Hermione cringed away from the thought, goosebumps shivering into life over her body as the cool air wisped over her naked skin. She could hear Draco's bare feet padding over the packed dirt floor; the rustle of clothes, the snick of his zipper as he dressed. She just sat naked on his bed, not wanting to move. The feel of him moving inside her, hard and exquisitely intense, was still crystal clear, and Hermione clutched onto the memory fiercely, refusing to let it go just yet; clinging to the moment and trying to make it last. The way she had felt, and how Draco had been the one making her feel like that. Merlin. It wasn't perfect, but it was precious and important, and it was all that she had.