Happiness - he felt it with her as if he were a fool again. He kept his chambers, as she did hers, but he knew the steps to her bed by heart. They tangled together, Hermione swathed in golden silks, while he cradled her against his somber finery. He adorned her skin in kisses, chaste and harsh; scraping his canines against the swell of her breast, and the curve of her calf. She laughed when he suckled on her fingers, her laughter turning into moans as he nipped at her skin and drew blood from her. It was ambrosia on his tongue, the honeyed taste like nothing he'd had before.