"Come and eat, Granger," he says, voice tired and a little thick, dabbing gingerly at his swollen mouth with the side of his thumb, and checking it for blood. Hermione frowns, annoyed at having her question ignored, her worry picking up. She has no intention of eating, but she gets up anyway. Malfoy's tee-shirt falls to just below her bum as she stands, his boxer shorts reaching mid-thigh, the satin slipping and sliding together as she approaches him. It feels strange to be walking toward Malfoy instead of avoiding him as she has the past couple of days, and from the little half-step he slides back with a wince, it doesn't feel natural to him either.