He still looked too pale, drained of blood until he was almost as white as the bandage that wrapped his throat. His hand was nestled on the pillow by his head, curled into a loose half-fist, fingers twitching now and then. Draco's eyebrows were so dark in contrast to his palest blond hair, and his lashes cast little spiky fans of shadows on his cheeks in the dim torchlight. He looked almost peaceful – almost, and Hermione checked his forehead periodically, monitoring his fever. Draco was hot but still not terribly so, and so she simply stripped off the blanket leaving just a light sheet draped over his body, and he made a little snuffling sound and his brows scrunched briefly together, before smoothing into relaxation again. Hermione yawned despite the pepper-up, and tried to read, squinting with intent concentration at Innovations in Potions.