"We’re in a bloody relationship, Potter," he said roughly, voice filled with contempt for Potter that overrode the underlying affection for Hermione his words carried, and then he clamped his mouth shut again. Hermione looked over her shoulder and Draco expected another furious death-glare for interrupting, but fuck he was part of this situation – he had a right to stick up for himself and what he shared with her. But the look on Hermione’s face was watery gratitude, and she smiled at Draco and he felt a little piece of himself melt unwillingly. Draco didn’t want to be feeling those happy feelings in front of Potter. But fuck, she looked gorgeous when she smiled, even when she was blotchy and upset, hovering on the brink of tears. Gorgeous and grateful, and fucking distressed thanks to Potter.