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“Where’s Sprout?” Pansy Parkinson pursed her lips as she panned across the greenhouse, glassbottle green eyes locking in on Longbottom. His jumper sleeves were rolled up as he transferred a sapling into a larger clay pot, dirt coating his cargo pants and a dirty towel flung over his shoulder.
He struck a formidable figure under the moonlight, she had to admit. He’d filled out and grown tall, his hair darkening to a dirty blonde that matched his complexion much better. During their final years classes—Longbottom still donning his standard Gryffindor uniform, sloppily put together—she could pretend he was still that pathetic first year who kept losing his toad.
Who the hell brings a toad to Hogwarts?
The answer of what pet to bring with you to Hogwarts is, and should always be, a cat: independent, resourceful and discerning. Sure, there was the matter of letter sending, but when one’s parents rarely wrote—mostly due to one of them being in Azkaban and the other hiding somewhere in Europe—the Hogwarts owls would do just fine should she ever have anyone she wished to correspond with.
These days that list came up rather short.
Longbottom paused his re-potting to respond, wiping his large loamy hands down on his apron. “I had some cataloguing of new plants to do tonight. Getting in some teacher training credits ahead of the next school year so I don’t have to work the whole summer. What brings you to detention today anyway? I thought you were on your ‘good girl’ tour?”
“That really didn’t answer my question,” Pansy tutted and swished into the greenhouse.
The long table to her right, where Neville had been moving plants to and from, was stocked with exotic blooms and plants of all kinds. One spiky and crimson, another pulsing and bioluminescent, and even more of bizarre forms she’d never seen before.
She let out a heavy sigh “I called Filch… now, what was it again?” She raised a painted fingernail to her chin and tapped it thrice, “A deplorable, detestable, degenerate ingrate, who should have been fired the first time he ever laid a hand on a student.”
“Well, that’ll do it,” he said dryly, but his smirk told her he was at least marginally impressed. “Can’t understand why he was kept on either, and I thought that even before Umbridge’s year.”
Silence hung between them as Neville scribbled a label on a large cyan-spotted mushroom while she toyed with the emerald gem bracelet on her wrist, turning it back into upwards position, mindlessly. Then he acquiesced to her original query. “As Headboy, Sprout asked that I oversee your detention while she has a night off.”
“Ahh yes, it’s Tuesday isn’t it,” Pansy mused as the ivy-like vines of a deep-purple petalled flower seemed to reach out for her as she passed it by. The flower petals themselves looked like velvet, with a dewy layer glistening on the surface.
Longbottom ruffled some dirt from his hair, or into his hair, she wasn’t sure which, then rubbed at his thick neck, speckles of red mottled there. “Why would that matter?” he asked suspiciously.
She huffed a derisive laugh, and rolled her eyes. “You can’t be that dense can you, Longbottom? Not the ‘Great Snake Slicer’ of Seventh Year?” She rocked her hip to the side, her short pleated skirt moving like a bluebell in a gentle breeze.
Neville’s eyes darkened, whether at her form, or her line of questioning she couldn’t say, but it momentarily caught her off-guard.
“I just don’t go around speculating over teachers' dating habits…” He proceeded to examine one of the pots at his end of the table and wrote notes in the grimy herbology grimoire on the head desk.
“One can hardly call it speculation, the way that she and Grubbly-Plank have been carrying on.”
Neville shot her a disapproving look, “It's not for us to judge—”
“Who’s judging?” said Pansy, reaching to stroke the velvet petals of the enticing purple flower. “I’m glad someone’s getting some—”
The moment her fingertip touched the petal, she knew she’d made a grave error.
“Oh fuck, Parkinson—” Neville ran to her side and dragged her back from the flower that had closed up like a venus flytrap. But it was not the plant that was commanding her attention, it was her body’s reaction to the sticky dew coating her fingers.
She felt rooted to the spot, a climbing sensation with no origin trailing up her arm, her shoulder, to wrap around her neck and travel down her left side.
“What have you done?!” she berated, her tone laced with accusation and panic. Lifting her hand up to drench it in the light of the full moon, her peachy pale flesh hued to a luscious green, vines and small leaves of ivy sprouting along her arms.
“I’ve not bloody done anything,” he grunted. “It's the petal you just plucked from that plant.”
“All I did was touch it?!” Her shriek pierced through the night.
“One minute,” he ran over to the desk and flipped through the grimoire Sprout had in regular use for their eighth year classes.
A strange beating in her sacrum flickered to life as she took in how the veins along his bulky arms popped while he leant over the desk—shoulders hunched and his expression serious.
Oh no, oh no no no. Her thoughts ran wild as a storm in a rainforest, each beat down of thick raindrops on wide leaves was another errant flash of desire blooming within her.
This was all that damn plants doing, twisting her mind against her will, as too the growing vines were twisting around her ankles.
He ran a finger down the open page,“umm, Suspected Divine species—Grecian—Transformative Powers—Member of Persophone’s Preveli.” The bob of his throat did not escape Pansy’s notice. “Yeah… it doesn't like to be touched by human hands without its consent.”
“Well I don’t like to be transformed without my consent either!” she practically screeched.
Neville looked up to find Pansy’s green eyes searing into him. Eyes that were becoming an even richer, more mesmerising swirl of colour. He lifted his jaw from the floor.
“Longbottom, don’t just stand there gawking. Find me a godsdamn mirror.”
With an oddly sexy whip of his wand, a mirror materialised in front of her, and so too her reflection.
“Oh. Oooh.”
Pansy blinked a few times at the otherworldly creature staring back at her. Trailing vines as thick as her thumbs were spiralling around her calves and up beneath her skirt, emerging once more out of her shirt collar and short sleeves. They disappeared into her now deep tropical forest green skin, just behind her ears and wrapped themselves around her fingers like little snakes.
Her sharp black bob was now a shimmering lagoon green, the colour deep beneath its surface where the sun barely reached, while her lips were a matching shade. There was a preternatural purple glow in her eyes, as if they had captured the very essence of the flower itself. She bit at her bottom lip and fluttered her lashes a few more times in hopes of discerning what she thought of this transformation.
She looked good.
Actually, she looked more than good. She was a goddess.
“The effects shouldn’t last too long,” he gulped as he approached warily from behind the standing mirror. Neville’s lower half was hidden while his torso—masculine, strong, like a solid oak trunk—peaked out behind the glass.
Her nostrils flared as a scent hit her. It was musky and earthen, wildly intoxicating. Her heart fluttered, along with her now pulsing clit. It was him, Neville Longbottom’s natural aroma. And her body, in this new form, could smell it all the more clearly.
She loved it.
A wicked smile overtook her shocked features. “What are you hiding behind there, Plant Boy?”
From her hands, the vines grew—sprouting in his direction and pushing aside the mirror which vanished away.
“Ughh, I…” he stammered, holding too large calloused palms to cover his groin while blushing furiously.
If it wasn’t the most godsdamn perfect thing she’d ever seen.
“You seem to be enjoying my unfortunate situation far more than appropriate and proper” she purred, slinking towards him—all hips and swagger. The roped greenery coiled around his wrists, as if reading her filthy mind. With little effort, the ivy pulled his hands away to reveal a thick, and growing erection pressing against his pants.
A wave of satisfaction hit her, tingling every nerve of her new body.
“Pansyyyy….” he warned, as his hands were drawn behind him and Neville was pulled backwards to a tall planter trestle, filled only with soil. Her vines serpented the wooden crosses and bound him in place. The top of his chest peaking out through his round neck jumper was mottled and red. “I don’t think you’re yourself right now.”
“I feel more myself than ever, actually.” She followed her vines to stand in front of him, taking in the man before her greedily. “I’ve tortured you in so many ways over the years… from embarrassment, to actual Carrows’ level torture.” She clucked her tongue to the night sky. “None of those pursuits were enjoyable, let alone satisfying. Maybe I like torturing you this way? This is kind of… kinky.” She could feel his heart beating at the pace of centaurs cantering through a glade, could feel every tremor of his core, every reaction.
Was this all the plants doing? Even so, she loved how connected it made her feel to the world… to him.
More vines erupted from her, reaching out to climb his thick thighs, pulling them apart slightly to grant better access to their goal. Pansy’s own walls clenched around empty space at the thought of taking him like this, sitting on what she suspected to be a tremendous log of a cock, while he was bound like this for her. A gush of need slicked her knickers.
Her breathing stuttered. “Do you want me to stop, Longbottom?”
“I… No, but… I don’t think you're yourself, Pansy,” he stumbled over his protestation.
She needed him. But she also needed to be sure he wanted her. No matter how much his body was reacting to the affirmative… Pansy knew all too well that if it wasn’t an enthusiastic yes, it was a no. Even if she hadn’t had the strength to say those two letters to others in the past.
Neville tugged at the binds, all while his breathing quickened, his flush deepening. Her vines continued crawling closer to the tent of his trousers.
“Tell me to stop,” Pansy whispered hoarsely.
He moved his focus from the vines, mere inches away from his bulge, to Pansy, and responded weakly, “Are you even able to?”
She pulled back completely in an instant, and the vines obeyed her silent command like extensions of her will. His eyes blew wide with what could have been relief—but she could sense deeper. Feel deeper.
Disappointment.
He hadn’t moved his hands from where they’d been white knuckling a wooden slat. “Now,” Pansy stepped forward, so that her chest was flush with his, “tell me you want me.”
His eyes searched hers for a mere millisecond, flitting between each of her glowing orbs.
“I want y—”
Her lips found his like a plant starved of sunlight, as if she’d been sitting in a dark room her whole life until she’d been brought out of hiding to see the shining beacon of light and drench herself in its glory.
His hands cupped her cheeks as she kissed him, and she all but melted. Neville's lips were wide, plump and firm—his full bottom lip like a bed of petals that she sunk into. He was frozen like a unicorn foal in lumoslight, until the shock wore off and he matched her fervour with a beastly, primal attack of his own.
The kiss was wet, messy and ferocious. The kind that would look horrendous to anyone watching on, but felt so sinful and delicious in the partaking. His tongue lapped the roof of her mouth, while her own danced around his. Pansy’s clit responded with a smattering of pulses that made her hungry for him.
But no, not yet. She still wanted to tease the man some more. She pulled away from the kiss, while he chased it, his head lolling forward to hunt for her lips once more. A sick thrill swelled within her at Neville Longbottom craving her like this.
While her body drew back, her vines reached out again to bind him to the planter, which had seemingly been fixed to the ground with some sort of charm. Otherwise she was sure, with his strength, he could topple it over easily.
He was bound up as her vines snaked over his erection, and she watched on, enraptured. Neville shuddered at the touch, and his head flew back with a groan.
“Fuck, Pansy. You’re such a tease,” he half-laughed half-whimpered.
The sound of zipper, and her vines were slithering their way into his pants, shucking them, and his boxers down.
She almost came from the sight alone.
Neville Fucking Longbottom didn’t have a log, or a trunk… he had been hiding a bloody Monster-of-a-Cock all this time?!
Out of a small cropping of dirty blonde hair, emerged a long, girthy shaft—its tip already weeping with delicious looking sap. She could taste it from here, not only his cum but his cock. It made her mouth water. How it would feel against her lips, along her tongue, striking the back of her throat.
She grew thirsty and needy. Pansy fell to her knees before it and looked up at him reverently.
“Do you like to be teased?” she said, clawing back a semblance of control and following the trail of hair up where it hid beneath his jumper. That wouldn’t do.
Just as the thought splayed across her mind, her vines took charge and tore the jumper in two from neck to glistening cock. His stomach was exposed, with plains of chunky abs hidden under a layer of furry cushion that Pansy was desperate to grind against.
“That was my dads,” he croaked, yanking at the binds.
A flash of concern hit her before she quipped back. “I’ll repair it later.”
“Ahh yeah, forgot you were a dab-hand at Reparo,” he said, laughing off the shock and composing his distress. A shiver ran down his body, the hairs along his arms lifting.
He wasn’t wrong. Pansy had spent the entire summer working with a castle restoration committee. The Battle of Hogwarts had done a number on the structural integrity of the old school and Pansy had been looking to improve some of the poor reputation she’d well-earned that night.
At her worst she was a spiteful, selfish, impulsive girl who tried to rally others to give up Harry Potter to the Dark Lord. But, after some soul searching, and surprising grace offered to her by her once adversaries—especially Potter himself—Pansy discovered she was more than that. She was playful and soft and reflective. Traits her family had never—would have never—praised her for, let alone nurtured.
And, she decided, she was more than who she was on the worst day of her life.
Pansy had been granted more grace by her supposed enemies, practical strangers, than any of her family had ever given her.
“You okay down there?” Neville asked cautiously, breaking Pansy out of her reverie.
Her eyes flashed at him and her wicked smile returned. “Just contemplating all the ways to destroy you…” she said darkly, to which he balked and she continued with a smirk, “with my mouth.”
He chuckled and the motion made his cock bounce upwards and she took this as her cue to lick lightly at the tip.
“Fffff”, Neville sounded out then sucked his lips in to stifle the moan of pleasure. Pansy grinned and a vine sprouted out to flick at one of his dark nipples. The thrill of toying with him was like sunrise. Mesmerising.
The sap seeping from his bellend was driving her wild with want. Her cunt was a purring, hungry animal that couldn’t be held at bay for too long, but Pansy didn’t want to rush this part. She had Neville Longbottom right where she wanted him. At her mercy, strung up, cock hard and desperate for her.
More vines ventured forth, caressing the plains of his body and reaching down to massage the sensitive zone between his cock and arse. He trembled with need.
Looking up at Neville through dark lashes, taking in his expression of pure desire, she kissed both of his balls, sucking lightly, before gliding her tongue up the shaft. Each inch was an ivy vine climbing a great oak tree seeking the sun beyond the canopy. Until she reached the pinnacle, the secret oasis hidden in the mountain piste, and her tongue hit his creamy nectar.
As the dew touched the tip of her tongue, her cunt responded with an explosion of sensation, fluttering and clenching with desperation to be flooded by the same liquid gold. Perhaps this was how flowers feel when pollen feathers across their petals? Do they experience the same lusty devotion, hoping to coax the pollen into their cores?
Did she have a breeding kink? Quite possibly… and she was just glad she was wearing a contraception charm—her bracelet, a family heirloom cursed to only permit removal upon marriage—for without it she knew she wouldn’t have the strength to cast one now.
Edging her own base desires to climb him for a little longer, she enveloped her mouth over his cock, and closed her eyes to enjoy the velvety rod as she descended upon it.
Neville bucked his hips into her mouth, instinctually, and his thick tip bashed against her tonsils.
“Oh, fuck I’m sorry,” he groaned as Pansy hummed her appreciation and stared up at him—mouth skill skewered by his cock.
“Ugggghhhh,” he groaned again, looking down at her with something skin to awe. Pansy drew back, hollowing her cheeks and began bobbing back and forth on him, delighting in how his helpless expression turned to something much more powerful.
“You look divine, Pansy,” he said lowly, “So fucking pretty sucking my cock.”
Leaning into her desire to be free of her synthetic constraints, Pansy began unbuttoning her blouse as she fucked him with her mouth. Meanwhile a vine wrapped itself gently around the base of his cock, trapping more blood into the stem—somehow making it even harder.
Once she unzipped her skirt, she relinquished his cock between puckered lips with a POP, and Neville almost came undone. She stood before him, in all her naked, green goddess glory, small vines curling across her soft abdomen, and thicker vines reaching and wrapping around him, still binding him in place.
The core between her legs was wet with glistening need, ready—so fucking ready—to be filled by him. She closed the gap between them to feather a palm on his face.
“Pansy, I really hope you’re on the potion or something” he whimpered, his voice a low shudder. “Because, if you don’t fuck me this minute, I think I might perish.”
A girlish giggle escaped her and she kissed him with a ferocity bordering on ruination. She felt herself being elevated by her vines and wrapped her legs around his torso.
Neville’s length was being pumped slowly by the vines, she could feel them below her, tracing tiny glides against her opening. Her slickness dipped down to add extra lubrication and he moaned into her mouth.
Bound by her vines still, his arms stretched above his head, Pansy willed one to release, allowing him to anchor her around the small of her back and grasp onto the plump flesh of her hips.
Pansy wrapped her arms around his neck as their kiss deepened. Being this close to him was both a delight and a death to the remainder of her will. Vines wrapped around them both, toying and teasing their sensitive parts, grazing her hardened nipples and gliding across her skin.
She could hold off no longer, and he knew it too. Moving instinctually, he lifted her up as she grazed her dripping cunt against his cock and then sunk down onto it.
They both gasped at the welcome intrusion.
To be stretched, to be filled, to be utterly claimed by Neville Longbottom, was something she had never known how much she needed, truly, until that moment.
“Oh. My. Fuck. Neville,” she panted, each word punctuated by a battering thrust against her cervix. He used his one free hand on her hip to slam her down on his cock and her first orgasam ripped out of her like a wild animal who had been caged its whole life—finally set free.
Pansy cried through the extreme sensation by burrowing her nose into his chest, and on another pump of his cock he moved his hand to cup her arse in one large palm. She felt his index fingers dangerously close to her puckered hole, but the thought didn’t make her as nervous as she would expect.
No, she felt excited.
“You’re so tight, Pansy. So wet for me.”
Pansy lifted her head to kiss him again, their tongues lapping one another, slopping smacking sounds working in harmony with every thrust of his cock deep within her.
“Play with my arse,” she pleaded, and Neville’s eyes turned a darker shade of green—like the forbidden forest at night. He obliged readily and pressed a finger, slick and dewy from her recent orgasm, into her arse.
She squealed and he traced careful circles to stretch her a little wider, while she controlled her grinding on his cock, still buried to the hilt within her. Her stomach tensed as she rocked back and forwards, pleasure coursing through her.
Pressing his lips to hers again, he used the moment to sink his finger into her arse and, filled by them both sensations surged through her that entirely took her over the precipice. The noise she made this time was not human. She shrieked out with pure abandon. Totally unbidden. Fucking her two holes, Neville used all his strength to hold her as she became boneless in his one arm. Her vines began to slacken, giving over more control to him.
He pulled out of his wrist constraint, shook his legs free and spun her around in such a deft motion it roused her from her post-orgasm stupor. Caging her, this time, against the trestle planter he looked down on her wickedly.
A frisson of fear and excitement splintered her resolve and she found herself entirely at his mercy now. Neville dove into her neck, leaving tiny biting nibbles that sparked her clit back to life. She kept her legs locked around him and he fucked her soaking cunt with a vigour and rhythm hitherto unknown.
“Always. Fucking. Wanted. You,” he growled. “Like. This.”
“Come for me, Neville,” Pansy pleaded, unsure how much more she could take.
“I—fuck Pansy—” he screwed his eyes closed tight while she grazed her teeth on his earlobe. “I don’t want to—”
“I’m on a contraceptive—”
“I don’t want this to ever end,” he breathed out like a sigh, before pounding into her with even more force.
She would be a pulverised mess once he was done with her and she fucking loved it. The punishing pace took her out. She cried with overwhelming sensation at every beat. Finger nails clawed up his back. Toes curling in.
“I’ll. Fucking. Ruin. You. For. Everyone. Els—Ugh!” One of her vines had slid itself between his arsecheeks and pressed a thick tip against his own hole.
That fucking did it. For them both. “Yes!” She screamed as he yelled out pleasure filled expletives.
“Yes, yes. Yes. YESSSS!!!!!”
Her core was flooded with hot, sticky nectar, as Neville jolted within her, his fingers digging into her hips. He shuddered and wrapped both arms around her to cradle her against him while the both rode the waves of climax.
The first thing she noticed, when Pansy finally opened her eyes, was her vines receding. Her skin was hueing back to her pale peach from the dark green and a feeling of completion and rightness settled over her.
They were lying on the cold stone floor, though she wasn’t sure how or when they’d got there.
“Well, that was—” Pansy started.
“—Fucking—”.
“—Unbelievable,” she admitted.
“Yeah…” Neville said softly.
The reality of what they had just done hit her like a cold winter morning, wilting the blooming wildflowers in her heart. “No one can know about this, Longbottom.”
He paused, an expression crossing his face akin to grief that made the residual vines in her heart shy away.
He shrugged it off before clearing his throat, “Yeah… Of course.” Then he paused, a wry smile bringing out his handsome features. “Can’t imagine it gets much better than that though… probably for the best to keep it as a one time thing.”
He didn’t intend it as a challenge, but Pansy never liked to be second best to anyone—and she absolutely would not add herself to that list.
Inspiration struck. Pansy: bound, strung up, lavished and worshipped by thick vines sprouting from the muscular man lying beside her.
“Hmmm,” she mused, rousing him from his wistfulness. “As you say… probably for the best. I doubt you could do as good a job.”
His eyes narrowed, but there was a playful crinkle nestled in the corners. One eyebrow quirked up. “Pansy Parkinson dares offer up the opportunity to get her back?”
“I go by ‘Poison Pansy’ now,” she said devilishly, propping herself up.
Neville let out a low, rumbling laugh that sent echoes of an orgasm through her. “How do you even know that reference?”
She rose to her feet and teased, “Oh, I’m full of surprises.”
While Pansy redressed herself in silence, she felt his eyes claiming a last glimpse of every bit of her naked form. Before reaching the door to the greenhouse, she turned back quickly with a smirk and a wink. “See you in my next detention, Longbottom.”