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No one laughs when they're staring down the end of a wand. That's what my grandmother used to say. But here I am, my nose at the end of Ginevra Weasley's wand, and it's all I can do to keep a straight face. She looked lovely today with her messy plait and little make up and I had told her as much. Now I find myself pressed against the wall in the deserted corridor, her wand at the ready, and her cheeks flushed red. Her eyes turn from dark, to wide, and then closed and before my next heartbeat her hands are on either side of my face and her lips are pressed tightly to mine. My mind is racing. How long had I wanted this? What had gotten into her? Why am I questioning this at all? So my hands move to the soft curves of her hips and I pull her in closer. I open my mouth slightly so I can taste her lips. They are just as I had imagined, soft, warm, and sweet. She nips my lower lip gently and I let out a sound I've never heard before. I can feel her smile against my lips.
I hear the sound of distant footsteps coming from around the corner. We break apart almost instantly. I can see the red still in her cheeks. She smiles that beautiful grin at me and promises to find me later before taking off in the opposite direction of the approaching footfalls. I lean back against the wall and heave a sigh, my lips still tingling and my heart still bounding. After years of waiting, maybe not so patiently, I had what I had longed for, and yet, the yearning had intensified. I must have more of Ginevra Weasley.
Prompt: Object- wand
Word count: 298