His hips begin to stutter and he pinches her clit, sweat trickling down his temples. There are shadows everywhere, slapping and scratching and soothing. "I’m yours, Hermione Granger," he murmurs in her ear and slams his hips against hers in one of the final thrusts, groaning low. She’s not sure if it’s his words that make her come, his rough movements, or all of it together, but when she does stars indeed dance in her vision. 