It was a sunny May day, yet the broom closet was dark, with only a little light filtering in through its narrow window.
In the silence, their intertwined lips and tongues made a moist, sticky sound. It was not unpleasant, yet it still brought snakes and other reptiles to mind.
Though no one could see them now, his kiss had gone from slightly awkward to increasingly skilled. It seemed his tongue could do more than deliver sharp, cutting insults.
She could barely catch her breath. Her feet tensed involuntarily, yet she had lost the strength to stand and could only remain upright by leaning against him as he held her tightly. Her hands, too, went limp and weak, sliding down until she accidentally touched the cold belt buckle beneath his robes.
They both came to their senses a little and hurriedly ended the kiss. He turned his head aside and rested his chin on her shoulder, his heavy breathing filling her ears.
Charlie had already left. After drinking Sleeping Draught, the dragons had all fallen into a deep slumber. Their breathing was terrifying, but it was unlike what she heard now. This sounded more like the low, warning growl of some feline.
So she moved her hand away from his belt buckle, and the growl instantly vanished.
"Good girl," he murmured softly, his voice nasal and lower, more seductive than usual.
But she was not truly a "good girl." She stretched out her arms, made him step back half a pace, and lightly wrapped them around his neck.
"Have you made what I wanted?"
Smiling, the Potions Master took a red crystal vial from his Mokeskin pouch.
"Only this much?" Pomona asked.
"It's enough for you," he said solemnly. "What do you need so much for, to use as bathwater?"