It's enthralling—dizzying—intoxicating the way he smiles at her. If it were directed at anyone but her, it would be cruel, but she's addicted to the soft curve of his lips, and she wants them pressed to every inch of her body. "You're mine." Draco's fingers leave her gasping as they close around her throat, and her head falls back as she revels in the lack of oxygen. "You're fucking mine, Hermione."