What startles her most is the strong, heady feeling of the Merlot, warm on her tongue and slightly tart before the full berry and chocolate taste burst to the forefront. She never cared much for alcohol, which her lover knows, which is why a strawberry is being brought to her lips; luscious, delightfully cool and faintly under-ripe, just enough to give it a bit of a bite.
"More," she says, wishing that there was no blindfold. Her lover obliges, this time with chocolate, so dark it's only barely hinting at sweet. She's offered another drink of wine and then another chunk of chocolate, followed by a finger, piled thick with Bonchester cheese. It makes her head spin even more than the Merlot.
She suckles the tip between her lips, curving her tongue into every crevice available. A breath quickens anxiously in the room and she doesn't even bother to hide her grin. Instead, she merely releases the finger and smacks her lips.
"More."
This time, the earthy scent of honey wafts under her nose. Meeting the hand half-way, she finds the whole hand is dripping, as if her lover had simply scooped it out and let it rest in his palm.
She sets to work, lapping at the honey like a kitten lapping milk. The breath hitches almost painfully and she renews her vigor, drawing each sodden digit between her lips, bending her head to tongue the underside of the hand, urging the fingers apart to get to their bases. Her face is streaked in the golden liquid, dotting her cheeks, chin and neck in random places. She knows that once she's done, her lover will feast from her skin the way she feasts from his.
It is while she bares her neck to allow her lover access that she hears a choked sob in the far corner of the room, the constant presence that has half distracted her with awkward, anxious breathing.
She raises her hand and calls a halt to the proceedings, and her lover backs off with a disgruntled huff. But after all, she's the one running the show tonight.
Umbridge yanks off the blindfold, first taking in the dishes and jars that are either open and half used or completely empty. She then turns her attention to the 4th year Gryffindor, bound to stiff classroom chair.
"Well Mr. Rigley, I trust you have learned your lesson about stealing from the kitchens?"
The 4th year's eyes were wide and terrified, suitably panicked and looking vaguely green.
Letting out a high, haughty sigh, Umbridge reached for her wand and released the student. "Consider your first detention served then. Good day, Mr. Rigley."
With that, the 4th year bolted from the room, practically tripping over his feet. Umbridge caught a glimpse of him holding his mouth as he ran out of the room. He didn't quite make it to the boy's lavatory just 200 paces down the hall, however. The sound of retching was like music to her ears. Oh well, what was one more detention?
Turning back to her lover, she replaced the blindfold. "Now Argus, where were we?"
