Her arms wrapped around the back of Draco’s neck, and she deepened their kiss, her mouth opening slightly with an air of caution. His tongue in her mouth filled her with the scent of the firewhisky he’d just drank, along with a faint peppermint taste that had her reminiscing of Slughorn’s sixth year when she’d smelled Amortentia; she’d never admitted to anyone, not even consciously to herself very often, that she smelled peppermint, green apples and parchment; a scent that could only be Malfoy.