They had a brief struggle as Hermione tried to pull his shirt off completely. Draco didn’t want to let go of her so she could slide it off his arms, and she didn’t care – she just wanted his damned shirt off. But he wouldn’t let her go, and she wasn’t strong enough to make him. Hermione changed tactics, her hand slipping down to his jeans, nimble fingers popping the button open before she could even think about it, as Draco distracted her with his tongue and lips and teeth all over the delicate skin of her throat. Hermione’s heart beat up into her throat and her pulse thrummed, blood humming and the room feeling suffocatingly hot as she pushed down the consuming nerves that nearly overrode her desire, and unzipped his jeans, pushed them down so they crumpled to the floor, tangled around his boots.