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“Granger, wait.” He calls out softly in a soft baritone voice the general public is not privy to.
She slows just enough for him to approach behind her. Over her shoulders she could make out his state. Usually the standard for impeccable pureblood sophistication, his tousled hair, slightly tinted cheeks, and swollen lips now a clear giveaway of a long-overdue and deliriously satisfying meeting - the first of many, if she was brave enough to hope - between them.
It was a miracle that either of them remembered to cast a silencing charm on her office at all.
Though his face and body exuded a calm, sated demeanor, she could see that his eyes, having not caught up yet, trailed her body from feet to hair, retracing paths only recently lavished.
He looked irreparably devastated and deliciously ravished, all because of her. It was a look that could drag him into the nearest supply closet if she didn't snap out of it soon.
With a resolute hitch under his breath he reaches out and touches - no, caresses- her lengths, separating them and crossing each strand with the care and practice of someone who has done this in every lifetime for his beloved.
With a quick caress of his free hand down her spine, he lets go of his masterpiece, lingering just a second longer at the tip of her braid. She gives him an assured smile as she turns to continue her day, knowing her heart has left its cage for the strong, safe arms of the undeniably poncy git she can now call hers.