Harry’s robe barely covered her thighs when she slid into the dining chair, her pussy still throbbing from Draco’s tongue. The tablecloth draped low—enough to hide the predator crouched beneath it, his breath hot against her inner knee. Severus uncorked wine, oblivious as Draco’s fingers crept up her bare thigh.

“You’re quiet,” Severus mused, filling her glass. Harry’s knuckles whitened around her fork when Draco’s tongue flicked her clit—once—teasing. “J-just hungry,” she stammered, spreading her legs wider under the table. Draco’s chuckle vibrated against her sensitive flesh before he dug in, lapping at her swollen folds with slow, filthy strokes.