It was because of what he’d said earlier. Draco knew it. He should never have told Hermione the – the things he’d done. That was what this was about – it had to be. His fucking confession. He should have kept his mouth shut. Draco knew Hermione wanted to support him despite what he had done – when she said she loved him anyway, she meant it. He could see that in her eyes. But it mattered more to her than she had admitted. She had probably been dwelling on it while Draco had been drowsily soaking up Hermione’s warmth, the comfort of her presence. She had said it didn’t matter that much, but once the acts he had committed had sunk into her brain, it had obviously mattered more than she had thought it would. Draco couldn’t really blame her for that.