The Room of Requirement was a cavern of velvet and dust, filled with the discarded debris of a decade. Stacked chairs stood like silent sentinels against the far wall, and heavy, dark-wood wardrobes crowded the corners of the space. Greta moved through the aisles of old furniture, her footsteps muffled by a thick, Persian rug that had seen better centuries. The air in the room was not stagnant, but it felt heavy with the weight of things kept and things forgotten. Harry was waiting for her near a high-backed divan, his silhouette stark against the pale light of a single, floating candle. He looked older than he had a month ago, the lines of his face more pronounced under the flickering glow.
"You came," Harry said, his voice barely a murmur as he watched her approach.
"I always come here when the world is too loud," Greta replied. She sat on the edge of the divan, her fingers tracing the carved wood of a nearby side table.
Harry sat beside her, his thigh brushing hers through the fabric of her robes. He looked at the way the light hit the jagged scar on his forehead, a mark that seemed to pulse with his very existence. "The Manor is waiting for you, Greta. Your father expects you to be the perfect bride, the perfect asset."
"I am a very good actress, Harry," she said, her eyes fixed on a pile of discarded tapestries. "I have practiced the part since I was old enough to hold a spoon."
"But you don't believe it," Harry said, his hand reaching out to take hers. "The 'yes' you gave them at the table. It was a beautiful lie."
"It was a necessary one," Greta whispered, turning to face him. "If they believe the lie, they leave me enough room to breathe."
Harry leaned in, his breath warm against her skin as he pulled her closer to the center of the room. He stood up, pulling her with him, and led her toward the more comfortable seating that had been conjured for this specific moment. The room had provided a bed, a wide, low thing with silk sheets that felt cool against her skin. Harry stripped his shirt off with hurried, efficient movements, his muscles taut and defined in the dim light. Greta watched the way his chest rose and fell, the way his skin looked under the singular, flickering light of the candle.
Harry pushed her back onto the silk, his hands roaming over her body as he unfastened the closures of her robes. He moved with a desperate sort of hunger, a man who knew his time was a finite resource. Greta reached up, her fingers tangling in his hair as he leaned down to kiss her. His mouth was hot and tasted of salt. He moved lower, his lips tracing the line of her throat before he began to pull at the silk of her knickers. He wanted her naked, and he wanted her completely.
"Tell me," Harry muttered against her skin, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me what that 'yes' meant."
Greta arched her back as his tongue found the sensitive dip of her waist. "It meant a truce," she gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "It meant I would play the part of the war bride so they would stop looking for the rebel."
Harry moved between her thighs, his hands parting her legs to expose her wet pussy to the cool air. He leaned down, his face pressing into the heat between her legs. He began to lick her, his tongue long and rhythmic as he worked at her clitoris. Greta let out a sharp, broken moan, her hips bucking against the mattress. He was relentless, his mouth a warm, wet pressure that drove her toward the edge of madness.
"Is it a lie, Greta?" Harry asked, looking up at her with eyes that were dark and predatory. "Is the love a lie too?"
"It is the only thing that is real," she cried out, her voice cracking. "The rest is just a script."
Harry moved up the bed, his body a heavy, solid weight above hers. He guided his cock to the opening of her cunt, the head of it rubbing against her swollen, wet folds. He pushed inside her with one long, heavy thrust that made her breath hitch in her throat. He was thick and hard, filling her until she felt stretched to her limit. He began to fuck her, his hips striking hers with a rhythmic, fleshy sound that echoed in the quiet room.
"I am yours," she whispered, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. "Even if the world thinks I belong to the Dark Lord, my body is yours."
Harry groaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through her chest. He gripped her hips, his thumbs digging into her skin as he drove himself into her cunt with increasing speed. He was fucking her with a brutal, beautiful intensity, his cock sliding through her slickness with every heavy stroke. Greta watched his face, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his eyes never left hers. She felt the build of the tension in her abdomen, the way the friction of his cock sent jolts of electricity through her nerves.
He flipped her over, pulling her onto her hands and knees so he could enter her from behind. The angle was sharper, the sensation of his cock hitting her cervix making her vision blur. Harry reached around to grab her breasts, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh as he drove into her arse and pussy simultaneously, a dual pressure that made her scream into the silk pillows. He was a force of nature, a storm of heat and muscle that she could not escape.
"Say it again," Harry commanded, his voice a ragged edge of sound as he hammered into her. "Tell me what you meant."
"The yes was a lie to keep them at bay," Greta sobbed, her head tossing back as she felt the first tremors of an orgasm. "But this... this is the truth. I am yours, Harry. I am yours in the dark."
Harry gave a final, powerful thrust, his cock buried deep inside her as he reached his peak. He groaned her name, his body shuddering as he spilled his cum deep inside her, the heat of it flooding her womb. He collapsed against her back, his breath ragged and heavy, the two of them tangled in a heap of sweat and spent passion. They lay there for a long time, the silence of the room returning to claim them, until the candle flickered low.
"I told him the truth," Greta whispered into the quiet, her eyes closing as she felt the weight of him. "I told him about my yes, and what it actually meant."