Following the train of thought, Hermione’s mind flicked back to the memory of waking, curled into Snape’s side on the lounge Christmas day after he had read her to sleep. A tingle ran through her. After she had found herself in his arms, she had snuggled closer and simply fell asleep once more. The next time she woke up, she was on the lounge by herself, her head resting on a pillow that had been slipped beneath it, and the throw rug was tucked snugly around her.