When her fangs pierced him he moaned, and his hips shifted like he wanted to thrust into her at that very moment. Hermione smiled, his blood gushing into her throat and dripping down her chin, so tangy with desire and hot like heated honey. The first swallow was a rush of heat and never enough to satisfy—even when she bit him with the intent of taking a little, she always ended up drinking much more. The strange, erotic and hypnotic motion of the act gripped her every time, and she knew it was the same for Draco.