"I-I need to change!" Her voice had a higher pitch than usual. "I don’t think it would be proper to be handed to the Aurors wearing my bathrobes." She added in a way too low tone this time. He took a deep breath, visibly annoyed. Then he seemed to think about it and as if remembering something amusing the corner of his lip lifted. He nodded. She knew what he was thinking. She knew he was suppressing a smirk. She knew the effect she could have on him. Because somewhere, in the deepest recesses of his mind, the real Malfoy was trapped, the Draco Malfoy for whom she had performed last night, wearing nothing but sheer red layers of fabric, the Draco she needed to bring back, the Slytherin snake that was supposed to wrap around her body, but had backfired epically.