Draco tried not to think; enjoying the way Hermione curled into him like a comma, left arm and leg draping limply over him, her hair fallen over her face, the ends of it tickling his chest and shoulder. He floated in the afterglow, the moments of peace allotted to them – before long they'd be back at Godric's Hollow and these few precious moments would be gone. But everything was right with the world, for a while at least, and Draco would take what he could get. When Hermione finally spoke and broke the silence her voice was muffled against his chest, her breath a hot whisper on his skin, and he was drifting peacefully in half-sleep.