insert yourself into the narrative. Admire the shape of the tale under your hands. Take advantage of its soft pliability. Use hard, pounding phrases. Let it flow for you. Make it yours."

As Cho paused to catch her breath, the editor popped her head in the door and announced it was past time for a coffee break, and maybe they could share a small pastry. Cho agreed. They could offer each other a little solace – two warm-hearted women trapped in a world of neglect.

Theo perused the recent script. "Do you think Cho is trying to tell us something?"

"Naw," said Biff, "she's only making a literary effort to introduce some tension."

"Aye, lad, we be in trouble now."

"I thought the chief liked our statement."

"It were coherent. We raised his expectations. But never you mind, that's in the future. Take our erudite Miss Parkinson to lunch. Sufficient unto the day are the reports thereof."

Later, Pansy was pushing her mushroom omelet around on her plate. They had been talking about her operating legitimately. She was thinking about the indignities: standing in line to fill out forms to be approved or disapproved by some snotty, mentally deficient, government clerk. Her fate would be in the hands of people who had a grudge against the Parkinsons. Now, she was facing a Remus who was puzzled by her lack of enthusiasm for the new life ahead of her.

He took her hand. "Tell me what's wrong."

She had always kept such things bottled up, but this time, to her astonishment, she found herself telling him what she was thinking. To her astonishment, he was agreeing with her. But, he informed her, she had friends. A petty clerk might be able to hassle her, but not for long. She felt some of her anxiety about the future, some of the tension she had been carrying with her, ebb away.

"The boys will never get this story into the higher realms," complained Cho.

"You're right, my dear," said the editor. "Show them what girls are really made of."

She took his hand and asked, "What makes your eyes shine?"

I mean something besides a chunk of rare meat, Wolfie, she thought, Or maybe I do mean that.

She saw the look of confusion on his face and realized they were in unfamiliar territory. He had never given any thought to what he might enjoy. This was going to be difficult. She backtracked to more familiar ground and asked about his next assignment. When he indicated he didn't know, she suggested some proactive work on smuggling. They could disguise themselves and visit some dodgy shops for illicit goods and teleportation devices. When he said they should do something less risky because he didn't want to expose her to that much danger, her heart skipped a beat as she realized he wanted to include her. She suggested dressing appropriately and touring the exclusive jewelry shops in London. He initially looked puzzled, but he brightened up and said that, of course, wizard goldsmiths could craft exquisite items. He thought some more and declared there had to be violations. The small wizard society by itself could not provide the Malfoys and others with the wealth they had. Pansy felt a warm glow. Her Wolfie was a smart man. They first visited her flat to make the necessary adjustments before touring the exclusive stores selling high end jewelry.

"You can examine my potion lab later," she told him as he scrutinized a strange-looking assortment of glass tubes and small burners that looked nothing like what he had seen in school.

She positioned him in front of a mirror and made multiple passes with her wand until a representative of the ruling class stood before her. She straightened his lapels, adjusted his tie, and brushed imaginary dust of his coat. She enjoyed a moment picturing herself doing this for him every morning before dismissing the image as sentimental twaddle. A single pass of her wand transformed a Slytherin Princess into an executive complete with skirt suit which she assumed appropriate since she had been told repeatedly that she was a hard faced bitch with no redeeming curves. She glanced at Remus, hoping he didn't disapprove too strongly, but she saw admiration. Out of the blue, it struck her that he liked it that she was an accomplished person, not some dandy's plaything. Something stirred in her knickers.

They toured leisurely. After all, they were members of the class that could spend time on itself. She played the dignified, but still besotted, companion: discreetly holding his arm, pressing her hip against him, brushing him with her breast. An act that came more naturally to her than she thought it would.

At the third and last shop for the day, a pass of the wand caused several filigreed brooches to glow. They had located an outlet for illicit wizard goods. Breaching the shop's security brought a glow of success to Pansy, and she forgot the filigree as images of ivory rods danced through her head. She looked around. Did the shop have any? Did Wolfie have one? Would he breach her breech? How could one broach the subject?

Cho slammed her recent effort down. Bloody 'ell, the boys had written a Pansy completely out of character, and it had taken all her skill to preserve continuity and get the story back where it belonged. And now she was too exhausted to get to those illusive higher realms. But before she could stomp down the hall and rip some lungs out, the editor intercepted her and offered sherry, biscuits, and sympathy.

"I don't think the girls are happy with us," said Theo.

"We'll lock the sensitivity coin in the desk," said Biff, "get tanked on triple espressos, and see what happens."

Pansy, keeping in mind her companion's reaction to her executive attire, decided to stay in character and play to her strong suit. "Care to celebrate with some fruit and wine?" she asked

Thinking Pansy had uncovered a whole new area of investigation, he suggested champagne.

Thinking she really wanted to go for the hard stuff and then have her way with his hard stuff, she took his arm and said, "Usually, I'm a simple girl, but okay," her managerial instincts telling her that his inner bad boy was best aroused by a formal façade concealing restrained ardor.

As they left the jewelry store, she mentioned that a break from civilization would be welcome.

Later, on a sea cliff with several bottles of bubbly, she said, "Look at those waves pound the shore. Have you ever dreamed about being the sea and pounding away at a stony edifice until it yielded and lay at your feet? Lay before you as you entered all its crevices and covered it with your foam?"

My, my, I'm just full of suggestive comments.

But her effort might have been wasted since Remus was staring into space with his mind a million miles away. She took his hand. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"A number of things," he said. "What possessed you to lead me to the jewels? Rich and powerful people are probably involved. It could become dangerous for you if they find out who discovered their secret."

She gave it some thought. "It seemed like a game at the time, like a puzzle, like thinking about the world and figuring it out."

"I imagine you're having trouble finding someone suitable for you," he said.

"What are you saying?" she asked.

"You probably haven't met anyone of your caliber," he said, "and wizards tend to avoid witches that outclass them."

Pansy's inner self wailed. You can't do this to me. I saved your ass in a shoot out, I put together the best report you and that bug-eyed pervert ever wrote, I uncovered a criminal activity that you and those dense, mother-humping constables couldn't even imagine, and now, you're leaving me because I show some signs of intelligence instead of being a simpering bimbo. I'm going to crack your nuts, you changeling freak, I'm going to puree your private parts, and I'm going to serve them on a tray to whatever low-class slag mistakenly thinks you're worth her attention.

Remus sighed. "I've never met anyone like you, and I don't know why you're bothering with me, but I'm glad you are."

Oh, thought Pansy, reconsidering.

"The wheel of fortune rides high, and it rides low," said Pansy. "When it rides low for me, will you remember my better days?"

"I don't think better days or worse days count for much compared to what you are," said Remus.

Cho was thinking the two on the cliff were full of bubbly desires and the sentimental mush the boys were having them spout was completely out of place. With the insight provided by several glasses of sherry, she was ready to do the story justice.

Oh, grrrr, thought Pansy. That was an invitation.

Her hand was moving from his hand up his arm. Even through his blazer she could feel his compact muscles. His other hand was on her upper arm. Surely that was permission to move closer. He was stroking her hair. It had to be okay for her forehead to touch his. She was breathing the same air. He didn't protest when her lips caressed his face. She had her hands on his chest. Omigod, he was hard bodied. He was kissing her, as he should. She felt otherworldly, and she was hardly aware she was pressing against his chest until she was very aware she was against that firm chest and not able to stop.

Her hand traveled down until it reached his trousers whereupon the emptiness in her lacy garment shot to her brain and emptied the world except for her Wolfie. If the rest of the world were not empty, it might have been shocked to see Pansy grab his hand and guide it to her breast. She was tearing at her blouse. Strange, buttons had never given her any trouble before. She was almost grateful that Remus was unfastening the garment, except he was being too calm about it. He was supposed to be a youngster at Christmas, ripping open his presents. She was going to complain, but he was nuzzling her and it was too lovely for her to form any coherent thoughts except she managed to unfasten her top garment and press him into her and it didn't matter anymore that she wasn't abundantly endowed, she just wanted him to continue what he was doing. She lay back on his spread cloak. Did he like what he saw?

His fingers traced her face, his eyes gleamed, and he said, "Beautiful."

She pulled his lips to hers. She didn't know how to go about it, but she wanted to kiss that lovely man. It was clumsy, but she thought it was great. And he was participating, awkwardly, but lovingly. As her novice lover fondled her, Pansy was sighing with pleasure.

She saw Remus raise himself up – his look appreciative. She took his hand and placed it between her knees, hoping he would move it to where she ached. She tried opening her legs for him, but the executive skirt was getting in the way. No problem. Her darling was sliding it up, nibbling as he went.

When her legs were far enough apart, he began again back at her knees, but this time his nibbles were for her inner thigh. He began at her knee and made it part way up her leg before starting at the other knee. This time making it further up her leg. Over and over again. Further up her leg each time. Unskillful caresses driving Pansy into a frenzy. She was squirming. She thought her undies were getting damp. Would he kiss her there? Would he dare? He was getting closer and closer. He did. Pansy's back arched and her legs opened wider. But he moved up, across her stomach where it tickled. He was holding her.

Remus was holding Pansy. One hand was stroking her hair, petting her, and the other was resting on the smooth swath of fabric between her legs when he asked, "Where does it feel good, sweetheart?"

His finger traveled over the cloth covered groove until she said, "There."

It was gentle. He tended his hard-faced, not-curvaceous lady as her features became soft and her body curved into him. Pansy had not known anyone would want to do this for her. She had not known she would want anyone to do this. It was Remus, someone special. Warm feelings were spreading through her. Her hand was on his, pressing it harder against her. Urgent feelings were driving her. She was trying to find the right moves to make it better. There was mounting frustration as nothing seemed to work until nothing seemed to matter and there was a moment of writhing before everything dissolved.

"Ha," cried Cho, banging her fist on her desk, "Action-adventure that."

Two doors down, two warriors of the ink were psyching up.

"Time for essence of Pansy," said Theo, ready to attack the blank page.

"Bring her out, lad," said Biff.

After the bolt from the heavens had shot through her, Pansy lay flushed and panting, but not for long. When the world returned, she knew she could not let this pass. Pansy Parkinson might have suffered a moment of weakness, but she was not anyone's toy. She tore open his trousers and engulfed him with her lips. When he responded, she cast aside her knickers and straddled him.

"I'm going to take you, Remus," she announced. "I'm going to ride you, and I'm going to enjoy the look on your face when you pop like that last bottle of champagne."

She pulled his erection to the vertical, but when she released it, it flopped back to its original position.

Well, it would be erect if he were standing up, she reasoned, but she still thought it misnamed.

No matter, she would cope. This time, she held him authentically erect. It took some fumbling to get it in the right place, but she finally succeeded.

Ah, ha, she thought.

"Ohh," she sighed as she began her descent. Taking him was going to be more fun than she thought.

But halfway down, she discovered everything was at the wrong angle.

Oh, bother.

She rose up to let him out, and as he flopped back to the horizontal, she scooched forward to try again. This time, it took fewer tries to position him, and this time, she got to enjoy the look on his face as she eased him all the way in.

I'm getting the hang of this sex stuff.

As she rode him, her enthusiasm grew. She was rising higher and higher before slamming back onto him.

"I'm going to shag your brains out, Wolf Boy."

She rose too high. He fell out.

Bugger.

Pansy felt devastation coming, but before it arrived, Remus was coaxing her down to where he could run his fingers through her hair and whisper that she was lovely. With one hand he held her hips, and with the other he guided himself. She heard him moan as he threaded her needle. Oh, Wolfie.

He was telling her that she was a sweet and loving lady. The critical part of her that had denied such sentiments was not functioning, and she let herself be swayed by words she had only heard in her dreams. She was returning his dreamy kisses.

She heard him say, "Make love to me, sweetheart," and a part of Pansy previously untouched was set in motion – novice, unskilled motion, but Remus was making appreciative noises and he was accepting all her affection. Almost imperceptibly, her affection grew – and grew and grew. Between her clumsy kisses and uncoordinated wiggles, Pansy was making small, animal sounds as Remus went about the business of screwing her.

She thought it was just getting good, and she was reveling in the feral gleam in his eyes when Remus went, "Pansy ... Oh, Pansy."

He stopped. A bit later she stopped, having concluded that he had finished.

Maybe it takes some practice, she thought, but she was happy that he was holding her, and she loved that he had cried out her name.

"I'm spent," said Theo.

"Aye, lad, let me try," said Biff.

Like a transatlantic clipper after a storm, Pansy was enjoying the calmness as she retrieved her knickers and straightened her clothes. She was under full sail and ready for the heavy seas ahead.

Pansy was thoughtful. He stole my virginity. How do I get out of this without his kissing and telling.

Pansy was realistic. He's only another man. He wants someone with more curves, someone more pliable and less intelligent, someone who knows a lot about sex.

Pansy was practical. His job is to track me down and throw me in jail. Even more important, he's a poor man not able to provide me with a decent life, and given his affliction, only the gods know how long he'll be able to keep this job.

Pansy was stoical. It was fun while it lasted. It was more than fun. For a while, I got to pretend someone liked me and wanted my company, but I've got to brace up and admit that he was leading me on and it was only a fling. Well, I've got news for you, buster, I'm the best thing that could possibly happen to you. You're going to end up with a shallow shrew who'll never understand you and who'll make your life a misery and don't come running to me when that happens because I'll have long forgotten about you and I'll know that you're getting what you deserve and I'm not going to spend a single night crying over you after you leave me like a callous cad.

Pansy said, "We can go back to my place. We can clean up and rest."

He nodded okay.

"Do you want to stay?" she asked.

"Of course," he said.

He squeezed her hand. "I've got to see your marvelous potions lab."

He's not interested in me, only in those quasi-legal compounds, thought Pansy.

"I was once good at potions," he said. "I'd be glad to help. That is, if you can tolerate me. Perhaps you prefer to work alone."

"You want to work with me?" asked Pansy. "Do you know what kind of temper I have?"

"I can guess," he said.

Pansy looked into the distance. "Do you know how many days I've spent alone: no one to complain to if I failed; no one to celebrate with if I succeeded?"

Pansy remembered what she had heard about Remus and his prowess at everything magical. She reminded herself of what she had seen of his bravery. She recalled he was known as a true friend.

There was no hurry. She stretched out beside him, still confused. Am I really going to let another person into my life? Can I really care for another? When he put his arm around her, she sighed and snuggled closer. Yes, the answer was apparently yes.

The editor was treating Cho to tea and a cherry tart to celebrate finishing the story, but Cho was not fully into the occasion. She was complaining that the boys had ruined the story to the point that she couldn't give it a biting ending worthy of the conniving, heartless, twofaced Pansy.

She glared at Theo and Biff when they arrived. "I want my sensitivity coin back."

Apparently, we are going to suffer like true artists, thought the editor, although there are times I'd be willing to put out a mediocre story in exchange for a little peace in the office.

END