Undercover Chapter 3.

Content Warnings: Kink Clubs, Semi-Public, Exhibitionism, Teasing, Body Writing, Spanking.

“Worried?” Tonks asked softly, reaching out to grasp Harry’s hand. She intertwined their fingers together, gently squeezing his hand.

“Not particularly,” Harry whispered, gritting his teeth. Perhaps he was being overconfident. But when one had faced the most dangerous Dark Lord of the century multiple times since they were a baby and had come out on top, other opponents simply failed to arouse any notable concern. No, the thing currently annoying Harry was much worse than one of the many washed-up Death Eaters jockeying to be the next Dark Lord.

The name of his annoyance was Pansy Parkinson.

The raven-haired Slytherin occupied the other side of the cab seat, having insisted Harry sit in between her and Tonks. Her head was resting on his shoulder, the very picture of innocent love in front of the muggle cabbie. Her hands, however, were playing a very different game. One was absentmindedly caressing his knee while the other had disappeared under the blanket over their laps (something else Pansy had insisted on, declaring that she needed something to keep herself warm on the chilly December night if she was expected to wear the scraps of clothing Harry called lingerie.) The fact that she had been the one to choose what she was wearing under her large overcoat was conveniently ignored by the sassy Slytherin.

Her hand had discreetly unzipped his trousers and pulled down his boxers without making a single sound or revealing what she was doing. Harry let out an involuntary groan as her slender hand wrapped around his thick girth, giving it an experimental pump.

“Alright, do you want to tell me what’s going on? If it’s the lack of backup, Harry, I can call up Rimelde and Katie. They’re on standby for tonight’s mission. I just think it makes sense to keep things low-key. We want as few muggle casualties as possible.”

Pansy reached out and lazily raised the privacy partition between them and the driver, allowing them to talk freely. “He’s just pissy because he can’t deal with the fact that I beat him with my superior logic. I bet he’s used to girls simply draping themselves across his lap when he asks them to.” Pansy grinned. The fact that she had gotten away without being spanked after pointing out that they were running late and that she still needed to get ready was a great personal victory. Annoying her crush (and quasi-boss) was just icing on the cake.

Harry turned to glare at Pansy, his breath hitching as her thumb lazily swiped over his sensitive tip to gather the trickle of precum leaking out of it. She rubbed her thumb over her palm, using his own arousal as lube. She languidly pumped his half-erect wand, coaxing it back to life.

“I’m not,” Harry muttered. It was strange how true her words were. The muggle girls he had dated had been obedient to a fault. And here he was, trying his best to deny his attraction to Pansy Parkinson, a dissolute brat.

I don’t know if I want to slap, fuck, or kiss her. Maybe all three.

As he looked into the amused dark eyes of his partner, he realized it was definitely all three.

“What’s gotten into you?” he hissed, gripping Tonk’s hand tighter. If Tonks knew what was happening, and he would have bet his entire fortune that she did, she didn’t say a word. She simply leaned back in the car seat, stared out at the London skyline and hummed a jaunty tune.

“I had a very enlightening conversation last night,” Pansy replied, her other hand pushing under the blanket as well. She turned until she was practically on his lap to allow her hand the freedom to slip past his open zip and fondle his balls.

“With Tonks.” He bit his lower lip to stifle a moan. He was being seduced in the back of a bloody muggle cab, and by Merlin, it was working. Pansy was gently squeezing his testicles, rolling the cum-engorged orbs between her fingers while her other hand tirelessly coaxed his shaft to its full size.

“A good spy never reveals its sources,” Pansy breathed, tilting her face to bury it in the crook of his neck.

“And what-” Harry groaned as her manicured nail deliberately scraped across the sensitive tissue of his exposed glans.

“Privacy?” Harry whispered to Tonks, desperately hoping she’d get the hint. The blue-haired Auror smirked and nodded, pulling out her wand to cast a discreet muffliato before adding a basic confundus for good measure.

The poor driver didn’t need to be subjected to Pansy Parkinson’s games.

If someone was to peer through the window of the moving cab, however, there was little doubt as to what exactly was going on in its backseat.

“What did you converse about?” Harry asked, his breathing ragged.

“Well, my source pointed out that I had created an entirely fake personality to go along with what my family wanted for nearly ten years and all it did was turn me into an embittered, bitchy, mean-spirited hag. She-”

“Ah! So the source is a ‘she’!” Harry interjected.

“Good work Potter! You narrowed it down to half the world’s population. You’re so smart. No wonder they made you Head Auror.” The slight condescension in her voice was strangely arousing, causing Harry’s cock to twitch. Pansy smirked, glad that her little game was bearing fruit. She pulled her wand out from her overcoat, magically enlarging the backseat of the cab which allowed her to bend over and bury her head under the blanket.

“And here’s your reward, super detective,” Pansy muttered sardonically, her tongue flicking out and swirling around his tip. She had no experience in what she was doing, but she had filched enough movies and magazines from Draco’s collection to have a fair idea of what she was supposed to do.

“What else did she say?” Harry asked, slumping against the seat. He turned to look at Tonks. She was still looking out of the car’s window, but he knew her well enough to know that she was thoroughly enjoying the show being put on right next to her.

“Well, she told me my pride and my inability to accept that I never had feelings for Draco would only ever bring me unhappiness.”

“You were with Draco for a long time.”

“And the entire time I acted the way I was supposed to, not the way I wanted to. A fake Pansy was in fake love with a man who had never loved her and who honestly, never could, because it was obvious as day that he had feelings for someone else, just as I did. Ironically, both of us acted out around the person we actually wanted, hoping they’d notice us. They never did, and my dreams of being slammed into a wall and taken till I was screaming your name went unfulfilled. But hey, a girl can hope, right?” Pansy stared at Harry’s throbbing manhood, secretly daunted by its immense size. “My source opened my eyes to the benefits of… being direct,” Pansy whispered, wrapping her pink lips around his cock. She gently lowered herself on it, able to swallow three inches before she gagged and panicked.

Harry caught her as she pulled away from him, gasping for breath, her eyes as big as pennies.

“T-the magazines… made it look so easy,” she rasped, her chest heaving for breath.

“How long have you had feelings for me?” Harry asked quietly, reaching out to swipe his precum off her glistening lips. He pushed his thumb into her mouth and she began to suck obediently, a quiet, involuntary moan escaping her lips at how easily he had taken her in hand.

“I don’t know. Since our sixth year, I guess? At least that’s when I began to imagine running my hand through your messy hair every time Draco kissed me,” Pansy mumbled, her cheeks a dark red. In her mind, her seduction of Harry Potter had gone very differently. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Harry asked, pushing his cock back inside his boxers and doing up his zip with his free hand. “You can’t control your feelings.”

“N-no. No that,” Pansy mumbled around his thumb, her cheeks heating up. She glanced at the door, wondering if it was possible to jump out of the moving car and roll to safety. “I talk a big game and act a certain way but at the end of the day, I’m just a naive little girl who can’t even give you a proper blowjob. I don’t know what possessed me to do all this,” she said dejectedly. “I can’t compare to Tonks or any of your muggle… friends.”

“You cut that out.” Tonks turned to gently smack Pansy’s arm, speaking for the first time in a while. “You’ve already done the hard part.”

“What, wildly inflating my abilities and making a complete fool of myself in front of my crush?” Pansy asked. Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t fight Harry wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his chest. She’d take the affection and comfort, even if she knew the silent man would order her to go home the minute they stepped out of the car.

Tonks rolled her eyes. “Do you think I or anyone else for that matter became sex goddesses overnight? You can learn how to suck cock, darling. You can’t learn sexual chemistry. You already have the latter with your daddy. As for the former, I bet nothing gets his goat as much as corrupting his… naive little girl,” Tonks said with a grin, echoing his earlier words.

Pansy peered up at Harry through her thick eyelashes.

Harry groaned, moodily kicking the plastic partition between them and the front of the car.

“How the fuck am I supposed to concentrate on the mission if I have a sexy minx to my right and the most adorable brat on my lap?” He grumbled. “We’re hunting a very dangerous man.”

“Who will be caught and punished. Like all the others who came before him.” Tonks crossed her arms over her chest, looking at Harry with a shrewd expression on her face. “Did you just call me a MILF?”

“I called you a minx.”

“I like that too. Although, I’m now on the record stating that I wouldn’t be opposed to being called a MILF. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” Tonks climbed out of the taxi. Harry followed from the other side, pulling Pansy out with him. He left Tonks to deal with paying the driver and reversing the smorgasbord of spells they had cast on his poor car. He instead led the petite black-haired to the entrance of the quiet alleyway that housed the discreet kink club.

“You still want me to come with you?” Pansy asked, fidgeting while they waited for Tonks.

“The lack of experience isn’t a crime, honey,” Harry murmured, checking the pocket of his blazer to confirm the presence of the specially warded handcuffs. “You’ll learn.”

“Okay.” Pansy grinned, some of her old self-confidence returning.

“Did you really act out in school because you wanted me to pay attention to you?” Harry asked. Tonks had paid the fare and walked to where they were standing, all three of them slowly making their way down the empty alley.

“You can chalk every single instance where I was shitty to you, Hermione or Weasley down to me wanting you to pay attention to me. In my mind I thought you’d corner me and demand an explanation for my behavior, we’d argue, you’d shout at me and I’d slap you. All of this would of course lead to you pinning me against a wall and very hot hate sex,” Pansy murmured, her cheeks burning. “A standard schoolgirl fantasy, really.”

“It never worked, did it?” Tonks asked conversationally, rapping her knuckles against the bare steel door set into the brick wall. “Party of three,” she told the pair of eyes peering out at her through the slot that was pulled open.

“Nope.”

“Which is why I never beat around the bush.”

“Yes, but you’re objectively the hottest woman on this island,” Pansy pointed out. The door was pulled open and the three walked into a heavily carpeted atrium. The dimly lit room was empty with the exception of the bouncer who had greeted them and the concierge manning the counter.

The young woman gave the group a polite smile, waiting for the three of them to pull out their masks and fix them on their faces.

“Well, I spent a year dropping hints to the man I want and he didn’t pick up on a single one. Sometimes the art of seduction boils down to turning up in their bedroom buck naked and lathered in baby oil, darling.” Tonks slipped out of her coat, handing it to the concierge. She adjusted the straps of her cow-print bra, making sure her wand was tucked in the stocking covering her right foot before she stepped back to allow Pansy room to disrobe.

Pansy had opted for a more traditional set of sexy lingerie. Her entire ensemble was Gryffindor maroon, the lacy, sheer bra and panties covering absolutely nothing of importance on her body.

“We forgot the ears and the tail, sir,” Tonks hissed, her heart suddenly hammering in her chest. She wasn’t a stranger to kink (or kink clubs for that matter), but it would be her first experience with someone that mattered.

“There is pet play gear in the club, madam,” the hostess chimed in politely. “What sort of band would you like tonight?”

Harry studied the bands on display. The black and white bands were immediately pushed to the side. They signified untaken dominants and submissives respectively, neither of which fit their killer’s type. The red band was similarly useless as it symbolized that the wearer was taken and not open to play. He finally settled on a blue band for him and green ones for his partners, signaling to the other patrons that he was the dominant and they were his submissives but they were all available to play with others.

“Ready?” Harry asked under his breath.

“Not in the slightest,” Tonks whispered back while Pansy simply shook her head. They were out of time, however, and the doors swung open with a quiet buzz to reveal a noisy dance floor that was shrouded in darkness.

Harry led the two women through the small groups of half-naked people gyrating in beat with the music blaring through the hidden speakers. He politely stepped around a woman in a blood-red corset and the collared man who crawled behind her to walk towards the quieter and more civilized communal kink areas of the club and the bar set opposite them.

“We’re going with the standard plan, yes?” Tonks asked, leaning against the polished wood of the counter. She watched a tiny blonde trapped between two men twice her size with great interest, suddenly determined to return to the club once the wanker they were hunting was safely behind bars. After all, it was nothing less than a crime to visit such a fine establishment and not partake in the more… carnal pleasures it had on offer. “I’ll scope out the club.”

Harry nodded. “Given how Pansy’s file says he likes to hang around the bar until he spots his victims, I’ll stay here. I linked our wands before we left so you’ll feel a discrete buzz if I spot him.”

“And Pansy?”

“Hmm?” Pansy asked distractedly. She turned to look at the couple, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from the wispy blonde who was getting both her holes stuffed with two huge cocks. Her pupils were blown, a clear sign of the effect the place was having on her.

“I’ll make sure she’s somewhere safe,” Harry murmured.

“Wait! That wasn’t the deal!” Pansy said indignantly.

“You wanted me to bring you along with us to the club. You’re in the club.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Harry said firmly. Tonks chuckled. She was well aware of her partner’s protective instincts and had seen this development coming from a mile away.

“Might I suggest you make up for lost time and give her that spanking she wiggled out of at home?” Tonks asked, nodding to the area right next to the bar that housed a stockade and a whipping post. “If you’re going to hang around the bar it makes sense to spank two bums with one paddle,” she said with a smirk. She patted Pansy’s red cheek before slipping into the crowd.

“She’s not serious. You won’t really do that, will you?” Pansy squeaked, the tiny amount of bravado that had returned to her voice quickly evaporating at the prospect of being stripped, stockaded, and paddled in front of an audience. “You need me. That’s the plan.”

That had indeed been the plan, and rationally Harry knew their chances of success were greater if she was around to watch their backs. But he had also seen what the bastard did to his victims and he had no intention of risking Pansy being the first person to run into him and doing something stupid in a misguided attempt to prove her worth.

“I’ll free you when we locate him. Till then, I don’t want you mucking up our area of operation,” Harry muttered, grabbing her elbow and leading her to the empty dais. He left her in the very center of the stage before moving to flick on the lights. It didn’t take long for a small crowd to gather. A fair number of patrons were more than a little interested to see the tall, muscular man spank his pretty black-haired submissive.

“Let this be a lesson to you, Miss Parkinson.” A shiver of arousal ran down the girl’s spine at the cold authority in her partner’s voice. As nice as cuddly Harry had been, dominant, authoritative Harry had her pussy dripping within seconds. And he hadn’t even touched her.

“A lesson in what? How mean Aurors are? How you should never trust their promises?” Pansy whispered, a hint of her bratty persona breaking through the nervousness. She squealed as she was bent over the open stockade, her wrists and neck deftly maneuvering into the spaces provided for them in the roughly hewn wood. He locked the stockade, trapping her in a kneeling position with her bum raised high up in the air.

“Your mouth shouldn’t write cheques your ass can’t cash, darling. You wanted a chance to be my bratty princess. Here we are,” Harry whispered, kissing her pink cheek before standing.

“My princess is a pretty creature, isn’t she?” Harry asked, looking around at the gathered crowd. A murmur of appreciation broke out. A few people craned their necks, eager to catch a glimpse of Pansy’s modest bust straining against the tight lingerie. Her nipples were rock hard, both rosy peaks poking through the thin satin.

There was quite a bit of jostling in the throng of people, everyone eager to be in a position to see Pansy’s face and watch her reaction to the punishment or to be directly behind her and in a prime spot to observe her ass. Pansy was watching everything and everyone with wide eyes and a flushed face, unable to believe what was about to happen. It was simultaneously her wildest dream and worst nightmare. She subconsciously twisted her wrists, trying to get herself out of the predicament she herself had demanded to enter.

Harry walked around the stage, collecting spoons, paddles, floggers, and even a riding crop. He arranged them all in a tray on a small table he had pulled next to the stockade. The last thing he added was a black marker, his eyes gleaming with suppressed excitement.

Catch the bastard. Throw him in lock-up. Come back and spend the night here with Princess and Pet.

It was almost a mantra that he kept repeating to himself as he peeled her panties down her legs. Someone in the crowd whistled at the sight of Pansy’s firm, round arse. She had been a late bloomer, but puberty had been exceptionally kind to the girl, leaving her with smooth, flawless skin and criminally underappreciated curves.

“Unfortunately, she also has a habit of running her mouth. She tried to tell me she had feelings for me by calling me a dumbass for seven years.” People chuckled. Pansy blushed, her denial dying in her throat at the feel of Harry’s index finger circling her puckered hole. She hissed as he pushed the tip inside her tight ass, her hands pushing against the stockade helplessly.

“Sir!” she pleaded, gasping for breath.

“Now, it isn’t right for a princess to run her mouth. So she must be punished. The only problem is that I’ve had a hard day at work and was looking forward to a glass of whiskey…” He picked up a paddle that had ‘Daddy’s Lil Princess’ inscribed on it. “So I think I’ll take your help. The game is simple. Take a spank-”

SMACK.

Harry brought the paddle down on the right cheek as hard as he could, watching in satisfaction as pink bloomed in her creamy skin.

“I-AH! I’m sorry daddy! I’m sorry!” Pansy screamed, her eyes growing to the size of pennies as her brain registered the hard spank.

“Leave a mark.” Harry ignored her plea, picking up the marker and leaving a single tally mark on her lower back. “If she uses ‘Yellow’ you must stop and let her catch her breath. If she uses ‘Red’, the game ends.”

Harry grinned as people shifted without hesitation, eagerly forming a line that wrapped all the way around the stage.

Who wouldn’t want a chance with a pretty little girl like Pansy Parkinson?

“You only get one chance, ladies and gentlemen, so make it count. Of course, you’re more than free to leave a nice message after your turn,” Harry murmured, undoing the strap of her bra to leave her entire back bare for him.

He put the marker down in the space between her shoulder blades, scrawling down a simple message.

‘Daddy’s Lil Pudding’

He dropped the marker in the tray and kneeled next to her, gently tucking a strand of silky hair behind her ear.

“There’s still time to back out,” he whispered.

“There’s still time to accept you were wrong, daddy,” Pansy shot back. He saw something unexpected in her fearful eyes. Sheer determination.

“What am I supposedly wrong about?”

“You’ll see,” Pansy murmured, turning her head. She looked at the short man eyeing her hungrily, giving him her best flirtatious smile.

“I’ll be just off the stage at the bar,” Harry whispered, kissing her cheek.

Harry slipped onto a barstool, his eyes fixed on Pansy while he placed his order with the bartender.

He watched as a tall woman climbed onto the stage and picked up a heart-shaped wooden paddle, bringing it down on her other cheek.

SMACK.

Pansy moaned, her thighs pressed together in a futile effort to hide her arousal from the amused crowd and her daddy. The woman made a tally mark but wrote no message and left with a satisfied smile on her face.

Harry leaned against the counter and sipped his whiskey, watching as a multitude of dominants made their way up to Pansy, subjecting her ass to smacks from all manner of toys. Even some submissives joined in, eager to follow orders and join in on the fun. Some blows were soft, others hard and some were of enough intensity to draw a shrill scream from the quivering girl.

Harry used the distraction of the spectacle to study everyone at the bar and in the rapidly growing crowd without drawing suspicion to himself. There was no one matching their target’s description, but the night was still young.

He also kept a watchful eye on Pansy to ensure no limits were being broken, thankfully only having to step in once to make sure a man did not use a cane on the Slytherin’s pert bum.

“You’re allowed to use your hand or one of the toys on the tray only,” Harry said firmly, gesturing at the man to leave. He grunted in annoyance but obeyed, casting a disgusted look at the quietly sobbing girl.

When he returned to his position at the bar, he found that the stool next to them had been occupied by the woman they had previously encountered. Her pet was kneeling obediently next to her, the couple watching Pansy’s ass be turned from light pink to bright red and finally a dark maroon with great interest.

“That’s a pretty girl you have there. You’re lucky,” the woman said, ordering a glass of whiskey for Harry.

“That I am. If you want a turn, I'd suggest going up now because I’m ending the game once I finish my drink.”

“I must confess I enjoy more private settings, friend. Why don’t you and your submissive join me and my pet in a private room after the date?“

“No, thank you,” Harry declined politely but firmly. “This was the only group play we had in mind for tonight.”

“Of course.” The man tugged at his leash, the metal jangling quietly. “Anyways, I think we must be off. I can't find parts of today’s crowd… agreeable.”

With that, she slipped out of the stool. She wrapped the leash around her wrist and led the man around the bar, taking the long way to the exit.

“Who was that?” Tonks asked, walking up to Harry.

“Nobody. How was recon?”

“Good. I have a few ideas. You found our guy?”

“No. But the night is young.” Pansy’s shrill shriek caused him to turn in her direction. He squeezed Tonks’ hand and walked up to the stage and waved his hands, signaling the end of play.

He undid the stockade and grabbed Pansy’s sleek black hair, pulling the sobbing girl up onto unsteady feet. Her cheeks and upper thighs were a dark red, crisscrossed with flog marks and splattered with bruises. Her entire back was covered with tally marks and hastily scrawled messages. Harry already knew he would be capturing the sight in a photo for posterity when they were back home.

He wrapped his arms around her before she could stumble, picking her up in his arms.

“Did you learn your lesson, Pansy?” He asked, turning to look at the tear and mascara-stained face resting on his shoulder.

“Did you?” Pansy replied once she had calmed down. They had returned to the bar, the girl speaking only after Harry helped her sip some of the refill Tonks had helpfully ordered.

“I still don’t know what lesson I was supposed to learn,” Harry murmured, cradling the girl. He let Tonks keep watch, focusing his entire attention on Pansy for the time being.

He briefly wondered if the man had abandoned his plans because they had done something suspicious, but quickly discarded the theory. They had blended in perfectly with the crowd, indistinguishable from the other patrons of the club. He doubted the bastard would suspect the man getting off on watching people spank his girlfriend of being an Auror.

No, he was simply late.

Pansy’s hoarse voice broke him free of his thoughts. She reached out with a shaky hand, gently caressing his cheek. “I told you I could handle whatever you throw at me, sir.”

Notes:

Fun fact, the killer has already been revealed in this chapter. Maybe something they did tipped him off? Maybe the atmosphere of the club wasn't right for him? In any case, both Harry's personal and private lives are about to get red hot.