Washing Draco off her skin while she'd cried, except it hadn't worked. She smelt like vanilla instead of firewhiskey, and her skin was clean and pink, but she could still feel him. His hand clamped into her hip, her face jammed into the suffocating blankets, him moving inside her, hard and deep until it ached and throbbed with the most delicious pleasure. She shook herself as the memory made the feelings come back, and took a deep breath.