Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns anything you recognize. I'm just taking the characters from her closet and letting them play for a while.
A/N: This story is meant to be seen as flashes of imagery and feeling, like a quick slideshow.
Two women on their knees; roaming, caressing hands smoothing invisible wrinkles and raising goose-bumps; scalding kisses leaving burns on silken flesh; gasping breaths between pulsing battles of tongues and lips; emerald eyes and mocha orbs behind closed lids; feathering fingers bringing incalculable pleasure; whispered assurances of love and encouragement; crimson satin sheets on an oak bed supporting it all.
The portraits watched in silent approval as the efforts culminated in climax and two women sank onto the bed. Raven hair tangled with brown, and mocha eyes met emerald.
The room sighed, passion died, and finally they slept in exhausted bliss.