"You're lying to me," she says disbelievingly and too-loud, taking another step toward him, so that only one more pace separates her from reaching out a hand, and sliding her gloved fingers over the lines of his cheek and jaw. Her foot skips on a large, flat stretch of stone under the leaf litter. He keeps his face turned away from her, all contrasts of shadow and light, jaw clenching and unclenching, and Hermione's pulse races quicker. "Why are you lying to me, Malfoy?"