She buries a moan against his lips as soon as he catches her for a kiss, feeling the precise moment he comes, the wave of relief that sweeps over her, the pleasure at being able to give him pleasure - and a small sense of victory for making him come first, ha! - but that moan turns higher pitched quickly. His fingers find her clit, her lips stay pressed to his, and she manages a few more, sloppy, messy kisses before she pulls away from his lips to let go.

She throws her head back as she comes, leaning back and grabbing onto his thighs to bare herself to the attack of his fingers, letting him have an uninterrupted view of Hermione Granger's orgasmically blissed out face. The parted lips, the closed eyes, the loud, loud sequence of moans, the shivers that run all the way down her body and -

When it's done, she collects herself, lets his thighs go (leaves nailmarks on his skin too) and cups his face for a slow, decadently slow kiss.