The first real lapse of animosity, when Pansy thinks back on it, was after the Harpies’ crushing defeat of Ballycastle, an unexpected and Weasley-driven victory that shook the world of Wizarding sports in what many thought was the most documented tournament of the age.
Pansy, true to form, hadn’t been cheering for the underdog, even as the sky seemed to flush green with the crowd’s tinted, disloyal cheer. Theo was playing for the Bats, after all, and for that Weasley chit to whip around with her broom and pretend she owned the stadium was entirely despicable. To not even show regard for the dignities of the other team’s players as they came to doubt the fairness of the match! It was one thing to dominate the league’s leading team, and another to do so without mercy. And Ginny Weasley had precious little mercy - little enough that unless one has been shown it, they would believe she had none at all.
Not on the pitch, not to a whistler on the street, and not to those who nabbed issues of more expensive periodicals that were decisively more Muggle-oriented than the run-of-the-mill Witch Weekly, to see her trade her uniforms and equipment for recent trends, as though she cared to wear any of it, to show (some of) the lean and all too well-earned figure she’d grown into, those bright brown eyes ready to twinkle and transfix.
No, Ginny had no mercy unless she could be convinced to give it, and even without having tried before, Pansy had known that eliciting an explanation from the woman would be no easy task, particularly since she had no reason but her own anger to demand any. She’d always been a sore loser, though. Never able to take any insult without returning contempt.
To say that she’d expected almost any of the spells thrown her way once they’d been alone in that locker room would be a lie. She’d not even known that the Captain had noticed her until the door had locked behind the last of the team, and the half-naked Ginny hadn’t needed any more than herself to render Pansy speechless anyway. The charm, however, had been a nice touch - and, quite possibly, the only way that the glory of that first, angry, red hot fuck hadn’t been overheard.
But Merlin, if she could have, she would have screamed. She’d scream now, she’d beg, but all Ginny usually allows her is the smallest of whines.
Fortunately, times are different now. This is far from their first witches’ duel, and just from the looks they give each other they know everything they need to.
Ginny knows, when she unstraps the bright red gag and gives Pansy’s aching, watering mouth its first reprieve of the night, that they’ll eschew the paddle tonight. She knows Pansy’s pink panties are ones that she’s allowed - or rather, expected - to tear off, knows that with Pansy on her knees immediately after being released from the gag she shouldn’t let her kiss any higher than her thighs before pulling her away, because when Pansy gets her mouth on Ginny’s cunt she’s not going to let go easily.
Today, though, Ginny doesn’t pull her away as early as she usually does, allowing Pansy a few moments to smile against Ginny’s skin as she sucks her sore clit and delights in her deliciousness wetness, and one moment to proudly reposition herself when Ginny loses her balance in pleasure.
Pansy could be content here, like this, on her knees in Ginny’s room, eating her out like there isn’t anything better to do with her life - there really wasn’t much - but she knows that they have different plans in store. Eventually she slows herself down to make Ginny’s job of yanking her away by the hair a good bit easier; with a slippery kiss, a nice spanking, and a few more deep breaths, they’ve soon pressed forward with the rest of the night.
Pansy relishes the feeling of Ginny’s strong, sweaty body pressing down into hers, Ginny’s legs shoving hers open and pushing her flush against the end of Ginny’s bed, the way that Ginny wraps her respective hands around Pansy’s as she flicks her wand downward to cue the legs of the bed to lock Pansy’s ankles against them, turned awkwardly so her legs are forced further open for her lover’s unrestricted access to her. Ginny’s loving hands run lines and circles over her pale back, her unmanicured nails leaving relatively minor marks along the way, until Pansy’s adjusted herself enough to be ready.
She stands herself up, wincing when her clit rubs on the bedsheets as she moves, and leans her head back. Ginny rips off Pansy’s panties and waits for them to mend themselves, then wipes the now-dried spit from Pansy’s gag with their soft pink fabric before fastening the gag back around her head, being sure to check that all is in order before she urges Pansy to lie prostrate again, flicking the velvety sheet up on top of the coarser ones and then easing her down to the surface. The fist gripping Ginny’s wand rests at one of Pansy’s hips as the other pushes down to the woman’s waiting wetness; even the roughest edges of Ginny’s fingernails are welcomed deep inside her.
Pansy’s cunt clenches around Ginny’s fingers, and as Ginny leans down and presses a kiss to her back she pushes backwards with the little pressure she can muster, feigning more patience than she has in urging Ginny towards the decision that she’s been good enough for a proper fuck.
Ginny pulls her fingers from Pansy eventually to issue her verdict, with Pansy starting to toe the edge of orgasm and the slickness of her arousal audible with Ginny’s movements. Pansy bites her lip to keep from whining at the empty feeling inside her, the cool air of the room feeling brisk as it sweeps against her pussy and the insides of her thighs; but soon enough, Ginny is wrapping one of her muscular arms around Pansy’s skinny waist and pulling her back to something of a standing position, setting her enough off balance that she might worry anyone else might drop her or worse.
With Ginny, though, she never worries - she has neither reason nor the time. Ginny wastes little time before entering her again, this time with the thick plastic dildo that, fastened to Ginny’s strap-on harness, serves as Pansy’s reward for all her good behavior. It’s a sure sign that Ginny’s pleased with her, one of her favorite things to know.
Ginny waits until they’ve both cum and Pansy’s breathing has gotten steady before she flicks her wand, frees her from her restraints, and hoists her up onto the bed. She checks that Pansy’s still smiling and elicits an even bigger smile with a kiss, then pulls a trunk from under the bed.
She dries both off them off, peppering Pansy’s skin with kisses, and settles into her place in bed, arms wrapped around Pansy’s torso and chin nestled above her shoulder; and even though the hostility of past times crosses Pansy’s mind, it’s worlds away.