Hermione would be waiting for her. Lucid and awake, a toothy grin spread across her face while a hand caressed Andromeda’s chest. Palm spread across her navel, fingers tickling the skin above the parasite. She would lick away Andromeda’s frightened tears and nuzzle closely into the crook of her neck, a constant source of heat and unbidden affection. Her fingers had become experts at weaving through the coarse knots and tangles of Andromeda’s hair, would cap it off with gentle scratches behind her ears as if she were some common bitch.