"Yes," his voice seemed to echo in the cell, vibrating right along with every cell in her body. "Everything for that—everything that you are. You swear it, Hermione. Of your own volition under the oldest law." Something niggled in the corner of her mind. Malfoy’s—Draco’s  phrasing tugged at a thread an instant before his tongue swiped where his thumb had been, and she lost every thread but desire, nearly bucking off his lap.