The vapour rose in thick, white plumes from the mouth of the cauldron, obscuring the space between them. It was a dense, heavy fog that swallowed the stone floor and the legs of the workbench, leaving only their upper torsos visible in the white haze. Harry stood on one side of the iron vessel, his arm moving in a constant, rhythmic circle with the long glass rod. Draconia stood opposite him, her silhouette a blurred shape in the steam. The heat from the potion radiated outward, dampening her skin and making the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. She watched the way the steam curled around his shoulders, a ghostly veil that made him look like a statue carved from mist.
"You are slowing down," Draconia said, her voice slightly muffled by the humidity.
"It is a long process," Harry replied, his eyes fixed on the swirling liquid. "The instructions say the motion must be constant to prevent the sediment from settling."
"If you lose the rhythm, the whole batch will spoil," she warned.
He didn't look up, but she saw the tension in his jaw as he tightened his grip on the rod. The steam was so thick now that they were essentially alone in a private, white world. The scent of the potion, sharp and slightly metallic, hung heavily in the air. It felt as though the rest of the dungeon had vanished, leaving only the two of them and the cauldron. Draconia leaned forward, her hand reaching out to brush against the edge of the workbench. The heat was intense, a physical pressure that seemed to push against her skin.
"It is getting harder to see you," she remarked, squinting through the white cloud.
"Just keep your eyes on the liquid," Harry said. "If it turns grey, we have failed."
She watched the way his biceps flexed under the skin with every rotation of the rod. The dampness of the room had made his dark hair curl at his temples, and his shirt clung to his chest in translucent patches. Draconia felt a sudden, sharp ache in her lower belly. The atmosphere was stifling, a cocoon of heat and moisture that made every sensation feel amplified. She moved closer to the edge of the cauldron, her fingers curling around the stone lip.
"Harry," she whispered, her voice a low vibration in the fog.
He didn't stop the movement, but his pace changed. The rod sliced through the liquid with a wet, rhythmic sound. Draconia reached out, her hand finding the damp fabric of his robes. She pulled him toward her, the heat of his body clashing with the cool dampness of the steam. He dropped the stirring rod into the liquid, letting it clatter against the side of the cauldron, and gripped her waist.
The steam became a wall between them, a white-out that made the world feel small and claustrophobic. Harry pulled her over the cauldron, her skirt bunching around her hips as he hoisted her up. He pressed his face into the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin. He moved her hand down to the fly of his trousers, unfastening the fastening with clumsy, urgent fingers. He pushed his trousers down, his cock springing free, thick and pulsing in the humid air.
"Harry, the potion," she gasped, but her hands were already busy.
She wrapped her fingers around his cock, feeling the heat of him. It was a hard, heavy length of flesh that felt solid in her grip. She began to stroke him, sliding her hand up and down the shaft, her thumb rubbing over the head of his cock. He groaned, a low, guttural sound that was lost in the rising steam. He guided her hand faster, his hips jerking forward to meet her touch. He reached for the hem of her skirt, pulling the fabric up until it sat around her waist, exposing her knickers.
"Fuck, Draconia," he muttered, his voice rough.
He shoved his fingers under the lace of her knickers, pushing the fabric aside to find her wetness. Her cunt was slick, dripping with her own heat as he pressed his fingers into her pussy. He found her clitoris, rubbing the sensitive nub of flesh with his thumb while his other hand gripped her thigh. She leaned back, her head hitting the stone wall as he began to work his fingers inside her. He pushed two fingers deep into her pussy, the friction of his movement making her hips twitch.
"Do you want it?" he asked, his eyes dark and focused.
"Yes," she breathed, her eyes fluttering shut. "Please, Harry."
He pulled his fingers out of her and replaced them with the head of his cock. He pushed into her, his cock sliding through her juices as he entered her cunt. She felt the fullness of him, a stretching sensation that made her gasp. He began to fuck her, his thrusts heavy and rhythmic. Each time he pushed inside her, the sound of his skin slapping against hers echoed in the small, white space. He moved with a desperate intensity, his cock sliding deep into her, hitting her cervix with every lunge.
"You feel so tight," he groaned, his face pressed against her shoulder.
"More," she commanded, her voice a jagged edge of pleasure. "Harder."
He obeyed, his pace increasing as he drove into her. He was fucking her with a singular focus, his cock sliding in and out of her pussy, the wetness of her making the friction perfect. The steam swirled around them, a white blur of motion and heat. She felt the build of the orgasm, a tight coil of tension in her lower abdomen that threatened to snap. Her pussy gripped him, the muscles of her cunt clenching around his cock as she reached her peak.
He felt her tighten around him, and he pushed harder, his hips driving into her with a final, powerful lunge. He let out a choked sound as he came, his cock pulsing inside her as he sprayed his cum deep into her womb. The heat of his cum felt like liquid fire against her internal walls. He shuddered against her, his body trembling from the exertion.
They stayed there for a moment, caught in the white haze, their breathing loud and heavy. The cauldron sat between them, forgotten, the liquid inside beginning to change hue. The steam continued to rise, thick and unyielding, wrapping them in a damp, white shroud.
He pulled back, his movements slow and heavy. The rhythm was gone. He looked down at the cauldron, his expression a mixture of shock and realization.
He stops stirring. The potion is ruined. Nobody mentions it for the rest of the book.