Neville's robe was off in a moment and he kicked the door shut, locking it with his wand before throwing it to the floor, too. But he didn't know what to do next, as though he had forgotten somehow. So Enola leapt to her feet and faced up to her husband, nose-to-nose a moment. They breathed heavily, speaking in raspy puffs, the air between them humid and expectant, ready to explode at any second. Neither knew who moved first, but Enola's hand was suddenly on the back of Neville's neck, his hands either side of her face, on her boiling hot skin, as she captured his mouth and pulled him down atop her on the bed. 