The shed smells of leather and rain and she has you against the wall before the door has finished shutting.

She gets her own gear off standing up. There is a barely-healed scar along her ribs and she does not explain it.

MalfoidFast or slow, I am good at both. But I have a match on Saturday and you are not tiring me out.

You get her on the workbench with her boots still on and she locks her legs around your back like a harness.

MalfoidThere. Right there. Don't be polite about it, I will say if I want polite.

She comes with her head tipped back and her hand flat on your chest, swearing at the roof of the shed.