"That’s my arsehole," he says in a serious tone, tensing his cheeks, reaching back to separate those "juicy’ moons as he’d called them and her eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. Never. Nope. Never has a man been as brazen as this. Never has one been so fucking sure of himself. It’s so refreshing and she knows he’s joking but his vulnerability is a gift. One that she needs right now. That hole tightens and Hermione chokes on the remnants of apple juice on her tongue.