by Juliette Harkin, when Malfoy swept in, shutting the door behind him. She jumped out of the window seat and stood, staring at him. He looked ill. Paler than usual and perhaps a little gaunt. He breathed deeply, inhaling the air, and Hermione knew from the flash of gold in his eyes that he was drinking in her scent. "You have to come to dinner. The Dark Lord has requested it." 