The Memory

She sees him glance her way. And he sees her stare right back. They�re both thinking. Wishing. Remembering. She lightly traces her finger along the bruise on the back of her neck. She hadn�t realized he was biting her so hard. Why do they have to be in a stuffy classroom? If only it could be last night. Last night. She sighs. He turns and looks at her and sees dark, silky hair. It was only last night that his hands had been running through that hair while his mouth had been on her neck�and other parts. She looks his way and sees him staring at her hungrily. She remembers last night. Her mouth on his and her hands caressing his back. She thinks of the feeling of his hands around her breast. And wishes. Professor Flitwick looks her way as she begins to shift uneasily in her seat, remembering his tongue, and his mouth. The feel. His dark hair blending so perfectly to hers. She is feeling the strangest feeling in the pit of her stomach. She�s freefalling. And so is he. Thinking. Loving. But all they have, at this moment, is the memory.