Rumours moved through the Slytherin common room like a slow, invisible poison. Draconia sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, watching Pansy lean toward a group of girls near the fire. Pansy was not subtle; she cast glances toward the corner where the shadows gathered, her lips moving in quick, jagged motions. Every girl in the circle seemed to be listening to the same whispered sentence, a sentence that made their eyes dart toward Draconia whenever she looked up. The rumour was a jagged thing, a claim that she had been seen in the third-floor classroom with him, that she had surrendered something she was supposed to keep guarded.
"It is quite obvious, really," Pansy said, her voice carrying just enough to reach Draconia's ears. "One does not simply go to the third floor for no reason. People are talking, Draconia. They are saying you were quite... occupied."
Draconia felt the heat rise in her neck, but she kept her expression smooth. She did not lunge at the accusation or defend herself with a sharp retort. Instead, she watched the way the green light from the Black Lake shimmered against the stone walls. She knew the contents of the rumour, and she knew the way it felt to have a secret pinned to your chest like a dead butterfly. The denial came easy when she finally stood to leave the common room. She did not argue with Pansy, but she did not confirm the whispers either; she simply let the silence do the work of a shield.
The Astronomy Tower was cold, the stone biting through her robes as she climbed the final spiral. She needed the air, or perhaps she just needed the height. The wind whipped around the stone parapet, tugging at her hair, but she stayed in the shadows of the high archway. She thought of the third-floor classroom and the way the air had felt there, heavy and stifling and real. She had told the empty room that she had no feelings, and the lie had tasted like copper in her mouth.
The footsteps started as a distant rhythm against the stone, a steady, purposeful sound that made her heart hammer against her ribs. She did not turn around immediately. She waited until the sound was right behind her, until she could feel the heat of a body approaching. Harry stood there, his silhouette dark against the starlight, looking as though he had walked through a storm to find her.
"You are a terrible liar, Draconia," he said, his voice low and rough.
"I am a Malfoy," she replied, turning to face him. "We are taught to be whatever is required."
"And what is required right now?" He stepped into her space, his hands finding her waist.
The kiss was not soft; it was a collision of teeth and desperate breath. He pulled her against him, his hands sliding under the hem of her robes to find the skin of her thighs. Draconia gasped as his fingers brushed the dampness between her legs, her pussy already aching for him. She pulled at his hair, dragging his mouth down to the crook of her neck, needing the friction to drown out the sound of the wind. He hiked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her toward the stone bench.
He stripped her quickly, his hands frantic as he pushed her robes up to her waist. He knelt before her, his fingers parting her lips as he pushed two fingers deep into her wet cunt. Draconia arched her back, a sharp moan escaping her as he worked his fingers inside her, stretching the tight walls of her sex. She watched him, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps, as he pulled his trousers down to reveal his thick, hard cock. He looked up at her, his eyes dark and hungry, and she felt a desperate need to be filled by him.
He guided his cock to her opening, the head of it rubbing against her clitoris before he pushed inside. Draconia let out a loud, unrefined cry as he drove into her, his length stretching her cunt to the limit. He began to fuck her with long, heavy strokes, his hips slamming against her thighs with a rhythmic, fleshy sound. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as he hammered into her. Each thrust felt like it was reaching deep into her stomach, making her vision blur with the sheer force of the sensation.
"Harder," she hissed, her head falling back against the stone. "Just fuck me, Harry."
He obeyed, his pace quickening as he drove his cock into her over and over. The sound of their bodies meeting—the wet, slapping noise of his groin hitting her pussy—echoed in the high chamber. He reached down, his thumb rubbing her clitoris while his cock plunged deep into her, driving her toward the edge. She felt the tension building, a frantic, pulsing heat that she could not control. He was relentless, his thrusts getting shallower and faster as he felt her muscles twitching around him.
He pulled out almost entirely, only to slam back in with a brutal force that made her scream. Her pussy was slick and swollen, the friction of his cock sending jolts of electricity through her entire frame. He caught her hips, lifting her higher so he could bury himself to the hilt. She felt the first wave of her orgasm break, her internal muscles clamping tight around his shaft. He groaned, a low, guttural sound, as he felt her cunt pulsing around him. He drove into her one last time, his cock twitching inside her as he came, his warm cum spilling deep into her and coating her inner walls.
They stayed there for a long time, the heat of the act slowly cooling in the night air. He pulled out of her, the sensation of his cock sliding out of her wet, gaping hole making her shiver. She watched the way his skin glistened in the moonlight, the way he looked exhausted and conquered. She felt a strange, hollow sense of victory, a feeling that she had finally let someone in, even if it was only for an hour.
The descent from the tower felt longer than the climb. Every step was a reminder of the weight she was carrying, a weight that felt more substantial than the stone beneath her feet. She walked through the corridors, her legs still trembling slightly from the exertion. The school was quiet, the silence of the castle feeling heavy and expectant.
When she reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, the voices were still murmuring. She stepped into the light of the green lamps, her hair a mess and her lips swollen. She saw Pansy standing by the hearth, a smug look on her face as she watched Draconia enter. The girls looked up, their eyes searching Draconia’s face for a sign, a crack in the porcelain mask she wore so well.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Pansy asked, her voice dripping with a feigned sweetness that was actually a sharp, pointed blade.
Draconia did not hesitate. She smoothed her robes, her fingers brushing the spot where his hand had gripped her hip. She looked directly at the group, her eyes cool and unbothered, even as her heart raced in her chest. She forced a smile, a bright, hollow thing that didn't reach her eyes.
Draconia laughs with the table, and the laugh is wrong in her own ears.