Draco lowered his gaze, knowing that for the second time he was behaving more guilty than he wanted. If he thought about it, he could still feel the touch of Hermione’s lips. After more than twenty years, he had almost forgotten how soft they were, how relaxing it was to be cradled by her, to forget everything for a while. He was almost sure that besides kissing her, he had also proposed to her, but he wouldn’t put his hand on the fire for that. He had been so tired and drunk that he might have imagined everything. The only thing he was sure of was that she had eventually rejected him.