"Just unzip your jeans and shove them down, all right? Theo has a habit of trying to...catch people in the act, the peeping fucking Tom, and we can't afford to get caught fucking chitchatting, Granger," Malfoy says urgently. "We don't have a choice on this. Believe me, if we didn't" have to, then I wouldn't, but I'm not willing to take any more risks than I have to, yeah?" But she can't. She can't. And when Hermione just stands there doing nothing, Malfoy hisses through his teeth and yanks her jeans button open, drags the zipper down. Her eyes shift to his face, looking for some kind of reassurance, and he tries to smile – a broken, wretched expression that shouldn't reassure her, and yet somehow does, so much more than a charming, calm smile would.