Hermione lets herself press against him, his warm body more than enough to keep her warm even as chills of fear and sadness run through her. It takes a moment for her to blink back her tears, fresh despite her stoic, pained calm, and she swallows, slowly. She doesn't want to talk about it, not really, but she feels like if she doesn't she'll end up suffocating on all the words, heavy and thick in her throat, like trying to swallow paste.

"I don't want to close my eyes. When I do I just see her. Not just the woman but Adela, you, all of it. You didn't deserve that and neither did she." The implication that Hermione might have, considering what she had done, goes unsaid, but she breathes out. No one deserved that, surely? No one.

"I love you," she tells him after a few long moments of silence, her hand moving down to grip at his shirt. "Are you going to stay with me tonight? Please?"