Draco was back again that night, continuing his attentions to her, never speaking a word. Hermione bit her tongue and gave him nothing. He left, but by then she was nearly delirious with want, and on the brink of begging for mercy. Her legs were stiff and sore from holding them still for so long, and between them there was a hunger so keen it was impossible to ignore. She was sopping wet and her arms ached and longed for a good stretch, her back hurt and she just wanted to lie in a soft bed somewhere warm. When Toffee had come for her and taken her to the shower, Hermione had waited until the House Elf had Apparated away to slip her hand between her legs and worked herself eagerly. Her climax came too quickly—she was left panting against the cold tile of the wall while the hot water continued to wash over her body. She did it one more time before finishing her shower, and when Toffee came to collect her and dry her off, Hermione found herself calmer than before, but as soon as she was taken back to Draco's office, she felt that frustration rise up from inside again.