DLP MOTEL RENDEZVOUS
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“Whatever things may be done by one of the lovers to the other, the same should be returned by the other”​

For those who like to write/enjoy romance and pairings! Derived from Shezza’s concept, this thread is aimed at romance, passion, and whatever between your favourite fictional characters.

Like in the aforementioned thread, here are the rules:

You will be given two how ever many characters you want from a series (for example, Harry Potter, Dresden Files, Naruto, etcetera.), and you have thirty-minutes (30) to write a 500 word scene.

Again, as called out by Shezza: “Pretty much the 'Thank God You're Here' thread with a much more narrow scope”.

You don't have to worry about plot.

You don't have to worry too much about characterization.​

Forbidden trysts? Scandalous affairs and love triangles? Sweet moments between a couple? Anything goes!

 

I would be willing to participate... but not in the daylight.

 

I would like to post a simple challenge to start this off,

Harry Potter and Fleur Weasley.

 

I can't decide if this is more or less sordid than my first thoughts on seeing the thread title...

 

Apparently I missed this thread for a while. I feel that it's damn near heresy that there aren't any Dresden/Lea fics out there. Jon teases it, the jerk, but has thus far not delivered.

Someone go for it!

I'll also take challenges, preferably ones with a bit more detail than just two character names.

 

Took longer than intended, sorry. Almost canon-compliant, and I had two other sections partly written (the sex, the envelope and Bill's return), but then I reread the parameters and realized I overshot a bit.

Midsummer, 2008

Fleur answered the door of Shell Cottage, but her greeting caught in her throat. Rather than say anything, she stepped back and let Harry walk in from the scorching afternoon sun. The living room was enjoyably dark and cool by comparison. He had to blink several times to adjust his eyesight. When he could see, he turned to face Fleur. She reached out her hand, but Harry didn't proffer the manila packet he held as she'd expected.

"Y'know when I said I wouldn't take payment from you for this? I've changed my mind."

Fleur may have paled- Harry's eyes hadn't adjusted enough to say for sure. She did frown as if insulted though. "'Arry, I know zat you don't need ze Galleons. Why?"

"I've gone through too much to get the answers, and it'll cost me more when you see them. I want to walk away from this with more than the truth to show for it."

"Zo, my William has been... unfaithful."

"I won't answer that without compensation, Fleur. I mean it."

"'Ow much?"

"Not money. You."

Confusion. Surprise. Shock. Anger. Disbelief. Harry answered all her wordless protestations with the same unforgiving conviction. Ginny called it his Seeker Psyche-out look.

"You cannot mean-- how dare you! I asked for your 'elp as a friend and now you wish to bargain for my body? And what about your Ginevra? Would she not be upset if she were to know you were betraying her for me?"

Harry gave her a quizzical look. "I don't want a relationship and I don't want to make babies, Fleur." Seeing her confusion, he explained. "Ginny and I are faithful to our reputations. We both... it's not an issue, so long as there's no issue, you follow? Anyway, that's my problem, even though it isn't one. Your problem is in the envelope, and you're not getting it for free. My price is this- you and I, at least partly unclothed and doing our best to make each other feel fantastic. Now. While Bill's at work."

"May I see the envelope first?" She reached again towards the packet in Harry's left hand, but he shifted it far out of her reach.

"No. It'd kill the mood."

"Ze 'mood' is zat you are blackmailing me. I nevair expected such from you. I approached you because you 'ave always treated me kindly- neither lured by my beauty nor spurned by my dismissal. You were nevair even interested in me in ze past."

"I was! Maybe I wasn't turned into a slack-jawed fool, but I was still smitten as much as anyone. You appear as Venus in my dreams."

"Zat is poor poetry, 'Arry."

"What'd you expect- I'm an ex-Auror. I quit the Ministry exactly because I... suck at talking. I was tired of people telling me 'You shouldn't say things that way, you shouldn't write the truth in official documents'. Besides, it's not poetry. I have these fantasies about you, barely wrapped in a white cloth and-and- you reach down- a white arm--." He huffed. "Really; I'm not a poet, so just believe me. I was always interested."

"Zis is to satisfy your fantasies, zis bargain?"

Harry shrugged. "Fortune favors the bold. This is my chance; I'm taking it."

Fleur moved to shake her head but couldn't finish the denial- instead she turned away from him.

Harry saw it as an attempt to negotiate without offering anything, so he just stood and waited. After a minute, Fleur lost her silent battle.

She untied her belt, and her robes slipped off her shoulders and down her pale skin to pool on the floor around her ankles. She wore only a satin slip beneath- it hung by straps thin as shoelaces, hugging her skin from the swell of her breasts down to just below the curve of her rounded arse. Even just seeing her from behind, Harry was impressed.

Fleur turned to face him, her still-firm breasts shifting delightfully in the motion. Her expression was less than enthusiastic, but her coquettish stance was enticing- one knee bent slightly in front of the other to conceal her privates should the hem of the slip rise up. The pose was demure, yet showed off the curve of her hips, the tone in her thighs, the slim taper of her ankles.

"You are magnificent."

Despite his approval, Fleur didn't move to encourage him. Her eyes turned away. She was offering her body but not her interest.

They stood in quiet discomfort.

"Well, if zis is your price, let me pay it, 'Arry. Take me."

Harry gulped. "Honestly, I just need a moment. My fantasies never really handled the transition from bargain to bed and I want us to enjoy this if at all possible."

"You really 'ave no cause to act nice in zis instance. You are ze 'bad guy'."

Harry squinted at her. "Fine." He stepped towards her and she took a half step back. Another two steps. Fleur's tentative retreat was blocked by the corner of the dining table goosing her. She hopped forward in reflex and found herself grasped by her upper arms.

"You 'ave found your lust after all, 'Arry?"

He pushed her back and boosted her to sit on the table.

...

 

Without any sort of context, Harry seems terribly out of character. It's well written, but I couldn't get past that Harry wouldn't ever do this.

 

And then it turns out that Bill was planning a surprise second honeymoon...

 

I was kind of waiting for her to find out that there was nothing in the folder.

 

the sinister 3rd part (post-sex)


Fleur saw Harry to the door. He turned there as if to say something but instead just looked down at his shoes. He then stepped forward and kissed Fleur on the cheek. When he stepped back, the look he had suggested that he didn't expect Fleur to speak to him ever again, and that it would mean something to him.

It was the look of departure without expecting to return.

Rien de 'au revoir'.

He disapparated.

Fleur hugged herself, the brief pressure on her raw nipples almost reassuring- the pain seemed to chase away the last lingering pings of delight, allowing her to face whatever harsh truth was contained in Harry's envelope.

She opened it. Full page photographs showed her the truth; a horror she hadn't even considered.

In the pictures, Bill was having sex alongside several of his fellow werewolf-affected associates- she recognised them from meetings held in their living room. They were all surrounding- fucking - a single woman, doing every sort of sexual act upon her perfect body. Fleur's perfect body.

She considered for a moment that perhaps Polyjuice was a factor, until she saw William's claws making the very same wounds in her derriere that had distracted her so when Harry had gripped her there.

Harry had even gotten a photo of William casting a spell - probably the memory charm - on Fleur as she slept in their bed, whilst most of her wounds were closing up under the influence of Dittany. That was the musty scent she could never quite place, the one that seemed to suffuse their sheets no matter how or how often she cleaned them.

There was a note attached, from Harry.

I couldn't be sure, so I just took the pictures.

Anger flared in her heart- why would Harry, a friend by all accounts up until this bargain, not have chosen to intervene?

Taking a second look, she realised what may have stopped Harry. The Fleur in the pictures seemed to be enjoying herself. That Fleur was reaching out to grasp another rigid phallus, and willingly turned her hips to the side to enable another man to penetrate her rectum. What was to say that this mass molestation wasn't entirely consensual?

Fleur's fingers trembled across the surface of moving, undulating lovers. The silent orgy on paper was accompanied in her mind by grunts, wet sounds of flesh slapping together, followed by her own gutteral groan of "Oui- empalez-moi! I am your poufiasse. Nique cette pute!"

The hearth flared with green fire. Bill was coming home. Fleur began to tremble in a way that even facing the dragon had not induced.
...

 

I was expecting a lot of things: that was not one of them. damn.

 

Gotta say the same. I suppose sexual abuse is a theme that is to be expected in your stories, but yikes.

Folks really should throw in more challenges!

I'd like a Dresden/Georgia story, by the way. You can throw in as many of the other Alphas in there as you'd like. Roleplaying should be a part of the story, though I'm talking about dice and monsters stuff.

 

Wait, what emotion are you trying to associate with her trembling?

 

How did I miss this? I can write HP, Naruto, DC/Marvel, Star Wars.

 

HP, Dresden Files, DC and Marvel.

Also, are crossovers allowed? 'Cause I really want a Harry/Kara Zor-El snippet, mostly because I love DC and that's always been my favourite HP/DC pairing.

 

You do? Good. Because I challenge you to write it.

I <3 crossovers.
Also, does it matter if we exceed 500 words?

 

Republic21, I challenge you to write Harry/Romilda. You can't say no, you accepted the risk upon entering!

 

wordhammer, Please post the whole thing as a oneshot on ffn.

Thanks for responding to the challenge.

 

If you think you can write more than 500, go for it; more the merrier, really.

Crossovers are not only allowed, but also encouraged. Go nuts!

 

So be it.

Any inconsistencies with HBP are because I haven't read HBP in like, 10 years.

This took me about 1 and a half hours to write, give or take.

~~

Harry stabbed his chicken with his fork hatefully, twisting it and dislodging a chunk of delicious meat.
"It's already dead, Harry." Ron snickered beside him. Harry ignored him, instead glaring at the piece of grilled chicken on his fork before devouring it in a single bite, and then stabbing the remaining chicken on his plate again.
Ron continued to snicker on his right, and on his left Hermione released a soft sigh, no doubt of a sign of rising worry.
Harry couldn't help it, however. His mood had been growing progressively worse in the last few days, no doubt a result of all the stuff that he's had on his mind.

He had once again failed to enter the Room of Requirement while Malfoy was inside, and was no closer to discovering what the slimy slytherin was up to. Spotting him and his lookouts didn't help, and though his two best friends weren't openly mocking him about it, they were pretty obvious in their belief that Harry was overreacting. Their attitude and his own inability to figure Malfoy was driving him mad.

Added to that were his lessons with professor Dumbledore and his Occlumency shams for lessons with Snape.
His lessons with the venerable Headmaster, while informative about Riddle's childhood, brought him no closer to fulfilling the Prophecy, nor could he see their relevance to their current situation. The Headmaster's stance on the subject baffled him, and was another thing that he could not understand, and thus, annoyed him.

His 'lessons' with Snape were better left unmentioned, else he would start stabbing people rather than already-dead poultry.

This was no good. Angry and agitated as he was, Harry realized, he would accomplish nothing. He set the fork down and tried to calm himself, closing his eyes and drawing steady breaths.
Hermione noticed what he did, and when Harry opened his eyes he saw her smiling at him, appreciating his efforts to calm himself, before hastily turning back to her own dinner once she realized her staring had been spotted. Ron obliviously tore into his ever refilling plate.

Breathing was good, Harry decided, but not enough. He needed to deal with his nerves, or his hands would soon start shaking. After the shaking, Harry knew, would follow irritability, then short-fused anger, and then ... No, better to deal with this early.

And Harry knew just how to do it.

Discreetly, he slowly roamed his eyes over the Great Hall, looking for a suitable target.
His gaze lingered over the girls of his Quidditch team. Tempting, he thought, but no ... not again.
Liking the sudden urge for blue, he looked at the Ravenclaw table, next to Gryffindor. As he inspected the students, he spotted several potential targets.

Just as he was trying to make up his mind between the sixth year redhead and the seventh year blond, his eyes caught a gaggle of girls, several seats down the Gryffindor table.
As he looked at them, they looked at him, and as one they started giggling. Harry repressed a sneer of contempt for the fourth year girls. Not yet old enough to be of use, there was no redeeming quality to their hero-worship.
Right before he averted his gaze from the fourth year girls to look back to the Ravenclaw table, he spotted one girl in particular.
Raven hair falling in gentle waves over her shoulders, her face would have been considered exceedingly pretty if it weren't locked in a state of giggle-smiling that Harry found particularly off-putting.

However, he could see potential in this girl. Certainly, she didn't look like a fourth year at all. Obviously the leader of her little group, she was more developed than most of the fifth year girls, her assets showing considerably even under the bulky Hogwarts robes.

Harry considered it. If he managed to stop that expression on her face, she really would be quite lovely.

She must have caught him discreetly staring, because her cheeks flushed and she stared right back, smiling coyly back at him. Harry stopped his eyes from widening.
Yes, that was a much better expression on her face. And ... hadn't he seen that expression before?
Now that he thought about it, he knew this girl, if only vaguely. Her name was Romilda Vane. She'd tried to slip him a love potion a few months back, and Ron had accidentally eaten the sweets that she had spiked, and ended up infatuated with her.

Yes, this could be much easier than he thought. Quick and easy.

"I'm done." He declared to his two friends, and rose from his seat. Ron gave a noncommital grunt through a full mouth, small mercies that he hadn't tried to say something. Hermione looked up from her plate momentarily, muttered 'Won't be long before curfew,' and then turned her attention back to her soup.

As Harry walked down the Great Hall towards the doors, he kept looking at Romilda. When he was sure she was looking back at him, he nodded, ever briefly, and jerked his head to the left, hoping she'd get the hint.

Not waiting to see her expression, he walked past her position and exited the Great Hall.

Turning left, he reached the grand staircase, but instead of going upwards he waited there, patiently leaning against the stone wall.

His patience was rewarded not two minutes later. She looked uncertain, but brightened up considerably when she spotted him, waiting.
With a wide smile she approached him, and Harry did not fail to note how she exaggerated the sway of her hips. Well, he wouldn't insult her by not looking.

"Hello Harry." She greeted him cheerily, coming to a stop next to him.

Harry plastered the kindest, most open expression he could manage on his face, and said slowly "Hello Romilda."

"You remember me!" She nearly squealed in delight, and Harry hid his wince at the sound. Soon, soon, her mouth will be put to better use, he consoled himself.

"Of course I remember you, how could I not?" He said, putting just the right touch of reverence to his voice that he knew made most people drool. In fact, the idea came from watching Professor Dumbledore interact. One more reason for Harry to thank the man.

No sure what to say to that, Romilda instead said "Did I see right, Harry? Did you want to meet me?"

"I did. Would you walk with me, Romilda?" He offered, brightening his face even more smiling serenely at her.
Poor girl looked like she'd cream herself right there. Really, dealing with his fangirls was almost insultingly easy.

"Of course, Harry." Romilda said, and the sixth year Gryffindor pushed himself off the wall and started ascending the staircase, taking care not to leave Romilda behind.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere private. I would really like to talk with you, you know? And I don't want people to see us and start rumors about us if they see us together."

"Oh." The girl said and flushed again. Harry had no doubt that she would not be at all opposed to such rumors.

"How are you finding your classes so far?"

Harry kept the discussion deliberately light while they walked, and deliberately about her, asking her probing questions and letting her prattle on about herself in elation. Harry took the time to inspect what he could, as they went up the stairs. Her derriere was just as developed as her front, no doubt about that, and though somewhat short, she looked solidly built.

Soon, they were in the seventh floor, in a particular corridor that Harry was intimately familiar with. He knew Mafloy was nowhere nearby, for the ponce had been pushing food around his plate when Harry left, and he would have seen him had he left after that.

"Harry, are we going to the Room?" Romilda asked, not able to hide her eager anticipation.
After the events of Harry's fifth year, the Come and Go Room had become somewhat known, if only in that it was the room Harry's illegal group had been training in. The DA had, thankfully, kept the details to the themselves. But the students still talked.

"Yes, I want to show you something special. Do you know what the Room does?"

At the shake of her head, he explained. "The Room turns into whatever room we want it to."

"Oh, that sounds handy. So what do we want it do be?"

"You'll see." he replied, and shot her a roguish smile. Hell, she looked just about ready to faint, maybe he should tone it down? "Stand a little further back." She looked confused, but nevertheless complied.

Harry paced back and forth three times, visualizing the room he wanted. He was rewarded by Romilda's gasp as a door materialized.
Smiling softly to himself, he turned to look at the door, then walked over to Romilda.
"Shall we?" He hunched his back, bringing his head to her level, and offered her his hand. Cheeks pink, she nodded and placed her hand in his.

Holding her hand, Harry opened the door and led her inside. He saw Romilda's eyes widen as she took in the room, much smaller than the hall he used for the DA practices.
Soft blue covered the walls, a window lay open on the left wall, admitting the sun inside. A desk was on the far left corner, next to a small library piece that went up to the ceiling. Next to the desk lay an empty owl cage and an equally empty dog basket. To the right was a wardrobe and a double bed covered in red sheets with swirling shapes.

"Is this-"

"My room, yes." Harry confirmed, nodding. This was certainly nothing like his room, but she didn't need to know that.

Romilda walked further inside, looking around in amazement at seeing her crush's personal space, at being admitted here. Harry softly allowed the door to close, before following her.

He plopped on the side of the bed, and tapped the empty space next to him.
"Sorry, I don't have any chairs." He said, letting embarrassment color his voice and rubbing the back of his head.

"It's okay, I don't mind." And she certainly must not have, because she sat much closer to him than the space would have allowed. As it were, her hand was brushing his, and so was her thigh.

"Thank you for showing me your room." She said, and Harry waved her off.
"Sorry if it's a bit of a mess. You know how I am." She most certainly didn't, but he'd let her think she did.

"No, no. I like it." She gave him what she must have thought was a dazzling, encouraging smile, her hand covering his own.

"I'm glad you do."

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Harry did not fail to note the hopeful tinge in her voice.

"I've wanted to talk to you for a long time, actually. Since the start of the year."

"Really?"

"Really. But I guess I thought you'd like to know that Ron is perfectly okay now."
Completely thrown off, confusion replaced glee.

"Ron?" Was all she managed to ask. Harry nodded obligingly.

"Yes. He accidentally ate those Chocolate Cauldron's you gave me, and he was poisoned."

Now horror replaced confusion, and her hands flew to her mouth.

"No!"

"Yes." Harry patiently nodded again in confirmation. "But he's alright now. Professor Slughorn managed to save him, and he's had no lasting damage." Of course, that was not at all how things went, but Romilda didn't need to know that, either.

"I'm so sorry Harry! I had no idea, I swear."

"I know you didn't." Harry said, taking one of her hands in his own in a comforting gesture. "And he's alright now. But I wouldn't mention it to him, he is still a bit sore about the subject."

Romilda nodded mutely, not sure if she should mention the love potion that was in those Chocolate Cauldrons.

"You wouldn't poison anyone, you're a great person." Harry assured her.

"You really think so?"

"I know so, I've been watching you a lot. Sorry I didn't speak before now, I am a bit shy." He told her, letting embarrassment in his voice again.

"No need for that, Harry," she said, bringing her over hand over his own, covering hers. "I know what a great person you are. We all do."

"You're talking about the Prophet?" Harry sighed dramatically. "So you must have seen what they say about me, how they call me?"

"Chosen One, you mean?"

Harry nodded gravely. "Yes. I want to tell you something Romilda. Because I trust you, can I trust you?"

"Yes Harry, of course." She encourage him leaning closer to him.

"The Prophet has been fairly inaccurate about me so far, but this time they got things right."

Romilda's mouth formed that perfect 'O' of shock and amazement. Abruptly, she threw her arms around him in a fierce hug.

"I knew it!" She exclaimed. "You really are the Chosen One!"

"Please, you must understand." he implored her, pushing her off him and holding her by the shoulders, trying to show her the gravity of the situation. "You must not mention this to anyone. I only tell you this because I trust you."

"Of course Harry, anything for you." She assured him quickly, ecstatic to be in the Chosen One's confidence. Harry allowed his right hand to brush her cheek delicately.

"The truth is that it will come down to me or him, Romilda. Try to imagine that over your head. Terrifying, isn't it? I'm doing my best to prepare, but you can understand my doubts as to my survival."

"No!" Romilda denied fervently, bringing her left hand to his hand on her cheek, holding it there fiercely. "You'll save us all again, I know you will."

"I appreciate your support. But, as you can understand, my survival prospects are looking sort of grim, with what I will have to do sooner rather than later. And I couldn't bear the thought that I could die without doing this." His voice had gotten a low, gentle tone, and his stared straight into her own, transfixed, dark eyes.

"Doing what, Harry?"

"This," he said simply, and moved in. The hand on her cheek cupped her more fully, and his lips fell upon hers. The fourth year girl stood stock still for all of a second, and then threw her arms around his neck, kissing back with a passion that almost surprised Harry.

They kissed madly, Romilda bringing her left foot over to straddle him. Harry allowed his hands to roam over her shoulders, back, waist, and even lightly cup her derriere, causing Romilda to moan in his mouth. She really was just as developed below as above.

After a few minutes of fierce kissing, Harry gently moved his hands to remove Romilda's black robe, something she allowed, revealing the shirt she wore underneath. She moved to remove his own robe, wanting more contact just as he did.

Harry held her from the waist and turned them around, gently laying Romilda on the bed and laying atop her, placing kisses over her face and neck, sucking on the sweet spot he discovered above her collarbone.

With a few swift moves, Harry had raised her back slightly and taken her shirt from under her while she was still dazed by the kiss, leaving her in a, surprisingly lacy, blue bra. Harry appreciated his choice all the more upon seeing what she had to offer. He had not been wrong when judging her earlier.

Noticing her new state of undress, the first hints of apprehension entered Romilda's voice.

"...Harry?" She asked, uncertain.

"You're so beautiful, Romilda." He said, and at least this wasn't a lie. He allowed himself to partake of her breasts, and this silenced all protests from Romilda, to be replaced first by silence, then harshly drawn breaths, and lastly quiet moans of enjoyment.
Having had enough lace, Harry snaked his arms around her back and expertly undid her bra, removing it from her shoulders and throwing it to the side. Romilda blushed a deep scarlet and brought her arms to cover her breasts.

"Shhh Romilda, don't you trust me? You're so beautiful, Romilda." Harry cooed at her, and her uncertainty faded, but did not vanish. Nevertheless, Harry coaxed her hands away from her chest, and took the globes in his hands, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. With his hands and his mouth over her naked peaks, and Romilda's own imagination, he brought the girl to orgasm a few short minutes later. The fourth year cried out, clutching Harry's head as she tensed and then relaxed, a goofy smile finding its way to her face.

Harry saw her eyes were looking at him but were hazy, as if she could see through him. The post-orgasmic bliss and the girl's own rampant fantasies, no doubt. Whichever the case, Harry didn't mind.

Having shown the girl's bountiful chest enough appreciation, he hitched her skirt higher, and reached his hand to her nether regions. Her panties was soaked, as he expected, and she was completely shaved, a pleasant surprise. He quickly pulled off the girl's shoes, followed by her underwear. He chose to leave the skirt where it was.

Moving quickly, he removed his own shirt and pants, freeing his rigid member from his underwear. Romilda was still holding onto him and in a world of her own, but when Harry placed his dick on her entrance her eyes came to sharp focus. She looked at his face in confusion, then down at where they were about to be joined.

"Harry?" She asked, trailing off. Her hands clasped his shoulders tightly, her nails almost digging into his skin. "I'm not sure ... I don't think I'm ready for..."

"Romilda, look at me." She complied, staring into his eyes. "I've wanted you for so long, I couldn't deny myself any longer. You-Know-Who is after me, and I can't stand the idea of dying without having loved you, at least once. Don't you trust me? Don't you want to be with me?" He asked, taking care to keep his voice gentle but fiercely convincing. To emphasize his point, he gave her a loving kiss.

He let go of her lips not long after, looking at her with wide, innocent eyes.

"O-... okay." She said at last, trust in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and spread her legs to give him easier access.

Harry took her virginity gently, mindful of the fourth year girl. The hiss of pain was forgotten quickly, as Harry eased her into the pleasures of the flesh. Gently rocking back and forth, Harry slowly but steadily sped his pace, while making sure to give her enough stimulation through her breasts and his kisses for her to ignore the still lingering pain.

His wand in his hand, Harry aimed it at Romilda's abdomen.

"Statius," he murmured the protection spell. He didn't use the male version, for even the tiny percentage of risk protection spells carried was risk he didn't want to deal with, personally.

Soon, Harry was fucking Romilda with a comfortably fast rhythm, and had even managed to coax a few moans of pleasure from her. As the minutes passed, she got more and more into it, moving herself to match his movements.

Having had enough of the missionary, Harry gently moved her leg over him, and turned her, raising her hips so he could take her from behind. Romilda did not protest. Soon, her exclamations of acceptance and encouragement were getting relatively loud inside the empty room.

For the next hour, Harry sated himself, and brought Romilda to her first and second orgasm through sex. Eventually, Harry had his own explosive release, deep inside Romilda, which brought the fourth year herself over the edge for the fourth and final time.

Harry lay next to her, exhausted but spent, his earlier nerves over Malfoy, Dumbledore and Snape seeming completely silly.

He savored the post orgasmic haze for a minute, allowing Romilda to cuddle him for that period.

Then, he vanished the various icky stuff over them with a wave of his wand, and went about gathering their clothes.

"Harry, that was ... that was wonderful."

I know, Harry mentally said.

"Get dressed please, Romilda. Curfew is soon."

He got dressed before her, and had to coax her once again before she did.

They both moved towards the door, when Romilda grabbed him in a sudden hug.

"I knew you loved me, Harry. I love you too."

Harry looked at her, and did his best to plaster his most convincing smile on his face. He took her face on his hands and kissed her tenderly.

"I do love you Romilda. But we cannot be together."

"What?" she asked in confusion, no doubt her mind still hazy from her first sexual experience.

"You know Voldemort is after me. If he knows we are together he will go after you and your family. Do you want that?"

Romilda shook her head slowly.

"And I wouldn't allow it, either. You must keep away from me, at least for now. We mustn't talk between classes, for that could be seen as suspicious. I doubt I could play it cool if I was around you."

"So ... what do we do?"

"Speak to no one of this, do you hear me? Not your friends, not your parents, or it will spread and you will be targeted. It is imperative that no one knows. After my seventh year, and if I survive the war with Voldemort, I will find you."

" I... I will wait for you." She told him, her eyes begining to moisten.

Oh, hell no. I'm not dealing with waterworks.

"Thank you. You should go now, or people will start to wonder. Goodbye, Romilda."

"Goodnight Harry. I'll wait for you to find me." She promised him, resolute. Harry gave her one last kiss, and gently pushed her off the door, closing it behind her without waiting to see what she would do.

Now alone, Harry smiled, truly smiled. That had been very relaxing.

Dealing with his fangirls had always been almost insultingly easy. Memory charms were for amateurs.

~~

Harry/Romilda is easy mode. Something a bit challenging?