Draco wished now that he had said it back, without the I think, but he just hadn’t been able to bring himself to come out with it. The words had stuck in his throat, and when he’d finally forced them out, that caveat had been thrust in there. He thought he loved her. How very fucking romantic of him. In all fairness, Draco had never been in love before, so he wasn’t sure it was really love, but he was sure enough that he could have said it. He could have given Hermione what she wanted instead of that paltry second best phrase. But something had stopped him from saying I love you. Fear of rejection, even though he knew that was irrational. Fear of his words being used against him somehow. Sheer fucking awkwardness.