Draco smiled at her. "You wouldn't be Pansy if you weren't being a bitch. Merlin knows why, but it's part of your charm, love," he said lightly – the sort of thing he used to say to her at school, when he was feeling kind and generous. Affection for her swelled up in him, memories of the past clear in his mind – everything they'd shared before life had begun to fall apart, mingled with guilt for all the ways he'd treated her horribly too, because he'd been an arrogant, nasty little shit. Lips pressed to the bottle, Pansy smiled at him waveringly at the term of affection, and he shuffled around on the bed so that they sat squashed side-by-side. She was cold and too thin, for all that she said Mrs Weasley was pushing food on her.