"No," he growled in her ear and she gasped and relented, that one word enough to melt her. Draco tugged his hand away from hers, and encircled her throat loosely in mimicry of a stranglehold. Hermione could feel her pulse fluttering against Draco’s hand, and the sensation of him holding her like that...knowing he could hurt her if he wanted...was strangely, intensely, arousing. She mewled helplessly as his tongue grazed teasingly light over hers and then his fingers gripped her throat and began to tighten ever so slowly. What was he doing? He wasn’t going to...? Murder in the pantry, she thought dizzily again, and her blood began thudding heavy and sluggish in her ears as his grip started to constrict.