Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/331243.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Zacharias_Smith/Ginny_Weasley
  Character:
      Zacharias_Smith, Ginny_Weasley
  Additional Tags:
      Angry_Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Confusing_Encounters, Outdoor_Sex, Frottage,
      Cunnilingus, Non-Penetrative_Sex, Hogwarts_Era, Carrows_Reign_at
      Hogwarts, Community:_samhain_smut, Samhain_Smut_2010, Hufflepuff,
      Gryffindor
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-11-05 Words: 4275
****** Pumpkin Pie ******
by Rozarka
Summary
     There was a Weasley sitting on his pumpkin, and she was crying.
Notes
     Written for the 2010 Samhain_Smut fest, for the prompt: What happens
     in the pumpkin patch, stays in the pumpkin patch, and originally
     posted here. Thanks to Anise and Vanseedee for beta and to Annanith
     for the test read.
 
There was a Weasley sitting on his pumpkin.
Zach stopped in his tracks, his mouth opening in a soundless exclamation of
affront. The big pumpkin that he'd put aside earlier that evening and marked
clearly with 'Z.S.', the perfect pumpkin that he'd promised Thea that they'd
carve out in the shape of the Wimbourne Wasps' crest, was occupied by the bum
of a girl whose flaming hair he'd be able to pick out anywhere. Even at night,
and even in Hogwarts' pumpkin patch, where things were generally on the orange
side of the spectrum this time of the year.
With an impatient shake of his head, he set himself in motion again, marching
up to her with his hand poised at his wand.
"Hey, Weasley! You're sitting on my—"
The words withered in his mouth. Shit.
There was a Weasley sitting on his pumpkin, and she was crying.
Vicious temper twisted her tear-streaked face as she glanced up, and the moment
she drew her wand, Zach was ready. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, reaching out to
catch the wand as it flew out of her hand.
She gave him a hateful look, and then her face crumpled. "Give me back my wand
and get the hell out of my sight," she croaked. She was so hoarse and congested
with crying that it sounded like she'd said 'Gibbe back by wad'.
Conflicted, Zach studied her. He realised that by the rules, he was supposed to
say something mean, now, but while he didn't in general have a problem with
being an arse to a girl (at least not one as incredibly annoying as Weasley),
he couldn't quite bring himself to be an arse to a crying girl (at least not
one who was crying with good reason). And Weasley had had detention with Alecto
Carrow today. The screams had echoed all the way down to the Great Hall.
He dropped her wand down at his feet, unwilling to hand it back so easily. That
Bat-Bogey Hex still re-visited him in nightmares at times. "I'm sorry the bitch
got to you," he said seriously, rooting in his pocket for the handkerchief he'd
used earlier to polish his broom. "But at least it's over, yeah?"
"No," she said with utter contempt, "it's only beginning, but you wouldn't know
that, Smith, because you've got your head stuck so far up your own backside."
"For one thing, I'm quite aware of what goes on around me, and for another, my
name is not Sbith," Zach said, locating the handkerchief and offering it to
her.
She looked at it, wrinkled her nose, then took it and blew her nose in it.
Loudly. Stony-faced, she handed it back to him.
Zach looked at it, wrinkled his nose, then took it and stuck it back in his
pocket. Gingerly. "Are you all right?" he asked, shifting awkwardly on his
feet.
Her mouth worked as though she thought of laughing, but it just turned into a
grimace. "I suppose you could call it that."
He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Weasley. The Carrows are slime. But there's no
sense in provoking them when they've got this power over us."
"Of course there's sense in it! If no one challenges them, they win! And we
lose. Everything!"
"Or we protect what we have," Zach said, stoically absorbing the series of
angry exclamation points flying like a rain of arrows his way. "Instead of
risking it at every turn."
"So what do you have to protect, Smith?" The look she gave him wasn't curious,
it was just tired. "Your own hide? Your future Quidditch career? Your
inexplicably huge ego?"
"My sister," he said with a shrug, even as his face heated up. He knew it
sounded hokey. But it was true. "I'm not going to do anything to risk them
targeting Thea."
He'd expected a snort of disbelief, at best, but his answer actually seemed to
stop her in her tracks. She raked her fingers impatiently through her hair, as
though contemplating that he might be human irked her deeply. "Thea," she said.
"Didn't know you had a sister here."
"She only started this year."
"So isn't she worth fighting for? You can't just silently accept those bastards
wrecking her future!"
"I don't accept a fucking thing," Zach said, clenching his jaw. "I fight for
her by looking out for her and not putting her in danger. You know damn well
the Carrows aren't above targeting our younger siblings as blackmail." He shook
his head, disgusted with himself for trying to make her understand. For wanting
her to understand. "Try to look past your Gryffindor gung-ho and imagine this
being your first year at Hogwarts. She's terrified."
Weasley looked at him strangely. And then, to Zach's astonishment, she just
dropped her gaze and shrugged.
"Thought I told you to leave," she said.
"You're sitting on my pumpkin," he replied.
Her head snapped up again. "What?"
"That pumpkin." He nodded at the one she was enthroned on. "I found it earlier
today, marked it with my initials."
She glared at him. "Forget it, Smith. I'm sitting on this pumpkin because I
found it for myself."
"Well, I found it first. Check the initials. They're on the top."
"I'm not getting up from this pumpkin," she said, narrow-eyed. "This is a
communal pumpkin patch. If you like a pumpkin, fine, take it with you. But if
you leave it here, someone else might get there before you."
Her gaze had flickered to the wand lying at his feet for the fraction of a
second. Zach gave no indication that he'd noticed. "I promised Thea this
pumpkin," he stated firmly. "And this pumpkin is the one I'm going to take."
She sneered at him. "Try."
Zach raised his eyebrows and moved his hand towards his wand. In the next
second, she exploded into action, diving for her own wand. She was good, he'd
give her that, but it was nothing he hadn't anticipated, and he had more than
decent reflexes himself after all those years of Quidditch. He threw himself
right at her, knocking her to the ground.
He ended up sprawled on top of her, his hands pinning her wrists to the ground,
not without considerable effort. Holy Helga, she was strong, bucking and
twisting under him. He lowered his entire weight on her to prevent being thrown
off like from an uncooperative Abraxan.
"This pumpkin is mine," he said, a bit out of breath from the struggle. "There
are dozens of others here for you."
She was spitting mad. "Likewise. You're just being a git to make a point."
"Partly," he said reasonably. "It's you and me, Weasley, and the principle of
the thing. Would you back down?"
Almost growling, she twisted under him, and Zach swallowed convulsively as
soft, squishy girly parts rubbed against parts of him that weren't soft in the
least any longer. God dammit, he might despise her, but he was human, and there
was no denying that Weasley was hot. Strangely, no less hot like this, tear-
streaked and with fury blazing in her eyes and her lips twisted in anger.
A shock of colour suffused her face when their gazes met, and she went round-
eyed and motionless under him. Soft, pliable and warm, and being halfway
through keeping her from getting free sent him pressing down in a motion that
set his trapped cock on fire.
He stilled there, biting back a groan. Jesus.
Just as suddenly as she'd gone still, she jerked hard to the side and twisted
down for her wand. Jostled off balance, he threw out an arm to avoid toppling
on his back, and his fingers touched silky, warm flesh. He cast a shocked
glance down and saw that her skirt was riding up on her hips, and he was
alarmed himself, now, fiercely turned on and guilty for being turned on and
with no idea what to do, except to not let Weasley get to her wand and steal
his pumpkin. It was only his longer arms that let him seize the wand before she
did, holding it behind his back with one hand and grabbing her hand in his
other as she threw herself across him and reached for it.
His voice came out horribly rusty. "Just concede that the pumpkin is mine." She
was lying half atop him, one leg between his own, so close that soft strands of
red lay across his face. Her hair, her vibrant hair that looked as though it
would smell of fire, smelled of flowers instead. Gentle and spicy, and he
couldn't help nuzzling into it, just a tiny bit, exhaling in a dazed shock at
the sheer sweetness of it.
"Let go of me, you berk." She tugged with her captured hand, but her effort
seemed distracted, more colour rising in her face, and rather than attack him
with her free hand, she just curled it hard around his bicep, bracing herself.
"Pumpkin... mine," he muttered, reluctantly releasing her hand all the same,
barely remembering his own name any longer, let alone the reason Ginny Weasley
was lying on top of him in the pumpkin patch. She didn't move — why the hell
didn't she move? The look she gave him was the strangest thing: bewildered,
yet... speculative?
And then, in one of those moments that seemed to stretch out into infinite,
slowly spaced fragments, she turned her face, and her nose brushed his cheek.
Her breath fanned out warm against his jaw, and Zach froze.
Oh, god, what was this? It had to be a trick. And if not... There was no way it
could lead to any good. Whatever happened, she'd want to kill him for it after,
and he didn't underestimate Weasley's bloodlust nor her capabilities.
Of course, his dick wasn't noted for its survival instincts.
Slowly, he turned his face as well. The touch of her soft cheek tingled against
his lips. Her brown eyes seemed enormous, looking straight into his own in
fading anger and mounting confusion.
"I'd just like to feel something that doesn't hurt, you know?" she said in such
a low voice that he hardly heard her.
It was like walking in on a conversation he'd not heard enough of to make sense
of it, but realised had to do with himself. Zach shook his head in an attempt
to clear his mind.
"Zacharias Smith, here." His voice came out so cracked, he would have cringed
under normal circumstances. "You know, the bloke you ran down with your broom
at that Quidditch match last year? You hate me." He reckoned he ought to remind
her, in case she'd forgotten. "I understand about wanting to feel good — god,
believe me, I do — but you've got friends who can help you with that."
She gave a hard laugh that sounded like it must hurt in her throat, but her
eyes were brimming with tears again. "Yeah, but you don't give a fig about—"
She broke off, her teeth clenched on what she didn't say, but he could
practically read the name in her eyes. Zach swallowed, and felt his resolve
crumble simultaneously with his libido soaring. "Don't cry," he said hoarsely.
"'s not bloody fair."
"God, shut up, Smith." She pushed forward in a jerking motion that felt like an
attack, and he clenched his thighs together in a futile effort to protect his
groin. But what he felt were chapped, salty-tasting lips pressing against his,
and a smooth wet tongue darting into his mouth.
Maybe it was a trick. Probably it was a trick. He didn't stand a chance.
Groaning, he rolled them on their sides, gathering her flush against him with
his arm. He suckled her tongue gently, and then kissed her back, tentative yet
desperate and close to coming in his pants when he felt her whole strong,
supple body arch in against him.
Her hands came up to twine into his hair, knotting into fists. It hurt, but not
so much he gave a flying fuck. Not when she was whimpering and pressing her
hips against his in a way that wasn't to be misinterpreted or ignored.
Breathing hard, he shifted a hand to inch between them, under her shirt, up to
the soft warm round of a breast. Her bra was some smooth, thin material that
did nothing to stop her nipple from poking right into his palm. She writhed
under him and sobbed, a hot explosive burst of breath against his mouth, when
he closed two fingers over it and tweaked it slowly back and forth.
His cock felt heavy as an iron bar between his thighs, pulsing hard, and he
shifted to press down on her, rocking up against her pubic bone and trying to
aim to rub over her clit. The friction sent sparks flying up his spine and
across his vision, and he groaned and did it again, hitting a steady, driving
rhythm which she met without a hitch, her slim thighs sliding up along his hips
before her legs stretched out to twine with his.
They broke the kiss at the same time, both heaving for breath. She was
bowstring tight, red-faced and biting down on her lip, riding the upward
current with him, striving just as hard for the same thing. Her eyes were
closed and he wondered for a split second if she was thinking of Potter. He
pinched a bit harder at her nipple. "Ginny," he murmured, a thought that came
to him out of nowhere, and her gaze flew wide open to lock with his, her lips
soft and slack, before she stretched her neck back and groaned.
The sight of her, baring that flushed, freckled, gorgeous neck for him, was his
undoing. He pressed his mouth down just below her ear and his teeth grazed
across her skin as his cock jerked and pumped out his come in hard, long
pulses, pleasure so searing that his consciousness wavered for some seconds.
He groaned as he came to, just in time to feel her arch and moan out as well,
just a small frantic bucking under him and a desperate, frustrated sound. Then
she sagged back, eyes squeezed shut in an expression near defeat.
Even in his own haze of post-orgasmic contentment with the world, Zach
registered that this was not the look of a satisfied woman.
"Hey," he murmured, shifting to take his weight off her. "You all right?"
His voice made her eyes snap open, and she moved under him, scrambling up to
sit. "You can take your stupid pumpkin," she said, her voice hitching.
With a heavy sigh, Zach moved up on his hands and knees, watching her as she
wrapped her arms around her knees. "Forget the bloody pumpkin." He gave her
knee a tentative touch and watched as she wrenched away. "Not a very good one,
was it?"
"Yeah, well, more fool me. I shouldn't have expected a big blinking reward for
dry-humping the enemy," she bit out.
Zach couldn't help it. Instinct told him to get the hell out of here, but she
was pretty and dishevelled and so damned girly, fighting tears of frustration
and dejection. And it hardly seemed fair. She'd wanted to feel good, and
instead she'd made him feel bloody fantastic, while she hadn't got much back
for it, from the look of things.
"Come on, Weasley," he said, rubbing her calf through her accordioned knee
sock. "I'm not your enemy."
"Since when?" she snorted, avoiding his gaze, but she did let his hand stay
this time.
"I'm not! I'm... your nemesis, maybe, in the most trivial sense. God knows
you're mine. But we're on the same side, yeah? Come here, I can give you better
than you got. Just let me make you feel good." He dropped a kiss to her white-
knuckled grip around her legs, and then put his hands on her knees, pushing
just gently to see if she'd allow him.
He wasn't at all sure of the response he'd get, but she blushed and let her
knees fall a few inches apart, and he swallowed down a little whoop of triumph.
He didn't fancy this ending with a punch to his face, though Merlin knew he was
still prepared that it might happen. Her jaw was braced and set; she was
practically clenching her teeth, and Zach was seized by a sharp, heated desire
to somehow find a way past those tensely held defences. To show her something
good enough to impress her, to let him in a crack. There was that one,
brilliant thing he'd done with Megan last summer, before she'd broken things
off on account of him being... well, too much himself, it had sounded like.
Her breath left her in a hitching gasp as he slid his hand down her inner
thigh. He kissed the inside of her knee, then nuzzled lower, licking out with
his tongue, tasting soft, salty skin. His hands spread her knees wider as he
licked a swathe down her thigh.
A low noise in her throat made him glance up. Her expression was shocked,
questioning, as if she doubted her own guess at his intention, and he was half
hard again in a matter of seconds just from the fiercely sweet recognition that
this was new to her. Whatever she'd done with Potter, the bespectacled menace
hadn't gone down on her, Zach was certain.
That shouldn't turn him on as much as it did, but... fuck, it did. With the
added incentive of venturing where Potter's mouth hadn't been, Zach kissed his
way down the smooth length of her pale, freckled inner thighs, kissed her
fingers too when she reached down in either modesty or warning. He glanced up,
his heart beating much too hard in his chest. The scent of her arousal rose
warm and thick to his nose.
"No?"
Weasley blushed again, looking strangely at his lips moving against her
fingertips. Then she gave a sharp nod, withdrawing her hand and curling it in a
tight fist against her belly. The motion pulled at her shirt, and a dizzy,
half-sick sensation slid through him as he noticed the red welts and bruises on
her stomach, bearing witness of torture. He wondered if he'd hurt her, now,
lying on top of her, but maybe she'd been too furious to care at first, and too
aroused to care later. Whatever it was, he knew that it wasn't his place to say
anything. He just reached up and put his hand around hers, gently coaxing her
fist to relax, his fingertips grazing the red marks as though by accident.
He could make her feel good. That was what she'd asked him, and hell, who was
he to complain? Zach lay down and settled on his stomach between her legs, his
cock pressing against the cool ground. "Lie back," he urged her.
With a quiet moan, she eased herself down on her elbows, looking down on him as
he pushed her skirt up and rubbed lightly at the crotch of her knickers. His
fingertips were soaked at once, and her hips jerked, her breath stuttering.
"Damn you, Smith," she gasped. "Don't tease."
He looked up at her under his lashes. "That wasn't teasing," he said, hooking
his fingers in the leg elastic of her knickers and pulling them aside. "This is
teasing."
He wiggled closer, nuzzling against her nest of damp, dark red curls. She
smelled amazing, musky-sharp and tangy-sweet from arousal, and his mouth
flooded in anticipation. He parted her outer lips carefully with his thumbs,
and licked into her slick, warm folds.
Oh, the choked cry it wrenched from her made pure want run hot and cold up his
spine. Her hands had gripped into his hair again, anchoring him firmly in
place, and Zach made a mental note to see if Potter would bald fast over the
years, provided his suicide mission failed, of course. He didn't mind, though.
The slight pain only spurred him on as he ate her out and tried to remember
which things had made Megan writhe and whimper all those months ago, licking
slowly up and down her slit, letting the wetness of her arousal coat his tongue
again and again. He speared his tongue and thrust it up inside her, feeling her
soft, slick folds press down all over his lips and chin as she groaned and
thrashed and thrust back.
She whimpered out a quiet curse, and her hand pressed on his neck, urging him
in no uncertain terms to put his mouth on her clit again. Zach grunted in
assent and found the small nub with his tongue, teasing it with rapid, light
licks. He enjoyed the sudden change in her breath, the soft frantic moans of
'Yes... yes, please, you idiot', for a while, before he drew the small nub in
between his lips, touched his tongue to it and suckled quickly and firmly.
She gasped in breath as though for a scream, but when it came it was muted,
hiccups and whimpers as she exploded in motion beneath him, rocking up in
shuddering jerks while her clit throbbed and pulsed against his lips. It was
like a gorgeous, soft earthquake into his mouth, and Zach drew it out the best
he could think how, suckling gentler and slowing as her motions grew slower,
ending with light, small licks before he released her clit and rested his lips
against her smooth inner thigh, getting his breath back.
He pushed his hair away from his face and wiped his mouth and chin on the back
of his hand, then sat up on his knees between her legs, his cock aching fit to
burst again in his already damp trousers. He wasn't about to push his luck,
though. He'd count himself fortunate if he just made it out of the pumpkin
patch an intact male. And, he recalled after a moment, preferably with his
pumpkin.
She lay quiet and prone with her skirt bunched around her waist, one arm thrown
over her face, her chest still heaving in small hiccups of breath. Seeing her
like that made him feel unexpectedly tender towards her, protective and proud
of the pleasure he'd given her. Carefully, he eased her knickers into place and
drew her skirt down to her knees.
"Better now, Weasley?" he teased her.
"Wipe that grin off your face, Smith, or I will do it for you," she said, her
voice unsteady.
"I'm not grinning," he protested, somewhat hurt. "I'm, um, smiling."
"I just bet you are." She sat up, and, to his relief, he saw a flustered, tight
grin playing around her own lips. "Go figure you'd be good at something," she
said, brushing leaves and dirt out of her hair with her hands.
"Ha. Ha," he said dryly. He did, however, feel absolutely smug about the
praise. He stood up, bent down for her wand and recklessly gave it to her,
before offering her his hand.
She let him help her up. Brushing down her clothes, the warm shade of pink in
her cheeks almost hid her freckles.
"Will you be all right?" he asked her, feeling awkward as he shoved his hands
into his pockets, well aware that any tender advances would be unwelcome and
that even this simple question might be an open invitation for her to bite his
head off. Of course she wouldn't be all right. She'd go straight ahead and
commit some other foolhardy act of bravery, and suffer the consequences.
But she only looked surprised, pausing for a second in finger-combing the
tangles out of her hair. She stood up straighter and eyed him askance. "Yes.
Yes, I will. But if you ever breathe a word about this to anyone, Bat-Bogey
Hexes won't even be the beginning of it."
"Hey, you think you would be so good for my reputation?" Zach shrugged, and did
indeed grin, now. "As far as I'm concerned, what happens in the pumpkin patch,
stays in the pumpkin patch."
She nodded, looking at him with a seriousness that he couldn't quite interpret.
Then, with a toss of her bright hair over her shoulder, she turned to go.
Zach felt almost let down. Not that he'd expected a romantic kiss good-bye or
anything, but—
"Hey, Weasley!" he called after her. "Aren't you going to fight me for the
pumpkin?"
"We already did, didn't we? I'll be the bigger person. Take this one back to
Thea, by all means." She smiled, a solemn, uncertain smile that made her face
seem like a stranger's and his stomach jump weirdly and his heart skip a series
of beats. "Don't let it go to your head, Smith, but I wish I'd had a big
brother as observant as you, when I was a first-year."
Zach stood rooted to the spot, sucker-punched, and saw her go. Was this it,
then, the breach in her defences that he'd wanted? He hadn't expected the
wistful clenching of his chest that had come with it. He almost wanted to take
the wish back, now, although that was idiotic, as though it mattered one bit
that Ginny Weasley had paid him a sort of compliment, and as though he actually
believed in something as stupid and useless as wishes.
Halfway down the patch, she leaned down to choose another pumpkin, which she
floated alongside her with her wand as she left, never looking back.
He waited until she was out of sight before he turned and picked up his pumpkin
to bring it back to Thea.
-end-
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