"There's nothing else to know," he snapped. His wine glass clunked down on the table.

She paused. "Pucey mentioned that we didn't look 'cozy.' He implied that Pansy looked more comfortable at dinner." She took a steadying breath, reminding herself why she had to ask. "In Edinburgh, being discreet means being comfortable with each other. Tell me what that looks like?"

His ribs stopped moving under hers. She felt his stomach muscles stiffen before he took a slow inhale and said, "Pansy and I will be more comfortable with each other by nature of our past relationship. So there was—"

"You mean, because you've had sex."

He exhaled sharply. "I guess, yeah."

Her throat felt dry as she nodded. There was no logical reason for her to think they hadn't slept together at Hogwarts, so she wasn't sure why the confirmation made her stomach turn.

"It's"—he cleared his throat—"it's not just that. Pansy and I were close. I'm sure you'd be far more comfortable sitting in Weasley's lap—"

Hermione snorted. "I have never done anything like this with Ron."

His lips pressed together tightly, and the hand holding his wine glass squeezed.

"So what do I do?" she continued. "What did Pansy do differently?"

He heaved a great, laboring sigh. "Your behavior on Friday was fine. We can keep doing that—"

"Alright then." She reached up and ran through the hair on the back of his head. Brushing her fingers along his scalp, letting the smooth locks thread through her knuckles.

His head jerked away. "What are you doing—?"

"Oh, you have a No Hair Touching Rule as well?" She rolled her eyes. "Relax."

He let out a ragged breath as her fingers dragged through the hair over his ear. She saw him pick up his fork again, but do nothing with it. Brushing through his hair like silk, she curved over his ear, her fingertips rounding the shell.

As he shivered, she thought of the way Goyle and Pucey held their girls close and just watched the card game. The way the strawberry-blonde had massaged Theo's neck and kissed his jaw for luck. The way she'd seen other Carrow girls smile and whisper into boys' ears or nuzzle into their necks.

"Relax," she repeated quietly. She brushed his hair over his ear again, her fingers trailing around and down to his neck, flushed pink with the wine. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the skin below his ear.

The earth ceased to spin in the heartbeat it took for his arm to curl around her waist, his hand splayed on her ribs. She parted her lips and kissed him again. His skin was clean and minty, and she felt his throat bob under her mouth as he swallowed.

And then in quick movements, she was pushed to her feet, and he was up out of his chair.

"The fuck are you doing?" he hissed.

She steadied herself on the table and watched him touch his neck, where her lips had just been. His mouth moved wordlessly as he stared at her. Maybe he felt like she'd contaminated him.