Instead of spooning as always, Hermione turns to face Malfoy when he comes to bed that night. She presses her head to his chest, one arm sliding over Malfoy's side, one leg entangling itself between his two. There is nothing remotely platonic to this intimate clutch, her pelvis snugging against his crotch, and Hermione's heart pounds fast as Malfoy's breath catches. She can feel something become slightly more apparent; she thinks with a stupid, embarrassed shyness that he is no longer entirely flaccid, the bulge of his penis stiffening just a little at her closeness. With her heart in her throat, she rocks her hips out, pushing her pelvis against the growing stiffness she can feel, and Malfoy makes a throaty, stifled sound and his fingers dig into her back.