Hermione lay sprawled on the bed, breath short and feeling dizzy and hot as Draco untangled himself from her and sat up, leaning his head limply against the wall. She could see the reluctance to stop in his eyes, predatory and sharp, but he just let out a soft sigh and his hand went to the crotch of his jeans, adjusting himself. Hermione ostensibly averted her eyes; she may have peeked discreetly, just a little bit. She dragged her shirt back down over her bare stomach – which felt all tingly now from his touch – and bit her lip, letting out a sigh of her own. She stared up at the ceiling, wriggling up the bed so her head lay on the pillow and her feet snugged into Draco’s lap. Hermione hadn’t been expecting that. She took a deep breath, trying to herd her scattered and lust-drunk thoughts back together. That had been... Hermione looked over at Draco, and saw he was watching her, lips swollen from their kisses and his expression taut, hungry – nervous.