"Anything interesting?" she said, echoing how he tried to draw her attention last week.

He sighed, not looking up. "Just a bit about magic ink. I think. I can't be sure yet."

She came around to his side of the table and peered over his shoulder to read what he was reading. He pointed out the translation, but she couldn't concentrate, too dizzy from his scent. She hummed when she needed to, leaning closer, keenly aware of her chest brushing against his arm.

She heard his throat click as he swallowed. But then he was standing, offering her his chair and Jones's key in favor of moving across the room. She watched him settle into the couch and pick up the reading she'd started yesterday on Celtic magic.

Hermione bit her lip and tried to restructure her plans. She wanted him to know she was still interested. Perhaps she needed to be blunt about it. She pretended to translate for five minutes before setting her journal aside and walking to the couch.

"Mm?" he hummed into his book when he felt her presence in front of him.

Hermione bent at the waist, steadied her hands on his shoulders, and pressed her lips to his. His lips softened under hers, and his book snapped closed. She pulled back and looked into his eyes as they flitted across her face.

"Yes?" He smiled.

"I was just thinking… we could use… a break?"

His grin widened. "Oh?"

"Um, yes." She took a deep breath and crawled into his lap, her legs on either side of his thighs. His brows jumped, and the book was tossed across the room as his hands landed on her hips. "We've both been working rather hard, and I, um… I was thinking we could use… a little bit of… um…"

She broke off, her cheeks heating, but he just smirked at her. She rolled her eyes and leaned in to kiss him again.

His arms wrapped around her back, dragging her closer. She'd worn her denims ever since Lucius had last scolded her, but now she was regretting that her legs couldn't widen like she wanted them to.

Draco kissed her lazily, unhurried. His hands roamed over her back and slid down to her hips, gliding down her thighs and rounding her knees before retracing his path up. She threaded her fingers into his hair, pushing her tongue into his mouth and relishing the surprised groan that tore from his throat. He squeezed her hips and pulled her closer.

She let her hands float down, tracing over the jumper and down his chest. He tangled his tongue with hers as her fingers tugged at the hem, slipping under to touch his bare skin. He sighed, and she let her palms skate over his skin.

Running into his Sectumsempra scars, she traced the zigzag up, across his ribs and over the sharp angle under his heart. She kissed him as her fingers pressed into his muscles, enjoying the firmness of his stomach and the hard edges of his ribs.