"'Night, Malfoy," Hermione whispers, and with her breath caught in her throat shuffles closer and takes his hand, fumbling her fingers through his. Malfoy's eyes flick wide open at her touch, shocky and wounded silver in the near-dark, but his fingers twine through hers readily enough, squeezing almost painfully tight. Hermione falls asleep with their hands interlocked, tight as a vice, and she doesn't dream of anything.