Draco had his back to her when she entered and Hermione had the wry thought that seemed to be a theme in their, well, she hated to call it a relationship but there wasn't really a word for what they were.  Bonded, perhaps, though it only went the one way as far as she could tell so that didn't seem quite right either.   Whatever it was, he usually had himself positioned so he couldn't see her.  Today it looked like he was making coffee and she was amused to discover that his hair looked as bad as hers in the morning.  One clump had rubbed together into a cowlick that pointed up at the ceiling at an angle.  He had to know she was there, but he didn't turn.  He didn't acknowledge her at all.