The stone of the stairwell felt cold against her shoulder as she leaned into the door. Harry was on the other side, and his presence was a solid, breathing weight that she could feel through the heavy oak. Her breath hitched in her throat, a small sound that she hoped the shadows of the landing would swallow. The curfew was absolute, and the castle was supposed to be sleeping, yet here she was, pressing her body against a barrier that felt more like a challenge than a restriction.
"Do you think they can hear us?" Harry asked, his voice muffled by the wood.
"They are asleep, Harry. Even the ghosts have found their beds for the night," she replied, her voice a bit too sharp.
She shifted her weight, feeling the friction of her silk knickers against her skin. The stairwell was narrow, a vertical throat of stone that led to the Astronomy Tower, and it felt as though the entire castle was watching her through the cracks. She wanted him to come through, and she wanted him to stay out. It was a contradiction she could not resolve in the dark.
"You are being difficult," he said, and she heard the scrape of his boots against the stone.
"I am being precise. There is a difference."
"The door is stuck. It is not just locked; it is stubborn."
"Everything in this castle is stubborn," she muttered.
She reached out, her fingers tracing the carved edges of the doorframe. The wood was smooth, polished by years of hands and magic. She had spent her entire life learning how to bend things to her will, yet this single, unassuming door refused to yield to her touch. It was an insult to her lineage, a tiny, wooden rebellion in a castle that usually bowed to her presence.
"Use the spell," he commanded, and she could hear the grin in his voice.
"I do not need a spell to open a door."
"You are pretending to be trapped, and it is a very good performance."
"Is it? Perhaps you should call Filch to come and rescue you."
"I would rather stay here and be stuck with you."
Her heart gave a violent thud against her ribs. She knew she was playing a game, a dangerous game of tension and silence, but the thrill of it was too much to resist. She wanted to be caught, and she wanted to be the one who decided when the catching happened. She felt the heat of her own skin rising, a stark contrast to the chill of the stone wall behind her.
"Just say it," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave. "Say the words and let me in."
She closed her eyes, imagining him standing there in the dim light of the landing, his eyes dark and focused. She could almost see the way his hair fell over his forehead, the way his jaw set when he was frustrated. She wanted to break the silence, to shatter the stillness of the stairwell with something more than just a spoken word.
"Alohomora!" she shouted, her voice ringing out in the narrow space.
The spell hit the lock with a sharp, metallic click. The door swung inward, the heavy oak grovelling to the floor to admit him. He stepped into the small space, his body filling the doorway, and before she could draw another breath, he had her trapped against the wall.
His hands were everywhere at once, large and warm, pulling her closer until her breasts were crushed against his chest. He did not go slow; he was a man who had spent too much long waiting for the moment to arrive. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into the silk of her robes, and hoisted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her thighs gripping his hips as he carried her the rest of the way into the room.
"You said it so loudly," he murmured against her neck, his breath hot and damp.
"I wanted to make sure everyone heard," she gasped, her head falling back.
He dropped her onto the edge of the low table near the telescope, the wood hard against her arse. He did not wait to undress her properly; he simply shoved her knickers aside, the silk a useless barrier. He unfastened his trousers with a frantic-looking precision, and she watched as his cock sprang free, thick and angry-looking in the moonlight.
"Look at it," he whispered, and he took her hand, guiding her fingers to the tip of his cock.
"It is huge," she breathed, her eyes wide.
"It is yours."
He spread her legs wide, his thumbs hooking into the edges of her thighs to pull her open. He entered her with a single, heavy thrust, his cock sliding into her wet cunt with a blunt, uncerated force. She cried out, the sound caught in her throat as he buried himself deep inside her. He was so large that she felt stretched, the skin of her pussy taut and stinging with the sudden fullness.
"Fuck," he groaned, his forehead dropping to hers. "You are so tight."
"Do not just stand there," she hissed, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Fuck me."
He began to move, his hips striking hers with a rhythmic, bruising force. Each time he drove into her, the sound of his cock slapping against her cunt filled the room, a wet, visceral noise that made her blood boil. He pulled out almost entirely before driving back in, the tip of his cock scraping against her clit as he plunged deep. He was fucking her hard, his weight driving her back against the wood, and she felt the friction of his skin against hers, a sliding, heavy sensation that threatened to break her.
"You like that, don't you?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "You like being filled by me."
"Yes," she sobbed, her hips rising to meet every thrust. "Yes, more."
He gripped her hair, pulling her head back so he could look into her eyes as he worked. He was a beast in the dark, his movements unrefined and powerful. He shoved his fingers into her mouth to quiet her cries, but she bit down on his hand, a sharp, stinging nip that made him grunt. He did not slow down; if anything, he grew more aggressive. He drove his cock into her cunt with a violent, rhythmic pace, the heat of him a constant, pulsing pressure.
"Tell me what you want," he demanded, his voice ragged. "Tell me to fuck you harder."
"Harder!" she screamed, her voice a ragged edge of sound. "Fuck my pussy, Harry! Fill me up!"
He complied, his thrusts becoming shorter and faster, the friction building until she felt a coil of tension snapping inside her. She felt the first wave of her orgasm hit, a violent, pulsing contraction of her cunt around his cock. He felt it too, his eyes blowing wide as he felt her walls tighten around him. He gave one final, massive thrust, burying his cock to the hilt, and then he groaned, his entire body shaking as he came. She felt the hot, thick jets of his cum shooting deep inside her, filling her pussy with a warmth that made her vision blur. He stayed there, slumped against her, his breath coming in heavy, jagged gasps as his cock pulsed inside her, a heavy, living thing that refused to leave her.
She lay there for a moment, her heart racing, the silence of the room returning around them like a heavy shroud. She felt the dampness of her own arousal and his cum-slicked skin, the two of them tangled in the dark.
"That," she whispered, her voice a mere shadow of itself, "was not a bad enough announcement."