"Malfoy!" Hermione scrambles up out of the bedcovers, onto the cold rug beside the bed in bare feet, and he is staring at her glazedly with huge grey eyes, his face all blood. Her hands hover in the air, wanting to reach out and steady him – touch his face, grab his arm, but she isn't sure where or how he is hurt. He coughs – there is the heavy scent of alcohol on his breath bursting in a suffocating cloud against her face – and then nearly doubles over, his hand flailing out and landing on her shoulder. He leans heavily on her for a moment, gasping raggedly, before pushing himself upright once more as she says his name again, urgent. The stench of alcohol makes her crinkle her nose as he lifts his head and stares blindly at her.