After a few long, lazy minutes, Hermione got off of him and walked to the window once more, where she lit a cigarette from the pack on the table, looking outside at the rain, lost in silent contemplation. Draco followed and lit his own, grimacing. They hadn’t been able to procure their usual brand and these ones tasted like shit. But the quality of the tobacco they consumed wasn’t their highest priority. At least they were safe here. For now.