"What - what do you like? To eat, I mean. ...Granger?" She's silent, and Malfoy holds out his hand for his wand. "I'll be back shortly," he says, and she hands it over to him reluctantly, always just the tiniest bit frightened he'll turn it on her, even though she knows intellectually how stupid she knows that is. "Okay? Half an hour, and I'll have dinner. And I want you to actually try to eat, okay." Hermione nods silently, not really meaning it, and huddles up in the chair again, turning her face away from him and the worry that radiates off him like an aura. Food makes her feel sick, and the dizzy, light, hollowness that she feels from starving herself and going without is...nice, somehow. Satisfying.