At the click of the lock, her eyes flash with heat, and Draco takes her hand in his. Soft, finer than his, with a callus from writing, and he guides it over his clothed erection. He wants to groan at the contact, that slight friction, but he cups his hand over hers and makes her move over him. "Look how hard you made me, Hermione," he whispers. "Look how good you are. Let me show you how good you are."