Sweet by Luvscharlie
Hermione stood in the doorway of her husband's office at the Ministry. She'd only intended to come and invite Harry for lunch. But, there he was, leaned back, the front two legs of his chair off the floor. He had the tip of his quill in his mouth, obviously lost in thought. Whatever problem he was thinking so deeply about, the look on his face said that it was something serious. With his eyes closed, she had him at a disadvantage and she leaned against the doorframe and took her time, leisurely watching him. There was nothing sexier than a man, Harry in particular, working out the answer to some complex problem as he chewed on the tip of his quill.
Harry opened his eyes, startled at her presence, overcorrected and his chair clattered to the floor leaving him flat of his back.
Hermione rushed forward. "Are you okay?" she asked, offering her hand to assist him.
"I didn't know you were there," Harry said, straightening his glasses. He bent forward to retrieve his chair, pushing Hermione's hands away. "I've got it. Besides, I'm sure the remainder of my pride is down here somewhere." He gave her a lopsided grin and righted his overturned chair, then flopped back into it. Hermione perched on the edge of his desk.
"What brings you up here, Mrs. Potter?"
Hermione kicked off her shoe and brought her stocking foot to rest on Harry's knee. "Well, I came up here to invite my handsome husband to lunch, but you were doing that thing with the quill, and you know what that does to me and…" Hermione reached for Harry's recently discarded writing quill and rubbed the feather down her neck slowly, then back up to rest the tip against her lip.
Something was clearly not right. "Harry, your quill is sticky."
"Huh?" He shook off her question as he rose from his chair pushing her back onto the desk and kissing her deeply.
Hermione pushed him back. "I said your quill is sticky."
"Yeah, I heard you," Harry said, unfastening the button of her blouse and slipping his hand inside.
Hermione would not be put off. "Why is it sticky?"
"Does it matter?" Harry was clearly exasperated with all the questions. He pulled her hard against him as Hermione popped the tip of the quill into her mouth.
"It's a Sugarquill! Well, that's a bit less sexy," she said disappointed.
"Is it now?" Harry asked. He cocked an eyebrow in question, pushed her back on the desk and ran the tip of the Sugarquill over her bottom lip. He sucked the sweet from her lip slowly, dragged it down her chin and followed the trail with his tongue. "Still think it's less sexy?"
The next day, Hermione showed back up in her husband's office with a box beneath her arm.
"What do you have there?" he asked.
"I've come to restock your supply," Hermione said, handing over the box of Sugarquills.
"I suppose it's only coincidence that you came at lunchtime." Harry cocked his eyebrow in question and removed his glasses.
Hermione used her wand to close and lock the office door. "Never make assumptions, Harry," she said, dropping her robe and climbing onto his lap.