Zabini’s mouth slips lower, coasting down the line down the centre of her torso, on his knees. She feels chafed and raw, Draco’s form is hazy before her, as Theo hooks his finger under the waistband of her underwear, and peels down her last line of defence. It’s only then that she realizes they’re soaked through, the fabric dark and wet as he pulls them down to her ankles. Embarrassment rears its head again, and she avoids Draco’s stare. How silly she must look, pining and panting, lost to a few kisses. She’d never thought nicely of these men in the past, and now she was falling to pieces because of them, crumbling into a whimpering mess under their mouths.