Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Warning: It's a little dark...M for language and smut (light spanking), if you don't like it, please just click the back button.

Comfort.

You wait in the dark, abandoned classroom. You're sitting at one of the front desks, like he told you to. Your ankles are crossed delicately, your hands folded on the desk, and you look down towards them, unmoving, like he told you to. The only sound you can hear is your breathing, deliberately slow, but your heart is pounding against your ribs with so much anticipation, fear, excitement, that you wonder that it can't be heard echoing around the room. You try to relax, let the tension leave your muscles, but the door is ajar and you're terrified that someone will walk in and see you...and you aren't wearing your pug-faced glamour, because he told you not to. He's the only one who managed to see through it. You suspect he can see magic, being as powerful as he is, so your secret is safe - no one else could ever come close. The chair is hard and uncomfortable, but you resist the urge to squirm. The room may seem empty, but that doesn't mean he isn't there. So you wait.

"I'm impressed." His sudden whisper is hot on your ear. You shudder in pleasure as he releases his hold on his magic briefly, flinging up some undetectable privacy wards in an instant. Anyone in this area of the castle tonight will find an uncontrollable urge to be somewhere else, and not think anything of it. The tension leaves your muscles, but the adrenaline still pulses through your body. The air surrounding you seems charged with electricity that makes your heart skip a beat, and your skin tingle wherever you touch - his fingertips trail down your arm as he slips around the desk as softly as a shadow. You don't speak. The intensity between you makes the words catch in your throat before they've even begun to form. He puts two fingers under your chin and tilts your head so you're looking into each others' eyes. Clichéd as it may sound, you could get lost in his mesmerising gaze. Usually cold, glinting emeralds, his eyes soften slightly as they look into yours, and they swirl with passion, with emotions he shows no one but you. Warmth spreads through your chest, only you can give him this, what he needs...and he does the same for you. He leans towards you agonisingly slowly, so slowly you can taste the sweetness of his breath, before he draws you into a passionate kiss, leaving you breathless when he pulls away, leaning back onto the professor's desk in one smooth movement. His gaze rakes slowly down your body, absorbing every detail. Your heartbeat races - his movements are measured, predatory.

"Stand up, Pansy." It is both a command and a request, but his deep, velvet voice envelops you in seduction. Your name, coming from his lips, is deliciously sinful. You stand without hesitation. "Come closer..." You step towards him. "Closer." You take another step, bringing the edge of your shortened skirt to brush against his black slacks. "...Closer." His voice is husky now, and you suppress a shiver as you move forwards into the only space left available, your feet either side of his, your body stretched out next to him. His hands grasp the bare skin at your hips, he lifts you up, sliding you along his body, and you bite your lip as you see his lean muscles rippling under the thin silk of his green shirt. He raises an eyebrow and glances down at your legs. You know what he wants – you lift your knees so they rest either side of his hips, and he lowers you gently but firmly onto his lap, pulling you tight against him.

"Take off my shirt." His voice is commanding, and you force yourself to carefully unbutton the expensive shirt, though you want nothing more than to tear it off his toned body. You slide it down from his broad shoulders till it pools on the desk, shimmering slightly in the dark like a basilisk's scales. He removes his hands from your hips only for as long as it takes to slip his wrists out completely, then smirks. The next second, your skirt and shirt appear folded next to his on the broken chair next to you.

"Please..." you whisper, daring to let your fingers trace the silver serpent which forms the clasp of his belt. His lips curve up into that small smile, the one he saves just for you, and you slide the clasp open, softly undoing the buttons underneath. You kneel up and push his trousers down past his hips where they fall to the floor, though with ease he sends them to join the rest of your clothes on the chair. His hands wrap round your wrists and hold them still. You glance up at him and wait, trying to hide the fact that your heart is racing from his proximity, his skin so hot against yours. He pulls your hands and places them on the table behind him, so you're forced to lean close to him. Your breath hitches. His hands trail up from your wrists, over your shoulders, and come to rest either side of your neck, just under your ears. He tugs you gently, but inexorably towards him until your lips meet. Slow and passionate, you melt in his arms. His tongue slips past your lips and plunders your mouth, claiming you as his. He draws away, and with one hand entwined in your hair, he pulls backwards so your head tilts up, exposing your long, alabaster neck. He traces a path of light kisses along your jaw and down your throat until he reaches the spot just above your collarbone, and bites, hard. You gasp in pleasure, which turns into a soft moan as he sucks at the spot, soothing it with his hot, wet tongue. His hands slide down to your thighs, and he picks you up effortlessly, turning and laying you gently on the desk. He lowers himself down slowly, and his weight is warm, heavy and comfortable on top of you. You wrap your legs around him as he finishes leaving his mark on your skin, showing anyone who cares to look that you belong to him.

"Gods, Pansy..." his teeth gently graze your ear, "...do you have any idea what you do to me?" He pulls your earlobe into his mouth and massages it gently with his tongue. You melt with pleasure – you couldn't reply if you wanted to. Torturously slowly, he rocks his hips against yours. Your head drops sharply back against the desk and you gasp,
"Harry..."

A breathy moan escapes your lips as he vanishes the last of the clothes, and you cling to his muscled shoulders almost desperately. He thrusts into you in one smooth movement, and as you start to move together, he lowers his head to your breast and gently bites down on the erect nipple, sucking it into his mouth, rolling the other between broom-calloused fingers. You can feel that he's holding back... today must have been worse than usual for him. You let a whimper slip past your lips,
"Harry, please, don't tease me, not tonight..." He stops, and lifts his head to look into your eyes, searching for seriousness in your gaze. Seeing that he needs some more encouragement before he can allow himself to let go, you half-lift yourself to rest on your elbows so your lips can reach his ear.
"Take me, Harry, I'm yours," you beg him. He starts to move again, but only slightly faster than before. You continue whispering into his ear, "Please, Harry, harder, faster!"

He does, his hands gripping your hips so hard you're sure he'll leave bruises. A tingle runs down your spine at the thought of walking round school with his handprints on your hips, just under your thin uniform, and with no one the wiser. You fall back to the desk and lock eyes with him, and through the haze of pleasure you can tell that he's still focused on what he's doing to you. You want – no – need to make him lose control. Completely. You arch your back with a sensuous moan as he hits a spot inside you that reduces you to incoherency, before matching his gaze once more. "Fuck me, Harry, please... I need you to fuck me." His eyes darken with lust,"Do you know how hot you make me, Harry? I've been wet all day just thinking about all the things you were going to do to me tonight. I had to cast a silencing ward in one of the cubicles of the girls' toilets at lunch. My friends were waiting just on the other side of the door as I was fingering myself, slipping my hand into the lacy underwear I was wearing for you. I sat there on the bathroom floor wondering if my silencing ward would break, if they'd hear me moaning your name as I fucked myself with my vibrating wand, imagining that it was your cock sliding in and out of my wet pussy."

He groans, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. He steps back and lets his magic flood out from its restraints as he finally lets go. His eyes flash with power and his magic swirls round you, heightening all your senses. Before you have time to take a breath, you find yourself spun around and pressed into the desk, your wrists bound to the corners with emerald silk ribbons. Harry glides towards you again, and puts one hand on your hip, the other twisting itself into your hair, lifting your head to his mouth,
"You're such a little slut, aren't you?" He rubs the head of his prick against your slick folds, teasing you, and you moan quietly. His hand slips loose from your hair and you breathe in sharply as he slaps your exposed ass.
"Fuck!" you hiss, but you both know that it's not from the pain, but a mix of the pain with the pleasure it gives you. He spanks you again.
"Did I say you could talk?" You bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning again. His hand rubs soothing circles on your hot skin. "You've been such a naughty girl today, Pansy." He spanks you again, harder, and you stifle a whimper. "I think you need to be taught a lesson...don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good girl..." He spanks you again, pausing between them so you feel each one. Finally, he stops, and you release your lip, which is now red and swollen from keeping silent. His hand slips to the wetness between your legs and you resist the urge to moan. "Oh Pansy, you are a naughty girl...I punish you, and you enjoy it?" He sounds scandalised, and heat rushes to your centre as your cheeks flush. "Such a little slut," he murmurs, lazily fucking you with his fingers. "Moan for me, baby..." You do, unable to resist, gasps of pleasure spilling from your lips.

Too soon, he withdraws his fingers, and you whimper at the loss. He reaches forwards, placing his fingers by your mouth. "Suck them." Obediently, you open your mouth, and he inserts his fingers. You use your tongue to clean them, and the taste of yourself on his fingers makes another moan slip from your throat. "Yess," he hisses, "Just like that – such a good little slut." He pulls his hand back and traces his wet fingers down your spine, blowing lightly on the trail they leave.
"Please, sir..." You whisper, and he returns his hands to your hips, pulling you back just enough to tease you once more.
"Please what? Tell me what you want, Pansy."
"Please sir, I want you to fuck me, I want you to fuck me hard into the desk." He does, slamming into you with no warning. He leans down to murmur into your ear,
"Who do you belong to, Pansy?"
"You, sir!" you gasp, "I'm yours!" The heat between your legs begins to coil tighter and you feel Harry speed up behind you too.
"Like that, slut?"
"Gods, yes, I love it! I love it when you fuck me like this! I'm your little slut, sir, fuck me, fuck your slut!"
Together, you cry out as pure pleasure overwhelms you, Harry's magic swirling round you almost uncontrollably. Both of you breathing heavily, Harry draws you into his arms, silk restraints vanishing. You sit in silence, savouring each other's presence.
"I love you, Pansy." His husky whisper makes your heart flutter, no matter how many times you hear it.
"I love you too, Harry." You envelop him in all the comfort and the love you have to give, and he holds you tight, wrapping you in the same.