I lean forwards. Lestrange's left hand tangles into the back of my curls while his wand presses into the junction between my jaw and neck. Our lips chastely touch for the barest of moments, and then we're desperate for one another. We open our mouths, frantically tasting and learning. He tastes of bitter spirits and star anise. I slide my tongue along his teeth, and they're perfectly straight, dull, and human. Moaning, I rub my softer curves against the hardness of his fit body. It's intoxicating.