He wakes. Uncursed.

The clock is chiming, the sound dulled by distance.

He sits up and looks around, and finds himself alone with the last person he wants to talk to.

"So." Malfoy swings his legs off the bed, setting his book aside. "What are you now? Potter? Snape?"

"Evans."

He doesn't mean to spit it out like a swear.

Malfoy raises an eyebrow. "I'd be going with Snape if I were you."

"I'm not you."

Malfoy smirks. "Clearly. Well, Evans, a bit of advice for you...."

He waits.

"Not everyone is going to be as accepting as I am."