The Slytherin common room was filled with the soft light of a morning that felt far too bright for the mood of the house. Sunlight filtered through the windows from the lake, casting a pale, watery green across the stone floor and the velvet upholstery of the sofas. Most of the students were already moving towards the stairs, their robes swishing as they gathered their books and parchment. Draconia sat on the low sofa near the hearth, her fingers tracing the edge of the cushions. She watched the sixth-years' table, noting how they sat with a new, cautious respect. They were not looking at her with the old suspicion, but with a quiet, observant stillness.
Harry walked through the entrance, his footsteps heavy on the stone. He did not look like a man who had broken a dozen unwritten rules, yet he moved with a calm certainty that suggested he belonged there. He approached the sofa where she waited, ignoring the eyes that tracked his every move. He sat on the edge of the low table in front of her, his knees nearly brushing her skirts.
"You are staying late," Harry said, his voice low.
"I am not staying late, you are just early," Draconia replied.
"I wanted to see you before the first lesson," he said.
"The whole room is watching us, Harry," she noted, tilting her head.
"Let them look," he answered, reaching out to touch her hand.
"They are waiting for you to leave," she said, a small smile playing on her lips.
"They are waiting to see what happens next," he corrected her.
"And what happens next?" she asked, her eyes bright.
"Whatever you want to happen," he said.
He stood and pulled her up from the sofa, leading her toward the rug in front of the fire. The fire crackled in the hearth, throwing a warmth over them that the lake light could not provide. The common room was not empty; people were lingering, pretending to finish conversations or adjust their bookbags, but their attention was fixed on the two of them. She felt the heat of the fire against her back as he guided her down to the rug.
Harry stripped his robes off with efficient, heavy movements. He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the broad expanse of his chest and the hard lines of his stomach. Draconia worked at the fastenings of her own gown, her fingers trembling slightly from the cold air. She pushed the fabric down, letting it pool around her waist until she sat in nothing but her thin chemise. Harry knelt between her thighs, his hands sliding up her legs to catch the hem of her skirt.
"I want you to do it here," she whispered, her voice steady despite the eyes of the room.
"Do you care?" he asked, his voice a low growth.
"I want them to see," she said, and he began to unbutton the back of her chemise.
He pushed the silk aside, exposing her breasts to the warmth of the fire. He leaned forward, his mouth finding her nipple, and she gasped as his tongue swirled around the tip. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he lowered her torso down to the rug. He moved his hands to the center of her body, sliding them inside her knickers to find her wetness. Her pussy was slick and hot, a tight, pulsing heat that demanded his attention. He used his thumbs to rub at her clitoris, circling the sensitive nub of flesh until she was arching her back against the floor.
Harry pulled his trousers down, his cock springing free from his underwear. It was thick and long, the head a dark, bruised purple that glistened with pre-cum. He positioned himself between her legs, the tip of his cock sliding against the wet slit of her cunt. He pushed forward, the length of him forcing its way into her tight, aching opening. Draconia let out a sharp cry, her hands gripping his shoulders as he buried himself deep inside her. He began to fuck her with long, heavy thrusts, his hips slamming against her pelvis with a dull, rhythmic thud.
"God, you are so tight," Harry groaned, his face conted with effort.
He pulled out almost entirely before plunging back in, the sensation of his cock sliding through her juices making her vision blur. He moved with a brutal, rhythmic pace, his balls slapping against her wet skin with every hard lunge. Draconia wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into her. She felt the friction of his skin against her inner thighs, the sensation of his cock stretching her walls until she felt she might break. He leaned down, his mouth finding hers in a hard, bruising kiss, while his hips never stopped the relentless motion of fucking her.
The heat of the fire seemed to rise in her blood as he increased the speed. He was driving into her, his cock a solid, pulsing weight that filled her completely. She could feel the moisture of her own cunt coating him, the sound of his friction wet and audible in the quiet room. He gripped her thighs, spreading them wider to allow for deeper, more violent thrusts. He was fucking her as if to claim her in front of the entire house, his movements heavy and unrefined. He reached down, his fingers finding her clitoris again, rubbing it in sync with the slapping of his cock against her pussy.
"Look at them, Harry," she breathed, her head tossing back.
"I am looking at you," he grunted, his muscles corded and straining.
He drove himself into her one last time, his entire body tensing as he reached his peak. He emptied himself into her, the hot burst of his cum flooding her insides. She felt the pulsing of his cock deep inside her womb, the sensation of his seed-filled heat making her muscles spasm. She came with him, her walls clamping around his thickness in a series of violent, rhythmic contractions. He collapsed against her, his chest heaving as he held her close, the scent of sex and woodsmoke filling the space around them.
She stayed there for a moment, her breath coming in ragged gasps, feeling the warmth of his cum leaking out of her. She did not move to cover herself or to hide the mess of their bodies. She sat up slowly, her hair a wild mess around her shoulders, and looked at the sixth-years' table. They were still there, a sea of still, silent faces. She saw the way they looked at her, not with the mockery of before, but with a dawning, heavy realization.
She stood, smoothing her skirt over her hips, though the dampness of her sex still clung to her skin. She turned her gaze to the entire room, her voice clear and unobstructed by the crackle of the hearth.
"I can make you come," she told the whole room, and finished it with his name.