The parchment felt cold against her skin, a stark contrast to the heat that had settled behind her ribs. Draconia sat in the Room of Requirement, which had provided her with a plush velvet chaise longue and a low mahogany desk. The room was too quiet, a silence that felt heavy rather than peaceful. She looked at the blank page, the quill trembling slightly in her hand as she thought of her mother. Narcissa had written a letter that arrived by owl three days ago, asking a question that was far too pointed for a casual inquiry. Her mother wanted to know what Draconia had been doing with her time, or more specifically, why her name had surfaced in the whispered gossip of the social circles.
Draconia dipped the quill into the inkwell and began to write. She tried to sound distant, to maintain the poise expected of a Malfoy, but the truth was a nuisance she could not quite suppress. She wrote a version that was elegant and vague, claiming her studies had been her primary focus. She tore it up. She wrote a second version, one that was sharper, claiming she had been too busy with the rigors of her advanced coursework to notice any trivialities. That was a lie, and she knew it. The third version was a mess of frustration, a sprawling, defensive thing that made her sound as though she were hiding a secret.
The fourth draft was the most successful of the first four, but it lacked the required elegance. She needed to say something, yet she wanted to say nothing at all. The memory of the corridor, of his "thank you," and the way he had walked away without a backward glance, burned in her mind. She could not tell her mother about the way her skin felt tight and sensitive after he had touched her, or how the word *adequate* had been the only currency she had left to trade. By the time she finished the fifth draft, her hand ached. The version she eventually decided to send was the one where she was most successful at being invisible, the version she sends has the word *nobody* in it four times.
Harry was waiting for her in the corner of the room, leaning against a stack of books. He looked as though he had been watching her struggle with the ink and the parchment for the last hour. He moved toward her, his footsteps soft on the rug, and reached out to take the quill from her fingers. His hand was warm, a physical heat that made her breath hitch in her throat. He did not say a word about the letter or the way she had been staring at the page with a look of profound irritation. Instead, he pulled her up from the chaise longue and pressed her back against the edge of the mahogany desk.
The friction of his palms against her waist sent a jolt through her. He leaned in, his mouth hovering just above her ear, and she felt the weight of his body as he crowded her space. He unfastened the silk ties of her robes, his fingers moving with a practiced, impatient grace. When his hands slid under her knickers, she let out a sharp, jagged breath. His fingers found her cunt, sliding into the wetness that had been building since he had first entered the room. He was hard, a thick ridge of heat pressing against her thigh, and she could feel the strength in his arms as he lifted her.
He pushed her skirt up and shoved his fingers deep into her pussy, stretching her open as he searched for her clitoris. Draconia arched her back, her head hitting the edge of the desk as he began to fuck her with his fingers. He was blunt and heavy, his movements driving her toward a breaking point. She wanted him to stop being so careful, to stop being the polite version of himself that she had spent a term trying to dismantle. She wanted the raw, unpolished version of the man who had not looked back in the corridor.
"Harder," she gasped, her fingers clutching at his shoulders. "Don't be polite, Harry. Just fuck me."
He obeyed, his thumb rubbing hard against her clit while two fingers slid deep into her dripping cunt. He pulled his hand away only to unbutton his trousers, freeing his thick, heavy cock. It was red and pulsing, the head blunt and wide. He guided himself to her opening and pushed inward with one long, heavy thrust. Draconia cried out, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. The sensation of his cock filling her was immense, a stretching fullness that made her vision blur. He began to pump into her, his hips slamming against hers with a rhythmic, bruising force.
The sound of their bodies meeting was wet and loud in the quiet room. He fucked her with a singular focus, his cock sliding in and out of her pussy, dragging the sensitive walls of her interior with him. Each time he drove himself into her, she felt the weight of him in her gut. He reached down to grab her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he increased the pace. The friction was intense, the heat of his cock warming her insides until she felt as though she might melt into the mahogany. He was hitting her cervix with every hard lunge, a blunt, rhythmic ache that she craved.
"You are so tight," he muttered, his voice a low growl against her neck. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against her breasts as he drove his cock into her again. He was fucking her with a desperate, hungry energy, his movements unrefined and powerful. He pulled out almost entirely before plunging back in, the sensation of him leaving and returning making her hips buck로. She felt the slickness of her own juices coating his shaft as he worked himself inside her. Her cunt gripped him, the muscles of her pussy pulsing around his cock in a rhythmic, involuntary squeeze.
He moved his hand to her mouth, his thumb sliding over her bottom lip as he continued to fuck her. The sensation of his hard cock stretching her open was all she could think about. The pleasure was sharp and localized, a point of white heat that radiated from where he was buried deep inside her. She felt the pressure building, a coil of tension in her abdomen that demanded release. He sped up, his thrusts becoming shorter and more violent, the sound of his cock sliding in and out of her cunt becoming a wet, slapping cadence.
He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through her chest, as he felt her walls tighten around him. He pushed himself in as far as he could go, pinning her against the desk, and began to fuck her with a frantic, final strength. The friction was almost too much, the heat of him searing her. She felt her orgasm beginning, a violent shuddering that started in her womb and raced through her entire body. She cried out his name, her body shaking as her pisi gripped his cock with a crushing force. He followed her a moment later, his body tensing as he shot his cum deep inside her, the hot liquid filling her and spilling over the edges of her cunt. He slumped against her, his breath ragged, as he let the weight of his spent cock rest inside her.