Draco thought perhaps he still loved his father, and the possibility sickened him. Hermione must have felt him begin to tense because she wriggled so she was looking up at his face, her chin pillowed on her wrist over his chest, her expression one of sex-drowsy worry and sympathy. He sighed and shut his eyes, ran his fingers through her loose mass of hair, idly teasing out the tangles with nimble fingers.