Harri’s hand clenched against her hair when she bit down harshly, nails scratching at her scalp. She moved lower, trailed her tongue down a flat stomach, chasing the curves of Harri’s chest and hips until, slowly, she pulled back and off their shared bed. Her fingers were adept at these manoeuvres, and soon enough, she had Harri’s trousers off and flying into a corner of the room. Harri’s anatomy down below the belt was still all  Harry,  and Hermione relished in the task of bringing them to stiffness. One long, broad lick of her tongue had Harri groaning, her hand shifting down to grasp them by the base as she began, slowly, to lick and pump in tandem. 