“You’re not supposed to be drinking champagne.”
Pansy looked to her right, arching her brow as she loftily informed the grinning man, “I’m not drinking. I’m merely holding the glass.”
“Why is there lipstick on the edge then?”
“Really, Potter, do you not know anything?” She rolled her eyes. “If someone happens to look at me, I bring the glass to my lips and pretend to be taking a sip. They are none the wiser yet I am playing my expected part as hostess.”
“Have I mentioned before that your sneaky Slytherin ways sometimes scare me?” he asked as he crowded her towards the window.
“You’re simply jealous that I am far more cunning than you,” Pansy smirked, hazel eyes narrowing as his body pressed her against the wall. She could feel the thick velvet of the curtains against her arms as his hands held them to prevent her from escaping.
“I happen to believe you might be not be telling the truth about drinking the champagne,” Harry said thoughtfully, his green eyes mischievous behind his glasses.
“Are you calling me a liar, Potter?”
“The word liar never left my lips,” he reminded with a slight smirk of his own, his tongue running along the length of said lips, intending to distract her.
“How, dare I ask, do you intend for me to prove my honesty? And what does this say about our relationship if I am actually forced to prove that I am not lying about something as foolish as drinking a glass of champagne at a birthday party?”
“There is really only way for me to be satisfied that you did not take a sip from that glass,” Harry said decisively. Leaning forward, his lips brushed against hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as his hand released her arm to move behind her back.
Pansy distantly heard the sound of dripping liquid but paid it no attention as he gripped her arse, bringing her in contact with his hard body. Wiggling in a way that caused him to groan and pull her closer, she kissed him back, teasing him before finally pulling her mouth free. Giving him an annoyed look, she demanded, “Well, are you satisfied?”
“Bloody hell, you know I’m not,” he growled as he rubbed his erection against her. “How much longer is this silly party?”
“It’s your birthday party, dear. I’m afraid you’ll have to be around until the last guest leaves,” she smiled smugly as her free hand drifted down his chest before cupping the hardness pressing against his trousers. “Mister Potter, I do believe you have guests to attend to if you’ve finished making false accusations about my drinking habits.”
“If you keep touching me like that, you wicked creature, I’ll toss you over my shoulder with no regards to our guests, take you upstairs, and ‘attend’ to you until you’re too exhausted to torment me,” he promised huskily, a dangerous edge to his voice as he pressed against her intimately.
“If you continue this lewd behavior, the guests will begin to talk,” she warned primly, her eyes flashing with amusement when he growled again.
“Bugger the guests.”
“Thank you, but no, I think I shall refrain from buggering any of them. Well, perhaps I’ll ‘attend’ to Hermione. She is a saucy minx, isn’t she?” Pansy teased with a throaty laugh that never failed to arouse Harry.
“And Malfoy will hex you silly for even thinking about touching his wife. Hexing would not be good for the baby,” Harry reminded her. “So keep your dirty thoughts away from my best friend. Though, if you’re still wanting to shag her after the baby is born, maybe we can set something up? Malfoy might enjoy watching you two play, too.”
“Disgusting male,” she sniffed. “I should have run off with Hermione after all. She’s not so vulgar and wretched. Why did I marry you?”
“Because I’m sexy and you couldn’t resist my devilish smile and handsome looks.” Harry preened arrogantly.
“Oh, yes, that’s right. It’s because you make me laugh,” she smirked.
“And moan, beg, whimper, scream, and make those cute little noises when you can barely breathe because my tongue is inside yo-“ his words were caught by her mouth as she kissed him.
When she broke the kiss this time, her face was flushed and her hair was mussed. Still playing the coy, aloof hostess, she caught her breath and scolded, “Mister Potter, if you continue saying such naughty things, I may have to give you your birthday spankings early.”
“That does it,” Harry declared as he took the half full champagne glass from her and set it on the nearest table. She squealed when he lifted her onto his shoulder, careful to keep her arse covered as he turned around to find most of their guests watching them with knowing smiles and amusement. Giving them a sheepish smile, he said, “If you will excuse us for a few moments. We’ve got something to take care of upstairs.”
“A few moments? Really, Potter, it’s a wonder she’s not divorced you yet if that’s the best you can do,” Draco drawled before glaring at Hermione when she smacked his arm hard. He pouted as he muttered, “What? You know you’d hex me silly if I only lasted a few minutes. Bloody hell, woman, you whine if it takes less than an hour.”
“Harry, put me down this instant! This is humiliating,” Pansy hissed even as she moved her hands to pinch his arse.
He swatted her rear when she pinched him, earning him an aggravated gasp of outrage from her. Winking at Hermione and Ron who were doing their best not to laugh at his antics, he carried his wife to the stairs. “Please continue enjoying the party everyone. We’ll be back soon. I just have something important that need my full attention.” He started up the stairs singing, “Happy birthday to me.”
Happy Birthday to Me
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