"It was...good." And it had been. It hadn't been perfect, but it had been good, and even with the weight of what Draco had told her about his hand crushing down on them both, Hermione had come beneath him and around him, and for a moment she'd forgotten everything in her mindless pleasure, and she was glad they had done it. Draco had needed it, she thought, because even now, embarrassed and ashamed of himself, that brittle, sharp fragility had faded away. Now he was just shirty with defensive mortification; Hermione thought that was a small improvement, at least. Draco shot her a dark look, peeking from beneath his arm and scowling at her.