The stone of the Astronomy Tower felt cold against Draconia’s palms as she leaned over the ledge, looking at the star charts she was supposed to be memorizing. The wind pulled at the loose strands of her hair, but she did not move to fix them. She had stayed long after the lecture ended, pretending to be absorbed in the movement of the celestial bodies. Harry was there, of course, sitting a few feet away with his own parchment, his quill scratching rhythmically against the surface. He was not looking at the stars, and she knew he was not looking at his homework either. He was watching her.
"The constellation is drifting," Harry said, his voice cutting through the quiet of the evening.
Draconia did not look up from her chart. "It is not drifting, Harry. It is the parallax effect caused by the rotation of the earth. You should know that by now."
"I know it," he replied, and she heard the sound of his quill being set down. "But you are looking at it as if it is a problem you need to solve, rather than something to just observe."
She finally turned her head to look at him, her expression carefully neutral. "Everything is a problem to be solved. That is how one achieves excellence."
"Is that why you spend so much time correcting everyone else's work?" he asked. He was leaning back on his elbows, his glasses slightly crooked on his nose. "It seems like a lot of effort just to prove you are better than the rest of us."
"It is not about being better," Draconia lied, her voice steady despite the way her heart hammered against her ribs. "It is about the fact that people are often quite careless with the truth."
"You are very good at that," Harry said, his eyes narrowing. He stood up and walked toward her, his boots clicking against the stone floor. He stopped just inside her personal space, the heat from his body a sudden contrast to the chill of the night air. "The lying. You are very good at it."
"I do not lie," she snapped, though she felt the familiar tension in her chest.
"You asked me a question ten minutes ago about the star density," he said, stepping closer until he was standing directly behind her. He reached out, his hands finding the small of her back through the fabric of her robes. "And you answered it with a lie. You said you loved the clarity of the night, but you were actually staring at the horizon because you were looking for a distraction."
Draconia froze as his hands moved lower, sliding under the hem of her robes to find the skin of her waist. "You are being observant. It is an annoying habit of yours."
"I am being honest," he corrected, his voice dropping an octave as he pressed his chest against her back. "I asked you if you were actually enjoying the view, and you said yes, but your eyes were searching for the exit. Why do you do that? Why do you hide the truth when it is right there?"
She felt the heat of him, the solid weight of his body, and she knew she could not keep the lie intact any longer. "Because the truth is often inconvenient, Harry."
He turned her around in his arms, his grip firm on her hips. His eyes were searching hers, dark and intense under the moonlight. "I asked you one honest question, Draconia. Why do you pretend you do not care about anything?"
"Because caring is a weakness," she said, the lie tasting like copper in her mouth.
He did not look convinced. He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers, his breath warm against her skin. "You are a terrible liar," he whispered.
The kiss was not gentle. It was a collision of teeth and tongue, a desperate attempt to drown out the conversation they were both too proud to finish. Harry pulled her closer, his hands moving to the fastenings of her robes, his fingers clumsy with haste. He pushed the heavy fabric down her shoulders, letting it fall to the stone floor in a heap. Draconia felt the cool air hit her skin, but it was quickly replaced by the searing heat of his mouth moving down her throat.
He lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her the few steps toward the pile of discarded cushions and books. He sat her down on the edge of a stone plinth, his hands diving into her knickers to pull them down. Draconia gasped as his fingers found her, sliding into her wetness.
"Fuck, Draconia," he groaned, his head dipping between her thighs. He pushed two fingers into her cunt, stretching her open as he searched for the rhythm of her breath. He began to fuck her with his fingers, sliding deep into her pussy, his knuckles brushing against her clitoris with every thrust. She arched her back, her head hitting the stone behind her as she felt the first wave of pleasure hit her.
Harry moved up, his trousers falling to his ankles as he freed his cock. It was thick and heavy, a dark vein pulsing along the length of it. He gripped his shaft, rubbing the head of his cock against her soaking wet slit, teasing the entrance to her pussy before he pushed inside. He shoved himself into her with one long, brutal thrust, his cock sliding deep into her tight heat.
"Harry," she breathed, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her nails catching in his hair.
"Tell me to stop if it is too much," he grunted, his hips snapping forward. He began to fuck her hard, his cock sliding in and out of her with a wet, slapping sound. He was moving with a violent grace, his pelvis slamming against her pubic bone with every heavy stroke. He drove into her, his cock stretching her cunt, filling her so completely that she felt she might break.
He reached down, his hands gripping her thighs to pull her even tighter against him. He shoved his cock into her deep, bottoming out against her cervix, and Draconia cried out, the sound lost to the wind. He was fucking her with a singular focus, his eyes locked on hers as he hammered into her. She felt the pressure building, a coil of tension in her lower abdomen that only grew with every thrust of his cock.
"Fuck, you are so tight," he gasped, his voice a low growver. He pulled out almost entirely before plunging back in, his cock slick with her juices and his own pre-cum. He fucked her faster, his movements becoming frantic as he approached his own peak. The sensation of him sliding inside her, the friction of his cock against her pussy walls, was almost too much to bear.
He leaned forward, his chest pressing her into the stone, and began to hammer into her with a desperate, heavy rhythm. Every time he thrust, she felt the fullness of him, the way his cock filled her every inch. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting to swallow every inch of him.
"Give it to me," she hissed, her eyes wide and glazed. "Fuck me, Harry. Harder."
He obeyed, his thrusts becoming violent and heavy. He gripped her thighs, his knuckles white, as he drove himself into her one last time, his cock buried to the hilt. He let out a low, guttural sound as he began to cum, his cock pulsing deep inside her pussy. He emptied himself into her, the hot spurt of his cum filling her, and Draconia felt her own orgasm shatter through her, her walls clamping tightly around his thick cock as she came.
They stayed there for a long time, breathing heavily in the silence of the tower, the heat of their bodies slowly cooling in the night air. The stars were still there, indifferent to the way they had just used one another to feel something real.
He pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on her hips, his eyes searching her face one last time. "Are you actually happy right now?" he asked, his