The door remained a stubborn, silent thing, a slab of oak that refused to yield to his touch or his magic. Harry stood on the landing, his hand still hovering near the wood, feeling the frustration of it in his very bones. Harry was standing a few feet away, her back to the door and her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She looked as though she wanted to strike the door or perhaps weep, though she would never do the latter in his presence. The east wing was too quiet, the stillness of the corridor pressing against them as they stood in the dim light.
"It won't work," Harry said, her voice brittle. "I have tried every charm in the book, and yet this room behaves as if it has a personal grudge against me."
"Maybe it's not meant to be opened," Harry suggested, though he knew the suggestion was useless.
"Everything can be opened," she snapped, turning to face him with a sharp glint in her eyes. "If a door stays shut, it is simply because the person trying to open it is not using the right intention."
He watched her, noting the way her robes brushed against the stone floor as she paced the narrow width of the landing. They were stuck in this limbo, caught between the expectation of a room and the reality of a corridor. There was no bed to lie on, no furniture to lean against, and no reason left to pretend they were waiting for anything more than the inevitable. The cold of the stone seeped through the soles of his shoes, a reminder that they were nowhere near the warmth of a dormitory or a common room.
"Are you going to stand there all night?" Harry asked, her eyes searching his face for a sign of fatigue.
"I'm not going anywhere," Harry replied, stepping closer to her.
"You are a fool, Potter," she muttered, but she did not move away as he reached out to touch her waist.
The stone floor was hard beneath them, yet neither of them cared about the discomfort of the landing. Harry's breathing grew heavy as he pulled her against him, her body a solid, warm weight against his- much smaller frame. He could feel the heat of her through the layers of her clothing, a stark contrast to the chill of the air. She reached up, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his head down to hers as she let out a frustrated, jagged moan.
"I hate this room," she whispered against his lips, her breath hot and sweet. "I hate that it keeps you out."
"Then let's not worry about the room," Harry said, his voice thick.
He lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he moved her back against the wall. Her back hit the stone with a dull thud, but she only gripped his shoulders tighter. He lowered her down, setting her on the floor so she could sit, her legs splayed wide to accommodate him. He pushed her skirts up, the fabric bunching around her hips until his hands found the damp warmth of her pussy. Her cunt was soaking, a slick, glistening heat that made his head swim.
"Fuck, Harry," she gasped, her head falling back against the wall. "Don't stop."
He unbuttoned his trousers, his cock springing free, hard and aching from the friction of his clothes. He leaned forward, his palms flat against the cold stone on either side of her, and pushed his thumb into her slit. Harry cried out, her hips bucking upward to meet his hand as he worked the wetness around her clitoris. He watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted in a silent plea. He moved his hand lower, sliding his fingers deep into her cunt, feeling the tight, pulsing walls of her sex as they clamped around his knuckles.
"You're so wet," he groaned, his thumb rubbing circles into her sensitive flesh. "Your pussy is dripping."
"I want you inside," she commanded, her voice a low, guttural rasp. "I don't care about the door. Just get inside me."
He positioned himself between her thighs, the tip of his cock brushing against her soaking wet entrance. He pushed forward, the blunt head of his member stretching her wide as he slid into her. Harry let out a long, high-pitched wail of pleasure, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he buried himself to the hilt. The sensation was overwhelming, the way her tight, hot cunt gripped him, squeezing the life out of his cock with every inch of movement. He began to fuck her, his thrusts heavy and rhythmic, the sound of his cock slapping against her wet pussy echoing in the empty corridor.
"Harder," she whispered, her eyes snapping open to look at him. "Fuck me harder, Harry."
He obliged, driving his cock into her with more force, his hips crashing against her pelvis. He could feel the friction of her clitoris against his pubic bone with every shove. He reached down, grabbing her thighs and pulling them wider, exposing the pink, swollen folds of her vulva to the dim light of the landing. He watched his own cock disappear into her, the dark skin of his shaft disappearing into the wet, glistening heat of her pussy. He was a man possessed, the need to fill her, to conquer the emptiness of this hallway, driving him to a frantic pace.
"You feel so good," he panted, his sweat dripping onto her skin. "God, your cunt is so tight."
"Don't stop, don't you dare stop," she hissed, her legs tightening around his waist as she pulled him deeper. "I want to feel every inch of you."
He increased the speed of his thrusts, his cock sliding in and out of her with a wet, squelching sound. He felt the build of the pressure in his groin, a tightening coil that demanded release. Harry was shaking now, her body vibrating with the force of his fucking. He saw the way her breasts bounced with each impact, her skin turning a flush of pink as the heat of the act took over. He leaned down, catching her mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue dancing with hers while his cock pounded relentlessly into her pured-out sex.
"I'm close," he groaned, his voice breaking. "I'm going to cum."
"Do it," she gasped, her hips rising to meet his final, desperate lunges. "Fill me, Harry. Fill my fucking pussy."
He gave one last, powerful thrust, burying his cock as deep as it could go, and felt his orgasm shatter through him. He came with a force that left him breathless, the warm, thick cum spraying inside her as he pulsed deep within her cunt. Harry reached her limit at the same time, her walls clenching around him in a series of violent, delicious spasms that milked him dry. She cried out his name, her body arching off the stone floor as her pussy gripped his cock, holding him there as the two of them shuddered in the aftermath.
They stayed there for a long time, tangled together on the hard, unyielding floor. The warmth of their bodies was the only thing keeping the chill of the stone at bay. They did not move to find a bed, nor did they attempt to find a way back into the room. They simply lay on the landing, the heavy, exhausted silence of the east wing settling over them once more, explicit on cold stone because neither of them will go inside a room she can't enter.