There is silence for a long moment, and then Hermione stifles a squeak and jolts in fright as the sound of glass smashing echoes from the bathroom, followed by Malfoy swearing loudly. Another thud, the tinkling of shards of what she knows must be the mirror above the basin. More swearing, vicious and furious and impotent, and several more thuds. She makes herself smaller in the bed even though he knows that she is in no danger from him; instinctively cringing, making a ball, her eyes wide on his shadow blotting out part of the light streaming under the door, moving back and forth, pausing occasionally. He says something again, a slew of muffled words; she doesn't understand them, but she knows the tone, broken and angry.