"I – I –" he begins, and can't continue, and Hermione says I know, and holds him tighter, mindful of his injuries, and he turns his face toward her – resting his forehead on the jut of her collarbone as she cradles him close, there on her knees. Malfoy's tears drip down over her skin, as his uninjured hand comes up to grip her wrist and cling to her, still lost in the daze of sleep and pain, and if his nightmares are anything like hers, vivid memories of all the hurts they've inflicted on each other.