But now, now the clock ticks onto 5 o'clock, and chimes five cheery times, and Hermione sits up straighter in the armchair, yanked out of her wandering thoughts. Malfoy will be back shortly, and anticipation always threads a little faster through her blood at this time, because what if he has managed to get to the drop point? Or rather: what if he comes in and says that Voldemort wants to see her? What if he has been discovered? What if she is taken away from his protection? What if, what if? That dull and ever-present background fear in her mind picks up just a little – sharper and more urgent. She shifts in her seat, adjusting the pair of striped green and white boxers of Malfoy's, which he has transfigured to be trouser-length for her because it would arouse suspicion for him to acquire her any ordinary clothing. So, she wears his clothing, sized down to fit her – today the striped trousers, and a black tee shirt that she wishes he hadn't shrunk down so much; it is tight on her, and she feels exposed.