He leans over her, and scoops up his wand, putting it gently on the bedside table and settling not back in his makeshift bed, but instead at a chair at the table, with a book - leaving her armchair free for her to retreat to if she wants. And every night so far that is what she's done when she's woken. Except tonight, Malfoy leaves a lamp burning to read by, slouched in a chair with his hair licked pale gold by the light, and Hermione stays in the bed a little longer. Curled up on her side with her slitted eyes fixed on Malfoy, who she thinks must feel her gaze but ignores it. He sits and reads, the crisp shruk of pages turning at intervals almost lulling. Her eyes droop, the lids growing ever heavier, but she stares at Malfoy for as long as she can.