"She'll do," he says as he looks back toward the cell door, his fingers curling gentle but firm against Hermione's crotch through her jeans, and the feeling of violation makes her feel icy and numb and feverish at once. She shakes, so frightened; because what if it had all been a trick and this is what is real? What if Malfoy really just wants to hurt her and it was all just some sick amusement, to pretend to be on her side? Why did she ever believe him? What reason would Draco Malfoy have to help the Order? She's an idiot, and she's terrified. Goosebumps rise on her flesh and she chokes and struggles, the line between what is real and what is not so ragged and confused that she cannot find it any longer.