Hermione hesitated, and then grabbed her woolly jersey, pulling it back on. It was too warm for a jersey, really, but...she could smell Draco on it. A nice, clean smell of the plain old vanilla soap he used and the barest hint of sweat. A part of her wondered what exactly he’d been doing with it to get his smell on it – cuddling it in bed like some sort of creepy comfort blanket? The thought of him doing that was rather appealing, actually, but still a little weird. Very weird.