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Summary: When Pansy and Hermione get called in Hogwarts

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > GeneralShulikFR151546,04578924,29813 Apr 1020 Dec 10No


A/N: I know I shouldn't, but my job is so full of the Harry Potter universe- that I *have* to put this out there.
J.K.Rowling and Warner Brothers own everything to do with Harry Potter as I'm so often reminded at work.
Joss Whedon owns everything Buffy.


The first fist slammed into her face, heavy and fast at the same time. It split the skin of her cheek and her blood flowed freely from the wound. Granger’s eyes widened imperceptibly at this, the physical evidence of her actions enough to apparently shock her into her silence.

Pansy grinned. She thumped the open wound and regarded the bright red color of her blood. She then licked it.

Something uncurled in the mudblood’s eyes, something feral and strong and powerful and altogether too complicated to comprehend.

The same something that was threatening to choke down Pansy, to kill her with it’s bleakness and harshness.

The atmosphere became looser and the two of them took a step back and regarded each other.

The reason for meeting after hours in the Forbidden Forest shone in their stances, the looseness of their limbs, the catlike grace of their circling movements. Pansy was Slytherin, pureblood and everything that epitomized the wizarding past. Hermione was the future, shining bright and striving everyday to prove herself to be good. To be enough. But this? The reason for them seeking each other out, the reason for meeting in a dark and dangerous forest- it was the same for both. It was birth, violence, sex, death, breathing, living- it was everything .

Pansy smirked “Alright Granger?” She cracked her neck and threw off her robe.

“More than that,” Hermione bounced in place and threw off her own set of robes, she reached in for a hair tie and quickly pulled her hair into a ponytail, “I’m fucking amazing.”

There was a silence as the two predators regarded each other.

She flew at Pansy, eyes glinting an amber brown, fists flying into a punch, jab uppercut combo that immediately put the other girl on the defensive.

Pansy could taste her own blood, a tooth had come loose from Granger’s spinning kick but this was the most alive she had felt in years . She threw a wicked uppercut in Granger’s face, then slammed an elbow into the taller girl’s gut and grinned as she gained the offensive.


“We’re bringing you ladies some training,” Dumbledore’s kindly eyes seemed inordinately serious and solemn. The damned twinkle of his was nowhere to be seen. “You can’t keep hurting each other in your need to release violence,” he sighed and stroked his beard, “they’ll teach you how to siphon off aggression, how to live with who you’ve become.” He paused and in that moment he seemed great and triumphant at the same time “They’ll teach you to be slayers.”


Faith was a tart. To put it simply. She had no concept of covering up, she disregarded the incredulous stares from the majority of the school. She chain smoked, wore leather pants all the damn time and had the mouth of an Auror on her.

Pansy instantly adored her. She felt like coming home, like belonging.

Dawn was genius level smart, a wandless witch and had no filter between her mouth and brain. She knew everything about everything, could give a minimum of seven uses for any named magical plant and was highly adept in both physical and magical fighting.

Hermione had found her new savior.


Sometimes, looking forward to sparring is the only thing that gets Hermione though her day. The violence eventually settles into an itch, a buzzing underneath her skin and she learns how to temper it. But she needs the physicality of fighting like she needs food, she can live without it- but she gets sick and cranky if she goes for too long with having none of it.

Pansy is faster, rougher and more aggressive. But Hermione fights like she does everything else. She studies it, she learns different techniques and mixes them as she goes along. Hermione becomes a judo auteur, she learns enough karate to realize it’s not her sort of thing and gets sort of obsessed with taekwondo.

Dawn teaches the two of them how to meditate, how to breathe, how to temper the slayer within. How to control the demon leashing them with extra power, with extra speed.

Faith teaches them how to survive, how to flourish. She teaches them how to take down your opponent in a maximum of three steps. She demonstrates how to avoid wand spells, she jumps and twists and cavorts in impossibly lithe ways and none of the girls’ Stupefys ever reach her.


It becomes March as they learn, the weather gets a bit warmer and the leaves turn a mossy green color. Pansy learns how to curb her desire to kill and render limbless every pathetic Griff within the vicinity and Hermione figures out that Ron will never think of her as a slayer. Their tentative kisses are just that, tentative. The few times that Hermione’s begged him to be rough with her- to take control, to do something- he’s refused. Scarlet faced and stuttering, Ronald Weasley made it known that Hermione would never be that sort of girl.

But she was. And there was no going back.

She needed passion, she needed intensity- somebody to match her desires, somebody to be there when she needed them most.

Somebody that wouldn’t panic when she came into the castle dripping blood and grinning like Kala after a particularly satisfying rampage.

That was when Theodore fucking Nott kissed her.

After a particularly rough patrol, her dripping demon goo and swearing up a storm as she chased after Pansy into the girls’ showers- Theo pulled her behind a tapestry and proceeded to snog the everloving hell out of her. It was hot, it was urgent, it was exactly what she needed. He tasted like mint, Firewhiskey and something sweet and Hermione was shocked to realize that she was humping his leg as they groped in the dark recesses of Hogwarts Castle.

She took a deep breath, prepared to go all the way with him and damn the consequences- but Theo pulled away and whispered “You’re fucking amazing” before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

This was the night when both Pansy and Hermione had a talk with Faith regarding slayer sexual appetites.

Double H’s indeed.


Pansy did a quadruple back sommersault and ended her athletic feat by landing on her palms, body strung like a taught wire. She brought her breathing under control and slowly extended her left arm to her side, leaving her body perched impossibly straight and supported only by her right arm. She repeated the movement twice, holding her body in the position at five minutes each and flipped forward into a perfect landing. There was somebody watching her from the shadows of the training room.

Ron Weasley stood there. Turquoise eyes impossibly wide, skin flushed as he stared at Pansy’s unblinking gaze. He was wearing a white tank over his pajama bottoms, Quidditch muscles outlined in the darkness. When had he gotten so tall?

She cocked her head to the side, examining him like she would with a particularly interesting species of demon she found entertaining. Pansy knew she was intense, hell she had been that way before getting called. But becoming a slayer, becoming more had finally pulled her out of her created persona of shallow minded cruelty.

Pansy yearned. For something. She burned for a reason still unknown to her.

She took a step towards him. Ron stood his ground. Pansy smirked and slinked her way closer, she circled him gaze taking in every inch of his body like a lion marking its way to a terrified gazelle.

The tips of his ears were red as he took a deep breath and sprinted out of the room.

Pansy closed her eyes and ground her teeth. Of course the little Weasel would run from her. She was too hoity toity, too pureblooded, too much of everything that he stood against.

A small cough startled her reverie and she cautiously opened one lid to see Faith standing in a pair of bunny slippers, an obnoxiously red shirt and a pair of boxers. She was cupping a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. She had also raised an eyebrow and asked “you okay there Pans?”

Pansy snarled. If she didn’t adore the older slayer so bloody much, she would have hexed her into the ground right there and then. As it was though, she merely whirled around and snapped “Peachy, fucking keen,” as she stalked her way to the dungeons.

Behind her Faith was grinning as she sipped at her drink in contemplation. She was rubbing off on the girl.
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