So when Draco Malfoy kissed her, there was naturally nothing for it but to kiss him back. She couldn’t have him thinking she was afraid of him, could she? Of course she couldn’t. This reasoning satisfied her until the point when such things as reasoning became quite beyond her mental capabilities. Then she knew nothing but him: his touch burning through her robes as his hands skimmed over her body, his tongue tangled with hers in her mouth, his pleasing scent of expensive cologne.