The other woman’s eyes ran over her. Hermione remained still, knowing that whatever conclusions she had arrived at as to her place in Draco’s life were perfectly correct. She still had the imprint of his fingerprints around her wrists from where he had held her down this morning as he thrust into her, and not three hours ago she had had his cum dripping down her thighs; standing before the woman he would marry, she found that she did not feel guilty so much as defiant.