"I just – I don’t want to let him take away what makes us different to him. We’re good. We’re not..." She didn’t even know what she was talking about anymore, but her head was filled with the memory of Draco’s fingers around her throat and his hateful voice in her ear as she squirmed and whimpered for him. He had twisted what they’d had between them. Turned it into something that right now Hermione could only see as a sick perversion, and Hermione had let him – she had liked it.