Eying The Red Snake

by TheGardenState (ao3)

The red dress clung to her every curve as if it were her own flesh, as if she belonged in it. Lucius had bought her all of the outfits she wore at the club, each one showing just enough to catch interest, but not expose her fully. The ploy was simply to wet the patrons palettes, leaving them craving for more.

Who wouldn’t want more of Pansy Parkinson?

She was Lucius’ best girl. The way she moved her body was mesmerizing, as if she were a snake wearing human flesh. And a snake she was.

As alluring as boa, charming as a cobra, and deadly as a viper.

Any task she was given, she completed beyond Lucius’ expectations. Efficient, all without drawing much attention to herself or the establishment.

Discretion was key. This gentleman’s club was a front for The Dark Lord’s operations. The men that frequented to see the dancers were from all backgrounds and both sides of the war. Many came in, heads hidden under cloaks, looking for some sort of release during the tumultuous times.

They came here for discretion.

They came to see her.

Pansy swayed her hips to the music, maintaining eye contact with the man that sat directly in front of her.

Lucius watched from the back of the club, obscured by darkness, watching his girl work her own kind of magic. She didn’t need a wand or potions to draw eyes or pull attention—Pansy simply existed and he could not take his eyes off of her.

The tune of the music slowed, and Pansy stepped down from the stage, sauntering towards her target. The spotlights overhead highlighted her in a brilliant red, the latex reflective like scales were on a dragon. She crawled into his lap, draping her arms around his neck.

Fuck.

He thought about feeling her weight pressed against his cock instead, her painted fingernails running through his long, blonde hair. How her plump red lips would feel against his.

Damned to lurk, to watch, to admire, but never to touch.

It was sick, to be lusting after a woman the same age as his son. But despite her deadly beauty, she was so much more. Poised, elegant, all while climbing the ranks among Death Eaters. She was the pride of The Dark Lord’s eye, and to Lucius, she was everything.

Pansy pressed her lips against the man’s ear, whispering her sweet words, drawing him closer to his demise. She spent weeks extorting information slowly from her targets, chipping away until their walls were completely broken to her.

Lucius often thought about how blissful it would be to see her on top of him, blade held at his throat, staring into her green eyes as the life left his own.

Pansy stood, grabbing the man’s hand and pulling him towards the back of the club. She led him to the backrooms, passing Lucius before descending into the darkness.

The scent of vanilla and cherries wafted off of her, making his mouth water. If he were a worse man, he would have ripped the man away from her and taken her to the backroom himself.

But he and Pansy were both pawns in the war, both forced to serve roles to gain favor.

Lucius waited until he heard the door close before slipping into the adjacent room. In the darkened space sat a singular upholstered chair in front of a mirror. He took his throne, watching through the glass to see Pansy with the hooded figure.

She looked up at the man and pushed down his cloak, revealing a boyish face and round eye glasses. Her dainty fingers brushed away his dark, ragged hair away from his face as she gazed into his eyes.

The longing expression may have fooled a lesser man, but Lucius knew her tactics. He had watched her dozens of times bat her eyelashes and pout her lip. Though she didn’t know he was watching, she was immaculate every time.

After weeks of these men coming to the club, talking to her for hours a night, they’d beg for a private dance. Pansy would lay them on the bed and give them a show, all before unsheathing a dagger that was holstered to her thigh.

“Relax, Harry,” she whispered, pulling his cloak off and letting it fall to the floor. She had brilliantly handled this target, one of the most important targets yet. With The Chosen One within their grasp, the tide of the war was sure to change in their favor.

There wasn’t anyone else who could be trusted with this. It was only her.

Harry’s hands went to her waist, holding her curves draped in a shiny red. It was Lucius’ favorite dress. One that he wished he could put on and rip off of her himself. The red latex was enchanting, reflecting the low candlelight.

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry told her, his hand beginning to roam dangerously low to her thighs.

But swiftly, she held his wrist, bringing them back to her sides. “Get comfortable,” she instructed, guiding him to sit at the end of the bed in the center of the room.

Lucius was now sitting across from The Chosen One, though, he was none the wiser. Handsome, muscular but sleek in a white button up shirt. An ideal body type for a quidditch player, one similar to himself when he was that age.

Pansy stood in front of the mirror, bending down, the latex stretching as she adjusted her bangs and lipstick. Though she couldn’t see him through the thin glass, he sat still, watching closely.

She snapped her finger, sultry music stirring the air. Slowly, she turned back to Harry, her hands roaming along the red latex. Her hips swayed perfectly to the beat, the material nearly looked like liquid dripping off her figure.

Like strawberry jam coating her skin, ready to be licked away.

As Lucius watched, he forgot that she wasn’t dancing for him. She wasn’t even aware he was there, which made it even more taboo. To watch a woman twenty-five years his junior from the shadows was morally reprehensible, yet made his cock stir.

It was wrong, but Lucius rarely found pleasurable things to be right.

He was a bad man. Being a bad man is what got him to this point. Respect. Power. Money. Lucius had everything a mortal man could want. Everything but her.

As Pansy strutted towards her prey, Lucius kept his eyes on her rounded ass covered in a glistening red, like the cherries she smelt of.

In a matter of seconds, Harry Potter, the boy who lived, would be no longer of this earth.

And as Pansy moved, Lucius’ mouth went wet with anticipation.

To his horror, instead of drawing a blade or wand on her target, she leaned down and planted her lips against Harry’s.

Lucius sat forward, sure his eyes were mistaken. Pansy had never kissed one of her victims before. If it wasn’t a mistake, perhaps it was a new method of deception on her end. She crawled into Harry’s lap, her fingers running through his curly, dark hair, the latex screaming to be pulled away from her flesh.

For a moment, Lucius’ confusion was quelled when she reached for her wand, holding it to Harry’s throat. Their barrage of kisses stopped, and she began to cry softly into the wizard’s mouth.

“I… I can’t do this to you,” she faintly sobbed.

Lucius’ mouth hung open. He didn’t think she had the capability of crying, let alone to a man that was a job for her. She had direct orders from The Dark Lord, why the fuck would she disobey them? He would reprimand her, especially for this task. Lucius had the right mind to go in there and finish the job himself, lest their operations be compromised.

Before he could move from his throne, Harry wrapped his arms around Pansy’s waist, pulling her into his chest, stopping Lucius dead in his tracks. He laid her onto the white, silk sheets, her wand falling to the side of the bed before Harry’s lips captured hers once more.

“Shhh…” he shushed her, kissing her deep into the mattress. His hands roamed up her thigh, under her latex dress. “It’s okay, Pans.”

As she pulled up on his shirt, Harry spread her legs wide, the latex snapping around her waist, unknowingly exposing her dripping cunt to Lucius.

If he were a better man, he would have barged into the room and killed The Chosen One himself. But the bad in him watched and waited, palming his own cock as Harry slipped his fingers inside her dripping hole, causing Pansy to moan out.

Lucius couldn’t bear it any longer, his cock aching within his slacks. It sprang against his abdomen when he undid the silver button, dripping a line of precum on his shirt. He wrapped his fingers around the base, the cold metal of his rings making it twitch.

Harry’s fingers sloshed in and out of her, noisily spreading her nectar. Lucius wondered if she tasted like cherries, hoping that her cunt wouldn’t go unsavored as he watched.

Once Pansy had stripped him bare, Harry dove between her legs. Her feet were planted on his shoulders, fingers twisted into his curls, gripping him tightly.

Lucius took a long stroke of his cock, feeling the ridges of each of his rings ripple against it.

“You’re so sweet, Pans,” Harry mumbled, kissing up her stomach, finding her neck. He tucked his knee under hers, widening her legs. Lucius bit back envy as he had a full view of Harry’s cock toying at her pink hole.

Lucius was practically strangling his own cock, the tip turning a deep purple, his eyes viciously locked at where Harry and Pansy’s body met. Lucius stood, placing his free hand against the wall, leaning forward as he held his cock still.

The noise Pansy made as Harry stretched her open was pure magic. Like a song Lucius wanted more of as he drooled, seeing her full. Her cunt was glistening, wet, ready to be fucked.

Lucius looked down at his choking cock that begged to feel her wetness. He collected the spit in his mouth, pooling as much as he could before letting it drip down onto his throbbing length. He wanted to make it wet. As wet as Pansy looked.

As Harry slowly pulled out, Lucius mimicked the speed on his own cock, imagining it was him instead of The Chosen One. With each pump that Harry took inside her, Lucicus thrust his hips in tandem, wishing every moan that escaped Pansy’s red lips were calling for him.

The sound of the latex stretching between their chests sent Lucious into a frenzy. The boy had been too eager, too rushed, leaving her clothed while he fucked her. Lucius angrily beat at his cock, ready to rip Harry apart in front of her when this was all through and have her himself.

“Harry,” Pansy called out, causing Lucius to mutter profanities under his breath. “I’m going… to…”

Lucius watched as she spilt over him, spraying her sweet juice all over the white sheets. The latex squeaked as Harry continued plowing into her stretched, wet cunt.

He thought he might have outlasted the younger man, but felt his balls tightening as his rings toyed at his shaft, squeezing down hard, mimicking how he imagined Pansy’s tight cunt would flutter around him. His saliva and precum dripped onto the mirror in front of him, his body begging for release.

But he staved off until Harry had pulled out of her, stroking his own cock vigorously over Pansy’s stomach. His cum ribboned over her red dress as he mewled.

It took only a few more hard tugs until Lucius’ spend began to coat the one-way mirror as he drained himself on glass. He bit his lip, careful to not let out more than a whimper or he would be discovered in his depraved acts. His head spun, unable to catch his breath as he leaned his forehead against the cold surface. He was dizzy, only wishing to feel Pansy’s warmth against him.

“We have to go,” Pansy pleaded to Harry. “Now.”

There was the faint sound of Apparition spells cracking. And as Lucius shot his eyes back to the bed, it was empty. The last image of Pansy burned into his mind was her in the soiled red dress.