As an experiment, Harry shifted his hand. It slid across smooth, warm skin, traveling from a flat stomach to the curve of a hip. Except for a small intake of breath, there was no reaction. Harry returned his attention to the movement of his lips. He waited for the familiar hands running through his perpetually mussed hair, the playful nibbling of his bottom lip, the tiny purring sounds that emanated from somewhere deep in the back of her throat. All he got was one hand gripping his forearm lightly and a slight puckering of the lips. Harry withdrew.
"You're really not into this today are you, Hermione?" he asked, taking one of her hands into his.
She shook her head slightly.
"Are you still worried about, Ron?"
She did not have to speak for him to know her answer.
"Don't worry," he said.
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't help it. What would he say if he knew?"
"Nothing either of us would want to hear."
She sighed, her eyes sad, and he knew that he had won for the moment. Never taking his eyes from her, he slipped the ring off of her finger before he leaned in again.