To thank him and in a vain hope that she could get her mind focused on the right wizard, Hermione climbed off the table when her legs could work again to drop to her knees in front of Antonin. For the first few moments, as her husband ran his hand gently through her hair, careful not to snag his fingers on a curl, she was able to remember where she was and who she was with. When his enthusiastic encouragements morphed into mindless moans of pleasure, she thought of the day she knelt on the dusty floor in the musty bedroom the Weasley twins used to share in the Headquarters when a furry creature ran across her foot. Everything kept coming back to Draco. She was a terrible person. If Antonin only knew what was going on in her mind...