The wind bit at Draconia as she climbed the spiral stairs of the Astronomy Tower. The stone was cold under her palms, but the vial in her pocket felt like a brand against her thigh. She had withdrawn the complaint, she had stood before the room and offered a lie that sounded like the truth, and now she was alone with the height. Harry was already there, standing near the parapet where the stone edge met the empty sky. He looked up as she approached, his face pale and etched with a frustration that he could not quite hide.
"You came," Harry said, stepping away from the ledge to meet her.
"Did you think I wouldn't?" Draconia asked, though her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
"I didn't think you would come back after the way you left it," Harry said. He reached out as if to touch her arm, but he stopped himself, his hand hovering in the air between them.
"I had to say it," Draconia said, her voice steady despite the way she felt she might shatter. "I had to make it official so it would be over."
"It isn't over, Draconia. It's just been paused," Harry said.
"I am not pausing anything. I am finishing it."
Harry moved closer, closing the distance until he was standing in her personal space, his heat radiating through his robes. "You think if you name the thing, it loses its power. But you're just lying to everyone, including yourself."
"I am not lying," she insisted, though she could feel the warmth of the pink liquid in the vial through the fabric of her pocket. "I know what the distinction is. I know what is real and what is brewed."
Harry reached out and took her hand, his fingers lacing through hers. "Do you?"
"It is a chemical reaction, Harry. It is a reaction to a substance," Draconia said, her voice rising.
"It's not a potion," Harry said, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"It is!" she shouted, the wind whipping her hair across her face. "It has to be! Because if it isn't, then there is no logic left. There is no way to win."
Harry did not pull away. He stepped into her, his chest pressing against hers, and the sensation was so sharp it made her gasp. He leaned down, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that was desperate and hungry. Draconia let go of his shoulders to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, her fingers trembling. She needed to feel the skin, the reality of him, to prove that the sensation was her own and not the result of a stolen drop of amortentia.
Harry groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding down to her waist to lift her. He carried her toward the corner of the tower where the stone was slightly sheltered from the wind. He lowered her onto the stone floor, his movements urgent and unrefined. He stripped his shirt off, his skin pale and taut in the moonlight, and then he was pulling her robes up over her hips.
"Harry," she breathed, her legs wrapping around his waist.
"I'm here," he said, his voice a low growl. "I am actually here."
He pushed her knickers aside, his fingers finding her wetness. Her cunt was swollen and aching, the heat of her body clashing with the chill of the stone. Harry moved his hand between her thighs, his thumb rubbing against her clitoris before he slid two fingers deep into her pussy. Draconia arched her back, her head hitting the stone as she cried out. He was thick and hard, his fingers stretching her, filling the ache that had been growing since the first lesson in the greenhouse.
Harry fumbled with his trousers, freeing his cock from the fabric. It was long and heavy, the tip glistening with pre-cum in the moonlight. He knelt between her legs, parting her thighs wider. He pressed the head of his cock against her slit, dragging the length of it up and down her sensitive skin. Draconia watched him, her eyes wide, wanting to memorize the way his muscles moved in his back.
"Tell me it's the potion," Harry whispered, his breath hot against her inner thigh. "Tell me you only want this because of the scent."
"It's not," she gasped, her fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders. "It's not the drops, Harry. It's you."
He thrust forward, driving his cock deep into her pussy with a single, heavy movement. Draconia let out a ragged scream as he filled her, the sensation of his thick shaft stretching her walls to the limit. He began to fuck her with a rhythmic, punishing pace, his hips slamming against hers with a dull thud. He was relentless, driving himself into her over and over, his cock sliding through her juices with a wet, slapping sound.
"Fuck," Harry groaned, his head falling forward to rest against her neck. "You're so tight, Draconia. You're so fucking warm."
He pulled out almost entirely before plunging back in, hitting her cervix with enough force to make her vision blur. He fucked her harder now, his movements becoming more frantic as he chased his own release. Draconia felt the build in her gut, a tension that was more powerful than any brewed enchantment. She gripped his hair, pulling his face up to hers so she could taste the salt of his skin.
"More," she commanded, her voice a broken thing. "Harder, Harry. Fuck me harder."
He obeyed, his cock lurching inside her, hitting the sensitive spot that sent white heat through her entire body. He was fucking her with a desperate strength, his weight pressing her down into the cold stone. She felt her cunt clench around him, the walls pulsing rhythmically as she reached her peak. The sensation was a violent, beautiful explosion, a climax that felt earned and entirely her own.
Harry let out a low, guttural sound as he felt her squeeze him. He thrust one last time, burying his cock as deep as it could go, and his cum exploded inside her. He shuddered against her, his body rigid as he pumped his seed into the warmth of her womb. They stayed like that for a long time, their breathing heavy and synchronized, the heat of their bodies creating a small sanctuary against the stone.
As the intensity faded, the silence of the tower returned. Draconia felt the weight of the vial in her pocket, the small glass container that held the supposed cause of her undoing. She reached into the pocket with a steady hand and pulled it out. The liquid inside was a soft, shimmering pink, beautiful and deceptive.
Harry was watching her, his eyes soft and weary. He looked like a man who had won a war but was still waiting for the final verdict. He didn't look like a man who had drugged a girl; he looked like a man who had loved one.
"Is that it?" Harry asked quietly. "Is that the explanation?"
Draconia looked at the vial, then at the vast, empty sky above the parapet. She felt the truth of him in her bones, a feeling that was far more permanent than any potion could ever be. She didn't need the liquid to tell her what she already knew.
She stood up, her legs slightly shaky, and walked to the edge of the stone. The wind caught her hair, but she didn't care. She held the vial up for a moment, watching the light catch the pink swirl of the liquid.
She threw the vial off the parapet and said the title line without a joke in it, and the book ends with him not being allowed to answer.