"Why – why didn't you just run?" she asks, water running down her chin and chest, and soaking into both their shirts, before she resumes sipping at the tip of his wand, at the trickle of water it still emits. His little thrusting movements are almost forgotten now; she tries to ignore the strange sensation, and tells herself firmly that it's just a cover, just what's necessary, and they're both wearing underwear – there's no point in thinking about how gross it feels.