There is a sound then – a rattle of the door handle and Hermione sits up straighter with expectation – and then Malfoy shoulders the door open neatly, hands occupied by a large serving tray. He kicks it shut behind him and smiles across the room at her without having to search the dimly lit space. His gaze is pulled to her directly, like a compass to magnetic north. He looks tired, but the small smile on his lips is genuine, as far as Hermione can tell.