He was lucid, which was nice; Draco again. All spiky vulnerability, wrapped up in snark and awkward history and something that made Hermione want to cling to him. That made her pulse skip and her chest deliciously tight. But before long the first flush of enjoyment at being curled up with him wore off, and Hermione noticed his tense shoulders, and that his fingers brushing over her arm seemed more like he was trying to distract himself than idly enjoying touching her. She laid her palm over his sternum, slid it up a little and felt his heart beating hard and quick. She didn't know if it was the pain or whether he was thinking about the nightmares, or both. And she never could keep her mouth shut.