She was dreaming. This couldn’t possibly be real, he couldn’t be kissing her, not like this, not now. The kiss was rough, punishing, bruising—he bit her bleeding lip with his teeth, and she whimpered into his mouth. She didn’t know if he was going to fuck her or rape her because she didn’t know yet if she’d like it enough to pretend she hated it. He pushed his whole body into her, one of his hands going to her hair and fisting it roughly, forcefully leaning her head back. Hermione could feel something stiff and rigid lean against her thigh, but before she realized what it was, he pushed his mouth away from her, whispering into her ear, "You like it when I fuck you, don’t you, Mudblood? You just love taking my cock, choking on it, isn’t that right?" and she felt with horror and fascination as his hand roamed down from her neck to squeeze her breast, forcing a gasp out of her.