He can’t think, he can only touch and feel and maybe breathe, although he isn’t sure about that last one. "Granger, gods, what are you ... oh, fuck," as his hand makes its way under her shirt to touch her warm, smooth skin, and he wants more. He kisses her throat, and she gasps, her fingers in his hair. He gets both hands under her shirt and finds his way to the soft roundness of her breasts, rubbing her nipples with the side of his thumb. "Oh, fuck, Draco, yes," she moans, because of course Granger swears when she’s aroused. She’s perfect, and he wants to pull every filthy word he can out of her, wants to make her curse and beg and scream.