There is a rug heavy and warm over Hermione when she jerks out of a morass of uneasy dreams that border on nightmares, her heart pounding. She throws the rug back and looks around sharply for Malfoy – the bed is empty, blankets rumpled, and she scrambles up with a lance of fear. Where...? Was he taken? Has he–? Her mind races with half-formed thoughts of dread.