He didn’t even know she knew how to play.
He felt like an intruder, watching her mourn with music.
Short tunes plucked out led to bits and pieces of things. Strong full chords strummed deeply. A jaunty little jig. A bit of flamenco. He smiled wryly.
He watched as she reached out and daubed her fingers on a white cloth. Crimson blossomed on the fabric.
Her fingers were bleeding.
He had almost moved to take the first step to her, but he watched as she picked up her wand and healed her fingertips before beginning to play again.
Play she did. He watched her play for three hours. The blood on the cloth spread as her soft fingertips continually split on the steel strings she ran them across. It didn’t deter her.
She was beautiful.
When he finally lay a hand on her shoulder and she turned around he wasn’t surprised to see she had let the tears flow freely over her cheeks and down her chin, leaving a large wet spot on her robes.
His mouth covered hers and she didn’t recoil. She reached up and grabbed a handful of his thick black hair, a smear of blood from her unhealed fingertips finding its way to his temple.
He gasped as she pushed him to the floor, setting the guitar aside a bit roughly, the strings ringing out in disharmony.
He muffled a cry into her mouth as she pinned him to the floor, tearing open his clothing and exposing his quickly hardening member. Then he groaned as she sunk down on him, robes hiked up, panties pushed to the side.
He watched as a few remaining tears leaked from her eyes and he knew the determined look she wore. It wasn’t just the act. It was the verification that she still existed. She still felt. She was still alive.
He grabbed a handful of her bushy brown hair and pulled her to the floor she struggled and growled, but positioned herself so he could penetrate her deeply. He watched her blood sink into the black fabric of his robes a she gripped his forearm.
At his first deep thrust he felt her teeth sink into the thick fabric on his shoulder. He growled as he pulled back and placed a hand on her throat. Her eyes widened as his hand tightened.
Then she had the audacity to smirk at him.
He covered her mouth with his and stole what little breath she had left.
When she squeezed him with her legs he let go and she took a deep breath.
When he looked down on her she snarled at him.
She bucked up at him as he squeezed her throat again and covered her mouth with his. The next time he let go she cried out her climax.
He let go of her throat and kissed her cheek as he started to pound into her. Her arms gently encircled his waist and a hand went up to caress the side of his face.
He began rotating his hips.
She felt another wave of pleasure blossom within her. Her back arched underneath him. He reached out and traced a finger down the front of her robes between her breasts.
When she started to groan again he cupped one of her breasts in his hand and started squeezing.
Her eyes met his and he looked at her with his features carefully controlled.
She squirmed and he held her down firmly. He repeated his command, his voice and eyes steady.
She lost control. It began in waves that caused her legs to tremble and grew to another crashing climax. She thrashed beneath him, screaming his name.
He had no recourse but to spill into her, yelling out her name.
He collapsed upon her, breathing heavily.
“We’re still alive, aren’t we Severus?” Her small voice asked him weakly.
“And it’s all over?”
“My dear,” he grinned at her ferally as he felt his manhood rise. “I think this is just the beginning.”