"You going home. Of course," Malfoy says, mild bemusement evident in the crinkling at the corners of his eyes and furrowing of his brow as she straightens and turns to face him. Of course. That is a thing worthy of celebration, isn't it? Hermione pushes her disobedient hair off her face and it falls straight back again, and he takes a step forward – inside her personal space now – and with firm, precise fingers, sweeps the fall of hair back from her face and tucks it into the knot, one-handed. She blinks up at him speechlessly, lips parted and suddenly dry.