"Stop," Hermione whispered against his mouth.
When she'd demanded to know what Malfoy wanted, she never imagined he'd understand it to be an invitation to take it. She couldn't even comprehend why he wanted it.
Her hands pushed gently against his chest. After he made no argument, she reminded herself that, for him, this was just a meaningless dalliance.
Walking away, she felt haunted.
Days later, his lips remained like a ghost against her own. She was never without the thought of his stolen kiss.
She tried not to question why a kiss, that meant nothing, seemed to last forever.