Draco had spent a good amount of time calming Hermione down in the alcove they had shared on a multitude of occasions now. He tugged her through the tapestry early that morning when her constant monologue about magical history had grated on Draco's last nerve; he plastered his mouth over hers, blocking any more coherent words from forming for at least an hour. As they walked into the great hall afterwards Hermione looked a lot less tightly wound and Draco could confirm that he had felt her body melt into a liquid state around his signet ring clad fingers not moments before.