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Summary
She is overwhelmed, liable to combust, really, at the way his hands press into the small of her back. He smooths his thumb over her cheekbone when they’re catching their breath, and she’s startled by the almost adoring look that paints his gaze. Before she can have more time to think about it, he’s lifting her up on a table strewn with linens.
“This is as good of a height as any,” he says, his tone mischievous.
Her brows furrow. “For what?”
His damnable grin (it’s a bit crooked and it will take her five more years to admit it’s her favourite part of his face) spreads wide, and then he taps the inside of her knee with his thumb.
Or: Hermione Granger has a hand kink.
Series
- Part 9 of The Tales of Beedle the Bard