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Summary
Much later that evening, with Draco nestled naked between them, Theo looked over at Hermione. Draco was fast asleep, curled with his arms thrown around Hermione and his feet pressed against Theo’s shins. In sleep his worried frown had disappeared and he looked years younger. Hermione was still awake, and she smiled sadly and reached over to take Theo’s hand, resting them on Draco’s side. He murmured in his sleep and snuggled closer to Hermione.
‘I hate seeing him like this,’ Theo admitted, and Hermione squeezed his hand in sympathy.
‘Me too,’ she whispered. ‘I wish there was something we could do to help him.’
‘I wish we could just keep him here. The three of us could just hideaway here, ride out the war and stay safe.’
If Theo hadn’t chosen that moment to sigh and fall back onto the pillows, maybe there would have been a clue in Hermione’s eyes as to what she was really thinking. As it was, there was a pause before she replied.
‘If only we could bring this stupid war to a quicker end somehow.’