"He's going in four days," Malfoy says without even a "hello" as he toes off his boots, bedroom door clicking shut and locking at a tap of his wand, before he strides across the room in his sock-clad feet and drops it gently on the table-top. Hermione watches him warily from her corner – he's an hour early and acting...different, and she knows there must be a reason. And she knows that she probably won't like it, whatever it is. There is a smear of blood at his temple that she can't stop staring at, and his face is grim.