Hermione closed her eyes and let the wind wash over her, the feeling of rightness etched into every pore. Draco had more than proven his love for her, not that she desired proof but regardless, she had it. Every time he brushed a finger across her chin or pressed a kiss to her temple her stomach erupted into butterflies, the pull of the invisible string had been so incessant over the past week that she almost cast a numbing charm on herself. Every spare moment she was thinking about Draco’s strong hands skating up her thighs or the signet ring adorning his finger vibrating against her centre like he did sometimes when they crested the trees and landed on a rocky outcrop for the evening, ready to lose themselves in each other's arms.