They broke apart reluctantly to descend the stairs, hands linked together to maintain some of the contact they both felt starved of. Hermione led Draco to his bed and he lay back on the pillows with a sigh, Hermione curling into him careful of his injuries, so that her head was pillowed on his shoulder. They were silent for a while, Draco’s fingers carding through her hair and Hermione’s lightly tracing patterns between the bruises on Draco’s chest and abdomen. They were both too tired and sore to do anything else and neither of them were ready to talk about everything that had happened just yet. But this was nice. This was perfect.