She could only passingly note her nakedness before the obscene slide of him against her flesh dragged her attention to each inch of skin ignited by his own. She felt the itching tingle of the same scouring, cleansing magic the demon had used before kissing her, the perverse contrast of being cleaned up for such a dirty act sticking in her mind before his hands and mouth drove the thoughts far, far away. The divide between the shame of her thoughts and the burn of his touch finally caved her knees as Hermione stumbled, then fell against her demon’s body more fully.