"Lie down," he told her and she did it with a stifled whimper, but her mind raced as her head nestled on the pillow, eyes still screwed shut, knees still jammed together. His fingers trailed the outside of her leg, from ankle to hip, dipping around at the top to brush his fingertips over the short curls that were visible despite her squashed together legs. She jolted at his touch and then his fingers ran away down again, down from the top of her thigh to her knee. How many people had Draco slept with? The thought flashed through her head suddenly. The bloody princeling of Slytherin house throughout most of his school years, Draco would have been able to get any girl he wanted. Hermione knew he must have slept with Pansy at least. She told herself she wasn’t jealous, even as jealousy and insecurity swept through her in a sickening wave.