For such a small person, Alice is surprisingly strong.

It's a running joke around the office, actually; it started when she accidentally broke Kingsley's nose when he got too drunk at the Christmas party and hit on her, thinking she was Mafalda. In her defence, Alice swears that she didn't mean to punch him. It was an automatic reflex.

Then there was the time that Alice and Dawlish ended up missing for forty-eight hours and the whole office is panicking a bit, and it turns out that they had been ambushed by a group of Death Eaters. Frank nearly pisses himself and James is about to send in the tanks when she strolls in, perfectly fine, and dragging along a very dazed and confused Dawlish.

There are, of course, limitations to her physical strength, which is why it's another running joke that poor Frank must be limp or deprived, as Alice is tiny and he's taller than her by a head or two, and how on earth can that work out? So Frank endures a lot of jokes when Moody or Kingsley isn't around, and he deals with it in two ways.

One, he's a mature, responsible adult who occasionally adds laxatives to their coffee.

Two, he doesn't tell them about Wednesdays.

Today, in fact, is Wednesday.

It doesn't happen every Wednesday, of course. On Wednesdays, Alice has her weekly meeting with her mum, who is still in Muggle Liason. It's usually a two-hour meeting describing all the horrible things happening to Muggles and how the government isn't doing a damn thing about it, and it leaves Alice bitter and angry and frustrated, because there isn't anything she can do about it. She used to have to go for a run to get the energy spent. Depending on how many people were killed, a run doesn't always do the trick.

It's early in the morning, hardly anyone is in yet, and Frank has just gotten his third cup of coffee when Alice appears in the door, looking like she wants to murder puppies or punt-kick bad guys. He pauses, cautious with his approach here.

"Hey, Al. Meeting didn't -"

Alice doesn't say a word, just marches up to him, grabs his arm, pulls him into the nearest broom shed, throws him against the wall and kisses him.

Immediately, his hands are tangling in her hair, tilting her head back so that he can kiss her throat, and she's not saying a word, just pulling on his tie and then his robes so that she can kiss the exposed skin of his neck, pressing herself up against him so there is literally nothing in between them except clothes. His arousal presses between her legs and he growls as she nips the spot of skin that denotes his pulse, already painfully aroused. His hands dip lower until they find the hem of her shirt and he lifts his up easily, tossing it as far as it can go before lowering his mouth to dot kisses along her shoulders, down to the valley between her breasts, back up her throat. His teeth graze the skin of her throat, nipping here and there, leaving marks that are red and angry and will need careful work to hide, but right now he doesn't care if everyone knows what they've been doing. He wants them to look at Alice and see those marks and think Frank's. She's his, his from now until forever, and no one else is making her moan like that. Just him.

Alice has clearly gotten impatient with kissing, because she pulls back, just a bit, and pulls on his belt, fumbling with the clasp and then whipping it out, which sends a terrific jolt through Frank, who follows this up with seizing her about the waist and spinning them around so that she's the one pinned to the wall. He ignores her wordless protest as he sinks to his knees and begins to kiss her. She's wearing a skirt, today, which looks lovely and practical and it sowasn't, because now he's kissing her and she's about to slide down the wall in a puddle. Then, because he's a bastard and he loves to torture her, he stops his kisses, runs his hands up her legs until he gets to the edge of her skirt, and tugs it down, noting with appreciation her choice in underwear. He was always a fan of the blue.

She's trembling and he decides to take pity on her by returning to her mouth, but she senses the weakness and takes the opportunity to grab him. And then squeezes it which causes Frank to make possibly the world's most ludicrous sound in the history of ever as he tries not to explode in his pants. She grins into their kiss, and slides her hand along his length, and even though she's still wearing pants and boxers he swears he can feel it as easily as if he were wearing nothing, and he chokes on his desire as she very slowly pumps her hand, using her other hand to help him out of his robes. He's shaking so hard that he can barely life his arms, but somehow, God only knows how, he lifts his shirt above his head and she rewards him by giving him a particularly hard tug which causes his hips to jerk into her hand and he's about to start begging in a minute.

In the pause, he quickly unclasps her bra (before he loses motor ability again) and slides the fabric down her arms, tossing it on the shelf next to them as he runs his lips down from her throat to her breasts. Her breath hitches as he swirls his tongue over her nipple, before resuming his kissing, and pulls him closer, reclaiming his mouth with hers. Their tongues meet, and fuck if they're not naked in ten seconds someone is going to die. He breaks the kiss, just for a second, so that he can pull his pants down and kick them away and he thinks, fleetingly, that if someone comes looking for a broom he and Alice are going to be in so much trouble but then she's tugging on his boxers and her mouth in on his hip bone and he blanks out for a second. When he comes to, he doesn't even bother with foreplay; he slides her underwear down her legs (which are, somehow, despite her stature, impossibly long) and and positions himself at her entrance, his hands running up her hips, silently begging for permission, which she grants with one long, slow, loving kiss.

He slides into her (she is impossibly wet; he feels all manly and proud of himself for causing that, actually) and she wraps her legs around his waist and he holds her by the hips so that she won't fall. His thrusts are slow and even and by the third one she's the one begging, asking him for more, please,harder, faster, she's going to explode and, like a good and loving fiance, he obliges, rocking into her, bracing himself against the wall with one hand, kissing her throat and grazing her neck with his teeth, and she's raking her nails down his back, leaving angry red marks and then their lips crash together, and he's lost all ability to think beyond what his cock is doing and what Alice is doing. And Alice is impossibly tight, and she's holding onto him like she's going to fly apart if she lets go, and her teeth pull on his ear exactlyhow he likes it and he's pretty sure there's a God and Frank is his favourite. Because not only does this feel perfect, but a stream of words are tumbling from Alice's mouth, some of his favourite swear-words and, his especial favourite, his name. Fuck, Frank, FUCK, don't stop, please don't stop and he kind of wants to laugh because how in the hell is he supposed to stop? Then she rolls her hips at his next thrust and his eyes roll back in his head because holy fuck, Alice, give a bloke a little warning first and she's giggling and not even sorry.

His hand slides down and the pad of his thumb brushes against her clit and her giggles break-off into a strangled gasp and he smirks at her as he brushes it again, a little harder, and she clutches him tightly and grabs his face and just kisses him and he comes inside her at the exact same moment she hits her release, and she bites down on his shoulder to stop herself from screaming, and he groans and for a second it's just the rush of adrenaline that comes from one good fuck and Frank sinks down so that he's resting on the shelf, and he's still inside her, and if he never moves again he will be absolutely delighted.

After a second, Alice lifts her head from where it was resting on his shoulder and kisses him. It's a tiny, sweet, tender kiss and he tastes her with pleasure, knowing this is a combination of catharsis and desire. He cups her face in his hand and dots kisses up from her lips to her forehead, which she rests against his. Her breath is warm and the sweat on their bodies is cooling and he thinks he could die happy, right now.

"Better?"

"Better."

"We're going to win, Alli. I promise. We're going to grow old and happy and no one is going to get hurt, ever again."

"I love you."

"I love you, too. Gods, so much."

And after that, there isn't much talking for a while.