"You can't know what you want. You can't – this – I'm all you have and I want y– I want...fuck." Malfoy's face clouds with anger, crumples and twists with a rage that Hermione can see as clear as day is directed at himself, and not her. She shrinks from it anyway. He takes a stumbling step back from her, fists clenching, and he looks like he wants to hit something. "Of course you – because I'm protecting you and – and we're stuck together – and... We are not in a situation where this is okay," he grates out at last, raking his fingers rough through his hair and turning to pacing shortly in front of her, back and forth with jerky, furious steps. "I own you, whether I like it or fucking not, and if we, if I...then I'm taking advantage of you, Granger. He forced me to...do that, and he might again, he might tonight for all we know, and – fuck. I'm not going to bloody well do it to you of my own accord too. Not even if you think you want it. Right now, you don't have the freedom to say no to me, so how the fuck can I trust that you really mean yes?"