Draconia sat on the edge of the bench, her fingers tracing the edge of the parchment she had written weeks ago. The dungeons were quiet tonight, the dampness of the stone walls providing a stillness that felt heavy against her skin. Harry stood by the cauldron, his eyes fixed on her rather than the simmering liquid. He waited for her to speak, his posture poised as if he were ready to follow any command she issued. She took a breath and unfolded the list, the parchment crinkling in the silence of the room.
"Term one," Draconia said, her voice steady even as her heart hammered against her ribs. "There is to be no conversation about the Great Hall or the common rooms. We are here for potions, not for gossip."
She picked up her quill and drew a thick, dark line through the first sentence. Harry did not flinch. He watched her hand move, his gaze tracking the ink as it obscured her words.
"Term two," she continued, her eyes lifting to meet his. "The door remains locked from the inside, but there is to be no physical contact unless the potion requires a second set of hands. No touching of the hair, no touching of the hands."
The second line was crossed out with a single, sweeping stroke. She felt the heat of his stare, a sensation that felt more intrusive than a physical touch. It was a way of stripping her bare without ever laying a finger on her skin.
"Term three," she said, her throat tightening. "The sessions end when the moon reaches the apex of the sky. We do not linger once the work is done."
The third term was gone, scratched out by her hand. She wanted to look away, to find a reason to be annoyed by a spilled ingredient or a ruined brew, but she forced herself to remain still. She was the one holding the list. She was the one defining the boundaries of this arrangement.
"Term four," she whispered, the words catching. "There are to be no feelings. This is a transaction. A favour granted to a Malfoy."
She struck the fourth line through with enough force to almost tear the paper. The silence that followed was not a void, but a presence. She saw the way his jaw tightened, the way his shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. He looked as if he wanted to reach out and catch the words before they could be destroyed.
"Term five," she said, her voice cracking as she reached the final point of her list. "The arrangement is to be kept entirely secret from the portraits and the rest of the school."
She did not cross this one out. She stared at it, the ink still wet from her previous strikes, until the parchment felt too heavy to hold. The last term was the only one that mattered and she didn't say it.
"The terms are changed," she said suddenly, dropping the parchment onto the bench. "The list is finished. You can do whatever you want now."
Harry moved then. He did not hesitate or ask for clarification. He stepped toward her, his boots heavy on the stone floor, and reached out to take her chin in his hand. His thumb brushed against her lower lip, a touch that was far too intimate for the rules she had spent a term perfecting.
"You are a terrible liar, Draconia," he said, his voice low and rough.
He pulled her up from the bench, his hands sliding down to her waist to press her against the edge of the wooden surface. Draconia felt the hard line of his cock through his trousers, a solid weight that pressed against her thighs as he pushed her back. He moved with a sudden, desperate hunger, unbuttoning his robes and pulling her silk blouse over her head in one fluid motion. Her breasts were bare, the nipples tight and aching in the cool air of the dungeon.
"Fuck," he breathed, his hands cupping her breasts and squeezing the soft flesh.
He leaned down, his mouth catching her nipple in a harsh, biting suck that made her arch her back. Draconia grabbed his hair, pulling him closer, her nails digging into his scalp. He moved his head down, his tongue swirling around the tip of her clitoris before he pushed his fingers into her. He found her cunt, wet and swollen, and slid two fingers deep inside her.
"You want me to break the rules," Harry muttered, his voice thick as he worked his fingers in and out of her pussy. "You want to see how much of a favour this is."
He pulled his trousers down, his cock springing free, thick and pulsing with a life of its own. It was long and hot, the head of his cock slick with pre-cum. He gripped his shaft and guided the tip to her opening, rubbing the blunt head of it against her slit. Draconia gasped, her legs shaking as she felt the friction. He pushed inside her, the thick length of his cock stretching her cunt as he slid deep into her.
"Harry," she choked out, her eyes fluttering shut.
He began to fuck her in earnest, his thrusts heavy and rhythmic. Each time he drove into her, his pelvis slammed against her clitoris, sending jolts of pleasure through her entire body. He was not gentle; he was a man reclaiming a territory he had been told he did not own. He pulled her hips forward, meeting every lunge with a brutal force that made the wooden bench creak under their weight.
"Is this part of the terms?" he asked, his breath hot against her ear as he hammered into her. "Am I supposed to be polite while I fuck you?"
"No," she gasped, her hands sliding down to grip his hard, muscular arse. "Don't be... don't be polite."
He obliged, driving himself into her with a primal intensity. The sound of his cock sliding in and out of her wet pussy was a wet, slapping noise that echoed in the small room. He gripped her hips, his fingers bruising the skin, as he pushed himself to the limit of her depth. Draconia felt the build of her orgasm, a tight, mounting tension that started in her toes and rushed up to her throat.
He pulled out almost entirely, the head of his cock rubbing against her entrance, before lunging back in until he was buried to the hilt. The sensation was too much. She felt the first spasm of her climax, her pussy walls clamping down on his cock in a desperate, pulsing rhythm.
"Fuck, Draconia," he groaned, his eyes wild.
He began to move faster, his thrusts becoming shallower and more frantic as he felt her squeezing him. He was close, his own pleasure peaking as he felt her cunt twitching around him. He gave one final, powerful shove, driving his cock as deep as it could go, and then he let out a low, guttural sound. He emptied himself into her, his cum spraying against the back of her throat as he felt the hot, thick jets of his seed filling her. He stayed buried inside her, his body trembling as the last of his cum leaked out of her, a warm sensation that made her skin prickle.
They stayed there for a moment, breathing in unison, the heat of their bodies clashing with the damp chill of the dungeon. The silence returned, but it was no longer a silence of rules; it was the silence of an ending.