Memories of Malfoy’s hand between her thighs flitted through her mind and heat consumed her. A fire lit in her body as she imagined his hand– a hand she’d admired for far too long– moving toward the button on her jeans, fingers deftly lowering her zipper and sneaking beneath the waistband, into her knickers, her own hand following the same path as Malfoy’s. He slipped two fingers through the apex of her thighs, collecting the wetness that had gathered at her entrance and moving his fingers to her clit, applying just enough pressure to be pleasurable and drawing small circles. Hermione gasped as her own fingers began to draw circles over her sensitive bud of flesh, every nerve ending in her body felt as if it were on fire. 