"Thank you, Granger," he says simply and too sincere. She shrugs, staring down at her bare toes, twiddling his wand around and around in her hands. She both wishes that she hadn't cried herself to a snotty wreck on him, and feels better for doing so. As if some small part of her burden has dissipated, and it feels easier to stand straight. She doesn't know what to say or do now, though. She feels as though something crucial has changed in the dynamic between them. Like one of the walls separating them has just been demolished, and while she has extra room to move, she isn't sure she likes it. And then Malfoy seizes the tip of his wand in a pincer grip to still her aimless twirling, and automatically she looks at him.