Response to "No-one is looking" drabble prompt.
All characters and their origins property of J.K. Rowling. Hermione is 18 or older unless otherwise stated.
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Hermione moaned inwardly. Strawberries. It was her weakness, and there they were, plump and perfectly ripe, piled almost as high as her chin, on a huge platter at the end of the table. Worse yet were the multiple bowls of freshly whipped cream just begging to be slathered on the delicious fruit.
She fought with herself. Surely she could wait with everyone else? The reception didn't begin for another half hour, but it was only thirty minutes.
She bit her lip and glared at the temptation. With every passing second, she grew more frustrated until she was rationalizing the irrational. No one else could possibly appreciate these strawberries as much as she. And besides, she wouldn't be able to properly enjoy them with everyone yammering around her and sticking their dirty fingers in the cream like a bunch of heathens. Strawberries like this deserved to be cherished.
Hermione gave an exasperated huff and muttered out loud, "Ridiculous. They're just strawberries and no one is looking anyway."
She plucked a single berry from the pile and dipped it into the sweet cream, closing her eyes in ecstasy as her lips wrapped around the seedy fruit before her teeth sank into its sweetness.
She was startled by a low growl close to her ear.
"Wrong, love, 'someone' is always looking." Sirius grinned sexily, dipping another strawberry into the cream and pressing it to her stained lips.