After several minutes, when her heart rate had still not returned to normal, she shuffled through the contents of the drawer in her nightstand. She grasped the blue bottle of Calming Draught and held it in her hands. Why was she so unsettled by Malfoy? Her mind flashed back to her barely clothed body and the way his hand gripped her waist. She could still feel the warmth radiating off his chest and smell the fresh pine scent of his skin. The memory brought heat to her cheeks once more and her heart raced viciously. A dark thought then crossed her mind: Malfoy’s touch was the closest she had come to feeling real comfort in quite some time.  Fuck . Internally, she swore on Godric Gryffindor's grave that she would not dwell on this memory a second more. Without hesitating, Hermione downed the Calming Draught.