The cell stinks of fear, blood, and roasted meat as she drinks the water that is left – a meagre glassful – and eats a large bowl of stew; few of the women had been capable of eating. Her stomach roils, but she keeps it all down by trying to think of anything but here, eating mechanically while she determinedly pictures long-ago dinners at the Burrow. She isn't sleepy although she is wearier than she has ever been in her life, but she curls up in a corner anyway, buried beneath rags, and tries to sleep. She prays that Malfoy has been able to do something, anything, toward getting her out.