"They say it makes you crazy," Hermione says breathless as she turns to face him fully, lips twitching into a half-smile. And then she fists her mittened hands in his heavy cloak and drags herself by her grip up onto her tiptoes and presses her mouth to his firm and hard before he can pull away. His lips are cold and soft and he is motionless, and Hermione pulls back and stares into his face and sees conflict written in every line of him; want and guilt all tangled inextricably together, and she needs the want to win out.