"Okay," she sighed and dropped into sleep, line a stone thrown into a deep pond. Draco allowed himself a moment to breath, to believe that everything was going to be alright. Hermione would live, and she would be with him. They would engage in some morally bankrupt behavior and some serious counseling and then, when they were healed and happy and safe, they'd do what he'd wanted to do since he was fifteen. Settle down, get married. Have babies. He'd probably have to fight her on whether or not their children would learn how to wield a knife, but he'd be willing to do that. Fight with her. Live with her. Securing her more tightly in his arms, sending up a prayer that he'd wake up and it was all still real, he drifted off to sleep beside her.