"Okay." Hermione takes up the wand feeling oddly calm and disconnected as she stares at him. She's allowed to hate him. She doesn't have to be thankful he saved her life. He raped her. She doesn't have to feeling fucking understanding toward him just because he regrets it, just because he didn't have a choice. He still fucking did it. "Would now be fine?" she asks, and her tone is acid and disbelieving. He can't mean for her to actually hurt him – it has to be a bluff, he must be merely pretending, to make her feel better, safer. But she's calling his bluff, because she doesn't care for lies, even well-intentioned ones. Only...instead of changing his mind and telling her no, Malfoy swallows hard but nods once, tight and scared. His voice is barely audible; a whisper of frightened sound: