Walking back from the third floor felt like a descent through a different kind of atmosphere. The stone walls of the corridor were cool, yet the heat from the encounter still pulsed in her skin. Harry moved with a strange, heavy grace, his footsteps echoing against the masonry. He was not looking at her, but he was acutely aware of her. She kept her gaze fixed on the hem of his robes, noting how they brushed against the floor. The silence was not a void, but a physical presence that she had to navigate carefully.
"You are walking as if you are afraid of the floor," Harry said. His voice was low, cutting through the stillness of the corridor.
"I am walking normally, Potter," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.
He let out a short, huffing sound that might have been a laugh. "You are trailing behind me like a shadow."
"Perhaps you are just walking too fast."
"I am walking at a standard pace. You are the one lagging."
They reached a wide alcove where the light from a single torch flickered against the stone. Harry stopped abruptly, turning to face her. The movement was sharp, and she nearly bumped into his chest. He looked down at her, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light. The tension between them was a cord pulled taut, vibrating with the memory of the breathing creature on the other side of the door.
"You were terrified," he said, his voice dropping an octave.
"I was not terrified. I was merely cautious."
"You were trembling. I felt it."
"You felt too much of everything," she snapped, though there was no real venom in her words.
He stepped closer, closing the gap until the heat from his body reached her. He did not touch her, but she could feel the proximity of his hands. The air was not heavy, but it felt crowded with the things they were not saying. She looked up at him, watching the way his eyelashes cast long shadows over his cheekbones.
"Why did you let me stay behind you?" she asked, the question slipping out before she could check it.
Harry reached out, his fingers hovering near her shoulder before he pulled them back. "Because you are small. And because you looked like you might vanish if the wind blew."
"I am not fragile."
"Then prove it."
He reached for her waist, his hands sliding beneath the fabric of her robes to find the skin of her hips. She gasped, the sound echoing in the alcove. He pulled her flush against him, and the contact was electric. Her breath hitched as his mouth found the curve of her neck. He was not gentle, and she found she did not want him to be.
"Harry," she whispered, her hands finding the back of his neck.
"I want to fuck you right here," he muttered against her skin, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "I want to feel you everywhere."
He pushed her back against the cold stone wall, his hands working at the fastenings of her clothes. He pulled her knickers down to her ankles, leaving her legs bare to the chill of the corridor. He knelt before her, his hands grasping her thighs to spread them wide. She watched his blond hair as he leaned forward, his face disappearing between her legs.
His tongue was hot and wet as it lashed against her pussy. He licked her clitoris with a rhythmic, heavy pressure that made her back arch. She gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging into the dark wool of his robes. He was fucking her with his tongue, driving her toward a peak she could feel building in her lower belly. She heard him groan, a low sound of hunger, as he worked his mouth over her cunt.
"Harry, please," she breathed, her head thumping against the stone.
He stood up, his breathing ragged. He fumbled with his own trousers, freeing his hard, thick cock from the fabric. It was pale and veined, the head of it glistening with pre-cum. He grabbed her hips, pulling her to the edge of the alcove so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He pushed the head of his cock against her soaking wet pussy, rubbing the tip against her clitoris before sliding inside her.
He thrust into her with a single, heavy lunge. She cried out, the sensation of his cock filling her stretching her wide. He began to fuck her in earnest, his thrusts long and deep. Each time he drove into her, her hips jolted against his. The sound of his skin slapping against hers was loud in the empty corridor. He was fucking her hard, his cock hitting her cervix with a blunt force that made her vision blur.
"You feel so tight," he grunted, his eyes locked on hers. "God, your cunt is so warm."
"Don't stop," she commanded, her voice breaking.
He picked up the pace, his movements becoming more frantic. He was a predator, and she was his prey, lashing her legs around his waist to pull him deeper. She felt the build of the climax in her gut, a tightening that she could not escape. He thrust one last time, his cock sliding deep into her p reaches the very end of her, and then he began to cum. She felt the hot, thick pulses of his cum filling her, a sensation of fullness that made her moan into his mouth. She came with him, her internal muscles clamping down on his cock in tight, rhythmic waves.
He held her there, his chest heaving, as the sensation of his cum slowly leaked out of her and down her thighs. The heat of the act lingered, a stark contrast to the cold stone of the alcove. They stayed like that for a long moment, the only sound their synchronized breathing.
The intensity began to ebb, the primal hunger of the moment settling into a quiet, heavy awareness. She felt the coolness of the air on her damp skin, a sharp reminder of where they were. The reality of the corridor, of the possibility of being seen, began to settle over her. She needed to regain her composure, to fix the mess of her hair and her clothes.
She pulled back slightly, creating a small amount of space between them. She reached up, her palm landing flat against the center of his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart beneath his shirt. She looked him in the eye, her expression smoothing into the mask she wore for the rest of the world.
"Don't flatter yourself," she said, and her hand stayed there two seconds too long.