The movie was nearly over, not that Hermione had been paying much attention – it hadn't been her sort of film although Draco seemed to have found it interesting enough. She was all curled up against his hard warmth, his arm a thin, wiry bar of heat behind her, around her, and her temple rested on his shoulder. It was lovely and peaceful, and Hermione treasured these moments that were so close to ordinary that they made the war feel like a bad dream, only not quite because she was still scarred and Draco's hand was still missing, and so was Cho's leg, and...