Seraphim
Title: Seraphim
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 200
Characters: Cedric Diggory, Millicent Bulstrode
Summary: Was he burning her sins away or was she causing an angel to fall?
Notes:
Originally Posted: hp_humpdrabbles
For as long as she could remember, she had watched him during Quidditch matches. He was pretty. Cherubic. Then the damnable Tournament. Millicent could still taste the air of that contemptible night when Cedric Diggory lay on the lawn of the pitch, a frozen angel. The next time her mind touched upon him was when she was leaving Hogwarts for Dunmore. He was the Angel of Vengeance then. All he lacked was the flaming sword.
That image became memory, even as their lips met. He, The War Hero, seemingly back from the dead. She, the Death Eater scum, though both her arms and hands were clean. Those facts had no meaning in that alcove along the winding halls of the Department of Mysteries. Quick intakes of breath were the only sound in the empty shadows. Fingers roamed over warm skin, both hard and giving. The stone was cool against her back, but he was warm. There was no understanding as to what they they were doing and if there was, it probably would not matter. He consumed her and for a moment, she wondered if he were burning away her sins, or if she was causing an angel to fall.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 200
Characters: Cedric Diggory, Millicent Bulstrode
Summary: Was he burning her sins away or was she causing an angel to fall?
Notes:
Originally Posted: hp_humpdrabbles
For as long as she could remember, she had watched him during Quidditch matches. He was pretty. Cherubic. Then the damnable Tournament. Millicent could still taste the air of that contemptible night when Cedric Diggory lay on the lawn of the pitch, a frozen angel. The next time her mind touched upon him was when she was leaving Hogwarts for Dunmore. He was the Angel of Vengeance then. All he lacked was the flaming sword.
That image became memory, even as their lips met. He, The War Hero, seemingly back from the dead. She, the Death Eater scum, though both her arms and hands were clean. Those facts had no meaning in that alcove along the winding halls of the Department of Mysteries. Quick intakes of breath were the only sound in the empty shadows. Fingers roamed over warm skin, both hard and giving. The stone was cool against her back, but he was warm. There was no understanding as to what they they were doing and if there was, it probably would not matter. He consumed her and for a moment, she wondered if he were burning away her sins, or if she was causing an angel to fall.