She was panting, very nearly feral, when his mouth finally closed over her aching center. She moaned, long and loud, as his tongue traced a firm line from her opening to her clit. She shivered, writhing, when he moaned, fought something that came close to a sob when he leaned back, whispering straight into her, "I dreamed about this. You. The way you taste. Fucking Christ." He dove back in, tongue plunging inside her, hands holding her thighs wide. Hermione lifted a hand, threaded it through the hair at the top of his head, rolling her hips up, pressing herself closer to his mouth. He laughed at how obviously eager, how desperate, she was, the rumble shooting pleasure straight up her spine, and he drifted up, teeth nipping at sensitized skin. Her eyes squeezed shut when he blew a soft breath across her clit and popped wide open again when she felt a hand drift up, felt the blunt edge of his thumb press against her opening.