Feng Shui
“Feng Shui?” she giggled, the sound foreign in her ears.
“Feng… what?!” a deep baritone vibrated against the inside of her thigh. So he hadn’t tried to spell the Asian concept of interior design against her skin with his tongue then.
“Try harder,” he laughed his mouth back on her a moment later.
The wine was heavy in her veins, blood rushing into her head where it was hanging down from the edge of the bed, sparks exploding in her vision. Hermione lowered her arms over her head, knuckles brushing against the soft carpet of a room she should’ve never found herself in. The view from it— even upside down— was stunning, with tall trees in the far distance and a meticulous rose garden shrouded by a heavy sheen of rain close by. Turning her head she found the bruises on her wrists, thought how they reminded her of the flowers outside— a sign of beauty blossoming and the prickling pain that accompanied it.
“You can’t keep me here forever,” she sighed and he hummed his approval between her thighs.
“I’ll let you go as soon as you guess the word correctly,” he agreed with a laugh, ice cream melting against the skin of her abdomen before he licked it away and soothed the cold spot with the warmth of his mouth. “And then you can forget this ever happened.”
Her mouth still tasted like vanilla and strawberries, her nose tickling with the spice of his scent. She was floating on Venus, melting into stardust, swirling along the Milky Way. She was at once entirely herself and completely untethered from her personality.
Hermione Granger without contours and edges.
Stretched into infinity.
“It’s almost evening again,” she tried once more, but it was a weak attempt at escaping a mouth that was so much sweeter when it spelt its secrets against her skin instead of using it to shoot her down from across the Ministry’s atrium.
“And it will be evening again tomorrow.”
They both knew that Monday evening could never be the same as tonight, but Hermione still closed her eyes and let herself fall into the pleasure for a moment longer.
Tomorrow they would go back to campaigning against each other. To argue about fundamentals and what they thought the wizarding world should be shaped into being.
Tonight, they would leave all intellectualism outside of the door. She was here only to feel. Only to be.
Just for a few more hours, she thought.
“Just for tonight,” Draco agreed, drawing another word on her stomach with his tongue.
She thought it spelt: “Forever.”