By the time he was sat cross-legged and staring at his packed trunk, the sandwich was gone, and Draco was out of things to do. He contemplated a nap. He had (he checked his watch) two and a half hours to kill somehow, after all. He glanced about the silver drapes of the dormitory. The idea of spending another second of that time in this dormitory made his skin itch with the need to escape. It had once felt like his home away from home, but now it felt like his holding cell for the times he was away from Harry.