One bloody minute. He was terribly unenthused about being Apparated through time again, but he was equally unenthused about watching Weasley’s absolutely artless attempt at romance. Good on the daft bastard for having gotten her shirt off, but now what? Was he just going to paw at her like a bloody teenager? Draco knew exactly what he’d do in Weasley’s place, and that made what he was witnessing all the more painful. What a ridiculous waste of a partially naked woman, even if her voice was terribly annoying, and she was a rather intense nag, and sometimes her eyebrows did an obnoxious haughty sort of thing whenever she had adamantly decided that she was right about something. All that plus the fact that whenever she dragged him off somewhere, he’d inevitably nearly get eaten by some creature or another. Frustrating woman, although Draco had to admit with some reluctance that she wasn’t half-bad looking wearing only a brassiere—