"No, you’re not. You’re just a fucking mudblood bitch," Draco spat out, and Hermione gasped in hot, thoughtless fury, thrashing against him, trying to get free so she could slap him for that. He knew what that word meant to her – Mudblood. Damnit, he’d seen the scars, and he bloody well knew how they made her feel, and he’d just thrown that at her anyway. Well if he was going to try to hurt her, she would return the favour, she thought, as she struggled to yank her arms free, and failed. Somehow she would bloody hurt him for that. And then his arm, which still lay just below her throat, slid up during her struggles, and without thinking Hermione tucked her chin in so she could sink her teeth into it; hard enough to break the skin. Draco yelped and jerked it away, his grip on her wrists slipping enough for her to pull them free.