The Hogwarts Express continued steadily northward, its crimson body slicing through the Scottish countryside. Harry sat by the window, his eyes fixed on the rolling hills beyond the glass, though his mind was miles away. The compartment was oddly quiet—just him and Nymeria, unlike the usual chaos of other compartments with students packed together, exchanging summer stories and speculation about the year ahead.
"Strange, isn't it?" Nymeria said, breaking the silence. She was sprawled across the opposite bench, one leg stretched out, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. "Being back, but not."
Harry turned from the window, meeting her gaze. "Yeah. Everything's the same, but..."
"Everyone's different," she finished, her eyes knowing.
He nodded, letting his fingers drum against his knee. "Keep catching myself looking for faces that won't be here for decades."
Nymeria snorted softly. "Or people we know as old who are now our age." She paused, her expression turning thoughtful. "You ready for the stares? Because there'll be plenty."
"Already used to it," Harry replied with a wry smile, gesturing vaguely at his forehead where a lightning bolt scar had once been—now nothing more than a faint outline not even visible unless looked closely. "Different reasons this time, at least."
The compartment door slid open with a rattle, cutting their conversation short. A round-faced boy with neatly combed hair poked his head in, his prefect badge gleaming on his chest. His eyes widened slightly when he saw them.
"Oh! Sorry, I—I was just checking—" He stumbled over his words, clearly thrown by finding adults instead of first-years.
Harry offered a friendly nod. "No problem. Just the new transfers."
The boy's face lit with recognition. "Right! Heard about you two from Professor Slughorn. I'm Harfang Longbottom, Gryffindor prefect." He stuck out his hand, his smile warm and open in a way that sent a pang through Harry's chest—he'd seen that same smile on Neville. So this was the man who would one day be his friend's grandfather.
"Harry Peverell," he said, shaking the offered hand. "And this is Nymeria Black."
Harfang's eyes flickered between them as he shook their hands, curiosity written plainly across his face. "Yeah, Professor Slughorn told me about you two. Peverell and Black—that's quite a combination. Not every day we get transfers at Hogwarts, especially not..." He trailed off, seemingly realizing he might be overstepping.
"Especially not adults?" Nymeria supplied, her tone dry but not unfriendly.
Harfang's cheeks flushed pink. "Well, yes. But I didn't mean anything by it! It's just interesting, is all."
Harry waved it off. "Don't worry about it. We know we're a bit of an oddity."
"What year are you joining?" Harfang asked, leaning against the doorframe, his initial awkwardness fading.
"Sixth," Harry replied. "We took our OWLs in the Ministry over the summer."
Harfang nodded, perking up. "That's my year too! Did a bit of catching up, I expect?"
"Something like that," Nymeria said with a faint smirk that made the prefect shift slightly.
"Well, if you need anything, just ask," Harfang offered. "Can be a bit overwhelming at first—the castle, I mean. Easy to get lost."
Harry gave him a grateful nod, playing the part. "Appreciate it."
"I should get back to my rounds," Harfang said, straightening up. "We'll be arriving in about an hour. You might want to change into your robes soon." He hesitated, then added with a genuine smile, "And welcome to Hogwarts!"
The door slid shut behind him, leaving Harry and Nymeria alone again.
"Longbottom," Nymeria murmured, raising an eyebrow at Harry. "That's got to be strange."
"Add it to the list," Harry replied, reaching for his trunk to pull out his plain black Hogwarts robes—no house colors yet. "But he seems solid. Just like his grandson."
Nymeria hummed in agreement, retrieving her own robes. "One down, hundreds to go. Think they'll all be that friendly?"
Harry snorted, giving his wand a casual flick. The clothes on his person shifted, the Hogwarts uniform replacing his casual wear. "Not a chance."
-Break-
The boats cutting across the lake were exactly as Harry remembered—small, wooden, and probably held together more by magic than craftsmanship. The only difference was that this time, he wasn't an awestruck eleven-year-old but a man with too many memories trying to play the part of a newcomer.
"First view of Hogwarts," the gamekeeper called out as they rounded the bend. "Coming up right about... now!"
And there it was, rising against the twilight sky like something from a storybook—towers and turrets reaching upward, windows gleaming with golden light, the whole castle reflected in the dark surface of the lake below. Harry felt his breath catch despite himself. Some things never lost their magic, no matter how many times you saw them.
He glanced at Nymeria, who was staring up at the castle with an expression he couldn't quite read—something between wonder and wariness.
"Impressive, isn't it?" he murmured, loud enough for only her to hear.
She nodded slowly, her eyes still fixed on the castle. "It's beautiful," she admitted, her voice barely audible over the soft lapping of water against the boats. "Didn't get to see it properly last time."
The boats docked at the underground harbor with gentle bumps against the shore. Harry stepped out first, offering Nymeria a hand that she took with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
"Such a gentleman," she teased under her breath.
"Just playing the part," he whispered back, but there was no edge to it.
They followed the gaggle of first-years up the stone steps to where a younger Professor Slughorn waited, looking much as he had in Flourish and Blotts, except now draped in emerald green robes embroidered with silver. His eyes brightened when he spotted them towering over the eleven-year-olds.
"Ah! Mr. Peverell, Miss Black!" he called cheerfully, waving them forward. "Right on time! I was just about to lead these young ones to the Great Hall for sorting."
The first-years craned their necks to stare at the two adults in their midst, whispers breaking out like a swarm of buzzing flies.
"Who are they?"
"Why are they so old?"
"Did that man say Black? Like the Blacks?"
"What's a Peverell?"
Slughorn clapped his hands, drawing attention back to himself. "Now, now, everyone! As I was saying, welcome to Hogwarts! In just a moment, we'll proceed into the Great Hall, where you'll be sorted into your houses. While you're here, your house will be like your family..."
Harry tuned out the familiar speech, his eyes scanning the entrance hall instead. It was just as grand as he remembered—stone walls lit by flaming torches, ceiling so high it was lost in shadows, the magnificent marble staircase leading to the upper floors. But there were subtle differences too—tapestries he didn't recognize, armor stands positioned slightly differently, even the air smelled just a touch unfamiliar.
"Follow me, please!" Slughorn announced, leading them toward the double doors that opened onto the Great Hall.
The sea of faces that turned to stare as they entered sent a jolt of déjà vu through Harry so strong he nearly stumbled. Hundreds of students seated at four long tables, candles floating in midair, the enchanted ceiling above reflecting a clear night sky studded with stars. At the head table sat the staff, and Harry's eyes immediately picked out Dumbledore—younger but unmistakable with his auburn hair and beard. Beside him was a thin, frail-looking wizard with wispy white hair whom Harry recognized from portraits as Armando Dippet, the headmaster before Dumbledore.
Slughorn led them to the front, where the Sorting Hat sat perched on its usual stool, looking perhaps a bit less patched than Harry remembered. The hall fell silent as Dippet rose from his chair, spreading his arms in welcome.
"Before we begin the sorting of our first-years," he announced, his voice surprisingly strong for his slight frame, "we have two special additions to our student body this year. Mr. Harry Peverell and Miss Nymeria Black will be joining our sixth-year class, having transferred their studies to Hogwarts. I trust you will all make them feel welcome."
The whispers started again, louder this time. Harry kept his face carefully neutral, though he could feel Dumbledore's gaze boring into him from the staff table. Nymeria stood beside him, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp, missing nothing.
"Now," Dippet continued, "they will be sorted first, followed by our first-years. Professor Slughorn, if you please."
Slughorn beamed, unrolling a small scroll. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," he explained, mostly for the benefit of the wide-eyed first-years. "Black, Nymeria!"
Nymeria stepped forward with casual grace, taking the hat from Slughorn and settling onto the stool with a fluid movement. She placed the hat on her head, and Harry watched as her expression shifted subtly—surprise, then concentration, then something like amusement flitting across her features.
The hall waited, the silence stretching longer than usual. Finally, after what seemed like a full minute, the hat's brim opened wide:
"RAVENCLAW!"
The table second from the left erupted in applause, though Harry could see the confusion on some faces—Blacks almost always went to Slytherin. Nymeria removed the hat with a small smile, handing it back to Slughorn before making her way to the Ravenclaw table, where students shifted to make room for her.
"Peverell, Harry!"
Harry stepped forward, ignoring the renewed whispers at his unusual surname. He sat on the stool and placed the familiar hat over his head, and immediately heard the small voice he remembered from his own sorting decades ago—or years in the future, depending on how you looked at it.
"Well, well, what have we here?" the hat murmured in his ear. "Oh my... this is unexpected. Another time traveler. And from quite a distance, I see."
Harry tensed, his thoughts racing. He'd known the hat would see into his mind, but having it stated so bluntly was jarring.
"Don't worry," the hat chuckled. "Your secrets are safe with me. Part of the enchantment—I can't reveal what I see in someone's head. But let's see... where to put you? You've been a Gryffindor before, I see that clearly. Still plenty of courage there, yes. But there's more cunning now, more strategy... Slytherin could help you on your way to greatness, as I once told you..."
Harry thought firmly: Not Slytherin. Too complicated.
"Yes, I see why," the hat agreed. "Too many connections, too much scrutiny. You need a neutral ground. Hufflepuff would welcome you, of course, but I sense that's not where you'd thrive in your mission. Which leaves... yes, I think that's best. Better be—RAVENCLAW!"
The hat shouted the last word to the hall, and the Ravenclaw table erupted in cheers again. Harry removed the hat with a subtle sigh of relief. As he walked toward the blue and bronze table, he caught Dumbledore's eye. The future headmaster was watching him with that penetrating gaze, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. Harry gave him a polite nod before sliding onto the bench next to Nymeria.
"Both of you in Ravenclaw!" exclaimed a tall, thin boy with a prefect badge, extending his hand across the table. "Quite unusual for a Black, but a pleasure to have you both. I'm Robert Fawley."
"Nice to meet you," Harry replied, shaking his hand.
The sorting continued, Slughorn calling out names while nervous first-years approached the stool one by one. Harry took the opportunity to scan the staff table more thoroughly. Besides Dumbledore and Dippet, he recognized Horace Slughorn, of course, and a few others from portraits he'd seen around Hogwarts in his time. A stern-looking witch with iron-gray hair in a tight bun could only be Galatea Merrythought, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Voldemort had coveted replacing. Beside her sat a plump, cheerful witch tending a small potted plant even at the table—likely Herbology Professor Herbert Beery. A few seats down was an ancient wizard who had to be Cuthbert Binns, still alive but looking like he might transition to his ghostly form any day now.
"They're all staring at us," Nymeria murmured, pulling his attention back to the hall.
She wasn't wrong. Despite the sorting ceremony continuing, many students were sneaking glances at the two adult newcomers—some curious, others suspicious, a few openly hostile.
"We knew this would happen," Harry replied quietly. "Let them look. It'll die down eventually."
"Or not," said a soft voice from across the table. A girl with wavy blonde hair and intelligent eyes had been watching their exchange. "New things rarely go unnoticed here. I'm Helena Burke."
Harry's eyes narrowed slightly at the surname—Burke, like Borgin and Burke's, the dark artifacts shop. She seemed to catch his reaction and smiled wryly.
"Yes, those Burkes," she confirmed. "Though I prefer books to cursed necklaces, thank you very much."
Nymeria's lips twitched. "Family black sheep?"
"Something like that," Helena replied with a shrug. "Your family knows all about those, I expect."
Before Nymeria could respond, Dippet was on his feet again, the Sorting Hat and stool removed now that all the first-years had been placed.
"Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" the headmaster said, his arms spread wide. "Before we begin our excellent feast, I have a few start-of-term notices to give you..."
The announcements were largely familiar to Harry—warnings about the Forbidden Forest, reminders about banned items, Quidditch tryout dates. The only notable difference was the absence of any mention of dangerous corridors or other unusual threats. It was, by all accounts, a normal start to a normal school year.
When Dippet finished speaking, food materialized on the golden plates before them, and the hall filled with the sounds of conversation and clinking utensils. Harry helped himself to roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, finding himself unexpectedly hungry.
"So," Helena said as she served herself mashed potatoes, "what brings two adults to Hogwarts as students? It's not exactly common."
Robert Fawley leaned in, clearly interested in the answer as well. Several other Ravenclaws nearby had gone quiet, listening in.
Harry stuck to their prepared story. "I've been traveling a lot, studying under different mentors. With everything happening in Europe—Grindelwald and all—my guardian thought it best I finish my education somewhere more structured and safer."
"And you?" Robert asked Nymeria.
She took a sip of pumpkin juice before answering. "Similar reasons. I was studying abroad too. We met in Diagon Alley a few months ago, realized we were both applying here, and decided to join forces. Makes the transition easier."
"Where abroad?" asked a boy further down the table, his voice carrying a hint of challenge.
"All over," Harry said vaguely. "Mostly Eastern Europe."
Helena's eyes gleamed with interest. "Did you study at Durmstrang? I've heard they have fascinating approaches to certain branches of magic."
"Not really, though I've met people who have," Nymeria said, the lie flowing smoothly. "Their library is impressive."
"And what about your O.W.L. results?" asked another Ravenclaw, a serious-looking girl with glasses. "How did the professors determine you could join the sixth-year classes?"
Harry had prepared for this question. "We sat special examinations with Dumbledore and Headmaster Dippet present in the Ministry. Sort of a compressed version of the standard O.W.L.s."
"Both got Outstanding in Defense," Nymeria added with a casual confidence that wasn't entirely an act. "Among other things."
The serious girl looked impressed despite herself. "Professor Merrythought doesn't give Outstanding marks easily. You must be quite skilled."
"We manage," Harry said modestly, though he didn't miss the skeptical looks from a few others at the table.
Robert Fawley cleared his throat. "Well, as prefect, let me be the first to officially welcome you to Ravenclaw. Our common room is in Ravenclaw Tower—I'll show you the way after the feast. It's the tallest tower in Hogwarts, next to the Astronomy Tower."
"Do we have to answer a riddle to get in?" Nymeria asked, recalling what she'd heard about the Ravenclaw entrance.
Robert looked surprised. "Yes, actually. How did you know?"
Nymeria smiled enigmatically. "I read 'Hogwarts: A History' before coming. Wanted to be prepared."
Harry suppressed a smile at the Hermione-like response. The conversation shifted to classes and professors, with the Ravenclaws offering insights about each teacher's quirks and expectations. Harry listened with half an ear, his attention periodically drawn to the staff table, where Dumbledore was deep in conversation with Dippet, occasionally glancing in their direction.
"Don't worry about Dumbledore," Helena said quietly, noticing where Harry's eyes kept wandering. "He's intense but fair. Brilliant, of course—they say he's the only wizard Grindelwald fears."
"So I've heard," Harry replied neutrally.
"What subjects are you taking?" asked the serious girl, whose name turned out to be Millicent Bagnold—a future Minister for Magic, if Harry remembered correctly.
"Defense, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Runes," Harry listed. He'd selected the core subjects needed for the Department of Mysteries out of habit, though that path wasn't his goal this time around.
"Same, plus Herbology," Nymeria added.
Millicent nodded approvingly. "Solid choices. I'm taking those plus Arithmancy." She glanced between them. "What are you planning to do after Hogwarts?"
Harry and Nymeria exchanged a quick look. They hadn't actually discussed this part of their cover story in detail.
"I'm interested in curse-breaking," Harry improvised, thinking it was close enough to his actual skills to be believable.
"Magical research for me," Nymeria said with confidence. "Particularly in defensive magic."
Their answers seemed to satisfy the Ravenclaws, who launched into a discussion about career paths and the professors most helpful for each. As dessert appeared on the tables—trifles, pies, and puddings of all kinds—Harry felt himself beginning to relax slightly. The initial scrutiny was passing, at least here at the Ravenclaw table, where curiosity seemed to be winning out over suspicion.
Near the end of the feast, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find Harfang Longbottom standing behind him, grinning.
"Ravenclaw, eh? Good house. Smart lot," the Gryffindor prefect said cheerfully. "Just wanted to say congratulations. We don't have many classes together, but if you need anything, the offer still stands."
"Thanks, Harfang," Harry said, genuinely appreciative of the friendly gesture.
"Oh, and Slughorn mentioned a little get-together next weekend," Harfang added. "Said he's invited you both already?"
Nymeria nodded. "We met him in Diagon Alley. He seemed... eager to have us."
Harfang laughed. "That's Sluggy for you. Always collecting interesting people." He glanced toward the Slytherin table. "Anyway, see you around!"
As Harfang headed back to the Gryffindor table, the dessert plates cleared themselves, and Headmaster Dippet stood once more.
"Now that we are all fed and watered," he announced, "it is time for bed. Prefects, please lead your first-years to the dormitories. And a good night to you all!"
The scraping of benches filled the hall as hundreds of students rose from their seats. Robert Fawley called for the Ravenclaw first-years to gather around him, while a female prefect whose name Harry hadn't caught did the same.
"Come on," Helena said to Harry and Nymeria, rising from her seat. "I'll walk with you. Robert can manage the little ones."
They followed her out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase, joining the crowd of students dispersing toward their respective dormitories. As they climbed higher in the castle, the groups thinned out, until only the Ravenclaws were ascending the tight spiral staircase to their tower.
"Here we are," Helena announced as they reached a door with a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. No keyhole, no handle—just the knocker, which came alive as they approached.
"What gets broken without being held?" the eagle asked in a musical voice.
"A promise," Helena answered promptly, and the door swung open.
The Ravenclaw common room was unlike anything Harry had seen at Hogwarts before. Spacious and airy, with graceful arched windows draped in blue and bronze silks, it offered a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes on every imaginable subject, and comfortable-looking armchairs and tables were scattered throughout. The domed ceiling was painted with stars that seemed to twinkle in the light of the crackling fire.
"Boys' dormitories through that door," Helena pointed, "and girls' through there. They've added separate rooms for you two, since you're older—just up the stairs past the regular sixth-year dormitories."
"Thanks," Harry said, taking in the room with genuine appreciation. It was beautiful in a different way from the Gryffindor common room—less cozy, perhaps, but more elegant and inspiring.
"No problem," Helena replied. She hesitated, then added, "Look, I know it's awkward being the new ones, especially at our age. But Ravenclaws value knowledge and wisdom above almost everything else. As long as you're here to learn, you'll fit in fine."
With that, she bid them goodnight and headed for the girls' staircase. Other Ravenclaws were filtering in now, some settling into armchairs with books despite the late hour, others heading straight for bed.
"Not bad," Nymeria murmured, looking around. "Better view than the dungeons, I bet."
Harry nodded. "We should probably turn in. Get settled before classes tomorrow."
They parted at the staircases, agreeing to meet in the common room in the morning. Harry climbed past the regular sixth-year boys' dormitory, where he could hear chatter and laughter behind the closed door, to find a smaller room at the top of the stairs with "H. Peverell" on a brass plaque.
Inside was simple but comfortable—a single four-poster bed with blue hangings, a wardrobe, a desk by the window, and a small fireplace already lit and warming the room. His trunk sat at the foot of the bed, undisturbed since he'd packed it. Harry opened the window slightly, letting in the cool night air, and then took his seat on the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted.
It had been a long day full of faces and names he needed to remember, questions he needed to answer carefully, and the constant vigilance required to maintain their cover. And this was just the beginning.
A soft knock at his door made Harry look. He gave his wand a flick and Nymeria slipped in, closing the door with a quiet click. She'd already changed into a satin black nightgown that clung to her frame, her dark hair loose and spilling over her shoulders like a cascade of ink.
"Privacy charm?" she suggested, nodding at the door, her voice low but teasing.
Harry smirked, pulling out his wand and casting a series of strong charms in quick succession, the air humming faintly as they locked into place. "Should be safe now. Even Dumbledore himself couldn't eavesdrop."
Nymeria didn't reply right away. Instead, she sauntered over and dropped onto the bed by his feet, pulling her legs up beneath her. "Well, that was interesting," she said.
"That's one word for it," Harry muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. "Dumbledore didn't take his eyes off us all evening. Felt like he was trying to peel our secrets off with a look."
"I noticed." Nymeria's voice turned grim, her fingers toying with the hem of her nightgown. "But he didn't approach. Just watched. Like a hawk circling prey."
"He's waiting," Harry said, leaning back against the headboard. "Gathering information. That's how he works. Always has."
Nymeria nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing. "The hat placed us exactly where we wanted, though. Perfect."
"Lucky break," Harry agreed, though his tone suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. "Though I'm not sure 'luck' had much to do with it. The hat knows everything—saw right through me the second it touched my head."
Her eyes widened, just a fraction. "It knows we're from the future? Didn't tell me anything of the sort."
"Yeah. But it said it can't tell anyone what it sees. Part of its enchantment."
Nymeria exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Small mercies. What about our housemates? First impressions?"
Harry thought for a moment, his fingers tapping absently against his knee. "Curious, but not hostile. That Burke girl could be useful—she seems sharp. Knows her way around a conversation."
"And not thrilled with her family connections," Nymeria added, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "Might make her sympathetic to our cause, if it comes to that." She paused, tilting her head. "The Longbottom boy is friendly. Could be a solid Gryffindor connection."
"And Millicent Bagnold will be Minister for Magic someday," Harry pointed out, his voice dropping. "Worth keeping on good terms with her."
Nymeria's eyebrows shot up. "Really? The serious one with the glasses? Huh." She stretched her legs out, her bare feet brushing against his thigh as she shifted closer. "We didn't see any of my 'relatives' up close yet."
"They'll find you soon enough," Harry said dryly, his eyes flicking to hers. "The Black family gossip network is probably already humming. Dorea will have told them about meeting you by now."
"Joy," Nymeria muttered, though there was a spark of anticipation in her voice. She leaned forward, her nightgown slipping slightly to reveal the curve of her collarbone. "So, what's next? We've made it into Hogwarts, got sorted where we wanted, and so far no one's called us out as frauds."
"Now the real work begins," Harry said, his expression turning serious. "Classes start tomorrow. We need to establish ourselves academically—good enough to justify our presence but not so exceptional that we draw too much attention."
"Balance the line," she agreed, her voice soft but firm. "And keep building connections. The more people who accept us as belonging here, the less likely anyone is to question our story."
Harry nodded, his gaze lingering on her. "Plus, we need to start mapping out who's who in this timeline. Which students go on to become Death Eaters or Ministry officials, which ones might have valuable information or skills we can use."
"All while keeping Dumbledore off our scent," Nymeria added, her lips curving into a sardonic smile.
"Just another day at Hogwarts," Harry said, a tired chuckle escaping him.
Nymeria didn't laugh. Instead, she shifted closer, her hand resting lightly on his knee. "You know, I was going to head back to my dorm," she said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But I don't think I want to leave just yet."
Harry's breath caught, his eyes locking onto hers. The air between them shifted, heavy with unspoken tension. "Yeah?" he said, his voice rougher than he intended. "And what do you want to do instead?"
She didn't answer with words. Instead, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a slow, intense kiss that sent a jolt through him. Harry responded instantly, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer. This wasn't their first time—far from it. They'd been at this for a while now, first in their own timeline and now in this, learning every inch of each other's bodies. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation. Just heat and arousal.
Nymeria broke the kiss, her lips hovering just above his. "You're tense," she murmured, her fingers trailing down his chest, tugging at the collar of his shirt. "Let me fix that."
"Fix it, huh?" Harry's hands slid up her sides, his thumbs brushing the edges of her nightgown. "You've got a plan?"
"Always," she said, her smile wicked as she pushed him back against the headboard. She straddled his hips in one fluid motion, her nightgown riding up to expose the smooth expanse of her thighs. Harry's hands settled there, gripping her firmly as she leaned down to kiss him again, deeper this time, her tongue teasing his.
"Damn, you're trouble," he muttered against her mouth, his fingers digging into her skin.
"You love it," she shot back, her hands working quickly to undo the buttons of his shirt. She shoved the fabric aside, her nails scraping lightly across his chest, drawing a low groan from him. "Merlin, Harry, how do you still have these on? It's like you're trying to make this difficult."
"Maybe I just like watching you work for it," he said, his voice laced with amusement as he helped her tug the shirt off completely. They landed in a heap on the floor, forgotten.
Nymeria's laugh was low and throaty as she pressed herself closer, her hips grinding against him in a slow, sensual rhythm. "Work for it? Please. I've got you exactly where I want you."
Harry's hands moved to her nightgown, pulling it up and over her head in one swift motion. She wasn't wearing anything underneath, and the sight of her—bare and entirely his—made his pulse race. "Fuck, Nym," he breathed, his hands roaming her body, tracing the familiar curves he'd memorized long ago.
She arched into his touch, her head tilting back as his lips found her throat, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. "Keep going," she whispered, her voice thick with need. "Don't you dare stop."
He didn't. His mouth moved lower, kissing a path down her chest, his hands guiding her hips as she rocked against him. She was already wet, the heat of her pussy pressing against him through his trousers, and it took every ounce of self-control not to flip her over and take her right then. But Nymeria was in charge tonight, and he was more than happy to let her lead.
Her fingers fumbled with his belt, impatient as she yanked it open and shoved his trousers down. "Off," she demanded, her voice sharp with urgency. Harry complied, kicking them away as she settled back onto him, her thighs on either side of his hips. She reached between them, guiding him to her entrance, and the moment he slid inside her, they both groaned.
"Merlin, you feel so good," she gasped, her hands bracing against his shoulders as she started to move, slow at first, then faster, her hips rolling in a rhythm that drove him wild.
Harry gripped her hips, meeting her thrust for thrust, his eyes locked on hers. "You're feel so tight. Wanna choke me or something?" he managed, his voice strained as she tightened around him.
"Wouldn't be a bad way to go," she teased, leaning down to kiss him hard, her teeth grazing his lower lip. The pace quickened, their bodies moving together with a practiced ease, each knowing exactly how to push the other to the edge.
Nymeria's breath hitched as she neared her peak, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Harry," she gasped, her voice breaking. "I'm—"
"I've got you," he said, one hand sliding between them to find the spot that made her shudder. He pressed his thumb on her clit, circling in time with her movements, and that was all it took. She came apart with a cry, her body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed through her.
Harry wasn't far behind. The sight of her—head thrown back, lips parted—pushed him over the edge. He thrust up into her one last time, his release hitting hard, leaving him breathless and spent.
For a moment, they stayed like that, their sweaty and naked bodies pressed flush, her forehead resting against his, and both of them catching their breath. After a while, Nymeria laughed softly. "Well, that's one way to begin our time at Hogwarts again."
Harry chuckled, his hands cupping her bare arse where he caressed her. "It was a massive risk we took here, you know that?"
"Worth it," she said, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before sliding off him. She collapsed onto the bed beside him, her hair fanning out across the pillow. "Merlin, I needed that."
"Same," Harry admitted, rolling onto his side to face her. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You okay?"
She smiled, her eyes softening. "Yeah. Just… it feels good to be here. With you. Even if it's not our Hogwarts."
He nodded, his chest tightening at the sentiment. "Yeah. It does."
They lay there for a while, the silence comfortable, their breathing slowly evening out. But eventually, Nymeria sighed and sat up, reaching for her nightgown. "I should go," she said, her voice reluctant. "Dawn comes early, and we need to be sharp tomorrow."
Harry watched as she pulled the nightgown back on, the fabric slipping over her skin like a second shadow. "You sure? You could stay."
"Tempting," she said, glancing back at him with a smirk. "But we're playing a dangerous game already. Let's not push our luck."
He didn't argue. She was right, and they both knew it. Nymeria stood, stretching her arms above her head, and moved to the door. With a flick of her wand, she lifted the privacy charms, the faint hum in the air fading. She paused, her hand on the doorknob, and looked back at him one last time.
"Get some sleep, Harry," she said, her voice teasing but warm. "We've got a lot to do."
And with that, she reapplied the disillusionment charm on herself and slipped out the door, leaving Harry alone with the stars shining through the window and the lingering warmth of her touch. Different time, different circumstances, but still Hogwarts. Still home, in a way no other place had ever been.
Tomorrow would bring a whole new set of challenges—classes to attend, professors to impress, students to befriend or avoid. The careful dance of hiding in plain sight while seeking out the information they needed. But for now, just for tonight, Harry let himself take comfort in the familiar magic of the castle around him, the soft crackling of the fire, and the knowledge that, at least for the moment, they were exactly where they needed to be.
With a deep breath, he closed his eyes, letting the weariness of the day pull him toward sleep. The real work would begin tomorrow.
TBC.
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