It didn’t take Draco long. Hermione hadn’t expected it to, after the weeks she had spent snogging his brains out and working him up. Both of them – it hadn’t taken her long either, although that could have just been his skill. But a few minutes of Hermione’s experimental ministrations, and Draco breathing was shallow and quick; his fist white-knuckled, jaw a tense line and forehead furrowed, teeth crushing his lip.