Three weeks they’d gone without sex, well intercourse. Tom had made best friends with his hand, often taking the opportunity to wank in front of Hermione, to watch her eyes dilate and her breathing get heavier as she resisted the urge to reach across and help him, even take him into her mouth, or to slip her hand into her underwear and join him in a session of mutual masturbation. But she hadn’t, she’d lie there and do her best to convince herself that she didn’t want to. And so far it had worked. She hadn’t done anything and it was killing him.