He liked when she was aggressive, that much she knew—those unfathomable dark eyes always spiked with heat and hunger whenever she pushed him around, shoving him onto a bed or a couch or a floor. More importantly,  she  liked it when he was aggressive with her. He was always so reluctant to touch her, it seemed that by touching him, she gave him permission, and by touching him roughly, he was able to return the favour. Hermione wondered how often women had touched him before now, roughly or otherwise.