Marmite

Blaise stopped me on the way out of the hall to borrow a quill. I fumbled obediently in my bag and gave her my favourite, a raven feather as dark as her hair. She had a little Marmite on her face left over from her toast at breakfast. I pointed it out to her, and she rubbed ineffectually with her long pale fingers at entirely the wrong bit of skin.

'Here,' I said. 'Let me.'

She dropped her hand. I ran my tongue across the tip of a finger, cupped her chin in one hand and rubbed away the mark. Without moving my hand from her jaw, I met her eyes, and felt treacly warmth pooling in my belly and trickling downwards. I caught my breath. Her mouth opened slightly as she returned my gaze.

I dropped my eyes for a moment, letting my hand drop from her face.

'Pansy.'

My next breath caught in my chest; I looked up to find her eyes still on me. After a moment, she took a step to close the distance between us, slid her fingers around the nape of my neck, and kissed me. I raised my hand back to her face. Almost of its own accord, it slipped from her cheek, trailed down her neck and came to rest, caught on one of her collarbones. Her other hand had come to rest on my hip, her nails digging in a little.

I could taste the Marmite on her tongue as it darted between my lips. One hand was trapped in the spikes of her cropped hair, the other slipping further down from her collarbone.

Noise was rising around us as my hand moved down. As she moved her head to the side to kiss me deeper, I heard a wolf-whistle from the direction of the Gryffindor table and hesitated. Blaise made a mumbling noise deep in her throat and held me tighter.

Professor Snape cleared his throat beside us. I looked up, blinking, my mouth wet, to find the entire school staring back at me. One of the Weasley twins wolf-whistled again and I flicked him a discreet v-sign.

'There is no need for such exhibitionism,' McGonagall barked. 'Five points from Slytherin and...'

'And what about the lecture on diversity and equality in the workplace Dumbledore's giving us today, Minerva?' Snape interrupted. 'We could use Misses Parkinson and Zabini as an example of unfair discrimination. I must say, you've always found it perfectly acceptable for Weasley to grope Miss Granger at the table.'

'Five points,' McGonagall repeated, then turned on her heel and made for the door.

'Off you go, girls,' Snape said, then paused as he caught a particularly crude comment from the Gryffindor table.

'Potter and Weasley, a detention each. If I hear either of you say anything so repellent again, you'll be in detention every night till you leave school. Is that quite clear?'

They mumbled a response, looking predictably wronged. Blaise grabbed my hand.

'Time to go.'

If I lick my fingers, I can still taste the Marmite.