Something a kin to panic crept in. With Narcissa and the healer before her and Draco to her right, Hermione's thoughts began to spiral. She couldn't think, couldn't process while being bombarded by these continued epiphanies rearing their ugly heads. They'd tried to pull a fast one on their healer, but Dread and Narcissa always had the upper hand. And Draco, in some capacity, had feelings for her. He apparently always had. Was that while he was calling her a mudblood, making fun of her appearance, or writhing on his drawing room floor? Or did it start after all that, as he alluded to?