Draconia walked through the corridors with her shoulders set high and her chin tilted just enough to signal her annoyance to anyone watching. The badge was pinned to her robes, a heavy bit of silver and emerald that felt like a lead weight against her chest. She found herself navigating the stone passageways with a sense of purpose that felt entirely fabricated, though she knew the students in the hallway were watching her every move. A group of Hufflepuffs moved aside as she approached, their eyes darted toward the insignia on her chest. She did not look at them. She kept her gaze fixed on the door at the end of the corridor, a door that led to a small, antechamber used by the administration.
The room was small and contained a single high-backed chair and a low table, but the door was not shut tight. It sat a fraction of an inch open, leaving a vertical slit of light that spilled onto the stone floor. Draconia paused, her hand hovering near the handle. She knew there were people in the corridor, a group of older students debating a Charms essay a few yards away. The sound of their voices drifted toward her, low and rhythmic. She knew that if she entered the room, she would be visible to anyone who happened to pass by at the wrong angle. The risk of being seen was a sharp, sudden thing in her stomach.
Harry was already there, standing by the small window that overlooked the grounds. He looked up as she stepped inside, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light of the room. He did not look surprised to see her, nor did he look particularly welcoming. He simply stood there, a solid presence in the small space.
"You're late, Malfoy," he said, his voice a low murmur that barely carried to the door.
"The Inquisitors were busy being insufferable," she replied, stepping further into the room. "I had to endure a lecture from Pansy about the colour of my hair ribbon."
"You're always busy being a nuisance," Harry told her, a small, crooked smile tuging at the corner of his mouth.
"It is a full-time job," she retorted, moving closer to him until the toes of her boots brushed his. "Do you enjoy the attention? The way they look at you when you're caught doing something wrong?"
"I don't ask for it," he said, his expression turning serious. "And you shouldn't use that badge to make things harder for me."
"Maybe I like seeing you struggle," she whispered, her voice dropping as she heard a burst of laughter from the corridor outside the unlocked door.
Harry reached out, his fingers curling around the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. The movement was sudden and hungry. He pushed her back against the stone wall, his body a warm, solid weight against hers. Draconia felt the friction of her robes against her skin as he moved, her breath hitching in her throat. She could hear the footsteps of a passing student, a heavy, rhythmic thudding on the stone outside, but she did not pull away.
He reached down, his hands fumbling with the fastenings of her robes and the silk of her knickers. He pulled the fabric down, exposing her pale thighs and the damp heat of her pussy. Draconia gasped, her head hitting the wall as he knelt before her. He used his fingers to part her labia, sliding a digit deep into her cunt to find the slickness already gathering there. She arched her back, her fingers digging into his hair as he licked at her clitoris. The sensation was a sharp, electric jolt that made her toes curl.
"Harry," she breathed, her voice a desperate, quiet thing. "Someone will hear."
"Let them," he muttered against her skin, his tongue swirling around her sensitive nub. He slid two fingers into her pussy, stretching her as he pushed deeper. The sound of his wet, rhythmic licking was loud in her ears, a squelching noise that felt dangerously close to being heard by the people in the hallway. He moved his hand up, his thumb rubbing hard against her clitoris while his fingers drove into her tight, wet canal.
Draconia felt the pressure building, a fierce tension in her lower belly. She reached down, unfastening his trousers and freeing his cock. It was thick and hot in her hand, pulsing with a life of its of its own. She watched him as he rose to his feet, his eyes fixed on her face. He guided her hips toward him, guiding her to sit on the edge of the low table so she could take him inside her.
She slid down onto his cock, the girth of him stretching her wide. Her pussy gripped him tightly, the friction of his skin against her inner walls sending waves of heat through her entire body. He gripped her waist, his thumbs digging into her hips as he began to thrust upward. Each stroke of his cock inside her was a blunt, heavy sensation that made her vision blur. He moved with a primal, driving force, his cock sliding in and out of her cunt with a wet, slapping sound.
"God, you're so tight," Harry groaned, his voice a rough rasp. He pushed himself deeper, his pubic bone hitting her clitoris with every heavy lunge. He was fucking her with a desperate, unrefined hunger, his cock hitting the very back of her womb. Draconia gripped his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin as she felt herself reaching a breaking point. The sounds of the corridor felt miles away, though she knew they were only a few feet past the sliver of open door.
He pulled out almost entirely, the tip of his cock teasing the entrance of her pussy before he drove back in to the hilt. The sensation was overwhelming, a blunt, rhythmic thudding that seemed to vibrate through her bones. She felt the slickness of her own juices coating his shaft, making the friction even more intense. He began to move faster, his thrusts becoming shorter and more violent as he chased his own release.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice strained.
She opened her eyes, staring into his dark, intense gaze. She watched as his cock worked inside her, the rhythmic motion of his hips driving her closer to the edge. The heat in her cunt was a blinding, pulsing thing. She felt a sudden, sharp contraction, her vaginal walls clamping down on his cock as she began to climax. He didn't stop; he pushed harder, his thrusts becoming frantic and heavy.
He let out a low, guttural sound as he reached his own peak. He shoved himself deep into her one last time, his cock pulsing inside her cunt. She felt the hot, thick spray of his cum filling her, the warmth of it spreading deep inside her. He held himself there, still and heavy, as the aftershocks of her orgasm rippled through her body.
She sat there in the dim light, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her skin damp with sweat. The sounds of the corridor were still there, the distant chatter of students unaware of the heat that had just filled this small space. She looked at the gap in the door, the narrow sliver of the world outside, and realized that the risk of being caught was not a deterrent, but a fuel. She liked the way the danger sharpened the pleasure, making every sensation feel more real and more dangerous. It was explicit and silent, and the reader learns she likes the risk more than she admits.