Malfoy emerges from the bathroom in fresh trousers and undershirt, his hair damp and spiky and the stubble on his jaw still unshaven, and his expression is faraway and lost in thought. Hermione watches him from her seat at the small table, where she pretends to read a book but can't seem to focus on the words running over the page. He looks so tired – too tired – and she wants to tell him to just let it go. To just take her away now and go with her. To stop being a spy and start fighting – openly, with people at his back that he can trust, without worrying that his every move could get him killed, without being forced to commit heinous crimes in the name of the light.