After Zabini Disapparated, Hermione tried to assess how it felt to be alone with Draco. Fleetingly and with unexpected timidity. It felt... the same, more or less. Except now, the fresh horror that had been piled on top of everything else threatened their balance. More than anything ever had. But she would see it through. Her life with him. Until the very end, until it came crashing down in a burning spiral of unimaginable agony. And yet, it felt right. Naturally. Why wouldn’t it?