The next night, she wakes from potion-induced dreamless sleep to low lamplight and Malfoy slumped over at the table, snoring faintly. She clambers out of bed and walks on silent feet to him, floor cold beneath her soles. He looks drained even in sleep, a little furrow between his brows, dark shadows under his eyes, the stubble dusting his jaw and cheeks catching the light. "Malfoy?" She reaches out and brushes her fingers over his shoulder. He jerks upright blearily, fingers closing around his wand and body coiling with tension, before he wakes enough to register Hermione.