The Astronomy Tower was a place of sharp edges and biting wind, yet the air inside the small alcove felt stagnant. Draconia watched the way the moonlight hit the bridge of Harry Potter’s nose. He looked less like a hero and more like a man who was simply tired of pretending. His silence was a weight that she felt in her very bones. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but the distance between them felt like a physical barrier that no spell could breach.
"You are being difficult," Harry Potter said, his voice scraping against the quiet.
"I am being precise," Draconia replied, her chin tilting upward.
She could not tell him that his honesty felt like a blade. To be seen so clearly was a terror she had not prepared for. She had spent years perfecting the art of the mask, yet Harry Potter looked as though he could see the cracks in the porcelain. He stepped closer, entering her personal space without asking for permission. The movement was deliberate and slow.
"You want to be able to say you did this on your own terms," Harry Potter said.
"Everything with you is a favour, Potter, so do not pretend to know my mind," she snapped.
He did not flinch at the bite in her tone. Instead, he reached out and gripped her waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of her robes. The heat of his hands seeped through the silk. Draconia felt a sudden, sharp ache in her lower belly. She wanted to be in control of the transaction, to ensure that she was the one who dictated the cost. She wanted to break him before he could ever truly possess her.
"Tell me what the debt is, then," Harry Potter demanded, his eyes darkening.
"The debt is that you will not look at me with pity," she whispered.
He leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. He did not wait for her to finish the thought. He pulled her into a kiss that tasted of desperation and cold air. Draconia felt the familiar rush of blood to her face, but this was different from the polite dalliances of the ballroom. This was a collision. She reached up, her fingers tangling in his messy hair, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them.
"Is this what you wanted?" Harry Potter asked, his voice a low growl against her lips.
"It is a start," she answered, her voice trembling.
He moved her back until her spine hit the stone wall of the tower. The surface was cold against her skin, but his body was a furnace. He hiked her skirts up, his hands moving with a frantic, focused energy. He stripped her knickers down her thighs, leaving her legs bare and vulnerable to the chill. Draconia felt the air hit her damp skin, but she did not pull away. She wanted the sensation of the cold and the heat competing within her.
Harry Potter knelt before her, his hands parting her thighs wide. Draconia watched him, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps. He leaned forward, his face pressing into the softness of her pussy. She cried out, her head hitting the stone wall behind her. He was using his tongue, laving the sensitive nub of her clitoris with a rhythmic, punishing pressure. He pushed two fingers deep inside her, stretching her cunt as he licked the entrance.
"Harry," she gasped, the name a confession she had not intended to make.
He did not stop until she was shaking, her hips bucking against his face. He moved up, his eyes fixed on hers, and began to strip his own clothes away. He was hard, his cock thick and pulsing in the moonlight. He gripped the base of it, the veins standing out in sharp relief. He guided the head of his cock to her wet slit, rubbing the length of it against her clitoris.
"Take it," Harry Potter commanded, his voice thick with lust. "Take it all, Draconia."
He pushed inside her in one long, heavy stroke. Draconia felt herself stretch, her pussy gripping the girth of him as he buried his cock deep within her womb. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. He began to fuck her, his thrusts hard and uncompromising. Each time he drove into her, his pelvis slammed against her pubic bone with a wet, rhythmic sound.
"Fuck, you are so tight," Harry Potter groaned, his teeth gritted.
He pulled out almost entirely before plunging back in, the sensation of his cock sliding through her moisture making her moan. He was not gentle; he was thorough. He fucked her with a ferocity that left her breathless, his skin slick with sweat despite the cold. She watched his face, seeing the way he conquered the space between them. She felt the tension building in her walls, a coil of pressure that demanded release.
"Harder," she commanded, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Don't be careful with me, Potter. Just fuck me."
He obeyed, his thrusts becoming faster and more violent. The sound of his cock slapping against her wet cunt filled the small alcered space. He reached down, his thumb finding her clitoris and rubbing it in time with his lunges. Draconia felt the first wave of her orgasm crashing through her. It was a violent, pulsing sensation that made her vision blur. She felt the muscles of her pussy clench around his shaft, milking him.
Harry Potter let out a guttural sound, his pace reaching a frantic crescendo. He drove himself into her one last time, pinning her against the wall as his cock pulsed inside her. She felt the hot, thick spurt of his cum filling her, the warmth of it a stark contrast to the freezing night air. He came with a heavy, shuddering force, his entire body tensing as he emptied himself into her.
The afterglow was a slow descent into the quiet of the night. He stayed inside her, his weight a comforting pressure as he breathed heavily against her neck. The heat of his cum was a secret she held within her, a physical mark of the exchange. She felt a strange, hollowed-out sensation in her chest. She had demanded this. She had set the terms of the debt, and she had paid it with a fierce, unyielding precision.
"Are you satisfied?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"I think you're the one who is finished," Harry Potter replied, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes searching hers for the mask she usually wore. He found none. There was only the raw, unvarnished truth of her. She looked at him, seeing the man who had seen her at her most ungraceful and most unraveled. She realized then that the debt was not a transaction of skin and fluid, but something much more dangerous.
She leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. In that moment, she realized the cost was higher than she had calculated. She had given him the one thing a Malfoy never gave away for free. She gives him something she has never given anyone and cannot name it afterwards.