He rolled his eyes but said nothing as she moved closer. He seemed momentarily pleased that he could eat his potatoes without reaching around her hip to do so. But that quickly vanished when she tucked her legs up onto the chaise, tilting her knees toward his thigh. He glared down at her bare legs once before continuing to chew.

Hermione watched him from the corner of her eye as he ate. His wrist was light but firm as he handled his knife. He always finished chewing one bite before starting to cut the next piece of meat. She watched his pointed jaw work, remembering the taste of him there.

She drank deeply. And stared at her empty glass until he finished.

Setting his knife and fork down, he shifted the small table away from them and stared down at his hands, waiting. She put down her wine glass and offered him his full goblet. He declined.

She took a deep breath. "We should practice you initiating things."

He swallowed slowly. "Initiating."

"Yes. You…kissing me instead." He opened his mouth, and she cut him off. "Not on the mouth." She refrained from rolling her eyes. "But other places."

He cracked his neck. "What we do is enough, Granger."

"No, it's not! Flint always touches Penelope. Pucey is practically attached to Mortensen's neck. And don't get me started on Goyle." She climbed to sit on her knees next to him, facing his profile. "None of the other men seem afraid of their Lots but you—"

"Think I'm afraid, do you?" he growled, suddenly turning to face her.

She stared into his hot eyes, watching the way they flashed at her, lazily tracing her eyes and lips. Her breath hitched, finding he was hovering on the edge of something — the same cliff that beckoned her, pulling her in.

Swallowing, heart beating loudly enough to drown out her screaming logic, she slowly arched a brow. "I don't know."

Heat coursed through her, dizzy and overpowering, pushing her forward as she slipped one leg out from underneath her and tossed it over his lap. Slowly sinking to straddle him, holding his gaze. "Prove to me that you aren't."

She noticed how dark his eyes had become, almost black to the edges. A sharp inhale, then he lifted his hands and placed them on her knees. She felt her thighs tense. He slid his palms up, running over her exposed skin, rounding her hips and holding her there.

She braced herself on the back of the chaise, and before she could prepare, he was leaning forward, stretching to connect his lips to her jaw.

Her mind went blank.

His lips parted, and kissed her skin.

Viktor had kissed her jaw before. She hadn't liked it. His shaved beard had scratched at her, and she'd pulled away, claiming to be ticklish.

But Hermione's mouth fell open now, feeling a skilled pair of lips work their way over her jaw, towards her ear. Her eyes were glazed over, and beginning to flutter closed.