Draco hadn't needed to know that about his father. He should never have found out; it was pointlessly hurtful, and – and then Draco stepped decisively toward Hermione and grabbed her hair, wrenched her stumbling against him, his right arm locking around her waist, his hand winding in her hair and yanking her head back so he could kiss her deep and consuming. Hermione moaned; the sound muffled by his mouth slanting over hers, his tongue slipping between her lips and setting off throbbing pulses between her legs. The room spun faster and tilted on its axis as Draco dragged her around abruptly, their lips breaking contact, and she clung to him, fingertips digging into his shoulders as he pushed her stumbling back with him until her back hit something hard and solid, half-bruising her shoulder blades.