Hermione doesn't speak, too busy gulping the water, and Malfoy fills in the silence with nervous words, his hips never ceasing that horrible undulating. She is shocked that he doesn't get an erection just from the pure physical stimulation, but he doesn't. "I will do everything in my power to get you out of here. Maybe if my master leaves on one of his occasional forays in the next day or so, I may be able to get you out myself without anyone noticing. I can't do it while he's here – he watches me too carefully. I'm his...protégé, I think." He laughs at that, low and unhappy. "I finally came to my stupid fucking senses and realised I couldn't keep going along with monstrous things just to save my own bloody skin, and that was when the Order told me to stay on and spy on my master instead. To ingratiate myself with him. So I try to get free of all this fucking horror, and end up being more part of it than ever."