She brought their hips together again, and both of their mouths fell open, eyes wide and needy.

He groaned, and she gazed down at his lips. She thought maybe if she could have this moment forever, it could make up for the thousands of missed kisses and lost opportunities and unfulfilled pleasure that—

His lips pressed against hers.

She moaned instantly, wiggling against his front, trying to press closer through their clothes. His tongue was in her mouth again, and she lost control of her hands. They slipped down his chest, running across his ribs, sliding down and around his waist. His hands grabbed her face, holding the hair behind her ears as his hips began to thrust up into hers.

Something rolled against her just right, and she cried out into his mouth. He tried to recreate it as her hands squeezed his jumper in her fists, and her eyelids fluttered, her breath panting into his mouth as his lips passed over her.

He found it a third time, and she gasped, "Draco," against his mouth, and then she was tilting sideways and dragged down by a current until her back slammed into the soft cushions of the chaise beneath her.

Draco was above her, slipping between her legs so his hips could continue rolling against hers. His mouth dropped to her neck again, moving quickly, roughly, claiming her skin as his own. His hips thrust against hers, and it was so much like how she thought sex could be, how overwhelming, how it rocked her, that a high-pitched sigh left her throat.

One of his hands grabbed her knee, his fingers squeezing the bare skin of her calf and thigh, running smoothly over her. His other had a fist full of her hair, ruining her plait, tilting her head to the side as he sucked at her neck.

She could hear her heavy breathing in the room, accompanying the sound of the chaise squeaking, its wood groaning.

His tongue swirled on her neck.

"Draco… I—"

His hand lifted to her waist, bunching the fabric of her top and tugging it out of her shorts.

"Okay?" he rasped against her throat.

"Yes. Please—"

His hand was under her top, sliding along her ribs, his hips jumping against hers, thumping that spot she rubbed last night while thinking of him, thinking of exactly this—

"Oh, dear," a silky voice cut through her haze, freezing her in its familiarity. "That chaise is from the 16th century."

Draco was off her faster than lightning, tumbling to the floor, hiding his groin behind his hands. Hermione bolted upright and met the amused gaze of Lucius Malfoy from where he stood in the doorway.

"Father," Draco groaned. "It wasn't…We haven't—"

"It's practicing!" Hermione squeaked, yanking her top down, pulling at her shorts. "For… for Edinburgh. It was my idea—"

Lucius simply lifted a brow at the two of them as they attempted to stutter their way through.

"Do spare me your flimsy excuses," he smirked. "From what my wife has told me, it seems we need to get Miss Granger on some form of contraceptive." He glanced her over. "And soon."