Drip…drip…drip…
She stared as the water ran lazily around the edge of the tap head, sliding to the middle where it collected, stretching and trembling for a moment before it dropped and splashed into the sink below.
How long did she have to sit here?
She'd drowned out the buzz around her made by the meaningless droning and posturing of various ministry officials, journalists, busy bodies and poor sods like herself, who had been roped into attending these painful façades of post war 'celebrations'.
Sliding her gaze away from the dripping tap to the decidedly less interesting drip next to her, she realised his eyes were looking at her expectantly; shit, did he ask her a question? She gave an empty smile and mmmed, which was all it seemed to take to please him as he promptly set off talking again.
The kitchen had been a decidedly bad idea, she'd hoped to find solace here away from the main rooms but it was just as busy and she felt even more trapped within the small space.
A small shiver running down her spine and a wave of goose bumps flowing across her skin alerted her to the entrance of his presence into the room. This was always the way, her body sensing him before she saw him.
Sure enough his looming shadow suddenly dominated the opposite side of the room, the people already present shifting around him, their curiosity for the dark man simultaneously drawing them in and repelling them.
She couldn't stay here, not in such a small room, people would notice the tension, how could they not when she could already feel it welling up inside her?
Pushing back her chair she promptly walked out of the room, not caring about the affronted wizard she left behind.
Despite avoiding looking in his direction again she still felt the heat flare up inside her, this perverse desire that he had ignited within her many tiring functions ago and which they kept stoking again and again.
Walking down the corridor she made her way towards the stairs leading up to her room and made sure to dodge people trying to trap her in conversation.
She soon became aware that her shadow was following; he always held back just enough so as not to arouse suspicion but still close enough that she'd catch the flick of his dark robes in her peripheral as she turned corners or wound up the stairs.
Finally reaching the door to her hotel room she stepped inside and deliberately left the door unwarded behind her, before moving swiftly towards the side of her bed, where she knelt down and waited.
She tried to focus on breathing deeply and calmly and upon noticing the slight tremble in her hands she gripped them tightly in her lap. To an outsider it could almost look like she was praying beside her bed.
The door opened behind her but she didn't look. The soft click of the door closing and a muffled silencing charm sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through her body in anticipation.
Silence.
Keeping her eyes resolutely down her ears strained to hear the slightest of noises but there was nothing.
The minutes slowly ticked by and her breathing became more shallow, every one of her senses hyper aware and focused on trying to feel him.
When he did touch her it took her by surprise, like it always did. This time he wrapped his hand in the hair on the back of her head and pulled her to her feet before swiftly bending her over the bed.
His hand briefly pressed her head firmly onto the mattress so that she was looking sideways, before reaching for both of her hands and placing them flat on either side of her head.
She didn't need to be told not to move.
As his hands moved her she could smell the various potions ingredients he must have been working with earlier that day and where his robes brushed her skin it felt hypersensitive, sending shivers coursing through her.
Being so suddenly surrounded by him was intoxicating but just as quickly as his hands had taken a hold of her they were gone again.
The wait for him to touch her, this was always the most bitter sweet part. She knew if she protested, tried to move closer to him, fidgeted with impatience or even so much as looked at him that he would leave her laying there longer. So instead she tried to lay as still as humanely possible, fighting every fibre of her being that wanted to reach for him.
She felt her dress robes slowly brushing up her legs and then over her bum, pooling at her waist. Next her underwear went the opposite way, until they fell around her ankles.
The first blow hit her a lot sooner than she was expecting. He didn't hold back as his hand connected firmly with the centre of her left bum cheek and she couldn't help the startled cry that escaped her or the instinctive flinch away.
His foot came between hers, pushing her feet apart so that her legs couldn't clench tight and his next blow swiftly followed, this time landing on her right cheek.
Heat blazed through her body, not only burning in the red-hot handprints on her behind but also flushing her face and pooling further in her belly.
Each smack that followed was measured, moving over the surface of her bottom so as not to fall in the same area too frequently.
She couldn't help squirming before him on the bed, before long her whole behind felt like it was glowing, she couldn't take any more surely? She flinched in anticipation of him hitting her sore skin but then the sting felt good, she could take more, she needed to. She felt so alive in that moment, her body was tingling, she was breathing heavily, her heart was racing, her head was pulsing and she was so fucking wet.
Soon she found her ass rising slightly into the air for the next blow, wanting more. She didn't want it to end.
But it always ended.
His blows stopped as suddenly and unexpectedly as they had begun.
She groaned in protest on the bed, panting, her body was floating, like she was half untethered to herself, a sense of euphoria maybe? She wanted more of him or what he could make her feel at least.
Right there on the bed she was his, he could do whatever he wanted to her and she wouldn't care but he didn't.
He never did.
She felt the loss of him already and didn't dare to move, turn her head or try to look at him in the hopes that he would continue.
Closing her eyes in resignation she tried to quieten her breathing. There. She could hear him, previously masked by her own ragged breaths was his light panting.
Each exhale a rare sound, a sign that all this had affected him, even if just from the physical exertion of it all.
Then it was gone.
As quickly as he entered her room he left, the door clicking shut and the glimmer of a protective charm flashing across her door as he secured it behind him.
She lay there for a while longer, trying to stretch the moment out but eventually she found herself inevitably floating back down to earth. Back to her dulled reality again.