Chapter 48

Homecoming (Cho Chang)

A few weeks after Gryffindor hammered Slytherin into the ground, Harry was sprawled in the Den after dinner, half-asleep with Ginny’s head on his chest and Lavender painting his nails scarlet for a laugh, when Cho slipped through the door.

She had only got back to Hogwarts the previous week, as she’d missed the start of term due to some family stuff, and this was her first proper night in the room. She looked around, took in the tangle of limbs and lazy smiles, and grinned.

“Evening, Captain,” she said, dropping her bag. “Any chance the winning Seeker fancies giving a poor Ravenclaw some private training before we play Hufflepuff on Saturday? I’m rusty.”

Harry lifted his head from the cushion. “Private training, huh?”

Ginny snorted, sat up, and flicked his ear. “Go on then, hero. Just try to keep your trousers on until you’re off the pitch.”

Harry rolled to his feet, still barefoot, and offered Cho a lazy salute. “Meet you at the broom shed in ten?”

Ten minutes later they were streaking above the floodlit pitch, the November air sharp enough to bite. Cho flew like she always had: graceful, precise, a little showy. Harry kept pace easily, matching her dives and rolls, but neither of them was really watching the Snitch he had released.

She pulled up first, hovering fifty feet above the goal hoops, hair whipping in the wind.

“You’re not even trying,” she laughed, breathless.

Harry drifted closer until their knees almost touched. “You’re not either. Thought you wanted tips.”

“I do,” she said, and the way her eyes flicked to his mouth made it clear which kind she meant. “But I’m cold.”

He smirked. “Can’t have that.”

He reached out, caught her wrist, and tugged her broom alongside his until they were side by side, thighs pressed together. The heat of her seeped through two sets of robes.

“Better?” he asked, voice low.

“Getting there.” She leaned in, close enough that her next words brushed his lips. “Though I’ve heard you’ve got warmer ways to raise body temperature.”

Harry’s laugh came out rough. “Cho Chang, are you trying to get me to snog you three hundred feet above the Quidditch pitch?”

She tilted her head, dark eyes bright. “Only if you’re offering extra credit.”

He closed the last inch and kissed her, slow at first, then deeper when she made a soft, needy sound and opened for him. Her broom wobbled; his steadied them both with one hand on her waist. The wind howled around them but all he felt was the heat of her mouth and the way her fingers curled into the front of his robes.

When they broke apart, both breathing hard, she rested her forehead against his.

“Definitely warmer,” she whispered.

Harry grinned, thumb tracing her lower lip. “Training’s just getting started, Chang.”

Far below, the forgotten Snitch zipped past the stands, completely ignored.

“Locker rooms,” he said against her mouth, not really a question.

She answered by diving first, hair streaming like a black banner, laughter trailing behind her. Harry followed, the two of them spiralling down in tight, reckless loops until their boots hit the grass outside the Gryffindor changing rooms. The floodlights were off; only moonlight and the faint glow from the castle windows lit the pitch.

Cho grabbed his sleeve the second they were on solid ground and dragged him inside.

The door slammed shut behind them. She flicked her wand; every lock clicked, every lantern flared to life, bathing the wooden benches and rows of scarlet robes in warm gold.

Harry didn’t give her time to speak. He backed her straight into the nearest row of lockers, mouth crashing onto hers, hands already shoving her Quidditch robes off her shoulders. The heavy fabric dropped to the floor with a soft thud. Underneath she wore only a thin black tank and leggings; he could feel every line of her body when she pressed against him.

“Been thinking about this since the end of last term,” she muttered between kisses, yanking his jersey over his head.

“Same,” he growled, and spun her around so her front hit the cool metal lockers. He peeled the tank up and off in one motion, then dragged her leggings down to her knees. Black lace knickers followed a second later.

Cho braced her palms against the lockers, looked back at him over one shoulder, eyes dark and daring. “Don’t be gentle. I want to feel this when I’m chasing the Snitch on Saturday.”

Harry’s laugh was low and filthy. He dropped to his knees behind her, spread her with both hands, and licked one long stripe up her centre. She was already soaked. He groaned against her, tongue circling her clit once, twice, then pushing inside. Cho’s head thumped forward against the locker, a sharp moan echoing off the tiles.

He didn’t let up until her legs started shaking and she was pushing back against his face, begging in broken little gasps. Only then did he stand, shove his own trousers down, and line up.

One hard thrust and he buried himself to the hilt.

Cho cried out, back arching, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth metal. Harry grabbed her hips and set a brutal pace from the start; skin slapping skin, lockers rattling with every stroke. Her moans turned into sharp, rhythmic cries each time he bottomed out.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered, voice rough.

She obeyed instantly, one hand slipping between her thighs, rubbing fast circles that matched his thrusts. Thirty seconds later she came hard, walls clamping around him so tight he had to grit his teeth to keep from finishing with her.

He pulled out, spun her again, and lifted her clean off the floor. Cho wrapped legs around his waist, arms around his neck, and he slammed back in. The new angle made her scream into his shoulder. He fucked her against the lockers until her second orgasm ripped through her, nails raking bloody lines down his back.

Harry carried her the few steps to the nearest bench, laid her down on the scarlet cushion, and hooked her knees over his shoulders. He slid back inside slow this time, watching her face while he filled her inch by inch.

“Still with me, Chang?” he asked, voice wrecked.

Cho’s answer was to clench deliberately around him and smirk.

“Make me forget my own name, Potter.”

Harry pulled out slowly, both of them groaning at the loss. Cho’s legs were still trembling when he scooped her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back. She laughed, breathless and surprised, and looped her arms round his neck.

“Showers,” he said, voice rough. “I’m not done with you.”

The tiled shower room was dim, only the emergency lanterns glowing soft gold. Harry set her down on the wide wooden bench in the middle, flicked his wand once. Every shower head roared to life at once, steam billowing up in thick clouds, the air instantly hot and wet.

He stepped under the nearest spray fully naked, water sluicing down his chest and stomach, and crooked a finger. Cho followed without hesitation. The moment she was close enough he caught her waist, spun her, and pressed her front to the warm tile wall.

Water pounded over them both. Harry’s hands (still furnace-hot from hours of gripping a broom handle) slid up her sides, over her ribs, cupped her breasts and squeezed hard enough to make her gasp. He rolled her nipples between thumbs and forefingers, tugging just enough to sting.

“These hands spent all match chasing a Snitch,” he murmured against her ear, water streaming off his lashes. “Now they’re going to chase something much more fun.”

Cho pushed back against him, arse grinding against his cock. “Show me.”

Harry dropped one hand between her legs, two fingers sliding straight inside her soaked heat. She was swollen, open, still fluttering from earlier. He curled his fingers hard, palm grinding against her clit, and started a fast, relentless rhythm. The wet slap of his hand against her mingled with the hiss of the showers.

Cho’s moans echoed off the tiles, louder with every thrust of his fingers. When her knees buckled he wrapped his other arm around her waist, pinning her upright, and added a third finger. She came almost instantly, crying out, walls clamping around him so tight his cock jerked against the small of her back.

He didn’t give her time to breathe. Pulled his fingers free, spun her again, and dropped to his knees in the spray. Water poured over his head as he hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and buried his mouth against her. Cho’s hands flew to his hair, hips rocking shamelessly while he licked her clean, then started building her toward another peak.

Two orgasms later she was shaking so hard he had to hold her up. Harry rose, turned her to face the wall again, and slid back inside her in one slick thrust. The heat of the water, the heat of her body, the way she pushed back to meet every stroke (it was perfect).

He fucked her slow and deep under the spray, one hand braced on the tile beside her head, the other still working her clit until she came a fourth time, voice breaking on his name.

Harry followed seconds later, groaning low, spilling deep inside her while the water washed everything else away.

They stayed there, panting, foreheads pressed together, steam swirling around them like a private world.

Eventually Cho laughed, soft and wrecked.

“I’m never going to be able to shower in here again without thinking about this.”

Harry grinned against her mouth.

Harry shut the water off with a flick of his wrist. Steam still hung thick in the air, curling around them like smoke. Cho leaned against the tiled wall, chest heaving, skin flushed pink from heat and sex. Water dripped from her hair, her lashes, the tips of her breasts.

She looked at him through the haze, eyes dark and lazy, and bit her lower lip.

“You know,” she said, voice husky, “it’s been a long time since anyone’s taken me the back way.”

Harry’s cock, which had barely softened, jerked hard against his stomach.

“Cho Chang,” he said slowly, “are you telling me you want my cock in your arse?”

She pushed off the wall, walked past him on shaky legs, and deliberately bent over the wide wooden bench in the centre of the shower room. She braced her forearms on the slick wood, arched her back, and looked over her shoulder.

“I’m telling you I want it now.”

Harry was behind her in a heartbeat. He ran both hands over the curve of her arse, spread her open, and groaned at the sight. She was still dripping from the shower and everything they had already done, perfect and ready.

He dropped to his knees again, dragged his tongue from her clit all the way up, circled that tight ring of muscle until she whimpered and pushed back against his face. He licked and teased until she was trembling, then stood and summoned a small bottle of waterproof lubricant from the captain’s emergency kit (he kept it restocked for exactly these situations).

Cho watched him slick his fingers, then his cock, breath coming faster.

Harry pressed one finger in slowly. She exhaled, relaxed, took it easily. A second joined it, scissoring, stretching. When he crooked them just right she moaned loud enough to echo off the tiles.

“Ready?” he asked, voice rough.

“Do it,” she ordered.

He lined up, gripped her hips, and pushed in with one long, steady thrust.

Cho’s back bowed, a sharp cry tearing out of her. He stilled, buried to the hilt, letting her adjust to the stretch, the burn. She was impossibly tight, hot, clenching around him in pulses.

“Move,” she gasped.

Harry pulled back and slid in again, deeper this time. The angle was perfect; every stroke dragged over nerves that made her shake. He set a slow, hard rhythm, watching himself disappear into her, watching her fingers claw at the bench.

One hand snaked round to rub her clit in tight circles. The other kept her hip steady so he could fuck her exactly how she needed.

It didn’t take long. Cho came with a broken scream, whole body locking up, arse clamping down so hard Harry saw stars. He thrust twice more and followed her over, spilling deep inside her with a guttural groan, hips jerking through every pulse.

They stayed like that, locked together, breathing hard, water still dripping from the shower heads overhead.

Eventually Harry eased out, steadied her when her legs threatened to give. Cho turned, wrapped arms around his neck, and kissed him slow and filthy.

“Training session of the year,” she murmured against his mouth.

Harry laughed, breathless and wrecked.

“Any time you need a refresher, Chang.”

They cleaned up with lazy spells, dressed in half-buttoned robes, and slipped out of the locker room just as the first hint of dawn touched the sky.

Cho walked bow-legged all the way back to the castle, and Harry’s grin never left his face.