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The prompt and original drabble posts for this drabblethon were lost to my back-up snafu. These drabbles were written on the occasion of my 400th friending.

42. For leianora, whose prompt was "Pansy/Ginny: Pillows."

While the ganders are away . . . . (NC-17; Pansy/Ginny; 100 words)

Pansy's breasts were like pillows, her skin, like silk, and Ginny wished she had thought to approach the girl earlier, now that she knew she wasn't quite the hag everyone made her out to be.

"Do you like my hands?"

"Yes."

"Do you like my tongue?"

Ginny gasped. Pansy giggled.

"I'm surprised . . . by your . . . enthusiasm," Pansy told her, in between laving Ginny's clit with long, slow licks.

Obligingly, Ginny struggled. She could do little else, what with her wrists secured to the headboard and her ankles thrust apart by whatever spell Pansy had employed.

"Please . . . ."

"Since you asked so nicely."

43. For elinevere, whose prompt was "Draco/James/Harry: Caterwauling, fool, hair."

The Soothing of Obsessions (NC-17; Draco/James/Harry; 160 words)

Harry needed a father, and something told him that Draco needed one, too.

James sent them caterwauling across the lawn before him while he growled like a fool and pushed the hair out of his face.

"Don't let me catch you!" he called to the boys. "You'll be out if I do!"

"But then we can chase you!" Draco replied, his face full of hope.

And something else, Harry thought, shifting a bit, as some of the layers of his dream fell away to bring him closer to wakefulness.

His cock pulsed as James pulled Draco to the ground and licked him, and Harry couldn't help but stroke himself.

"Don't worry, son," James laughed. "I'll take care of you, as well."

Semi-consciousness permitted Harry to accept his father's words as welcome, despite the fact that his higher mind pricked at him in remonstrance. It seemed soothed when, as Harry came, it was Draco's mouth around his cock, rather than James'.

44. For she_obstipui, whose prompt was "Moaning Myrtle, Bertha Jorkins: confessions."

Misery's Company (G; Moaning Myrtle, Bertha Jorkins; 100 words)

Bertha often talked to Myrtle because the ghost understood what it was to be teased; her tormenter had been some bint called Olive Hornby.

"Florence hexed me!" she cried, scrubbing at her eyes and scowling into the mirror at her jowly, purpled face. "And I don't know how to undo it!"

"Were you spying on her?"

"So what if I was? She shouldn't have been—"

"Olive used to throw books at me in the library, and the librarian never did anything."

Blowing her nose in noisy irritation, Bertha cackled unsympathetically.

"It's not funny!"

"It is. You were probably spying, as well."

45. For emynn, whose prompt was "Snarry: thunder, smile, mint."

Not Yours (NC-17; Snarry; 100 words)

Snape growled like thunder as Harry sucked his prick to the root after having rolled a mint around in his mouth all the way to the dungeons. The Potions master's release was soon pouring down his throat in salty pulses, and Harry pulled away with a satisfied smile.

"If you're lab work were as accomplished as your sucking, you'd be a master by now."

Harry's eyes widened. "Was that a compliment, sir?" he asked, boldly pushing a finger into Snape's arse.

"No."

"But—"

"I said no, Potter—now stip off and get on the bed. These 'exercises' are for my benefit."