"But I would bet my left hand that none of them will ever like or trust me enough to protest my sentence. They don’t want to like me. They won’t allow themselves to trust me. They may tolerate me of late, and find me useful, Hermione, but don’t be so bloody naïve as to mistake that for liking. They’re using me. That’s all." Draco could see Hermione knew he was right, and that it hurt her to realise her friends could be so callous.