She went limp, like a wrung out rag, fingers uncurling stiffly from around her fistfuls of blanket, filled with the strangest feeling of half-satisfaction. She felt tender and sore and like she couldn't stand anymore, but at the same time, she couldn't help wishing she had gotten to come too. She bit her lip, Draco hot and heavy on top of her, his mouth warm on her shoulder, his fingers releasing her hip, and his heart thudding against her back, so fast. It was over. Over and done, and it was horribly bittersweet, but mostly, Hermione decided, as she gathered her scattered thoughts, mostly bitter. It had been sweet, it had been...overwhelming, but now she was sticky and sore in the aftermath, and expecting to hear Draco spit, get out, at her any second now.