Hermione sauntered toward him and slithered into his arms. His heart was racing again and he wondered if it would give out the next time she touched him. She grinned at him mischievously and slid her hand between his thighs. He hid his face in her hair; he wanted to tell she was beautiful, but it came as a croak which she mistook for desire. And it wasn’t so far off, but knowing that tomorrow she would look at him with hard eyes because he was nothing like the men she loved, kept it slow.