'When his eyes shifted to her this time, his body followed, and he tapped his forefinger against one of the rose’s thorns. “You and I have more in common than them,” he said, nodding his head towards the graves. “We bleed and breathe the same, and perhaps that’s all that matters in the end. Before we join them.”
"Okay," she mumbled uncertainly. "Is that a cryptic and morose way of telling me that you don’t believe those blood prejudices anymore? That you’ve learned your lesson?"
"Something like that," he said, and his lips tilted into half a smirk. "If you of all people are calling me cryptic, Granger, I’m wondering if I should be concerned."
Hermione almost smiled, but she caught it. That would simply be too surreal. “Is that why you really come here?” she asked, her tone harsher than intended. “You know, you won’t find redemption in a graveyard, Malfoy.”
His half-smirk disappeared and he straightened his spine. “I’m not looking for redemption, Granger. I’m just looking for respite.”’