Moonlit Garden

The roses are in bloom and look beautiful in the glow of moonlight.

Hermione likes to walk in the garden when the moon lights the sky and the floral aroma fills the air. It is more beautiful to her than when the sun heats her skin and bathes everything in bright light. She comes here in the evenings during most seasons to relax, to escape a job that she enjoys but consumes her more often than not, to find refuge in the arms of the man she loves.

He waits for her, a red rose nervously twirled in his fingers as he paces to and fro, his lower lip worried by his teeth. He hears her before he sees her, a sixth sense they share with no other, and looks up to watch her walk. He likes to watch her walk, he�s told her many evenings, and she smiles as she rolls her hips slightly and joins him.

Their lips meet, no words necessary as they begin the familiar dance. His fingertips brush across her cheek, rough pads dragging along the curve of her face before tangling in her long hair as the kiss deepens. He pulls back and smiles as he rubs his nose against hers in a private gesture all their own.

He raises the rose as he pushes his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. She sees the moonlight catch the silver band of his ring and she shivers as she has done since placing it on his finger so many years ago. Hers.

The petals of the rose are soft as he brushes the flower along the curve of her jaw. She watches him carefully, never quite knowing what he plans even as she attempts to anticipate his actions. He likes surprising her, enjoys being able to do something she doesn�t expect, and he likes their nights in the garden as much as she.

This evening he is smiling as he moves the rosebud along the curve of her lips and seems delighted when she reacts to the gentle touch. Words are spoken with every look, every touch, but are not given life as they sway towards one another. There is magic in the air, a magic as old as time, and it will continue to grow as they touch and taste.

A tug from his finger at the belt of her robe sends the sash to the ground beneath her bare feet. The grass is soft as she steps closer to him, her shoulders shrugging as she pushes her robe off, standing before him naked in the moonlight. He hisses, a soft escape of breath that he can�t control, and her body responds with a flush as warmth causes her senses to tingle.

She grows impatient and gives him a look he recognizes, causing him to smile and laugh softly before he becomes serious and focuses on her. He moves the rose along the column of her throat, lightly drags it along her bare skin, soft as silk as it brushes across her hard nipple. He is pleased with her moan and she feels wetness between her legs as he moves it back and forth across her nipple until she whimpers for him. Then he repeats the action with her other breast.

The ground is hard beneath her as he urges her to lie down but the grass is soft and tickles her sensitive skin as he spreads her robe beneath her lower back and arse. Then he is between her parted legs, his gaze focused on her wetness, and he licks his lips as he brushes the soft red rose against her.

She cries out as the petals touch her swollen flesh and spreads herself open further for him. She cannot believe he is doing this to her with the rose and sees a flash of a smirk across his lips as he looks up at her, a lock of hair falling across the faded scar on his forehead.

She looks at the sky above, stares at the moon as the rose and his fingers urge her closer, closer, then pull back before she falls. He repeats this until the rose is wet and dripping and she is whimpering and desperate for more. Only then, when she�s nearly to a point of breaking the silence with a whisper of please, Harry does the rose move away from her. He licks her; his tongue wet and warm as he laps at her, teeth scraping across swollen flesh.

She caresses her breasts as she presses against his face, feeling the frame of his spectacles against her thighs as she tightens her legs around his face and arches from the ground for more. She looks at the moon and the stars as he brings her closer and closer then�she falls. A soft whimper escapes her as she finds release. She trembles beneath him as he moves, the sound of his zip lowering nearly as loud as her own heartbeat, and then he�s inside her.

They move together in a familiar dance as the moonlight bathes them in its magical glow and the fragrance of roses surrounds them.

The End