The term ended with the sharp scent of ozone and the taste of copper in her mouth. Harry stood in the centre of the duelling room, his feet planted wide on the stone floor. He looked taller than he had in the spring, his shoulders broader under his black robes. The tension between them had reached a breaking point over the last few weeks, a jagged edge that neither of them knew how to blunt. She gripped her wand with a white-knuckled intensity, feeling the familiar hum of magic vibrating through her palm.
"You are going to try and take it back today, aren't you?" she asked, her voice steady despite the racing of her pulse.
Harry offered a small, crooked smile that did not reach his eyes. "I am not just going to try, Draconia. I am going to take it."
"You can try to take anything," she replied, stepping forward into the duelling stance. "But you have to be fast enough to catch it first."
Harry raised his wand, his eyes fixed on her face with an intensity that made her skin prickle. "Are you ready for the finality of it?"
"I have been ready since the first time you lost your wand to me," she said, her heart hammering against her ribs.
The duel began with a sudden, violent burst of light. Harry moved with a fluidity she had not seen in previous terms, his movements precise and practiced. He launched a stinging hex that she dodged by a hair's breadth, the spell whistling past her ear. She countered immediately, sending a streak of silver light toward his chest, but Harry twisted his wrist, sending the spell harmlessly into the wall. He was faster than he had ever been, his magic a heavy, crushing weight in the air.
"You are overextending," Harry shouted over the roar of a spreading fire spell.
"I am doing exactly what is required," she countered, lashing out with a non-verbal disarming charm.
The spell caught the edge of his sleeve, but Harry did not falter. He stepped into her guard, closing the distance so that they were nearly touching. He was using his body as much as his wand, a tactic that frustrated her. Every time she thought she had the upper hand, he found a way to reset the balance. The rhythm of the duel was a jagged thing, a sequence of strikes and parries that left her breathless.
"Is this the part where you pretend you do not want me to win?" Harry asked, his voice dropping an octave as he deflected a jinx.
"I want to win," she snapped, though the truth of his question felt like a physical blow. "Winning is the only thing that matters."
"It is not the only thing," Harry said, and for a second, he hesitated.
She saw the opening. She saw the slight tremble in his hand, the way his focus wavered for a single heartbeat. It was the same mistake he had made in the Great Hall, and she did not intend to let it pass. She flicked her wrist with a sharp, decisive motion, a movement so fast it was almost invisible.
"Expelliarmus!" she cried, her voice ringing through the room.
The force of the spell hit him squarely. Harry’s wand flew from his hand, spinning through the air in a silver arc. She reached out, her fingers closing around the wood before it could hit the floor. She tucked the wand into the waistband of her knickers, the cool wood pressing against her skin.
"Now come and take it off me," she said.
Harry did not move for a long moment. He stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes dark and hungry. The silence was not empty; it was a physical thing that pressed against her skin. He took a step toward her, then another, until he was standing directly in front of her. He reached out, his fingers grazing the hem of her robes, and pulled the wand from her waist. He held it up, a smirk playing on his lips.
"You think it is that easy?" Harry asked, his voice a low growl.
"It is never easy with you," she whispered.
He dropped the wand on the stone floor and grabbed her waist, lifting her up. He carried her to the nearby velvet divan and pressed her back into the cushions. He stripped her robes away with frantic, impatient hands, his mouth finding the curve of her neck.
Harry pushed her legs apart, his hands sliding up her thighs to find the wet heat of her pussy. He groaned as he felt her slickness, his fingers sliding into her cunt to find her clitoris. He worked her with a blunt, rhythmic pressure, his thumb circling the sensitive nub of flesh.
"You are so wet for me," Harry muttered, his breath hot against her skin.
"Shut up and fuck me," she commanded, her hips bucking against his hand.
Harry stripped off his own clothes, his cock springing free from his trousers. It was thick and heavy, the head of his cock a dark, swollen red. He positioned himself between her legs, the tip of his cock rubbing against her slit. He pushed forward, driving himself into her with one long, forceful thrust.
"Ah, Harry!" she gasped, her head tossing back against the velvet.
He began to fuck her with a relentless pace, his hips slamming against hers. He drove deep, his cock filling her, the sensation of his length stretching her insides making her vision blur. He was hitting her cervix with every heavy lunge, a blunt, rhythmic thudding that echoed in her ears. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting to feel the full weight of him.
"You like this, don't you?" Harry asked, his voice strained as he gripped her hips.
"Yes, god, yes," she cried, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
He increased the speed, his movements becoming faster and more primal. He was fucking her hard, his cock sliding through her juices with a wet, squelching sound. She could feel the friction of his skin against her, the heat of his cock a delicious ache inside her. He leaned down, his mouth catching hers in a bruising kiss as he hammered into her.
"I want to fill you," Harry groaned, his thrusts becoming shorter and more frantic.
"Do it, Harry, just fuck me," she pleaded, her voice breaking.
He reached down, his fingers finding her clitoris again as he drove into her. The dual sensation of his cock stretching her and his fingers teasing her sent her over the edge. Her muscles clamped around him, the walls of her cunt pulsing in a rhythmic contraction that gripped his cock tightly. She felt the build of a climax, a white-hot tension that snapped as he gave one final, deep thrust.
Harry let out a low, guttural sound as his own orgasm took him. He shoved himself deep inside her one last time, his body tensing as he came. She felt the hot, thick spurt of his cum hitting the back of her throat, the sensation of his semen filling her pussy. He collapsed against her, his chest heaving, his sweat soaking into her skin.
They lay there for a moment in the quiet of the room, the only sound their ragged breathing. Harry pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes soft and weary.
"Did you win?" he asked, a tired smile on his face.
"I think so," she whispered, pulling him back down to her.