A/N: My English is not very good and I don't have a beta, soooo...
I own nothing... and I'm not happy about it...
I felt his approach more than heard it. I didn't notice the usual sound of his catlike walk, not a bat, but a feline. The red wine glass and its adjoining wet clicking sound on the tabletop. The rustling of his robes while he stood up, followed by the tapping of his shoes on the marble floor.
I also didn't acknowledge him when his hands rested on my hips, or when his warm hard chest pressed against my back.
I didn't even stop my musing when his stubble grazed my shoulder, his nose caressed my neck and a soft breeze from the window made his hair tickle my cheek.
Before you ask what had happened to put me in such a state I answer you. I shouldn't be here; my life is behind this hotel door, and outside this dump room we could never live together. I'm a married woman, the best there is. After all I always try really hard to exceed in everything.
So, it's no wonder that when this affair started I committed myself to be the best lover.
Only sometimes even I regret what I'm doing. I know he doesn't.
And in those times when I'm giving up on us he notices, and walks in my direction, nuzzles my neck and does the one thing that makes me surrender. Like rich dark chocolate, soft and profound, his breath mingles with his word when he whispers:
Hermione.