The stadium was hollow now, a vast, echoing bowl of empty seats and drained-away energy. Only the floodlights remained, casting harsh, white light over the grass and the edges of the pitch. Draconia walked through the spectator entrance, her boots crunching on the stray bits of confetti that had drifted down from the celebration. The cheering of the Slytherin crowd was a distant memory, replaced by the low hum of the wind through the stands. She felt the dampness of her skin under her clothes, the lingering adrenaline of the win still thruming in her veins. Everything felt too quiet, too still, as if the world had stopped breathing the moment the last student departed for the castle.
A solitary figure sat on the wooden bench near the edge of the pitch. Harry looked small against the vastness of the empty stadium, his silhouette sharp under the artificial light. He was not wearing his Quidditch robes, but a simple set of dark clothes that made him seem less like a hero and more like a boy. Draconia approached him, her pace steady and deliberate. The grass felt soft under her feet, and the air was cool against her heated skin. He turned his head as she approached, a small, tired smile touching his lips.
"You didn't stay for the toast," Draconia said, stopping a few feet from the bench.
"It was too loud," Harry replied, gesturing to the empty stands. "I thought you might want a moment of peace."
"Peace is overrated," she said, though she sat down beside him.
The wood of the bench was hard and cold against her thighs. They sat in silence for a moment, watching the way the light hit the turf. The pitch was a perfect, manicured green, a stage that had just witnessed her greatest triumph. He looked at her, his eyes tracing the lines of her face with an intensity that made her breath hitch. There was no crowd to perform for now, no teammates to impress, and no father to satisfy. There was only the light and the empty air.
"You were incredible," he said, his voice low. "I've never seen anyone fly like that."
"I had to be," she told him, her voice flat. "The cup doesn't win itself."
He reached out, his hand finding her thigh, his fingers pressing into the fabric of her trousers. The heat of his palm seeped through the cloth, and Draconia felt a familiar ache begin to bloom in her lower abdomen. He moved closer, his shoulder brushing hers, and the scent of him, something clean and masculine, filled her senses. He leaned in, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that was neither soft nor hesitant. It was a hungry, demanding thing that tasted of the wind and the high-altitude adrenaline of the game.
Draconia pulled him toward the bench, her hands sliding under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. He groaned into her mouth, his tongue sliding against hers. She felt the hard length of his cock pressing against her thigh, a rigid weight that promised more than just a kiss. She gripped his hair, pulling his head back so she could look at him. His eyes were dark, focused entirely on her, and she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted to be taken.
"Right here?" he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
"The whole school watched me win," she said, her voice a low rasp. "They can watch us too."
He helped her stand, guiding her to the edge of the bench so she could sit on the wood. He pushed her skirts up, exposing her pale thighs to the cool air and the bright light. He knelt between her legs, his hands working the fabric of her knickers down until they pooled around her ankles. Drac-onia leaned back on her elbows, her head hitting the wood of the bench as he spread her legs wide. He looked up at her, his face flushed, and then he unzipped his trousers to free his cock. It was thick and heavy, a dark, pulsing vein running along the length of it.
He pushed his fingers into her pussy, testing the slickness of her cunt. She was already dripping, her walls tight and hungry for him. He slid two fingers deep into her, and she arched her back, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. The friction of his fingers against her clit made her hips jerk upward. He worked his hand faster, his knuckles brushing against her sensitive skin, until he felt her muscles twitch. He withdrew his fingers and replaced them with the blunt head of his cock.
He shoved into her in one long, heavy thrust. Draconia cried out, the sound lost in the vastness of the stadium. Her cunt stretched to accommodate him, the sensation of being filled so completely making her vision blur. He began to fuck her with a rhythmic, brutal intensity. Each stroke of his cock sent a jolt of lightning through her nerves, the friction of his skin against her wet walls creating a heat that felt almost unbearable. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his lower back, pulling him deeper into her.
"Fuck, Draconia," he groaned, the word a guttural command.
He hammered into her, his cock sliding in and out of her soaking wet pussy with a wet, slapping sound. She could feel the weight of him, the sheer mass of his body pressing her down into the bench. He reached down, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing it in circular motions as he continued to lunge into her. The dual sensation was too much; she felt herself breaking, her internal muscles clamping around his cock in desperate, rhythmic pulses. She was a mess of heat and friction, her cunt clenching around him with every hard thrust.
He pulled out almost entirely before driving back in, the sensation of his cock hitting her cervix making her entire body shudder. He was fucking her with a singular focus, his eyes never leaving hers. She saw the sweat glisten on his forehead, the way his jaw tightened with every lunge. He began to move faster, his thrusts becoming shorter and more frantic. The sound of their bodies colliding, the wetness of her cunt, and his heavy breathing filled the quiet space between the stadium walls.
"I'm going to..." she started, but the words died in her throat as he drove into her one last time, his cock hitting the spot that made her lose all control.
Draconia felt the orgasm crash through her, a violent, beautiful wave of pleasure that started in her cunt and radiated to her fingertips. Her pussy walls gripped his cock with a fierce, pulsing strength, milking him as much as he was filling her. He groaned loudly, his body tensing as he reached his limit. He thrust deep inside her, his hips slamming against hers, and she felt the hot, thick spurt of his cum erupting inside her. The sensation of his warm seed filling her pussy was the final spark that sent her over the edge, her body shaking with the force of the release.
He slumped against her, his chest heaving as he pulled his cock out of her. A small amount of his cum leaked out of her, running down her thigh in the bright light. They both lay there for a long time, the heat of the act slowly cooling in the night air. The silence returned to the stadium, but it felt different now, heavier and more intimate. They were the only living things in a world of empty seats and white light.
She looked up at the empty stands, the place where the crowd had cheered her name only an hour before. She felt the dampness of her skin and the ache in her muscles, a visceral reminder of the moment. She thought of the trophy, the cheers, and the performance she had given for the world. Then she looked at the empty pitch, the one place where she had truly been herself, and she knew she would never tell a soul.
The stadium was empty, and she never mentioned it to anyone.