And then they were up the stairs in her room – their room – and with the door shut and locked, Hermione turned to Draco and lifted her face, and he dragged her to him and kissed her, hard. She melted into him warm and giving, her arms around his neck and her lips were soft and her teeth closed over his lower lip, nibbling and sending thrills down his spine, her tongue lashing teasing over his. Draco's hand was on her cheek, his arm around her waist, and she smelt like roses and want, and she tasted like peppermint and made little mewling moans against his mouth. He lost himself in the moment, in her, not thinking about anything but that they were happy, and fuck she felt so damn good.