She hit the water with considerable force; disoriented, she had no way of knowing which direction to swim in to reach the surface. The black water was freezing, chilling to the bone. She kicked, hard - she had no air left after her fall, but she had to fight.

"The album," she yelled after him. "He told me you saved the photo album Hagrid gave him!" Draco froze, but didn't turn. "Those are the only pictures he has of them - his parents and Sirius. And you saved it."  Her heart was beating fast, and she wasn't even sure why she was defending him. It suddenly seemed so important, to thank him, and she couldn't explain to herself why.

Tears had started to fall down her face. Draco looked at her for a moment, then walked back to her, dropping down beside her. She reached over, pulled up his left sleeve, and ran her fingers lightly over the unbranded skin. Her tears were like saltwater rain running down his arm.

She knew she shouldn’t, knew that it would cost her later, but Hermione leaned her head against his chest, and felt the tears rise. His warmth surrounded her, and  she was certain he would feel the coolness of her tears on his skin, but that he would know why she was crying, and that he cared. She never wanted him to let her go, would never be able to pry herself away from him. He was her world.

Draco had sunk to his knees, shaking violently, his face turned towards the floor. His fists were clenched, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he shuddered. It took all his effort to speak, and even then, he had to speak each word distinctly, then attempt to regain control. "What- the - hell – is- a - Horcrux?"

“Draco. Malfoy.” Hermione launched herself at him, but he dodged out of the room in a second. He shut the door swiftly behind him, and when she reached for the handle, she found that he was holding it from the other side.

“Please."

Without another word, he pulled her forward into his arms and hugged her against his chest. He could feel her vibrating so hard that she shook his body; the sounds coming from her throat were raw, almost inhuman. She was drowning. As he pressed his face into her hair, she coiled against him, her body folding in upon itself. He tried to cling to her but he knew he couldn’t bring her back. She was gone.

Hermione felt her mind shutting down. Everything in the tent seemed distant, as if she were miles away. Draco turned to face her, but she didn’t answer.

“I thought you felt the same way.”

She slipped the note into her bag before climbing back in bed. She curled next to Draco, then moved her fingers across his cheekbones, his forehead. His eyes were wet. She laid her head against his chest and counted his breaths.

It was dawn before she fell asleep.

Mr. Weasley lay on the floor in a sprawled heap, his robes twisted under his body, his red hair matted with blood. Ginny ran to him but as Draco followed her inside, his eyes were drawn to the wizard by the fireplace.

Was he a ghost? He looked so solid.

Lucius Malfoy turned to them. His pale blue eyes shone from deep sockets. His yellowish and waxy skin looked garish in the firelight. His arms and face seemed oddly blurred, as though the pointed features had been erased around the edges.