There was no time to further consider the magnitude of the moment before Draco's mouth began its torturous exploration of her exposed body. As she tugged at his clothes, practically ripping the buttons off in the process, she wasn't able to get very far before all coherent thought left her head. With a swirl of his practiced tongue down the soft flesh of her neck, over her sensitive collarbones, and down to her aching nipples, she was certain that she had already gone completely mad. All thoughts of stripping the wizard of his clothing slipped out of her head. She couldn't concentrate on anything but the delicious sensations he was able to pluck from her with nothing but his lips and his hands. Was this how it would always be? Or was the alcohol they shared only serving to increase the intensity?