"It's me," a familiar voice says softly then, so close to her, and a hand touches her shoulder gently. Hermione lets out the breath she's been holding with a tearful, plosive sound and scrambles into a sitting position, staring disbelievingly at Malfoy as he crouches beside her. She is swaying and dazed, and the light from his lumos is too bright after days in the near-dark – she squints against it, her hand coming shakily up to shield her from the glare. She needs to see him – hungry for the sight of someone friendly after so long alone. "Merlin, Granger..." He puts out his lumos and she blinks against the afterimage the lumos left in her vision, bewildered and dazed, too dehydrated to even try to speak. "Granger, shit, are you – are you okay?"