Suddenly, his arms were around her, holding her against him and tilting her chin up so that her next breath was lost in his. Hermione no longer had to wonder if his lips were as soft as they looked, now she knew. There were not gentle, either. Though, she supposed, Draco Malfoy wasn't the type of person to stand around and wait for something to fall into his lap. He was the type of person to take what he felt belonged to him – what he felt was owed to him – and in that moment it happened to be her.