"M-merlin. Granger," he grinds out unsteadily, like a warning and a plea at once. A flutter twists deliciously in Hermione's abdomen in response, a surge of want that seizes her hard. She swallows dryly, and slips her hand down between them, fingers searching until they close delicately over the length of his penis, where it juts out against the pyjama trousers he wears. Nervousness washes over her in an overwhelming flood as she grasps him; hot and hard and real in her hand. Too real, she realises, remembering the revel where he'd...and oh Merlin she can't do this.