From Enemies to Lovers (Ch. 2 - Broom Closet Encounter)

Disclaimer: Harry returns to Hogwarts to complete his seventh year after defeating Voldemort. All characters in this story are consenting adults (18+).

Harry had been thinking about that bloody bathroom encounter for three days straight.

Three days of watching Daphne Greengrass strut through the corridors with that infuriatingly smug smile on her face. Three days of catching her eye across the Great Hall and seeing the victorious glint in those piercing blue eyes. Three days of remembering how she'd left him desperate and aching, how she'd walked away with his dignity in tatters and her head held high.

The absolute bitch.

And the worst part? He couldn't stop wanking to the memory. Every night, sometimes twice, his hand wrapped around his cock as he replayed every moment. The way her naked body had looked in the candlelight. The crude, filthy things she'd said about what she'd do to him. The way she'd touched his cock, stroked him, brought him right to the edge before walking away.

He'd never been so simultaneously furious and aroused in his entire life.

Next time, Harry thought as he walked down the dimly lit corridor on his patrol route, I'm going to make her lose control. I'm going to make her cum so hard she can't even remember her own name, let alone maintain that bloody superiority complex.

The castle was quiet at this hour, most students already in bed. Harry's footsteps echoed off the stone walls as he made his way toward the west wing, his Head Boy badge gleaming in the torchlight.

He turned a corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

Daphne was leaning against the wall about twenty feet ahead of him, clearly on her own patrol route. She was examining her nails with studied disinterest, but Harry could tell from the slight smirk on her face that she'd heard him coming.

Of course she's here, Harry thought, his cock already beginning to stir in his trousers. Of course our patrol routes would overlap tonight.

Daphne looked up, and the smirk widened into a full smile. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Harry Potter, breaker of rules and hogger of bathrooms."

"Greengrass," Harry said curtly, trying to walk past her without engaging. He didn't trust himself around her, didn't trust that he wouldn't do something stupid like push her against the wall and kiss her senseless.

"Running away?" Daphne asked, pushing off the wall and falling into step beside him. "How very Gryffindor of you. Oh wait, no. Gryffindors are supposed to be brave, aren't they?"

Harry gritted his teeth. "I'm not running away. I'm patrolling."

"Hmm," Daphne hummed, and Harry could hear the amusement in her voice. "Is that what we're calling it now? Because it looked an awful lot like fleeing to me."

"What do you want, Greengrass?"

"Want?" Daphne's voice was all innocence, but there was nothing innocent about the way her hand brushed against his arm as they walked. "I don't want anything, Potter. I'm simply doing my Head Girl duties. Same as you."

They walked in tense silence for a moment, and Harry was acutely aware of her presence beside him. She was wearing her school uniform, but as always, she'd modified it to her preferences. Her skirt was obscenely short, barely covering the tops of her thighs, and her shirt was tailored to hug every curve. The top few buttons were undone, revealing a tantalising glimpse of cleavage.

Don't look. Don't give her the satisfaction.

"You know," Daphne said conversationally, "I've been thinking about the other night."

Harry's steps faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. "I haven't."

"Liar," Daphne said with a laugh. "I bet you've been thinking about it non-stop. I bet you've been waking up hard every morning, remembering what my tits looked like. How my arse looked bent over. How wet my pussy was."

"You have a very high opinion of yourself," Harry managed, though his voice came out rougher than he intended.

"With good reason," Daphne said smugly. She moved in front of him, walking backwards so she could look at his face, her hips swaying with each step. "Tell me, Potter. How long did it take you to cum after I left? Thirty seconds? A minute?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said, trying to step around her, but she mirrored his movement, staying directly in his path.

"Liar," she repeated, her eyes dancing with mischief. "I bet the second that bathroom door closed, you had your hand on your cock. I bet you came so hard you saw stars, thinking about all the things I described. My tits wrapped around your cock. My arse bouncing as you fucked me. My tight little cunt squeezing you dry."

Harry stopped walking. His cock was now fully hard in his trousers, and there was no hiding it. Daphne's eyes dropped down, and her smile turned absolutely wicked.

"There it is," she purred. "Merlin, Potter. You really do have no self-control around me, do you?"

"And you're so desperate for my attention that you're parading around at midnight, talking about your pussy," Harry shot back, some of his competitive fire returning. "Who's really in control here, Greengrass?"

Daphne's smile faltered for just a second before she recovered. "I'm in complete control. I just think it's funny how easy you are to rile up."

"Easy?" Harry took a step closer, invading her personal space. "You're the one who stripped naked in a bathroom and described in explicit detail how much you wanted my cock. That doesn't sound like control to me. That sounds like desperation."

"I was proving a point," Daphne said, but her voice had lost some of its certainty. "I was proving that I'm better than my sister. Better than anyone you could ever want."

"Right," Harry said, taking another step forward. Daphne was forced to step back, her shoulders hitting the stone wall behind her. "Is that why you ran away? Because you were so in control?"

"I didn't run," Daphne said, but her breath was coming faster now, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "I walked away victorious."

"You ran because you were scared," Harry said, leaning in close enough that his lips were almost brushing her ear. He could smell her perfume, could feel the heat radiating off her body. "You were scared of how much you wanted it. How much you wanted me."

"I don't want you," Daphne breathed, but even she didn't sound convinced.

"Liar," Harry whispered, echoing her earlier accusation. "I think you've been thinking about me just as much as I've been thinking about you. I think you've had your hand between your thighs every night, wishing it was my cock inside you instead of your fingers."

Daphne's breath hitched, and Harry knew he'd hit the mark. "You're delusional."

"Am I?" Harry asked, his hand coming up to rest on the wall beside her head, caging her in. He leaned in closer, breathing deeply, and caught the unmistakable scent of her arousal. "I can smell how turned on you are right now, Greengrass. I bet you're soaking wet. Just like you were in the bathroom."

"I'm not," Daphne protested weakly, but there was a flush creeping up her neck.

"Prove it then," Harry challenged, his voice low and rough.

"What?"

"Prove you're not dripping wet for me right now," Harry said, his eyes boring into hers. "Go on. Prove it."

Daphne's eyes flashed with defiance, that familiar competitive fire sparking to life. "Fine. I'll prove it."

Before Harry could process what was happening, Daphne's hands were hiking up her already short skirt, revealing more and more of those impossibly long legs.

And then Harry saw them. Tiny emerald green panties, made of the sheerest lace, clinging to her pussy. And they were absolutely drenched.

Bloody hell.

"See?" Daphne said, though her voice had gone breathless. "I'm not... it's not..."

But Harry was already dropping to his knees in front of her, his hands sliding up her thighs. The skin was soft and warm beneath his palms, and he could feel the way she trembled at his touch.

"Not what, Greengrass?" Harry asked, his face now level with her covered pussy. He could see everything through the sheer fabric. The pink of her bare lips, the way they were swollen and parted, the moisture that had soaked through the lace. "Not soaking wet? Not desperate for my cock?"

"Potter, what are you—" Daphne started, but her words cut off in a gasp as Harry's fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties.

He pulled them down slowly, revealing her pussy inch by inch. The fabric was reluctant to leave her skin, clinging to her wet folds before finally peeling away. Harry watched, transfixed, as her bare cunt was revealed to him. The lips were pink and glistening, swollen with arousal, and he could see moisture coating her inner thighs.

"Still going to claim you're not turned on?" Harry asked, bringing the soaked panties down her legs. Daphne stepped out of them automatically, and Harry lifted the scrap of emerald lace to his face, inhaling deeply.

The scent of her arousal was intoxicating, making his already hard cock throb painfully in his trousers. He pocketed the panties with deliberate slowness, watching her face as he did so, seeing the way her pupils dilated, the way her breath came faster.

"Those are mine," Daphne breathed, but she made no move to stop him.

"Not anymore," Harry said, his voice rough with desire. He looked up at her from his position on his knees, drinking in the sight of her. Her chest was heaving, her cheeks flushed, her legs slightly parted. "And I'm keeping them. Insurance that you'll think about me every time you take them off."

"You can't just—" Daphne started, but Harry's hand was already moving back to her thigh.

His fingers trailed upward slowly, achingly slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop him. But she didn't. She just stood there, frozen, watching as his hand climbed higher and higher, leaving goosebumps in its wake. When he reached the junction of her thighs, he paused, his fingers mere inches from her bare pussy.

"Tell me to stop," Harry said, his eyes locked on hers. "If you don't want this, tell me to stop."

Daphne's mouth opened, but no words came out. Her thighs shifted slightly, spreading just a fraction wider, and Harry took that as the invitation it was.

His fingers finally made contact with her bare pussy, and they both gasped at the sensation. She was absolutely drenched, his fingers sliding easily through her folds, gathering her arousal on his fingertips.

"Fuck," Daphne breathed, her head falling back against the wall as Harry's fingers explored her cunt. "That's not... I wasn't..."

"You weren't what?" Harry asked, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking her juices off them. The taste exploded on his tongue, sweet and musky and absolutely addictive. "You weren't dripping wet for me? You weren't desperate to feel my hands on you?"

"I..." Daphne tried to form words, but Harry's fingers were back between her thighs now, circling her clit in slow, teasing movements that made her gasp.

"Admit it," Harry commanded, his free hand gripping her hip to hold her in place. "Admit you want me."

"Never," Daphne managed, but her hips were bucking against his hand, chasing his touch. "I don't... I don't want you..."

"Liar," Harry said, and then he slid two fingers inside her tight cunt.

Daphne let out a strangled moan, her hands flying to his shoulders for support as he began to finger her properly. Her walls clenched around his digits, hot and wet and impossibly tight, and Harry couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to have his cock buried in there instead.

"If you're so unaffected," Harry said, his fingers pumping in and out of her at a steady rhythm, "then you can prove it. You've got all the control, right? So stop me."

"I..." Daphne gasped, her thighs trembling, her pussy clenching around his fingers. "I could if I... oh fuck, right there..."

Harry grinned, curling his fingers to hit that spot inside her that made her whole body shudder. "That's what I thought."

"You're not doing any better," Daphne managed to gasp out, one hand dropping from his shoulder to the obvious tent in his trousers. "You're rock hard. Throbbing for me."

"Never said I wasn't," Harry admitted, pulling his fingers from her pussy and standing up in one smooth motion. "The difference is, I'm not the one in denial about it."

Daphne's eyes were dark with lust, her lips parted, her chest heaving. For a moment they just stared at each other, the tension crackling between them like electricity. Then her hands moved to his belt.

"Shut up," she breathed, her fingers fumbling with the buckle. "Just shut up."

Harry watched as she worked at his belt, his heart pounding. Her hands were shaking slightly, whether from arousal or nerves he couldn't tell. The buckle came free, then she was popping the button on his trousers, pulling down the zipper with agonising slowness.

"Desperate much?" Harry taunted, even as his hips thrust forward involuntarily, seeking her touch.

"Shut up," Daphne breathed, but her eyes were fixed on the front of his trousers with undisguised hunger. Her hand slipped inside his boxers, her fingers wrapping around his shaft, and they both groaned at the contact.

She pulled him free, and his cock sprang out into the cool corridor air, thick and hard and already leaking pre-cum. The night air made him even more sensitive, every nerve ending on fire.

Fuck.

The touch of her hand on his bare cock sent electricity through Harry's entire body. Her grip was perfect, tight enough to feel amazing but not so tight it hurt. She gave him a slow stroke, thumb swiping over the tip to collect the bead of pre-cum gathered there.

"So hard," Daphne murmured, almost to herself. "So thick. I was thinking about this, you know. About how it would feel in my hand. In my mouth. Inside me."

"Still claiming you don't want me?" Harry managed, his hips bucking involuntarily into her touch.

"This doesn't mean anything," Daphne said, but she was stroking him faster now, her hand moving in a rhythm that was going to make him lose his mind. "I'm just proving I can make you lose control faster than you can make me lose mine."

"Is that so?" Harry asked, his hand moving to her hip, gripping the soft flesh through her skirt.

"It's a fact," Daphne said, but there was a breathlessness to her voice that belied her confidence.

Harry's other hand slid up her side, over her ribs, coming to rest just beneath her breast. "Want to test that theory?"

"I think—" Daphne started, but then they both heard it.

Footsteps.

Heavy, shuffling footsteps echoing down the corridor, getting closer.

"Fuck," Harry hissed, his eyes going wide. His cock was out, Daphne's hand was wrapped around it, and someone was coming.

"Shit," Daphne breathed, releasing his cock and looking around frantically. "What do we—"

"There," Harry said, pointing to a door just a few feet away. A broom closet, if the worn brass plaque was anything to go by.

Without another word, Harry grabbed Daphne's wrist and pulled her toward the door. He wrenched it open, shoved her inside, and followed after her, closing the door just as the footsteps rounded the corner.

The closet was tiny. Absolutely minuscule. There was barely enough room for cleaning supplies, let alone two fully grown adults. Harry found himself pressed chest to back with Daphne in the cramped darkness, both of them breathing hard, their hearts pounding.

And then, as they shifted trying to find their balance, something changed.

Harry felt it immediately. The sudden heat, the wet silk sliding along the top of his shaft. His cock had slipped between Daphne's thighs, the tip pressing right against her bare, wet pussy.

Bloody fucking hell.

The sensation was overwhelming. The heat of her cunt radiated against his sensitive skin, and he could feel how drenched she was, her arousal coating the length of his shaft as he settled between her thighs.

"Potter," Daphne hissed, her voice barely a whisper. "Don't you dare move."

"I'm not planning on it," Harry whispered back, though every instinct screamed at him to thrust, to grind against her slick heat. His hands had nowhere to go in the cramped space except to rest on her hips. "Just... stay still."

They both fell silent, listening. The footsteps had stopped right outside the closet door, and Harry could hear wheezing breath, the shuffle of feet.

Filch, Harry realised with growing horror. Of course it's bloody Filch.

"I know you're here somewhere," Filch's raspy voice carried through the door. "I can smell teenage hormones and rule-breaking. Come out, come out, wherever you are."

Harry held his breath, trying desperately to focus on anything other than the feel of Daphne's wet pussy against his cock. But then she shifted slightly, just the tiniest movement to adjust her balance, and the friction sent sparks through his entire body.

"Greengrass," Harry breathed against her ear, barely audible. "Stop moving."

"I'm not," she whispered back, but even as she said it, her hips rolled back slightly, pressing her arse more firmly against him. The movement caused his cock to slide along her slick folds, the tip bumping against her swollen clit.

Daphne bit back a gasp, and Harry felt her whole body shudder. Outside, Filch was still muttering, still searching, his footsteps moving slowly past their hiding spot.

"You're doing that on purpose," Harry accused in the barest whisper.

"Am not," Daphne breathed, but her hips were moving again, tiny little shifts that created the most maddening friction. "It's just... the angle..."

Harry's hands tightened on her hips involuntarily, and he realised with some alarm that instead of holding her still, he was actually guiding her movements. His cock was sliding between her thighs with increasing ease, coated thoroughly in her arousal.

"The angle?" Harry asked, his voice strained.

"Shut up," Daphne hissed, but she was grinding against him more deliberately now, her movements still subtle but unmistakably intentional. "Just... don't make any noise."

She's actually doing this, Harry thought wildly. She's actually grinding on my cock while Filch is right outside.

The danger of it, the absolute insanity of the situation, only made it hotter. Harry found himself matching her rhythm, his hips moving in tiny thrusts that made his cock slide perfectly between her slick thighs. The head kept catching on her entrance, not quite pushing inside but teasing them both with the possibility.

Outside, Filch's footsteps were finally moving away, his muttered complaints fading into the distance. But instead of stopping, Daphne's movements became less controlled, more desperate. She was working herself on his cock with wild abandon, her thighs clamping down on him as she slid her soaking pussy along his shaft. She tried angling her hips, attempting to work him inside her, but the cramped closet made it impossible. All she could do was desperately fuck herself on his length, the friction between her thighs building unbearably.

"Potter," she whimpered against her pressed lips, frustration and desire mixing in her voice. Her movements became more frantic, more urgent, her arse working backward in tight circles as she tried every angle to get him to slip inside.

Harry couldn't take it anymore. His hands gripped her hips, and instead of just letting her grind, he started thrusting forward to meet her movements. His hips snapped forward hard, his cock sliding between her thighs as his hips clapped firmly against her arse cheeks with each drive forward.

"Oh fuck," Daphne gasped, nearly losing her composure. "Oh fuck, Potter..."

He drove into her thighs again, and again, his hips moving with purpose now, meeting her desperate movements with his own thrusts. Each impact made her arse jiggle, made her gasp, made her clit rub harder against the top of his shaft. The rhythm they found together was primal, desperate, and absolutely maddening.

Harry's hands moved almost of their own accord, sliding up from her hips to her ribs, then higher.

His palms found her breasts through her shirt, and he could feel the hard points of her nipples pressing against the fabric. Without thinking, he pulled her shirt open, the buttons popping softly, not bothering with finesse. His hands found her bra, yanking the cups down roughly to free her tits.

"Potter," Daphne gasped, the sound caught between a moan and a protest, but she didn't pull away. If anything, she pressed back against him, her body arching into his touch.

Harry's fingers closed over her bare breasts, and the sensation was incredible. They were full and soft and perfect, filling his palms completely. He could feel her heart racing, could feel the way her body responded immediately to his touch. He kneaded the soft flesh gently at first, feeling the weight of her tits, learning the shape of them.

"Your hands..." Daphne breathed, her voice trembling. "Don't stop..."

Harry had no intention of stopping. He explored her breasts thoroughly, his fingers trailing across the pale skin, watching goosebumps erupt in their wake. He cupped her from underneath, lifting the soft flesh slightly, feeling the way she gasped at the pressure. His thumbs brushed across her nipples, and he felt her whole body shudder in response.

"So responsive," Harry murmured against her ear. "You love this, don't you? You love the way my hands feel on your tits."

"Shut up," Daphne breathed, but she was arching into his touch, pushing her breasts more firmly into his palms. Her hips were moving faster now, grinding on his cock with increasing desperation. The friction was building, tension coiling tighter and tighter in both of them.

Harry's fingers found her nipples again, rolling the hard peaks between his thumbs and forefingers with deliberate slowness. They were incredibly sensitive, and each touch made her gasp, made her grind against him harder. He could feel the way they pebbled even further under his ministrations, could feel them standing proud and rigid.

"I can feel how close you are," Harry whispered, his lips brushing her ear. "The way you're clenching around my cock. The way your pussy is soaking me. You're going to cum, aren't you?"

"No," Daphne protested weakly, but her movements had become frantic now, almost out of control. She was grinding against him with wild abandon, her hips rolling in desperate circles.

"Yes, you are," Harry said, his voice low and confident. He squeezed her breasts gently, then pinched her nipples just slightly, enough to send sparks through her body. "You're right on the edge. One more touch and you'll fall apart."

Daphne's breathing had become ragged gasps, her body trembling as she rode the knife's edge of climax. Harry could feel it building, could feel the tension in her muscles, the way her thighs were clamping down on his cock. He continued to play with her breasts, his hands moving with purpose now. He cupped them from underneath again, lifting and kneading, then moved his thumbs back to her nipples, applying just enough pressure to keep her right at the edge.

"Potter..." Daphne moaned, her voice barely audible. "I'm going to... oh fuck..."

Harry pinched her nipples harder, twisting them gently, and that was it.

Daphne's whole body went rigid, and she would have screamed if she hadn't immediately clamped her hand over her own mouth. Even muffled, Harry could hear her desperate cries.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, Merlin, Potter..." Her words were barely coherent against her palm, broken by gasping breaths. "Yes... yes... fuck yes..."

Her thighs clamped down on his cock like a vice, and Harry felt her pussy spasm and gush against the top of his shaft, felt the flood of arousal that coated him as her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave.

"Don't stop... don't you dare stop..." she whimpered against her hand, her hips bucking wildly against him. "More... oh Merlin, more..."

Her entire body shook with the force of it, her back arching as she ground against him harder. Harry's hands kept working her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples as she came, drawing out every wave of pleasure. She bit down on her own hand to keep from crying out too loudly, her teeth sinking into her flesh.

"Fuck... fuck... Potter..." she gasped, her voice trembling. "You bastard... making me..."

The aftershocks were still rolling through her when Harry felt his own control slipping. The feel of her cumming on his cock, the way she'd soaked him with her arousal, the muffled sounds of her pleasure, it had all pushed him right to the edge.

"Daphne," Harry groaned, his hips starting to thrust between her thighs again, chasing his own release. His hands slid from her breasts down to grip her hips, holding her steady as he fucked her thighs with increasing desperation. "Fuck, I'm close. I can't... I can't stop it..."

"What?" Daphne asked, still dazed from her orgasm. Then she seemed to realise what he was saying, and she stiffened. "Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Don't you dare get any of your cum on my clothes!"

"I can't help it," Harry gasped, his hips thrusting harder now, fucking her thighs desperately, his cock sliding through the slick mess of her arousal. "I'm going to... fuck, I'm going to..."

Daphne made a split-second decision. She wrenched open the closet door, practically falling out into the corridor, and dropped to her knees in front of him.

"What are you..." Harry started, but then her hands were on his hips, pulling him forward, and her mouth was wrapping around his cock.

Bloody fucking hell.

The wet heat of her mouth was incredible. Her lips stretched wide around his girth, her tongue swirling around the tip, and then she was taking him deeper, inch by inch, until the head of his cock hit the back of her throat.

"Fuck, Daphne," Harry groaned, his hands finding her hair, tangling in the platinum blonde strands. "Your mouth... oh fuck..."

Daphne hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard, one hand coming up to massage his balls while the other gripped the base of his shaft. She bobbed her head, taking him as deep as she could, gagging slightly when he hit the back of her throat but not pulling back.

Harry could feel his orgasm building, could feel it surging up from the base of his spine, his balls tightening, his cock pulsing in her mouth.

"I'm going to cum," Harry warned, his voice strangled. "Daphne, I'm going to—"

She didn't pull back. Instead, she took him even deeper, sucking harder, massaging his balls with just the right amount of pressure, and then Harry was cumming.

He came hard, harder than he'd ever cum in his life, thick ropes of cum shooting down her throat as his whole body shuddered with the force of his orgasm. It seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over him, and through it all, Daphne kept sucking, kept swallowing, kept taking everything he had to give.

When Harry finally came down from his high, gasping and slightly dizzy, he looked down to find Daphne still on her knees in front of him. Her lips were red and swollen, her eyes were watering slightly, and there was a dribble of cum at the corner of her mouth that she quickly wiped away with the back of her hand.

She stood up slowly, adjusting her shirt and skirt with as much dignity as she could muster. There was a satisfied gleam in her eyes, like she'd just won some sort of competition, and she smoothed down her skirt with deliberate casualness.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her, still catching his breath. "That was..."

The satisfied look immediately shifted to defensive, and Daphne's chin lifted in that familiar gesture of Slytherin pride. "Practical," she said quickly, her voice slightly hoarse. "Purely practical. There is not a chance in the whole world that I am going to get caught walking back to the Slytherin dormitory dripping with your cum."

Harry stared at her, his mind still reeling from the best orgasm of his life. A slow smile spread across his face. "You could have just... vanished it."

Daphne's eyes widened slightly, like she hadn't thought of that. Then her cheeks flamed red, and she glared at him. "Well, I didn't think of that in the moment, did I? I was... I was panicking."

"Right," Harry said slowly, a smile tugging at his lips. "Panicking."

"Yes, panicking," Daphne snapped. "Not because I wanted to taste you or anything ridiculous like that. It was purely practical."

"Of course," Harry agreed, still smiling as he tucked himself back into his trousers.

Daphne's glare intensified, but there was a flush on her cheeks that had nothing to do with anger. "This doesn't change anything, Potter. We're still... we're still..."

"Rivals?" Harry supplied.

"Exactly," Daphne said firmly. Then she seemed to remember something, and her expression shifted. "And for the record, you didn't make me cum. I was just... adjusting my position, and the angle was..."

"You came all over my cock," Harry said bluntly, enjoying the way her blush deepened. "You were grinding on me like your life depended on it, and when I touched your tits, you lost it completely."

"I did not," Daphne insisted. "It was... we both know what happened doesn't count. We can call it even."

"We both came," Harry said with a shrug. "I can live with that."

Daphne nodded, seeming satisfied with this arrangement, and turned to leave. She made it about three steps before stopping suddenly, her hand flying to her hip as if checking for something. Her eyes widened as realisation struck.

She whirled around to find Harry already pulling the scrap of emerald lace from his pocket, dangling it from one finger with a triumphant grin.

For a moment, Daphne looked like she might lunge for them. Then she seemed to think better of it, her eyes narrowing as she calculated her odds. Finally, she rolled her eyes with exaggerated disdain.

"Fine," she said, lifting her chin imperiously. "Keep them as a trophy if you're that desperate for a souvenir, Potter."

"Oh, I will," Harry said, stuffing them back into his pocket with satisfaction.

Daphne huffed, turned on her heel, and strode away down the corridor, still flushed, still dishevelled, and now without her panties.

Game on.

Disclaimer: Harry returns to Hogwarts to complete his seventh year after defeating Voldemort. All characters in this story are consenting adults (18+).