Hermione didn't know why Draco was doing this, what had changed his mind, but god, she didn't care. She was so happy. The taste of firewhiskey on his tongue made her mouth tingle, and her right hand slid around his waist and splayed flat on his back, her heel of her left hand's palm smoothing over the scars Bellatrix had carved into him; those almost-pretty ridged swirls on the left side of his abdomen. Draco shivered and his hand shifted, softly down her body, making her spine prickle. His fingers wriggled beneath the waist of her pyjama pants and over her bum – squeezing it and kneading it, and making her wriggle and gasp with nervous surprise. But it felt right, his hand gripping the curve of her arse, and she smiled into their kiss.