"...yeah. I'm..." She steps forward blindly and presses her face hard against his chest, breathing through her mouth, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt at his sides. Frantic and clinging, her heart thundering in her ears as she thinks: can this be love? It doesn't feel like anything she feels – felt for Ron, not at all. What she had felt for Ron was warm and soft and tingly, a crush that had deepened with friendship and time. What she feels for Malfoy is raw and wrenching and frightening, born out of need, and she doesn't want to name it love. "I'm fine."