Hermione stares at Malfoy mistrustfully for a long moment, searching his face for any hint of a lie, and finding none. Some of the sick tension in her stomach unknots as she nods slowly. "What about when it's not just us?" Her voice is little more than a whisper. Malfoy sinks slowly back to the bed, on his side so that his wounded back doesn't press to the blankets, his face stark and bleak.