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It was a game pureblood girls played during their early teen years – stealing signet rings from their crushes, exchanging them for promises, kisses, and dates. Silly way to get the attention of possible grooms from the right houses.
It was a pride thing for a lot of guys to get them back. Having such a ring was a noble responsibility. They couldn’t just lose them, that would be tarnishing the family name. An ideal target to get the attention girls craved.
Pansy didn’t care much for such silliness, mocking her friends for their desperate attempts. Until she did.
An anniversary Yule Ball was held in Hogwarts, ten years after the end of the war.
To her surprise, Pansy received an invitation as well, and who was she to deny herself an opportunity to flaunt the gowns she designed herself?
Yes, she did well in the aftermath, and she didn’t take the forgiveness she was granted lightly. A decent chunk of her earnings still went for appropriate causes.
So, there she stood among her peers, discussing current affairs, new marriages, and commission opportunities, when Daphne reminded her of the game.
„Gosh, look at him! I would steal his ring and hide it somewhere very inappropriate.“
Pansy turned her head to find the source of the commotion, only to find herself flushing with sudden hotness spreading through her body.
Neville Longbottom made an appearance; his broad tall frame clad in a well-tailored suit. He was alone, Pansy noticed instantly, his smile calm and confident. The beard he had grown was shaped and trimmed to accentuate the shape of his face. He gave off the strong but gentle energy of a man who can ravage one in the sheets and then make a proper breakfast in the morning.
„Mhm,“ she heard herself agree, taken aback by the sight.
It has been a few years since the 8th year, the last time she saw him in person. Pansy was too busy to establish her career in France.
„Let’s play a game,“ Millicent purred nonchalantly, assessing their reaction, „You remember. The first one stealing his ring can call dibs.“
„Vicious,“ Astoria sniggered, throwing her ponytail off her shoulder, „It will be amusing to watch.“
„Go back to Adrian, sis, this is for us singles,“ Daphne shooed her away.
In the end, other witches joined as the Stealing game rumor spread among the pureblood witches. Patils, Abbot, and even Brown joined them, recently broken up from Weasley. „Let’s see what the git thinks about me dating his friend.“
„Quite a competition, don’t you think?“ Astoria whispered into Pansy’s ear, knowing full well about Pansy’s teenage dirty fantasies about the shy Herbology guy. Well, formerly shy. The confidence Neville now eluded could make one’s panties wet. If only Pansy wore some.
„Oh, please? Those poor attempts?“ She scoffed proudly, watching Lavender trying to read Neville’s palm.
Astoria smiled knowingly, „You have a plan, don’t you?“
„All that dancing will make him terribly thirsty, won’t it? He’s a gentleman, offering to bring the whole flock a glass.“ Pansy hinted, and truly, Neville excused himself, heading to the bar - where Pansy and Astoria were conveniently perched on the barstools.
„How, though?“ Astoria pushed, enthralled by the whole hunt.
„Watch.“
As clueless Neville approached the bar, ordering red wine for himself and a whole ensemble of cocktails for the flock, Pansy carefully measured the situation. It needed precise timing for the whole accident to look natural, but she wasn’t called Slytherin Princess for nothing. Plotting and planning came naturally to her. Just as Neville started turning with the wine glass to direct the house elf with the tray to the right group, Pansy slid from the stool, looking at Astoria with a sly smile.
„Gosh, darling, carefully!“ Astoria shouted loudly, naturally understanding her role in this trap.
The loud noise so close caught Neville off guard and inevitably, he bumped into Pansy, spilling his glass all over the front of her dress.
„Merlin! Parkinson! Sorry, I - I didn’t see you there,“ the poor man sputtered in despair, grabbing a fist full of tissues, and trying to dab them over the elaborately embroidered corset. „I’m so sorry, damn it. Fuck.“
Pansy yelped, only half feigning the shock when the cold red liquid poured down her dress and behind her corset. „Sweet Circe! Good heavens, Longbottom! Stop it, you will ruin the embroidery!“
„Sorry, sorry,“ Neville raised his hand in surrender, reaching for the wand with the other one, „I’ll clean it up, just a second. I really apologize, Pansy.“
„Don’t!“ Pansy stopped him casting a spell with a panicky voice, „Don’t use magic. The regular cleaning charms could cause even more damage to the color. Oh, I’m such a mess. I must go. Clean this disaster. Gods, I hope the lavatory is transfigured to something more decent for the occasion.“ She mumbled to herself desperately, assessing Neville’s reaction with short glances.
The man looked genuinely distraught, standing by her side rather uselessly.
Pansy looked around, noticing the flock of women glaring at her attempt and a few others who couldn’t miss the commotion.
„Well, it was certainly lovely to see you, Neville, but I’ll have to excuse myself. We are already a sight. Please, join your friends. Don’t worry about me.“ Pansy scoffed and turned to leave.
It seemed to do the trick, because suddenly, Neville sprung to action, rushing to catch up on her, placing a hand on the small of her back. „Oh, no. Pansy. They can wait. Please, let me escort you. I will happily help with anything you could need. I am really sorry about your dress. They are stunning.“
„How sweet. Thank you, Neville.“ Despite her natural need to bite, she toned down her reaction to only mildly annoyed, not wanting to scare him off, while simultaneously trying to remain in character of a damsel in distress.
„This way, the Room of Requirement could help us,“ Neville gently steered her through the castle, „I can for sure say that the toilets haven’t changed much since our school years.“
„Good idea,“ Pansy nodded. In fact, it was an excellent idea.
Pansy might last seen Neville years back, but she kept her eye on the London wizarding community through her Paris apprenticeship. Neville avoided scandal, but remaining daringly unmarried so far earned him enough attention of the media - as a war hero, an acclaimed herbologist, and a handsome eligible man.
There were still signs of the shy boy from the school, but he grew into his features, gaining a confidence that wasn’t overly cocky, but nevertheless apparent to anyone with functioning eyes. He remained kind, sweet, and gentlemanly, all traits that attracted Pansy much more than bad boy attitude.
She had enough of those in her own house for years, and it took most of them a few character-growing moments to realize it wouldn’t win them the women they truly desired.
In short, the game she joined for fun and distraction became suddenly much more serious to her.
Pansy was a realist, knowing that she was hardly what Neville was looking for in a long-term partner, but why not enjoy at least a bit of him? As well as showing those harpies outside how to hunt a man.
Truly, the door appeared in front of them, and Neville led her in – a fancy vanity room. There was a vanity table with an oval mirror and cushioned chair, a marble counter with two sinks and more mirrors, a plush green rug and a loveseat, and a shelf with dozens of potions and tinctures to choose from.
„Do you have everything you need?“ Neville asked politely as he led her in, assessing the space, „I tried to blank out to give you the upper hand for what’s necessary.“
Pansy looked around and only allowed herself to smirk when she faced away from him. „Yes, yes, that would do. Can you help me, though?“
„Anything you need. I really am sorry, you know?“ He rushed after her towards the counter, puppy eyes and everything.
„Could you hand me that greenish potion up there? The room seemed to consider your height more than mine,“ She asked as she looked at the damage on the dress in the mirror. „Oh, that’s quite a mess.“
Neville retrieved the bottle, which was definitely not that high, and brought it to her with a concentrated expression as he read the label, „Is that some stain removal?“
„Oh, sort of. It reacts well with the fabric, returning the original color and drying it very fast, but can be harsh on metals. I wish there was a better alternative, but here we are.“ Pansy sighed dramatically and grabbed some cotton swabs from the box.
Neville slid the signet ring off his finger and placed it on the counter before he took the bottle and uncorked it.
She made him work for his ‚Mistake‘, navigating him through the reparation work on places she could barely see, conveniently just under her bust, relishing in the light blush of his cheek and focused furrow as he tried to do his best. Just waiting for a good moment to take her prize, which she never really took her eyes off.
Neville turned to dip another swab in the concoction.
Pansy took the opportunity and grabbed the ring, suddenly unsure where to store it. He was already turning back, so she did the first thing that came into her mind. Put it in her mouth.
Not the smartest thing to do, especially when she needed the proof for the other women, but she would get herself out of the pickle again, as she always did.
„So, is this good enough?“ Neville asked as he finished and looked up at her. It was quite a pretty sight, watching him kneel in front of her.
„Mhm,“ Pansy hummed.
Neville got up and put the potion back in place, washed his hands, and reached for his ring. He looked from the sink where the golden band was apparently missing, one eyebrow raised. „Did you see my ring, perchance?“
Pansy smiled, hummed, and shook her head. It was obvious her mouth was full.
Neville made a step closer, tilting his head to the side, and caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. He must have felt the outline of it because his eyebrow went even higher „Pansy? Why are you trying to steal it? You know how precious they are. You have one of your own.“
Pansy shrugged her shoulders and grinned with her mouth closed, nodding towards the door and wiggling her shoulders playfully, imitating dance.
„Has it something to do with all the women chasing me around tonight?“ Neville asked, seemingly taking a hint.
Pansy nodded and tapped her long pointy nail on her own signet ring.
„Signets? Houses? Is it a pureblood thing?“ He accepted the guessing game, though he made another step closer, now being just a few inches from her, looking down with a devilish smirk.
She hummed, put a hand in front of her mouth, and mumbled over the gold, „Hunt.“
Neville placed his hands on the vanity right by her hips, caging Pansy. „Hunt? Pureblood witches stealing signet rings? Why?“
Pansy suggestively raised her eyebrow and looked him up and down. Another casual shrug. She acted way cooler than she felt, considerably feeling the missing underwear now when her thighs got sticky. Being enveloped by him like that did things to her pussy she would never willingly admit.
„Hunting men?“
She raised one finger and tapped his chin. She felt the heat consuming her, the nervous excitement of having this gorgeous man so close.
„Hunting me? Specifically?“ Neville asked, brows furrowing in confusion.
Another hum of approval.
„But why me?“
A sigh, eyes rolling. Pansy’s attitude started showing as her patience was running out. With a wand, she accioed one of the newspapers spread on the table close by. A Witch Weekly, a list of the Hottest Eligible Bachelors.
It was amusing to watch the moment it all clicked into his brain. And then breathtaking, when he looked into her eyes and purred, „You think I’m hot, Parkinson?“
She couldn’t control the blush that crept up her neck and cheeks, but she shook her head vehemently, tapping the Slytherin crest incorporated in the tricky beading of her corset.
Neville smirked and appreciatively looked at her bust, one hand caressing her hip upwards towards the embroidery, „A snake. Slytherin. What are they? Cunning? Ambitious?“ Pansy nodded, satisfied with his quick wit.
„So, you let me ruin your precious dress, expecting I will volunteer to help, knowing full well signet rings are sensitive to magic and could be tarnished. You knew I would take it off to get that stain off your dress,“ Neville slowly assessed, a thumb running across the embroidery at her sternum. „You live up to your nickname, Princess. But now what? You might have the ring, but I know it and have you cornered.“
Pansy bit down her red-painted bottom lip, granting him a heavy look through her lashes. She took his free hand, navigating it to her cheek and neck, placing it on her smooth flushed skin. She tapped on his lips, then hers. Watching the fire in his eyes made her think it was worth the risk, even if she wouldn’t get the ring out of the room in the end.
Neville chuckled and shook his head, „You smart little thing. I fell into your trap so easily - and willingly.“
He brushed his thumb against her bottom lip, appreciatively looking down at her.
Pansy almost started to purr under his touch, her heart hammering out of her chest. She hummed questionably, jutting her chin out in a challenge.
„So impatient,“ Neville smiled easily and leaned down to finally kiss her, but when she willingly opened her mouth for him, wanting that awful metal piece gone and replaced by his tongue, he pushed his thumb in her mouth.
Her eyes flared, and her lips wrapped around it, sucking gently.
Shakily, Neville breathed out and closed his eyes, „You are trying to kill me, Pansy.“
With a skillful tongue, Pansy pushed the golden band at the tip of his finger, letting him take it. She sort of won anyway. She got his full attention.
Neville gently pulled out his finger, watching the ring intently. His eyes flicked to her and back on the band. He smirked. He kneeled.
“What are you doing?” Pansy gasped lightly when he pushed her skirt up, a twinkle in his eyes.
“Since you won that game of yours, let me reward you, Princess,” He purred lowly, making her squirm as his hand traveled up her bare thigh, “Unless you want to stop me, of course.” He looked up at her, eyes molten with desire, but he waited.
“Fuck,” Pansy muttered at the sight of him, so close yet so far, imagining the feeling of metal on her skin, then his beard, his wet warm mouth, “Please, do go on.” She urged him, widening her stance, and holding up her skirt.
He playfully nibbled on her inner thigh. Then growled. “No underwear, Miss Parkinson? How scandalous. I dare to say you were on a hunt long before your game started.
Pansy chuckled, “Just being ready for a good opportunity. Now, get me my reward.”
She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pushed him right into her sopping-wet cunt.
Neville groaned and opened his mouth willingly, lapping at her slit hungrily. His blunt fingers squeezed her porcelain thighs right under her knees and easily pushed her up at the counter, spreading her wide, latching at her clit.
“Oh, yes. Oh, fuck, Neville,” Pansy moaned, her pussy clenching needily around nothing, clit throbbing under his care. She tugged him, correcting the angle, resting her back against the pristine mirror. The soft scratch of his beard was delicious, a new instant addiction.
“Go on, Princess. Use me for your pleasure, ride my face, take anything you need,” Neville rumbled from below when he got the chance to take a breath, “You taste like the sweetest sin.”
The praise forced another moan from her mouth. “Use your fingers!” She ordered him, giggling when he laughed shortly, obeying instantly.
“As my lady commands,” He said. With eyes glued at her cunt, Neville took the ring still slotted at the top of his thumb and pressed it to her clit.
Pansy hissed at the sensation of the cold square ruby stone. It was filthy. Unhinged. Like he was marking her for himself. No matter if some other witch got him in the end. Pansy would be forever connected to that ring. It almost sent her over the edge, barely touched. “Fuck, yes. More!”
Neville growled, making small circles with the ring as he pushed two more into her pussy, gently thrusting and exploring, until…
“Yes, yes, yes, right there, right fucking there,” Pansy whimpered, her thighs beginning to shake.
He smiled wickedly, his fingers setting a fast pace, the ring circling and circling. “Sweet Pansy, such a dirty girl you are. Do you like the feel of my fingers inside you? Do you enjoy my ring on your clit? You do. Wanting to leave a mark, don’t you? Let me tell you something, you just got yourself into trouble. Because I like this too. And playing with you here? That's hardly enough.” Neville crooned with his deep voice, kissing and nibbling her thighs, her hips, her belly.
He worked her up until her screams faltered, barely audible anymore, her body on fire and twitching, at the edge of something magnificent. “Come for me. Now.” He ordered.
And Pansy did. Her body tensed and spasmed, her cunt clamping on his fingers, her clit twitching as wave after wave of pleasure consumed her.
The touch of his fingers was replaced with a soft mouth and tongue, and Neville licked her out and cleaned the mess with the appetite of a starving man.
“Neville, Nev, no, please!” Pansy stuttered, pushing his head away, then pushing it back into her cunt, rolling her hips to get the delicious friction of his beard.
She came again within five fucking minutes, spent and almost crying from the overstimulation.
Finally, finally, Neville stood up, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. He kissed her fiercely, making her taste her own cunt, ruining her lipstick. It was scolding hot, needy, demanding.
“Neville, please, I need your cock. Please, fuck me.” Pansy begged, losing her ability to command and dominate.
He pulled away, canting his head to the side, smiling. “No.”
“What?” Pansy stared at him with her mouth open, flabbergasted.
He chuckled and pecked her cheek, “Not now, I mean.”
Pansy whined like a petulant child, resting her head against the mirror, “Oh, c’mon.”
“Don’t you have a game to win? A prize to parade around the gala?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, amused. He meant himself.
Pansy wanted to say so many things – screw this, screw me, let’s get out, let’s forget everyone. His fingers were amazing, his mouth sinful, the ring…
“Well, it looks like I lost the bragging rights when you took that ring,” She pointed out in the end.
Neville hummed noncommittally. He took his signet ring from his thumb, rolling it around his massive palm. He took a wand and conjured a golden necklace, put the ring on it, and then put it on her neck. “I think it looks better on you anyway.”
Pansy blushed, touching it resting on her chest. “I am a mess.”
“Hardly. Your dress is perfect. Let me just fix this.” Neville said after he assessed her and took a wet wipe from the counter next to her. He softly dabbed around her lips, cleaning the smeared color. “Where is your lipstick, Princess?”
She felt around to find her clutch, too mesmerized by his efforts to debate with him.
He grabbed her gently by her chin, angling her to his face. The lipstick touched the cupid bow of her lips, and he traced the shape of her mouth with a focused frown. How gorgeous he looked, how amazing he made her feel with all that care.
Pansy wasn’t too far from swooning.
“Let’s see,” He muttered and examined his handiwork, “Fuck, I want to fuck that mouth now.” He palmed himself over his trousers, squeezing for a tiny bit of relief.
She grinned, “Take me out for three dances, so I can claim you, and then to your house. I’ll show you all this mouth can do.”
Neville leaned down and pressed a heated kiss to her clavicle, right next to the place his signet ring lay. “Carefully, Miss Parkinson. Give me a reason, and I’ll change your last name to mine.”
Pansy’s heart almost beat out of her chest with his proclamation. She bore her eyes into his, “Maybe I don’t want to be careful.”