The trophy room was a cavern of polished silver and gleaming gold, illuminated by a dozen flickering candles that sat on the edge of the long, heavy tables. Harry Malfoy stood in the centre of the room, his robes still perfectly pressed despite the late hour. He looked every bit the aristocrat, his pale hair catching the candlelight as he gripped his wand with a white-knuckled intensity. Greta stood opposite him, her heart thudding against her ribs in a rhythm that had nothing to do with the duel and everything to do with the way he was looking at her.
"Are you ready to lose, Greta?" Harry asked, his voice low and steady.
"In your dreams, Harry," she replied, bracing her feet on the stone floor.
The first spell was a flash of red, a stray jinx that went wide and struck a wayward silver cup on a nearby shelf. The metal clattered against the stone with a harsh, ringing sound that echoed too loudly in the empty room. Harry dodged a jet of blue light, his movements fluid and sharp. He was not a clumsy dueller, but tonight his spellwork was jagged, driven by a frustration she could not quite name. He cast a stinging hex that caught her on the shoulder, and she hissed as the heat bloched across her skin.
"You're distracted," she observed, stepping forward to cast a counter-curse.
"I am perfectly focused," he countered, though his aim was slightly off.
A heavy brass trophy wobbled on its pedestal as a spell missed it by an inch. The gold object swayed precariously, a silent threat of a crash that would break the tension of the room. Greta threw a non-verbal charm to steady the base, her eyes never leaving his. The duel became a frantic exchange of light and sound, a messy, ungraceful struggle of magic that lacked the finesse of their usual lessons. They were both fighting too hard, pushing too much power into their wands, and the air felt charged with a clumsy, desperate energy.
"That was a terrible shot," she laughed, ducking under a streak of purple light.
"It was a tactical repositioning," he snapped, his brow furrowed in concentration.
The spellwork became increasingly reckless, a blur of sparks and heat that mirrored the tension in their chests. A heavy silver bowl nearly slid off the edge of the table, saved only by a sudden, sharp movement from Harry. He stepped into her space, his wand hand dipping as he threw a spell that she deflected with a messy, imprecise flick. They were close now, standing within a single foot of each other, the smell of ozone and burnt magic thick around them.
"You're lashing out," she said, her voice dropping an octave.
"And you are being difficult," he retorted.
The duel died a sudden death as a stray spell hit the edge of a pedestal, sending a tremor through the floor. The heavy trophy wobbled one last time, a slow, sickening tilt that made her breath catch in her throat. They both froze, watching the silver object sway before it finally settled into a still, silent position. The silence that followed was heavy and unsaid. They both stop at the same second and neither says why.
Harry reached out, his fingers catching her wrist as if to steady her, but the movement was too much. The tension that had been building through the messy spells and the close proximity snapped. He pulled her toward him, his mouth crashing against hers with a hunger that was not polite or refined. Greta leaned into him, her hands finding the silk of his robes, her fingers twisting in the fabric as he backed her against a heavy wooden table.
He lifted her up, her thighs wrapping around his waist as he pushed her onto the hard surface. The wood was cold against her skin, but Harry was a furnace. He pulled her knickers down with a frantic tug, his fingers searching for her cunt. He found her wet, and when he pushed two fingers inside her, she let out a sharp, broken moan. He was not being gentle; he was fucking her with a desperate sort-of greed.
"Harry," she gasped, her head falling back as he licked at the sensitive skin of her neck.
"Tell me you want this," he demanded, his voice a rough growl.
He pulled his trousers down, his cock springing free, thick and pulsing in the dim light. He gripped his cock with one hand and used the other to spread her pussy lips wider, his thumb rubbing against her clitoris. He leaned down to take her clitoris into his mouth, his tongue swirling against the sensitive nub while he shoved his fingers deeper into her heat. The sensation was too much, a bright, sharp ache that made her back arch off the table.
"Fuck, Harry, please," she whimpered, her hips bucking against his hand.
He lifted himself up, positioning the head of his cock at her opening. He pushed inside her in one long, heavy thrust, his cock sliding into her tight, wet cunt. Greta cried out, the sound swallowed by the cavernous room. He began to fuck her with heavy, rhythmic stabs, his hips hitting hers with a wet, slapping sound. He was deep inside her, filling her completely, the sensation of his hard cock stretching her walls making her vision blur.
He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he drove himself into her. He was fucking her hard, his movements primal and unpolished, just like their duel. Every time he pushed in, her pussy gripped his cock, the friction building a heat that felt like it might consume them both. He moved his mouth to hers, his kisses messy and desperate, tasting of salt and magic.
"You're so tight," he breathed, his voice cracking as he thrust again.
He pulled out almost entirely before slamming back in, the blunt force of his cock hitting her cervix. Greta felt the orgasm building, a frantic, pulsing coil in her gut. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, pulling him even deeper. He was fucking her with a singular focus, his eyes dark and glazed as he watched her face. He reached down, his fingers finding her clitoris again, rubbing it in time with his heavy thrusts.
The friction of his cock inside her was driving her over the edge. She felt the first squeeze of her orgasm, her pussy walls clamping down on him in rhythmic waves. She cried out his name, her body shaking as she came, the heat of her pussy clenching around his cock with intense, pulsing strength. Harry let out a low, guttural sound, his pace becoming frantic as he felt her squeeze him. He gave three more hard, deep fucking thrusts, driving himself as far into her as he could go, before he came.
He groaned into the crook of her neck, his cock pulsing inside her as he emptied himself. He felt the hot, thick cum jetting from his cock into her p enough to fill her, the sensation of his cum inside her pussy making her feel heavy and satisfied. He stayed deep inside her for a long moment, his breath coming in ragged gasps against her skin, his weight pressing her into the hard wood of the table. The room was still, the only sound the heavy, synchronized breathing of two people who had fought a war and lost to the same thing.