The other world was the one that had always been temporary, not really real. A limbo, a train station, a fantasy world. Sneaking downstairs to see the prisoner in the cellar, heart beating hard and quick in her chest. It hadn’t been real, and Hermione was suddenly scared that whatever it was that had begun between her and Draco, it wouldn’t survive the destruction of the world it had been born in. Wouldn’t survive the transition from the dreamlike shadows of the cellar to the bright afternoon sun that flooded the dining room. Her pulse tripped swiftly, her chest felt tight. She told herself not to worry.