She shuts her eyes and breathes deep of his scent – soap and the barest hint of sweat overlaying the natural smell that is him – and traces her fingers over his exposed skin, mapping the landscape of his abdomen, and his chest, and shoulders and arms beneath her fingertips. This could be the last time, for a very long time. 'This could be the last time ever' creeps in at the edges of her mind. But Hermione denies that thought, shoving it back; the possibility is unacceptable. Malfoy will be fine. But she will memorise him, just in case Kingsley can't get him to leave soon, just in case he loses his feelings for her, just in case of... other things.