Word Count: 2,957
Rating: R
Category: AU, Humour, Romance
Notes: Written for HP Porn in the Sun 2010 Fest.  Many thanks to Ayla Pascal for all her help and her wonderful betaing!  Also thank you Mosh for looking over this, too!
Summary: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times . . . ” along with a cranky rabbit, a boring book, and one wild imagination.
Pairing: Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley
Warnings: Bondage and biting
Dedications: Kitty_Mrowr
Completed Date: May 9, 2010

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My bounce-around life had taught me that dreams were dangerous things — they look solid in your mind, but you just try to reach for them. It’s like gathering clouds. — Kirby Larson

---

“Do you really have to go to this wine tasting party?” Ron asked, sulking on the sofa, his arms crossed in front of him.

He watched Pansy pick at a tiny speck on her otherwise immaculate robes. She then looked up and said, “I’ve promised Draco months ago that I’d go. You can come with me, you know.”

“No,” he stated sourly. He didn’t want to go to any party hosted by that Malfoy git. Not to mention a wine tasting party. He didn’t even like wine! He’d take a shot of firewhiskey over wine any day.

Pansy let out an exasperated sigh. “Then just stay home and relax with Nips.”

“Relax? I’ve been relaxing for the last two weeks!” That was true. Lately, Ron had been overworked and overstressed at his Auror job. The long hours were beginning to take their toll, and his supervisor had ordered him to take a month’s leave or else. Grudgingly, Ron chose to take leave over getting fired. All was not bad as he spent his first week of leave in bliss. He really did need the time off by getting some extra hours of sleep, catching up with his friends, and of course, spending time with Pansy. However, after the first week, Ron found himself growing bored and antsy with nothing to do but play chess, watch the telly, and try to cook simple dishes that wouldn’t explode on him.

Then there was the matter of Nips. There was no way in hell he could relax with the world’s evillest rabbit in the same flat as him. Nips was Pansy’s beloved pet, and despite her insistence that Nips is the sweetest little thing, Ron knew otherwise. He knew for certainty that Nips was the epitome of wicked. He’d explained to Harry that Nips was Crookshanks crossed with Snape and Filch except a hundred times more nasty.

But even Harry — his best mate — who after meeting Nips himself, didn’t believe Ron.

Ron was a bit disturbed that a brainless rabbit could be so good at fooling people.

When Pansy looked away, Ron glared at Nips, whose grey fur gleamed from its daily brushing. Nips’ nose twitched as his ears perked up to listen for any sounds, and it hopped around on its strong hind legs. Ron bristled at the “rabbit scowl” he received from Nips. One day, Ron would make sure that rabbit knew its place!

Pansy looked over herself in the mirror one more time before she turned to Ron and said, “Well, still, just spend the afternoon relaxing. I’ll keep you company tonight, all right? Have fun with Nips!”

With a loud pop, she Apparated away, leaving Ron and Nips together.

---

Ron surfed through the channels on the telly — he’d been doing that for the last hour, and his thumb began to feel numb. There were over 100 channels for him to watch, and there was absolutely nothing interesting on. Ron considered this to be more than irony — he considered this to be a travesty!

Groaning, he slumped against the sofa, throwing the remote aside, and he looked at the coffee table in front of him. A book lay there, and it was a A Tale of Two Cities, Pansy’s favourite book. She loved the book so much that she even had an antique, leather-bound book in her collection. The one currently on the table was a generic hardcover book she liked to read at least every two months.

Curious, Ron picked up the book. He’d never read it nor really knew much about it except that Pansy adored it. Pansy had tried to convince him to read it, but so far he hadn’t complied. He fingered the spine, where the title and the author’s name were engraved, and he thumbed the pages as he flipped them. He didn’t know much about Muggle literature, but he knew about Charles Dickens . . . or at least he knew about that “David Silverfield” bloke, since he had to watch the film adaptation several times whenever he upset Pansy. And although he’d yet to read the book, he did like the story of the film.

Therefore, he decided to try reading A Tale of Two Cities — simply because he was curious and he had nothing better to do. Ron turned to a random page in the middle and read the first line. It didn’t seem so bad. Maybe he didn’t need to be bored after all. He could read the book!

But first, Ron had to go give Nips his afternoon snack. Rolling his eyes, he went to the room where Nips’ cage resided, and Nips was already waiting there impatiently. Ron cringed at the loud noises whenever Nips shoved his dish around with his muzzle.

“Why me?” Ron muttered under his breath.

---

Back on the sofa, Ron opened up the book, and he began his reading. He read the famous phrase he’d heard many times before. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times . . . so that’s where this came from!” he exclaimed to himself. “We’re off to a good start.” Eagerly, Ron continued on to the next sentence.

Three pages later, his eyes had begun to cross, and he stifled back a yawn.

The book was ruddy boring.

Terribly boring and confusing to the point that Ron decided he couldn’t stand it any longer.

As much as he wanted to throw the book out the window, he knew better than that; Pansy would kill him if he travelled that route. Instead, he set the book back on the table, found a comfortable position on the sofa, and decided to take a nap. At least the book had one benefit. He wasn’t bored anymore — just sleepy.

---

When Ron woke up, he could tell something was off. His eyes were still shut, but through other senses and years of Auror training, he knew he was tied up. His eyes snapped open, and he stared at his reflection in the ceiling mirror. “What the bloody hell?!”

Gone were his favourite jeans and his Chudley Cannons shirt. He currently sported an outfit reminiscent to an 1800s outfit he saw on David Silverfield. From the fancy shirt and vest to the cravat to the tight “pantaloonys” and the top hat next to his head on the pillow, Ron decided he looked horrible in the outfit. Not to mention the beard. How the fuck did he grow a beard so quickly?

His wrists and ankles were tied to each bed post; at first he thought they were ropes, but upon a closer inspection, the ropes were colourful silk scarves. Since he’d been dating Pansy for a while, he knew that these were expensive silk scarves.

A terrible feeling came over him. Had he been caught by a bunch of Death Eaters — there were still some out there who’d evaded the Aurors — who had magically transformed him into a character from the 1800s by dressing him up in obsolete Muggle clothing as a form of torture? And why was he tied to a bed? Were all those rumours about Death Eaters and their vastly diverse and huge sexual appetites true?

Before Ron could throw up his lunch all over himself, he struggled against the bindings, which were most likely spelled to not release him no matter how hard he fought them. While he desperately tried to release himself, he heard the door open and close. His captors had arrived.

---

“Pansy?!” Ron was surprised and relieved to see his girlfriend entering alone. He craned his head to get a good look at her, and his mouth dropped open.

Pansy was all sexed up. She was wearing a very low-cut, purple and black corset outfit in the form of a one-piece swimming suit that gave her pale breasts a good support. At the bottom of her suit, there were those things that held up her lacy, white stockings. Ron couldn’t see her shoes, but he could hear the tip-taps of what he guessed to be heels. In one hand, Pansy held her wand; in the other, she had a riding crop.

Ron wasn’t sure which one he should stare at — Pansy’s shapely body or that dangerous looking crop. He chose to stare at her face. Her rouge-covered smile held hints of a smirk, and her blue eyes had a dangerous edge to them. Her long, black hair was fashioned into a formal up-do, and a small, sparkly tiara was pinned on her crown.

Pansy looked absolutely breathtaking, and Ron could feel the beginning of his arousal pooling in his stomach. Earlier, he hadn’t enjoyed waking up to his bounded state. Now? He didn’t mind it at all. In fact, they had talked about doing something like this one day — minus the costumes — and apparently that day had come as quite a surprise.

“You like what you see?” Pansy asked in a husky voice.

With his vocal cords stunned by her sexiness, Ron could only nod.

“And do you like the costume I’ve picked out for you?”

He didn’t, but the last thing he wanted to do was upset her. He swallowed hard before answering. “Yes.”

“Liar,” Pansy responded calmly, with no vehemence in her voice. “You don’t like it, and I don’t blame you. Those pantaloons don’t quite work for you . . . although I can see the pleasing effects of my outfit on you more easily than when you’re in robes or jeans.” With her riding crop, she lightly brushed Ron’s crotch. Ron shuddered at the teasing touches.

Pansy smirked as she set her wand down on the night table. With her French manicured fingers, she stroked Ron’s face, and then she frowned. “The beard’s got to go. It’s way too bushy, and it’s not you. I’ll bet snogging will feel like I’m kissing a cactus or something.”

“Oi!” Ron said, feeling insulted even if he did agree with her assessment. “My beard’s not that spiky or anything!”

Her fingers touched his beard again, and she looked thoughtful. “Well, it’s softer than a porcupine’s body, I suppose.” She leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his lips, and Ron unhappily groaned when she backed away.

“Pansy . . . stop being such a tease.”

“But you like it, so why don’t you just let me do things at my own pace, darling.” Pansy slowly and painstakingly began to unbutton Ron’s vest. Just doing that seemed to take forever, and Ron grunted impatiently. “Perhaps, next time I’ll get a vest that has more buttons than this one.”

“Pansy,” Ron begged. “Don’t think like that.”

“Why ever not? It’s fun watching you in this predicament.”

Ron bit his tongue, determined not to let Pansy derive pleasure from his current state. Slowly, she finished unbuttoning the vest, and then her experienced fingers loosened his cravat. She tossed that aside, and then she started to undo the buttons on his shirt. Every so often, she’d glide her fingers down the soft materials, the light touches driving him gradually mad as each stroke intensified his burning and growing arousal.

When she climbed onto the bed, Ron saw her shiny, black heels on her feet. She straddled him, her pert arse resting on top of his now rock hard cock, and Ron couldn’t help but moan out loud. By now, he didn’t mind being tied up to the bed. He felt excited by the helpless feeling he had. But at the same time, he wished he wasn’t secured to the bed. He wished his hands were free, so he could run them over the stockinged thighs. He wanted to peel them off of her gently, revealing and kissing her bare flesh.

Despite all that though, Pansy took the command, and Ron didn’t mind at all. Pansy may be a dominating force in the household, but when it came to sex, she usually took the passive route, giving Ron the reign to do what he wanted. This change of authority was definitely a good thing they should try more often.

Pansy squirmed on top of him, her arse grinding his cock. The pantaloons stretched over his middle were so tight that it was almost painful. He wanted to tell her to remove them instead of his shirt, but he could tell by the gleam in her eyes that she had other plans.

“Now,” she said with her usual confidence. “I think I’ll have a taste of you . . . ” She bent over, giving Ron a much closer view of her breasts, and her lips ghosted over his chest. Pansy was going to bite him. The way she bit him always felt good. She knew how to apply enough pressure to give him pleasure instead of pain. When she did that to his nipples, which was one of Ron’s most sensitive erogenous areas, he didn’t want her to stop.

She moved closer and closer to one of his nipples, and Ron held his breath in anticipation. When she kissed it, Ron let out a shudder. “Pansy, please . . . ” All his pride went out the window as he allowed himself to beg.

He could feel a smile playing on her lips as she whispered, “Since you asked nicely, I’ll do what you obviously want.”

Ron closed his eyes and waited.

---

“Ow! Fucking hell!” Ron jolted up on the sofa. His eyes cleared up just in time to see Nips hopping away. From a safe distance, Nips turned around and gave Ron a haughty look, his nose twitching endlessly.

Through his Chudley Cannons shirt, Ron rubbed his sore nipple, and he looked around the sitting room.

It was a dream. All of it was a bloody dream. When he’d thought Pansy had straddled him, he realised Nips had been the one to sit on his groin. And when he dreamed of Pansy in the process of biting him, Nips had bitten him for real!

Ron scowled at Nips. He was not going to let that stupid rabbit get the best of him! But before he could do anything, Pansy rushed in from another room.

“Ron! What happened?”

Still rubbing his tender nipple, Ron proceeded to tell Pansy everything. Every little detail of the dream up to the point where Nips bit him. When he finished, Pansy was doubled over with laughter. Ron looked at her fiercely. “It’s not funny.”

“I can’t believe you! How in Slytherin’s balls did you get that sort of dream from your poor attempt on reading A Tale of Two Cities and from our watching of David Copperfield? That’s quite impressive of you.”

“Instead of laughing, how about you go scold that rabbit of yours?” Ron answered petulantly.

Pansy sobered up and waved a hand. “He’s just a rabbit. He doesn’t know better. He probably thought your nipples were food.”

“They are not food.”

Ron gave Nips — who had now hopped over to be petted — a dirty look. Nips just looked at him innocently, but Ron swore he also saw the damn rabbit smirk at him.

Clearing his throat, Ron decided to change the subject. An idea had come into his head. “How about we act out the dream?”

“Excuse me?” Pansy’s eyebrows went high up. “Act out the dream? Have you lost your bloody mind?”

“Why not? It’ll be fun.”

Pansy gave him a calculating look before retorting, ” You think with your cock too much. I’ve a better idea. You need more stimulation in the right brain, so let’s read A Tale of Two Cities out loud together!”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Ron blanched out. He did not want to read that book.

Pansy picked Nips up and cradled him gently in her arms. She stood up and started to leave the room. “I’ll be back,” she told him in a mysterious tone.

“Where are you going?”

She stopped and turned around. Giving him a knowing look, she said, “Well, if you want that ridiculous fantasy of yours to come true, you and I’ll both need the costume and the props, right? Just don’t spell a beard on you. I reckon a beard will look terrible on you.”

Ron blinked. Pansy always had tended to surprise him, but he hadn’t counted on her accepting his proposal this easily. Then again, Pansy never turned down an interesting challenge. “Ah, well . . . I guess you’re right about the beard.”

“Very eloquent,” she sniffed. “While I’m gone, I want you to read the first three chapters of A Tale of Two Cities, and I’ll quiz you on what you’ve read when I come back. If you fail . . . well, I guess this fantasy of yours is going on the shelf.”

Nips gave him a mocking look just as Pansy turned and walked out, and Ron stifled back the urge to hex the rabbit. When he was certain Pansy had left the flat, he groaned out loud and glanced at the book with hatred. He had a ruddy book to read, and when he picked it up, he realised that Pansy had cleverly manipulated him into reading this boring literature.

He let out a loud laugh. “Damn, she’s good. She’s as Slytherin as they come. And damn me for even suggesting the idea . . . but I guess it’ll be worth it in the end. Provided I don’t die from the book’s dullness.”

Knowing that Pansy would be gone for quite a while — she was a shopping addict even if she’d never admit it — Ron opened the book and used all of his concentration to remember what he would read.