Until Hermione, with one hand on her temple, and another reached down to form a small "V’ with her index and middle finger at her entrance. She tightened and squeezed around him. He wasn’t sure what it was. The pressure of her cunt. The sensations of her fingers. The sticky sounds of their fucking. The leaky wetness between their thighs. It consumed him. He crashed into her, latching onto her neck and flexing his hips, leaving no space between them. His sweaty chest pressed against hers, almost forming a suction. He let out a long, husky moan and poured everything he had into her. His love. His devotion.