Hermione gave Harry a few moments to acclimatise, to get used to the feeling of being buried deep inside her warm folds, then encouraged him to move with her own motions, thrusting her hips up at him until they soon fell into a rhythm that suited them both. Hermione's mind disappeared to the Moon, swept away in the overpowering tempest of lust that now powered through her. She became a slave to sensation, narrowed her perception to just that space that she and Harry were occupying in the world. A space of ferocious, indefinable pleasure.