This is wrong, it’s so wrong.  Ron’s hands gliding all over her body. Featherlight touches. Echoes of a poisoned past. His gentle kisses, the way he had looked at her. With adoration and abandon.  No, it’s not, his voice answered. Phantom words from beyond the grave. Her red dress on the floor. The way she had thought of Draco the entire time. The way she had closed her eyes and imagined it was him. But every touch, every kiss, every moment had been crooked. Draco didn’t touch her like that. He revered her in an entirely different way. Claiming her, consuming her, body and mind and spirit. In exactly the right way. 