Oh god, this wasn’t good anymore. Except Hermione made no move to pull away. As much as this was sour and tainted, she wanted it; she craved it. Draco slipped his hand down between their bodies and pressed it hard against her mound through her jeans. Long fingers curling around, hand sliding so that the heel of his hand rubbed her clit against the seam of her jeans, and Hermione’s body responded with waves of sharp, desperate arousal even though she felt flushed and awful and ill. Draco was kissing her mouth as he pressed his hand rhythmically against her; not snogging, but brief, hot, open-mouthed kisses, his tongue dipping into her mouth and making her whimperingly greedy for more.