She was heavy and hot and clinging to him like a limpet, and Draco drew in a deep breath and let it out again, careful and slow, letting Hermione's warmth seep into him, settle into his bones and warm him through. Her hair tickled his jaw and her fingers traced idle patterns over his ribs, and the scent of her; all soap and clean, and that indefinable smell that was Hermione, wafted over him, helping chase away the lingering, clutching shadows of his nightmare.