Draco made a satisfied sound when his lips met hers, and kissed her thoroughly. Hermione melted against him – melted into his tongue and his teeth nibbling her lip and his hand kneading her bum through her jeans. The rhythm she’d slipped into of how to move her hand on him skittered to a stuttering halt, all her focus seized by the kiss. Wet and hot, and his lips were soft, and his tongue laced shivers down her spine and sparked pulsing need that made her slick with arousal. She wanted him to touch her there. Wanted his hand – oh god his mouth – on her. Wanted to come from his tongue on her clit and his fingers inside her; but there was no way she could ask, face ablaze at just the thought of saying the words aloud.