He fluttered dark lashes at her, eyes unnaturally innocent, and then when her irritation receded, the innocent grey darkened with a wicked intent. He got to his feet, surprisingly graceful, and Hermione extended a hand up to him, let him pull her upright and she crashed into his arms. She went to lay her cheek against his warm chest and meld herself into his tight grip; to concentrate on breathing, and letting the shivering aftershocks between her legs die down, but Draco had other plans. He tilted her face up to his and kissed her forehead lightly, and then spun her around to face her narrow bed.