Hermione’s lips found her own soon enough, just as a hand reached up to palm wrists and pin them above her head with a feral pressure that left her mewling and panting into the mouth above her. Straddled from above, hips pressing down against her own, thighs bracketing and holding her in place as the hand between her legs teased dew to spill forth. The swollen flesh at her apex twinged when Hermione ground down with her palm, rubbing and swirling with so much friction that she saw stars flashing out in the darkness behind her eyelids.