"Okay," she whispers, feeling uncertain and muddled. She smiles, and it feels just as forced on her lips as his looks. Malfoy tells her to start without him, if she likes, but Hermione shakes her head. She'll wait. She listens to the taps running in the bathroom, sitting at the end of the bed in the grey flannel pyjama trousers of Malfoy's that she favours now the weather has gone cold, and a white tee shirt shrunk to fit her. Idly, she re-does the folds at the bottoms of the too-long trousers, fiddling with the hems. Malfoy's bought her a few items of clothing, over the months, but she's never asked for anything. Hermione's used to his clothing – it does the job and it's...nice.