They walk there in silence, close beside one another – close enough that their arms bump together now and then. It's...nice. The only sounds are those of small nocturnal animals, their footsteps whispering on the dew-damp grass, and their breath, puffing softly in and out. Hermione feels like she can breathe easily for the first time in over a month, and it's amazing. She nearly feels like she can forget, the weight of everything that's happened lessening, just a little. Her cloak is warm, and her boots are warmer, carefully shrunk by Malfoy to the exact right size as he'd knelt at her feet, hair still damp from his hurried shower. She hugs herself and smiles faintly, eyes drifting up to the big round moon unhidden by cloud – the night clear and still and smattered with bright stars. Sometimes, everything is all right, even now. Even here.