Hermione blushes and thinks of one night on her Prefect rounds, the amount of times she’s found Draco outside the Slytherin Common rooms with his friends, ushering in more booze, or just talking animatedly, his cheeks flushed, eyes flashing with something else, something dark and teenage that she never really expirenced. The time she’d found him and Pansy, on one of the "on’ stages of their on off relationship, and she coiled all around him, hands in his hair, moaning, muttering filthy things as she kissed him. She’d waited a moment before giving them detention, and she didn't know why then. 