It was surreal, listening to Draco Malfoy speak to her so softly, so casually kindly, in that familiar voice which not so very long ago would have only held sneering contempt for her. It was like Hermione was in a dream, and the whole world had been upended. Her mind skittered. She didn’t dislike him at all. Not at all. Hermione twisted her face away from his warm, hard chest and pushed it up, and her mouth landed clumsily, hard, against his.