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“Oh god, do that again.”
“What, this?”
“No, that thing where you twist...” a gasp and low moan, and Ron froze in his tracks. Stepping closer to the door, he pressed his ear against it gently, heart racing wildly.
“Mmmm... you’re so tight, I have to wriggle to get in there. What took you so long to call me, love?”
Another moan and sigh, which Ron was now positive belonged to his wife. A long pause, then –
“I didn’t want to hurt Ron’s feelings. I don’t think he’ll ever be as good as you.”
Ron had heard enough. With a sudden rush of magic, the door slammed open to reveal –
“Ron!” Hermione screeched, clutching her towel around her as she sat up. Beside the table stood a flamboyantly gay Blaise Zabini, massage oil in hand.
Ron groaned, slumping against the wall. He really needed to stop jumping to conclusions.