It’s simple. When she doesn’t know how to do something, she learns. When she can’t figure something out, she researches. When she isn’t good at something, she practices. When she still doesn’t understand something, she consults an instructor.
Twenty-seven years old and still a virgin, Hermione decides it’s time to employ someone to teach her the ins and outs of sex.
It isn’t because she thinks he’s particularly handsome, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the way the bar lights gleam fire in his blond hair. And it certainly isn’t because she suspects Draco Malfoy might be some kind of sex god. No, he’s just there, sitting at the barstool next to her, and in that heartbeat Hermione finds herself brave enough to ask…
