The lake light filtered through the high windows of the dormitory, casting a murky, verdant glow across the stone walls. It was a dull, underwater green that made the room feel submerged and heavy. Hermione sat on the edge of her four-poster bed, watching the way the shadows moved across the heavy velvet hangings. The candles were lit, several of them flickering in their brass holders, providing small islands of amber light in the gloom. She had been thinking about this moment for weeks, a silent, private promise she made to herself in the middle years of winter. She wanted the stillness of the room to be broken by him, not by the frantic-paced argument or the sharp sting of a witty retort.
Harry stood near the foot of her bed, his silhouette dark against the emerald light of the lake. He looked tired, his shoulders slightly slumped from the weight of the term, but his eyes were bright. The silence in the room was not empty; it was a container for everything she had refused to say. He did not move to touch her immediately, which was a mercy, because her skin felt too sensitive for a clumsy approach. He waited for her to look up, for the signal that the lecture was over and the vulnerability had begun.
"You look like you are waiting for a grade, Hermione," Harry said. His voice was low, roughened by the damp air of the castle.
"I am waiting for you to stop being so bloody predictable," she replied, though the bite in her words was gone.
He stepped closer, moving into the circle of candlelight. "Predictable? I thought I was a puzzle you were still solving."
"You are a very simple puzzle," she lied, her heart thumping against her ribs. "The solution is obvious."
He reached out, his fingers brushing the hem of her nightgown. "Then tell me the solution. Tell me what you want."
Hermione opened her mouth to tell him he was being arrogant, but the word caught in her throat. She wanted to say the word, the one that sat at the base of her throat like a heavy stone, but she took a different road. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, tasting the salt and the heat of him.
He groaned into her mouth, a deep, visceral sound that vibrated through her chest. His hands slid upward, cupping her face before moving down to her waist. He pulled her up from the bed, her feet dragging slightly on the rug until she was standing flush against him. He felt solid and warm in the cold dormitory. Harry’ elided any further conversation, his mouth moving from her lips to her jaw, then down to the sensitive skin of her neck.
"Do you want this?" he whispered against her skin, his breath hot.
"Shut up and do it," she commanded, though her hands were trembling as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.
He pushed the fabric aside, his hands finding the curves of her breasts. He pulled her knickers down past her hips, his fingers rough and eager. When he touched her pussy, she gasped, her head falling back. He was not gentle, but he was thorough. He used his thumb to rub at her clitoris, circling the sensitive nub until she was slick and aching. He watched her face, watching the way her eyes squeezed shut.
"Look at me," he muttered, sliding his fingers inside her wet cunt. "Don't hide from it."
He knelt before her, his head bowed. He licked at her, his tongue darting into her heat, tasting the salt and the moisture of her. He licked her pussy with a frantic, hungry rhythm, his tongue searching for the exact spot that made her hips jerk forward. She reached down, her fingers tangining in his hair, pulling him closer. She felt the dampness of her own arousal coating his chin, the heat of her sex spreading through her abdomen.
He stood up, shedding his clothes with uncharacteristic haste. When he was naked, he looked powerful in the dim, green light. His cock was thick and heavy, standing tensed and red-headed. He gripped her thighs, lifting her so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He guided the head of his cock to her opening, rubbing the length of it against her wet slit.
"Harry," she breathed, her nails digging into the muscle of his back.
"I've got you," he said, and then he pushed.
He drove his cock into her all at once, stretching her wide. Hermione let out a sharp, choked cry as he filled her. The sensation was overwhelming, a blunt, heavy fullness that seemed to reach into her very bones. He began to fuck her, his thrusts long and deep. Each time he slammed his pelvis against hers, the sound of their bodies meeting was a wet, slapping noise in the quiet room.
He pulled out almost entirely, only to plunge back in, his cock sliding through her juices. He was fucking her with a desperate intensity, his movements rhythmic and relentless. He gripped her hips, his thumbs digging into her skin as he drove himself into her cunt. She felt the friction of his skin against hers, the heat of his cock sliding in and out of her.
"Harder," she whispered, the command torn from her. "Don't be careful."
He obeyed, his pace quickening. He was fucking her fast now, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He lifted her higher, pinning her against the bedpost so he could reach her more deeply. He felt her muscles clench around him, her pussy gripping his cock with every thrust. He watched her face, the way her lips parted and her eyes glazed over.
"You're so tight," he groaned, his voice a low growl. "God, Hermione, you're so tight."
He thrust one last time, burying himself to the hilt. He felt her climax beginning, the way her internal muscles pulsed and squeezed his cock. He pushed harder, driving into her as she shook. He felt his own cum building, a heavy pressure at the base of his manhood. He began to fuck her with a frantic, jagged motion, his hips hitting her with bruising force.
He let out a loud groan as he came, his cock pulsing inside her as he emptied himself into her. He felt the hot, thick spurts of cum filling her, a sensation that made her arch her back and scream into the empty air of the dormitory. He stayed inside her, his weight pressing her down into the mattress as he finished, his heart racing against her chest.
The green light of the lake seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. The room was still, the only sound the heavy, uneven breathing of two people trying to find their way back to the surface. She felt the warmth of him inside her, a heavy, pulsing weight that she wanted to keep forever.
She looked up at him, her hair a wild mess around her face. The moment was fragile, a precious thing she had finally captured. The silence returned, but it was no longer heavy; it was a soft, velvet thing.
"Harry," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Yes?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.
She wanted to say the word. The word that would break the last of her defenses, the word that would make her entirely his. She felt the heat of her love, the desperate, aching need for him to stay.
"Please..." she began, her voice a soft, broken thing, and she got halfway to the word *please* and stops and takes a different road.