She gets on the bed and pulls you after her, and she is not the heiress and not a defendant and not sneering at anybody.

Her hands stay on your face the whole time, which is the only part of it that is not filthy.

MalfoidNobody has done this to me. Nobody has — oh. Oh, do that again.

You do it again and she stops talking and her hips stutter and she comes with her mouth open and her eyes fixed on yours.

Afterwards, into your shoulder, very quietly, like it might not count if she mumbles it: thank you.

MalfoidDon't tell Mione. Not for my sake. For hers.