Hermione groaned and shoved off the wall, determined to right more than just her uniform as she jerkily redid buttons, yanked her skirt around her hips, and straightened her collar. She would have to stop this—whatever this was. She didn’t even like him. No, she’d just simply allowed herself to be sucked into this... this... tryst. And with him, no less. It was ridiculous, and reckless, and what would happen if word got out—she could already see the look of disappointment on McGonagall’s face at her behavior, and oh, God, if Harry and Ron got word of it, it would be horrifying. Thinking of Harry and Ron made her stomach twist. Horrifying wouldn’t begin to cover the danger of it. They would inevitably hunt Malfoy down thinking she’d been forced, regardless of what Hermione said, and—