"You fucking arrogant...caveman! I’m not anyone’s! I’m mine," Hermione swore at him, frustration and anger all tangled up with that something she kept feeling, which she listed now in her head as lust, and want and need and like. Hermione grabbed Draco’s shirtfront in both hands and yanked him back towards her abruptly, roughly, fists all balled up in the cotton of his tee shirt. Draco half-stumbled around at Hermione’s desperate, furious pull, and she fell against his chest, her mouth crashing onto his, one hand reaching up and fisting into his too-long hair, pinning his lips to hers.