The heavy oak door of the antechamber groaned as Harry pushed it shut, cutting off the echo of the Great Hall. The silence here was not empty, but rather a physical presence that pressed against the stone walls. Draconia stood in the center of the small room, her silhouette sharp against the dim light of a single flickering candle. She did not move to greet him, nor did she offer any indication of nerves. Harry watched the way her fingers twitched near the pocket where she kept his wand, a silent reminder of the debt he owed. The air felt stagnant in the small space, filled with the sudden, sharp tension of a transaction about to be completed.
"You are late," Draconia said, her voice dropping its public volume to a low, jagged edge.
Harry stepped closer, his boots clicking on the stone floor. He felt the heat of the room rising as he closed the distance between them. "The Hall was still full of people watching, Draconia. It is hard to move quickly when everyone is waiting for a spectacle."
"I did not ask for a spectacle, Potter. I asked for a payment."
Harry reached out, his hand finding the curve of her waist. He felt the silk of her robes beneath his palm, a smooth surface that contrasted with the rougher texture of her skin. He pulled her toward him, his thumb hooking into the waistband of her knickers to tug her hips forward. Draconia let out a short, sharp breath as he pressed his weight against her. He could feel the hardness of his cock straining against the fabric of his trousers, a blunt pressure that demanded attention.
"Is this what you wanted?" Harry asked, his voice rasping against the shell of her ear. "Is this the price you named?"
Draconia tilted her head back, exposing the long line of her throat to him. She did not look submissive; she looked hungry. "Do not talk so much. Just do it."
Harry moved his hand from her waist to the front of her robes, unfastening the heavy silk with hurried, clumsy fingers. He wanted to see her, to see the skin he had been imagining since she first took his wand. He pushed the fabric down, baring her breasts to the cool air of the antechamber. Her nipples were already hard, dark points against the pale cream of her skin. Harry groaned, a low sound in his chest, and leaned down to take one into his mouth. He sucked the nipple hard, his tongue swirling around the tip before he bit down gently. Draconia gasped, her fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders.
"Faster," she commanded, her breath coming in short, jagged stabs.
Harry obliged by stripping his own clothes off with a frantic energy. He kicked his trousers to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his underwear, before pulling the fabric down to reveal his thick, heavy cock. It was already weeping a bead of pre-cum, the head of his penis a deep, bruised red. He reached for her, pulling her knickers down her legs until she stood bare from the waist down. Her pussy was neat and dark, the hair soft against his knuckles as he reached down to spread her thighs. He watched the way her cunt glistered in the candlelight, the wetness of her arousal coating her folds.
He knelt between her legs, his eyes fixed on the sight of her. Harry felt a desperate sort of ache in his groin, a pressure that demanded release. He reached out and rubbed his thumb over her clitoris, feeling the swell of her nub as it reacted to his touch. Draconia leaned forward, her hands finding his hair, pulling his head back so she could look down at him.
"I want to feel you inside me," she said, her voice a command that left no room for argument. "Now, Harry."
He stood up, his cock pulsing with the effort of his arousal. He lifted her, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back. He carried her a few steps toward the corner of the room, where the stone was- most uneven. He pressed her back against the wall, the cold stone a sharp contrast to the heat of his body. He guided his cock to her opening, the head of him sliding against her wet, swollen slit.
He pushed inside her with one long, heavy thrust. Draconia let out a loud, unrefined cry as his thickness filled her. He felt the tight, rhythmic squeeze of her pussy walls around him, the sensation so intense it made his vision blur. He began to fuck her, his hips striking against her pelvis with a wet, slapping sound. He moved with a primal speed, driven by the need to reach the end of this transaction.
"Fuck, Draconia," Harry grunted, his voice breaking as he drove himself deeper into her. "You are so tight."
"Don't stop," she gasped, her head tossing side to side. "Harder, Harry. Fuck me harder."
He gripped her hips, his fingers bruising her skin as he drove his cock into her cunt with punishing force. Every thrust brought a new wave of heat, the friction of his skin against hers creating a searing sensation. He could feel the slickness of her juices coating his thighs, the sound of their bodies colliding filling the small antechamber. He watched her face, the way her eyes rolled back and her lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure. He saw the way her p l e a s u r e was a physical thing, a visible tension in her muscles that mirrored his own.
He felt the build of his orgasm, a heavy, thumping pressure at the base of his spine. He pushed himself into her one last time, burying the length of his cock as deep as it would go. He felt the first spasm of his climax hit the back of his throat. He shoved his weight into her, his hips working in a frantic, jagged rhythm.
"Harry!" she cried out, her voice high and sharp.
He felt her pussy clench around him, the internal muscles pulsing against his shaft. The sensation triggered his own release. He began to cum, the thick, hot jets of semen erupting from his cock and filling her. He felt the heat of the cum shooting deep inside her, a pulsing, rhythmic ejection that seemed to go on forever. He held himself deep inside her, his breath coming in ragged, desperate lunges, as the two of them shuddered in the dark. He felt the stickiness of her cunt and the warmth of his cum mixing between their bodies as he slowly began to pull out, the sensation of her wetness sliding down his skin a final, messy punctuation to the act.