"We can pretend, for a little while...can't we?" There was a quiet urgency threading beneath Draco's low words, and Hermione's thumb brushed over the jut of his cheekbone, her mouth pressing firmly to his. Warm and real, and something inside her floated free, taking her with it; pretending. Draco stilled for a moment when her lips met his and then he gave a little sigh and parted his lips to her, his arm – the maimed arm – drawing her nearer.