The Room of Requirement held the weight of everything she could not keep. Harry stood there, his face pale in the dim light of the enchanted storehouse, and he looked as though he might break if she touched him. The object she had given him was a small, heavy thing, a physical piece of her soul that he would hold until the world reset itself. She watched his fingers close around it, and the silence of the room felt like a physical pressure against her skin.
Everything felt temporary in the way that things do when they are about to be lost. The furniture, the shelves, the very air in the room seemed to belong to a version of herself that she was leaving behind. Harry moved toward her, his footsteps soft on the stone floor, and he reached out to pull her into his chest. He did not use a name for what he was doing, and she did not ask for one.
Harry's hands were rough as he pulled her robes up over her shoulders, pushing the heavy fabric aside. He leaned down to press his mouth against her neck, and she felt the heat of his breath against her skin. They moved toward the corner of the room, away from the stacks of crates and the broken chairs. Harry stripped her knickers down her thighs, and his hands were shaking as he worked the fastenings of his trousers.
He lifted her up and sat her on the edge of a wooden table, and her legs wrapped around his waist. Harry knelt between her thighs, and his fingers searched for her cunt. He found her wetness and pushed two fingers deep into her pussy, and Draconia gasped as he moved them. The sensation was sharp and blunt, and she felt the ache of him in her belly. He watched her face as he rubbed his thumbs against her clitoris, and he did not stop until she was shaking.
Harry unfastened his fly and his cock sprang free from his trousers. It was thick and red and heavy, and she reached out to wrap her fingers around the shaft. He groaned, a low sound from his throat, and he pushed himself against her slit. He guided his head to her opening and pushed inside her. Draconia felt the stretch of him, the way his cock filled her entirely, and she felt her pussy clench around the intrusion.
He began to fuck her with long, slow strokes, and the sound of his skin hitting hers was loud in the quiet room. He pushed deep into her, his hips hitting her pelvis with a dull thud, and she felt the blunt force of every thrust. He was hard and unrelenting, and he drove himself into her cunt until her breath came in short, ragged gasps. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, as he moved faster.
Draconia leaned forward to kiss her, and his tongue was hot in her mouth. He reached down to grab her ass, pulling her closer to him so he could bury his cock even deeper. He was fucking her with a desperate kind of strength, and she felt the friction of his cock against her walls. The sensation was overwhelming, a constant, heavy pressure that made her head light. She felt him hit her cervix, and a sharp cry escaped her lips.
He increased the pace, his thrusts becoming short and violent. He was fucking her hard now, his cock sliding in and out of her wet cunt with a rhythmic, slapping sound. Draconia felt the heat building in her lower abdomen, a tension that she could not control. She wanted him to go deeper, to break her, and he obliged by lunging forward with a massive, final thrust.
Harry groaned her name, his voice a low rasp, as he reached his climax. He felt her pussy twitch around him, and he began to cum. She felt the hot, thick pulses of his cum hitting the inside of her cunt, and the sensation was a sharp, internal heat. He emptied himself into her, his cock pulsing inside her, and he collapsed against her chest, his weight heavy and warm. They stayed like that for a long time, the scent of their sex filling the small space, neither of them moving as the intensity of the act slowly ebbed away.
Eventually, they pulled apart, and Harry helped her find her footing. They dressed in silence, the urgency of the act replaced by a hollow, aching stillness. The locket was gone, or rather, it was held by him, and the connection between them felt different now. It was no longer a secret they shared, but a debt they were paying to the inevitable.
The walk back to the manor felt like a descent into a different world. The air was colder as they reached the main house, and the corridors felt longer and more sterile than they had been the year before. Draconia walked beside him, her footsteps echoing on the polished stone, and she felt the weight of the ring on her finger. The ring was a constant, a heavy reminder of what was expected of her.
They reached the corridor where her father waited. The peacocks were visible through the large windows of the drawing room, their iridescent feathers catching the dim light of the evening. The birds moved with a slow, regal grace, and they seemed to embody the very essence of the Malfoy name.
Harry stopped near the door, his eyes fixed on the wood, and he looked as though he were waiting for a command. Draconia looked at him, and for a moment, she wanted to tell him to stay, to tell him to run, or to tell him that she loved him. But the words were trapped in her throat, and she knew that the time for words had passed.
The door opened, and the light from the drawing room spilled into the corridor, wide and bright. The peacocks in the garden moved in unison, a sudden, frantic burst of motion that broke the stillness of the evening. The peacocks scatter, and for the first time in her life it doesn't feel like respect.