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The supply closet of the White Wyrm is not made for make-out sessions.
Every time Hermione moves, a shelf digs into her back, right above the line of her skirt. They've already knocked one bottle to the floor and while it didn't shatter, she suspects they won't be so lucky the second time around. The ceiling is far too low, and the entirety of the tiny space smells like stale booze and dust.
But since this is the first opportunity she's had to spend some alone time with Alice in over a week, the discomfort is worth it.
She dances her fingers along Alice's inner thigh, bypassing the seam of her jeans by a mere inch as she continues up to Alice's stomach, bare underneath the cropped hem of her shirt. Alice grins against Hermione's mouth and tightens her fingers around Hermione's hips, backs her up against the shelf again and slides one of her thighs between Hermione's legs.
Before she can go any further, the whole closet rattles as a heavy fist pounds on the door.
"Alice!" FP hollers. "Boss is looking for you." Alice pulls away, rolls her eyes, and pushes the door open.
"I told you to run interference for ten minutes."
"It's been almost twenty."
"Well, I need ten more." With that, she yanks the door closed again and turns back to Hermione with a grin.
There's definitely a bruise forming on Hermione's back, but she thinks she can deal with ten more minutes of discomfort.