"Okay. I won't touch you. But you need to look at me now." She waited, hands hanging loosely at her sides, until Draco conquered his shaking and, with a deep breath, looked at her. Devastation was written all across his face. Guilt, fear and, if she wasn't mistaken, longing, rounded out the complicated emotions flying through his eyes. Hermione looked around, wanting him to sit as he still looked rather unsteady on his feet. Noting that there was only the narrow lip of the bathtub and the toilet to sit on, she stepped out of the room, keeping her front facing him (not willing, even though she wouldn't admit it out loud, to put her back to him again). Draco, who rarely missed anything, noticed how she kept from turning her back, and the guilt on his face increased exponentially. "Let's just... come sit out here. I have... questions." She didn't stop moving until her heel hit one of the couches, and she took her seat, waiting for him to follow. She kept her eyes glued to his face as he walked out of the bathroom, giving her a wide birth and seating himself on the second couch, across from her.