I wrote this story for hp-kinkfest over on livejournal. The prompt came from thusspakekate, who also happened to be my very patient and helpful beta. So many thanks to her.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I also don't own Cosmo, no matter how much I wish I did. And the summary for this story was inspired by Dr. Strangelove.

Pansy Parkinson started her fourth year at Hogwarts with one very distinct expectation: this would be the year that she would finally have sex. She had a boyfriend, an expansive castle at her disposal, and most importantly, a significant desire to spread her legs and see what all the fuss was about. To make up for the fact that she had no idea what she was doing, Pansy had spent the summer engaged in an immense analysis of human sexuality that ranged from a stack of poorly hidden wizarding pornography in her parents' closet to boring texts detailing the more mundane mechanics of intercourse. Hermione Granger wasn't the only girl who could spend a vacation with her nose stuck in between pages.

Unfortunately, her studies had come to a halt when her parents announced the two most dreaded words a teenager can hear: family vacation. Not only did this mean that Pansy was going to miss the Quidditch World Cup, she was going to have to visit her cousins in America instead. And while her cousins' tendency to engage in the Muggle world was disgusting enough, Pansy was even more displeased when she realized she would have to share a room with them. This put a significant damper on her research. Even when she turned to the bathroom in an attempt for some alone time, frantic knocks would sound and interrupt her explorations.

After a stifling week spent at tourist traps like the Salem witch trial reenactments, Pansy was beginning to worry that she would never learn what she needed in time for the new school year. She was going to go back to school with no idea of how to shag Draco Malfoy, resident blond sex god-in-training. Clearly, the world was engaged in a giant conspiracy against her and her libido.

But just when Pansy was starting to consider going on a murderous, hormone-driven rampage, one of her cousins, a sixteen year old witch named Mary, found a way to be useful. She dragged Pansy out to a sleepover with some of her friends, giving her hope that she might be able to glean some sexual knowledge from this gathering of older girls. But when she got there, Pansy learned that Mary had the most boring friends imaginable. Even Granger seemed like invigorating company compared to these girls. Pansy practically yawned her way through a game of "Truth or Dare." Pansy had tried to make one girl run outside in her knickers, but that was deemed too risky. It was only when a secret bottle of firewhiskey was uncovered that the girls began to live up to their potential.

The most important revelation to come out of the evening was a Muggle magazine. Pansy had sneered at it first, unsure as to why the static picture of a supposedly famous Muggle woman would be remotely intriguing. But as the contents of the magazine were recited reverently around the circle, Pansy began to appreciate the striking insights it contained about the male brain. Ideas about what she should do and how she should do it began to swirl in her brain as she contemplated the fifty hottest ways to spice up her love life. No wizarding magazine had ever promised such an abundance of knowledge regarding the use of underwear as scrunchies.

Yes, like so many teenage girls before her, Pansy had discovered that unholiest of unholy texts: Cosmopolitan. The logic (or lack thereof) behind any piece of advice was irrelevant. As far as she was concerned, any word written in Cosmo was the truth. She voraciously acquired every copy she could find, taking down notes and coming up with a strategic plan for her first proper shag.

However, there is one contingency that no Muggle magazine can provide a solution for, now matter how American it is. And now, a few months into her fourth year, Pansy found herself facing an incredible conundrum she had never expected to encounter: how do you have sex with someone who you've seen get turned into a bouncing ferret?

She hadn't expected it to be such a challenge. After all, this was Draco. Why should it matter if one moment he was the beautiful boy she was committed to falling in love with and then the next moment he was a white ball of fur, oscillating through the air at the whim of Mad-Eye Moody?

Unfortunately, Pansy had a plan based on her newfound religious text, and the ferret situation couldn't have come at worse time.

Cosmo Life Lesson #1: Surprise your lover with a sexy bath…for two

There is a room in Hogwarts that has long been used by professors and students alike to suit their needs. Called the Room of Requirement by many of its users, it has been used for purposes ranging from convenient toilet location to recovery room for drunken house-elves. What is not widely known is that the Room of Requirement is in fact a Slytherin House creation. Yes, centuries ago, a room full of talented and frustrated Slytherin students had come up with a solution for the conundrum faced by many a boarding school student, namely the need for a suitable location for the sex. Of course, Hogwarts had many opportunities for privacy, and there were ways to get around the presence of ghosts and professors and other teachers.

But in this fateful meeting, which followed the consumption of magical substances that are now illegal in most countries, the participants realized that mere privacy was not enough. No, Slytherins would never settle for anything as mundane as repeated dalliances in isolated classrooms and dungeons. They required something a little more…intriguing.

From this arose the idea for a room that would suit the users' needs. Want a bottle of lubricant? It'll be there. Handcuffs? Check. Whips, full-body latex suit, and harness? Just ask and ye shall be served. In this way, a variety of sexual tastes and needs could be met without having to fuss with desks or fearing the intrusion of an obnoxious caretaker.

The tradition of the Room of Requirement had been handed down from generation to generation, one of the few traditions held sacred by the house. There was even an ancient sign-up sheet involved, one that was kept immune from any devious manipulation. Anyone else who tried to use the room during someone else's time would fail. Those were the rules, and every Slytherin knew better than to cross them.

Pansy had signed up for the room at the beginning of the school year. But due to the exceptionally high demand that followed the news that there would be non-Hogwarts students pouring into the school (say what you will about Slytherins, but they know how to plan in advance), she wasn't able to obtain a free date for quite some time. True, she could always try to find an otherwise free time slot to use it, but she liked the idea of planning the night she would lose her virginity. She had the date outlined in her calendar, a mental countdown ticking down the time until she would finally get to carry out the scheme in her head.

There were several elements to her plan. The first was surprise. While she and Draco had continued their snogging in various rooms in the castle, she had yet to give him any indication of her desire to move beyond some simple kissing and groping. She wanted Draco to be properly taken off-guard so that she could amaze him with her spontaneity. Latent in all of this was a need to make sure that she remained in control, that Pansy—not Draco—held all the keys to the next few steps of their relationship. She adored Draco and all that, but if they were going to be Hogwart's new power couple, he was going to have step back and let her take charge.

In the meantime, Pansy had come up with the perfect idea of how to set up the night. She would spend the whole day sighing over everything Draco did. Sure, it might get exhausting, but Cosmo had told her that building her man's ego was an important part of making sure he felt needed. In fact, in one article about how to increase a man's arousal, the magazine had practically guaranteed that compliments would enhance the sexual experience. If that meant gushing over Draco's potions while Snape breathed down their necks, Pansy would do it.

Then, after dinner, her perfectly trained cat would bring a letter to Draco telling him to go to the Room of Requirement. There he would find a room filled with scented candles and rose petals. A large bed covered in silk sheets and large pillows would be in the middle of the room, but Draco wouldn't find her there. No, he would find her in a large tub that was set towards the back of the room. She would covered in a convenient layer of bubbles, her red silk robe arranged deliberately on the ground so that he would realize just how convenient those bubbles were.

And everything was going according to plan. She had everything perfectly arranged; she just needed Draco to show up so the hymen-busting could proceed.

Of course, Draco had chosen the big day that Pansy had set aside to turn into a ferret. Sure, watching him antagonize Harry Potter was a daily event that Pansy derived great enjoyment from, but couldn't he have made sure that Mad-Eye Moody wasn't around before trying to curse Potter? Today was supposed to be perfect, and Draco had the gall to ruin it by turning into an ivory puffball with a twitchy nose.

McGonagall had transfigured him out of this ferret state, but it became increasingly clear throughout the day that the physical transformation was only the beginning of Draco's woes. To understand the change in his behavior as the hours progressed, it is important to know several facts about ferrets. For example, ferrets are apparently fond of something called the "weasel war dance." This involves frantic sideways movements, a tendency to knock into things, and a soft "cluck" sound called dooking. Of course, no one at the time understood why Draco was shaking his hips in a frenzied manner and clucking his tongue, but it became clear when he toppled over several bookcases that something was wrong.

It was the anal gland secretions that really freaked everyone out. No one would have had to experience them if Crabbe hadn't thrown an apple at Draco's head. Apparently, when startled, ferrets act much like skunks, which meant that the impact of the apple on Draco's head was followed by a terrible odor. It wasn't until later in the day—Draco was found in his room trying to mark the area around his bed using these secretions—that Pansy decided that it was time to call in Madame Pomfrey, who promptly prescribed a night in the infirmary for further care.

But Pansy had plans and she wasn't going to let them go to waste, especially when she had gotten herself so excited over the prospect of a magnificent bathtub. Easing herself into the soothing water, she tried to let the soft perfume of the scented bubbles wash away the grime of a day that involves the phrase, "anal gland secretions." Eventually, as she relaxed and closed her eyes, she found that the soft sound of music in the background was helping. Sure, the room was doing little to appease what she was starting to feel was a desperate need for sex, but at least it was doing some good for a short while.

So why on earth the room decided to let Fleur Delacour enter the room was beyond Pansy's comprehension. Surely there was something defective in the room. Or maybe it was Fleur. She was French, after all.

Initially, when the door opened, Pansy held out hope that Draco had made a miracle recovery. When she noticed a section of blonde hair poking through the door, she was practically grinning like Ron Weasley in front of a pile of food. But when the figure became complete as the image of Fleur, Pansy suddenly felt like a complete idiot. Here she was, in a tub and smiling like a buffoon in front of a girl who rendered all the boys around her incoherent with a single glance.

"'Ello?"

The bitch thought she could just waltz in here with her French accent like she owned the place. "You're not supposed to be in here," Pansy called out, glaring miserably from the tub. Then, speaking louder and slower when Fleur didn't seem to be leaving, "You're not supposed to be able to get in."

"Are you sure?" Fleur asked, looking curiously around the room. She was carrying a towel and basket of shower supplies. "I was looking all over zis castle for a shower, but eet iz too big. I passed by zis room three times and now eet just opens up with a tub." She was looking pointedly at the tub, making Pansy quite glad that there was a pile of bubbles to cover her up.

"Well, I don't know why it did that, but it shouldn't have. And you should really go now."

"Oh? Are you expecting someone?"

"Yes." Pansy paused. "Well, no, but—"

"Zen I do not see what is the problem," Fleur declared, walking towards Pansy. "Zis tub, it is big enough for us both, no?"

Before Pansy could stop her, Fleur had already started undressing, removing her sweater. As she slowly began unbuttoning her shirt, Pansy knew that she officially hated Fleur. It was one thing when she was just some perfect blonde princess who spoke in a pretty French accent and enchanted all the boys with her mere presence. But no, this girl had crossed the line. She was undressing! In front of Pansy!

Worst of all, her underwear matched.

Pansy wasn't sure why that was the worst fact of all. It just seemed so absurd that someone would wear a delicate blue lace bra that perfectly matched the delicate blue lace of her underwear. Cosmo hadn't prepared her for this. Was her underwear supposed to match? Was it supposed to do that thing where it perfectly encases the wearer's bum? Were breasts supposed to slope so perfectly?

No, Fleur Delacour was a freak of nature. Pansy was sure of it. There was no reason for why she should be staring so intently at another girl's body unless that girl was a freak.

If Fleur noticed Pansy staring, she made no mention of it. It seemed like that she was so accustomed to being the focus of other people's attention that she barely noticed it at all anymore. The thought seemed strangely sad to Pansy, the idea that adoration could be excessive to the point of being meaningless. She didn't have long to dwell on the pitfalls of beauty though because Fleur was currently standing completely naked in front of her and she had no idea where to look. Looking directly at the naked presence in front of her seemed far too obvious, but looking away was too prudish. And if there was one thing Pansy didn't want, it was to be considered a prude.

So Pansy settled on a guise she was far more comfortable with: bitch. "Don't you have your own special showers?" she sneered, staring defiantly at Fleur.

Fleur merely dipped her toe in the water to test its warmth. "I am already undressed," she said without even glancing at Pansy as she eased herself slowly into the water. "Aaaah," she sighed as the water formed a cover around her body. "Zis is so much better zan the showers they have given to us."

"I wouldn't get to used to it," Pansy replied. "It'll be gone after tonight. The room changes from night to night."

A great look of alarm appeared on Fleur's face. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "But zis is the first thing of 'Ogwarts that I have liked! The food is too rich, the classes too boring, and ze boys too ugly."

"They're not all bad," Pansy grumbled.

"Oh, I am sorry," Fleur said as she ran water from the tap over her face, sounding only vaguely sorry at best. "Do you date one of them?

Pansy wasn't sure why she was entertaining conversation with this invader. She was, however, becoming increasingly aware of the water trickling down Fleur's neck and further down onto her bare breasts. The realization that there were about a thousand boys who would pay to be in her position hit Pansy, and yet she was too riveted to consider giving up her seat. "Yes," she answered, her defenses still mounted. "Draco Malfoy. We've been dating since last year. And he is not ugly. In fact, he's quite amazing and cool."

Fleur seemed to barely be listening. She was more focused on the arduous task of washing her hair, her eyes closed as she leaned her head back and ran her fingers through the shining strands. Pansy had seen a shampoo commercial on one of those Muggle televisions before, and Fleur seemed to raise the action to an art. "Draco?" she said, her eyes still closed. "He is the one who is a ferret today?"

It took several seconds of aggravated silence for Pansy to pry her gritted teeth apart and respond. "Yes," she finally managed to say. "He's the one."

"Zat is too bad," Fleur said, her voice frustratingly not full of the condescension Pansy was anticipating. "In our schools, we would never transform a student into a ferret. Zat is simply not allowed."

"It's not allowed here either. I hope Mad-Eye gets fired for what he did." Then, feeling a need to defend Draco's honor, Pansy added eagerly, "Draco's dad is very powerful, you know. He once got Dumbledore fired!"

"But Dumbledore still teaches here, does he not?"

"Well," Pansy acquiesced, "it didn't last. But Mr. Malfoy almost got a hippogriff executed for nearly maiming Draco."

"Almost?"

"It escaped." Pansy was getting really tired of Fleur's failure to grasp the might of the Malfoys. She was asking two very valid questions, but that was two very valid questions too many. "Are you done?" she asked impatiently, drumming her fingers on the side of the bath.

"Am I making it difficult for you to bathe?" Fleur didn't really seem concerned about the inconvenience she was causing Pansy, instead working on lathering soap across her exposed skin as she raised her body out of the water. Pansy felt strangely concerned with that as well, carefully tracking the sheen of soap mixed with water that was now glistening down Fleur's breasts and onto her abdomen.

"You're interrupting what was a very nice relaxing bath."

One of Fleur's legs popped out of the water, exposing the lean muscle as she worked the soap down her smooth skin. "Why iz your boyfriend not here with you?" she asked, looking around the room to take in the magnificent décor. "I 'ardly think you are in this room to be alone."

"He was supposed to be here," she admitted. "But he's in the infirmary."

"Oh, because of the ferret?"

"Yes, because of the ferret," Pansy snarled, her fist tightening up in frustration. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to quell the rising tension in her body. When she opened her eyes, she was startled to see the pale expanse of Fleur's back only a wand's length away from her. "Uh…excuse me?"

Fleur looked over her shoulder and turned slightly to hold out her soap. "Will you wash my back?"

Pansy's mouth was suddenly very dry as she looked between the soap and the naked skin in front of her. "Can't you…uh…wash it yourself?"

As she pulled a stray hair over her shoulder, Fleur shrugged. "Perhaps," she said, her head still turned slightly in Pansy's direction. "But when I 'ave company, I much prefer to 'ave zem do it."

The bar of soap was in Pansy's hands before she had time to reflect on just how pathetic she was acting. Freezing up over having to wash another girl's back? Sure, Cosmo had never discussed this particular issue before, but surely she could figure it out. Rolling the soap in her hands, she reached out tentatively for Fleur's shoulders. She wasn't sure what she was expecting at first contact. Her hands brushed the base of Fleur's neck, and immediately, Pansy retracted her hand. The parts of her fingers that had felt the soft skin under them suddenly felt very hot, as if it were really Fleur who was touching her and not the other way around. Taking a deep breath, she extended her hands again and began to run them across Fleur's shoulders. She trailed the soap down the other girl's back, learning the way the muscles and bone were woven together to make the stunning figure in front of her.

The water pooled around Fleur's hips, reflecting the sight of her back while hinting at the hidden half of her body. Pansy nearly lost track of time as she cast what she hoped were covert glances at the water to see more of Fleur. It was only when the sight of Fleur's breasts reflected in the water caused the soap to slide out of her hands that she realized there was enough lather to mask the skin completely. She fumbled to catch the soap before it landed in the water, mumbling, "Um…I guess I'm done."

Fleur eased herself back into the water and rinsed herself of the soap. Pansy took the opportunity to sit back down so the water was covering her again. When Fleur was done, she rose up, this time facing Pansy. Smiling, she said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Pansy replied, trying to hide her amazement at the sight of Fleur's bare breasts.

"Would you like me to wash you?"

Pansy's head shot up, her eyes widening at the prospect of Fleur's hands wandering across her body. "No…I can wash myself," she answered uneasily, trying desperately to suppress the flush of heat rushing to her cheeks.

"Very well," Fleur replied breezily, turning to leave. Pansy was just about to relax completely when Fleur looked back. "Your name?" she asked. "I do not think I know it."

"Pansy. Pansy Parkinson."

Fleur leaned forward, lightly placing a finger under Pansy's chin and raising her head. "Panzy," she echoed. "That iz a flower, yes? Like me." Pansy could only nod slightly, taken aback by the gentle touch. "Well, Pansy Parkinson," Fleur said as she edged closer, her lips brushing Pansy's cheek so that the words were warm against her. "It is nice to meet you." She softly kissed Pansy's cheek and then pulled away to get out of the bath. She calmly put her clothes back on, gathered her belongings, and with a cheerful, "Au revoir," exited the room. As she watched, Pansy raised her hand to that spot on her cheek that now felt so distinct from the rest of her as the newly formed memory of Fleur's lips seared its way into the skin.