And then Draco had arrived, and reality had forced its way through the cracks in Hermione's shell in all its painful, vivid glory. Since that day at the Manor, when the Snatchers had caught her, Ron and Harry, and... Well, since then, the most normal Hermione had felt was when she and Draco were in the cellar alone together. Before Karkaroff had arrived with Viktor and Nikolai and Yuri and the others, but after Hermione and Draco had started their secret, tentative relationship, when they would play board games and discuss Muggle books and argue and sometimes snog; when Hermione would come back from missions and take hot chocolate into the cellar and Draco and she would analyse what had happened. She had found hope again, and hope was one of the most dangerous things there was. It meant you could be hurt. She lost track of her thoughts, dozing for a time, half asleep and warm in Draco's arms.