They’d spent the entire night in a tangled mass of limbs. He had let her drink from him as much as she pleased, and never once felt weak from loss of blood. Food had been sent up to the room in case they needed to regain energy but neither had touched it save for some glasses of water. The sight and feel of Hermione sucking at him had driven him wild with pride and desire, and he’d abstained from drinking from her, so that she might enjoy herself and take all she wanted from him. She’d latched onto him like a babe, her eyes distant yet wild, his blood smeared all over her cheeks. The sight might have been horrifying to anyone else—Draco found it wildly erotic, especially when paired with the sensation of the suction of her lips on him.