She knew where to find him. Had always known where to find him, it felt like. She categorized her arguments as she made her way to the seventh floor, outlined different approaches, different scenarios, in her head as she went. She barely spared a thought at the tapestry before the Room of Requirement before it admitted her. As though he had been waiting for her, Draco stood with his back against the far wall of the room. Their room, as she had come to call it. The Room had been many things in the past but, for them, it always presented itself as a sort of studio-style flat. One large room, with a bed in one far corner, an enclosed bathroom in another, with a kitchen and a large living space filling out the remainder of the space. It smelt, of course, of a wood burning fire and old paper from the countless books that lined the floor to ceiling shelves. It filled Hermione with equal parts comfort and sadness: it had been quite some time since she had last been here.