It was getting late; they should go back downstairs before the others got any more suspicious than they already were. Draco had been thinking that for what felt like the last hour, but he still hadn’t said anything. He didn’t want to disturb Hermione. And she was so comfortable to spoon up against, save her hair, which kept somehow finding its way into his mouth even with his lips clamped shut. Draco fished another few stray strands out, and sighed. He shifted up on one elbow and stared down at Hermione, on her side in a ball with her hair obscuring her face. Draco brushed it gently away and her weary brown eyes shifted to his face, pink tongue wetting full lips.