They apparate at the same time so he can’t say anything else to her, and as soon as they’re in the drawing room, he casts an incarcerous. Hermione stands less than two yards in front of him, restrained by magical ropes that glow silver. He tries to govern his thoughts so that he’s not distracted by the sight of her bound and helpless, but his magic, unsatisfied, is restless, pulling at him. His eyes meet hers, and he knows she’s experiencing the same thing. Take me, she thinks, and he is astonished to hear her without even attempting legilimency. Take me like this and then cut the ropes and take me again. Bend me over your desk and fuck me hard. Make love to me in your bed every way you can think of, but do it soon because I’m starving for you.