Despite the feelings the dream aroused in her that she wanted to pretend didn’t exist, it had been a good dream. A very good dream. Her chest rose and fell hard and her skin felt too tight on her, and she wanted to do things to herself that she refused to do while thinking of Draco. Hermione threw off the blanket and opened her window, falling back onto the bed and fanning herself. She was hot and flushed and sticky, but lying stretched out with the cool air bathing her skin only made her nerve-endings jangle worse.