"Hate...fucking bitch..." she caught the words sliding from his lips, and her stomach flipped unpleasantly.  Hermione wasn’t really angry anymore; she was lost in the feel of him touching her, kissing her, soaking it up and wanting more. Her anger had melted away somewhere in the exquisite mess of hair-pulling, biting, and rough snogging. But Draco was still spiky with anger, still seething and furious and taking it out on her in the most confusing way possible. Hermione wanted him not to be angry. She wanted...