" I miss him so much Blaise. I miss the way he looked at me when he use to have to force me to leave the library and the way he kissed me…. I remember the first time he kissed me…. I mean … really kissed me… with out any of the violence we had come accustomed to he just … kissed me…. It was about three weeks after he had been poisoned when he finally made it to America…..he just… everything was so different."

She opened her door and found George standing there with the kind of grin on his face that she had started to get exasperated at if only for what it heralded.

"What is it?"

"You will not believe who has just showed up in amaerica and has come in placement under your command."

"Parkenson? Zabini? Someone else who hates me that I don't know?"

George grabbed her hand excitedly and pulled her after him.

When she reached the front gate, the younger Aurors were welcoming him to their camp. When he saw her, he glanced around at the staring people and put his things down. Then he went straight to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Hermione stared at him wordlessly.

"Good to see you're in one piece. After what I'd heard, I thought you might be missing an arm or an eye by now."

George was still grinning. He leaned towards Hermione's ear and whispered, "He's been temporarily assigned here while we look for the necromancers. I didn't clear a bunk for him. I expect that..."

"You must be tired and hungry," Hermione interrupted, a little louder than she meant to do. "A bit of bread, maybe, and a nap? After that, we can talk about your duties and the rotation of chores. George, would you mind showing him his... my..."

"Certainly," George answered. He patted her shoulder and waited for Draco to pick up his things and follow him inside.

She was left staring after them wondering why on earth Draco would let himself be put under her command. The past few years had shown he prized his solitude and especially his time away from her. His plan might be to undermine her recent deeds by trying to embarrass her in front of the group. He could publicly make a point of disobeying her as a commander and giving her orders as her lord and husband. Luckily, she knew her people would stand by her.

A woman who saw the exchange sidled up next to her.

"Who was that?"

"That was my husband."

"Aren't you pleased to see him?"

"Thrilled," she muttered.

When he accepted his first rotation of chores at the mess without a fuss, she wondered if he had not been cleared of poison after all. They talked about how he would assist Collin in organizing the men for work and conducting the patrols. She asked If he though sending undercover scouts to see if they could find information was a good idea . Draco told her he thought it was a good idea.

"No, really. What do you think?"

"I said it was good, didn't I?"

"Yes, but you can't really mean it. You want to recommend that they keep searching and stay here where is safe and comfortable and that we shouldn't be sending our aurors into the hands of a dangerous wizard and … I for a know it all … I don't really now anything."

He frowned. "Do I?"

"You said as much when you heard about my assignment in April."

"Maybe I did. But that was then, wasn't it? Why are you being so disagreeable?"

Hermione started to walk away. "I'd rather not argue in public. My room."

"I was not aware we were arguing," Draco replied. "I thought I was talking and you were refusing to believe the words out of my very mouth."

She did not speak again until they were safe within her quarters. When she looked at her narrow bed, she realized she would have to share it with him. It wouldn't be the first bed they'd shared, but she had grown accustomed to his absence. Her body was now used to pain inflicted naturally, consequences of her insistence in doing all her duties the muggle way. His very presence set her at odds. So many years and she still did not know how to deal with him. He was acting too nice. With pride like his, how could he place himself under her command?

"I told Potter that I was going to be the paradigm of a noble house in favor of blood equality in order to be assigned here." He leaned so close that she instinctively leaned back to avoid bumping foreheads with him. "So that's what I'll be whether you think it natural or unnatural."

"Why did you want to be assigned here in the first place?" she demanded.

He started to crowd her backwards. With each step he took, she retreated another step. Three steps from the wall, Hermione grew fed up with the show of intimidation and stopped where she was. She narrowed her eyes at him, willing him to stop if he knew what was good for him. Draco continued toward her until they were toe to toe.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Draco did not respond. Instead, with unblinking eyes, he leaned in and softly pressed his lips against hers. His lips were parted and she could feel his breath entering her mouth. His face was so close that her vision blurred trying to focus on him, but his pupils did not move at all. He moved backwards until he came into focus. She immediately noticed the absence of warmth where his lips had been.

"What was that for?"

He appeared lost in thought. Then he licked his lips and said in a low voice, "I'm your husband, aren't I? Isn't it within my right?"

The floor was opening up beneath her. Was anything what it was supposed to be? She frowned and tried to keep her voice steady. "I thought we had an understanding."

"It was bad, then?"

Hermione became as close to flustered as she ever got: she looked at her feet and continued in a frustrated voice. "What? No. I mean..." She shook her head. "I don't know. You caught me off guard."

"Again, then."

His hands were trembling—or maybe she was imagining it—when he cupped her face and brought her closer. Hermione leaned forward, her body as taut as a harp string. Draco's swallowed once before he parted his lips again and kissed her. She closed her eyes at first, but the kiss ended abruptly.

"Look at me," he whispered through clenched teeth. "You close your eyes and I could be anyone to you."

So he still thought of the her school girl crush on Ronald even after everything they'd done. She had not seen Ron for a long time; the redhead had been out of her thoughts completely what with everything else going on in her life. Looking into Draco's intense blue eyes, she saw the hatred he bore inside-perhaps for the humiliation given him on her behalf or perhaps just for her. Hermione dug deep in her suddenly aching chest and forced out the courage into the light, as harsh and hot as it was.

"You're my husband," she told him firmly. "Who else would I kiss?"

She could not read his reaction to that, but he paused before continuing.

He leaned toward her again and then there was blessed contact. Both pairs of eyes remained open again, the hot air from their nostrils mingling. She concentrated on the feel of him, the taste that was nothing, but distinctly him. He smelled like fresh laundry aired outside near a pine forest, or maybe that was her. She didn't know anymore what was her and what was him. Her hands reached up and covered his hands still holding on her face. Suddenly, Hermione saw his eyelids instead of blue irises and his hands were slipping from her jaw down her neck. She shut her eyes. Then, she moved her hands with his until they fell away from her body and their hands touched as loosely as their lips.

His lips were gone again, but his forehead remained pressed to hers. Hermione's head was swimming. He could read her confusion in the slight pulsing squeezes in her hands. He turned his head away and sighed.

"Draco."

"Yes," was the muffled reply against her hair.

"What's happening?"

He stepped back and shrugged, letting her hands go. "Nothing, nothing."

After that, he left the room without looking her in the eyes. Hermione went to the window and stared outside. The clouds and the horizon had no answer for her either, but she watched them like she could see her future. She saw reds and oranges, verdant trees dappled with shadows, and the dusky earth with people milling about below her. None of the colors or the motions had any meaning, yet Hermione desperately wanted it all to mean something a lot like love.