And Hermione was awash with hot senselessness the closer the moment came. Not only that, but her body was being assaulted in the best sorts of ways the closer she got to Harry's bedroom ... or their bedroom, as she'd have to get used to calling it. Every floor of the Palace, each tormenting step on the Grand Staircase, seemed to ramp up the sexual tension, the air itself dense with humid dampness. Hermione could barely breathe with it, and by the time they reached the Sixth Floor her legs were too unsteady to function properly.