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XXIII: Nine of Swords

It didn't matter how many times Hermione told herself that the path was warded.

It didn't matter that she knew that she was as safe as could be while in the forest. Likely practically invisible as she made her three minute walk to the destination as she followed the rabbit with its glowing halo of light around its fluffy head. Hermione glowered as she watched the white fluff bouncing. It was weird to watch. Mechanical, automatic, moving in a straight line without natural deviation. With a halo of bright lavender light that made the simple creature look otherworldly.

They moved through a narrow grassy road, past a large split tree, until finally they came upon a clearing.

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw him.

His silver-blonde hair glistened as slivers of sunlight cast their brilliant rays on him.

An overwhelming sense of tranquility flooded through her. All her irritation, anxieties, and fears dissipated into the air as she took the sight in.

She was stunned by the vivid colors and natural beauty that she found herself faced with.

Though the physical qualities of the meadow was similar to the rest of the forest. Clear, crystal water flowing through lush green earth. Picturesque, like all natural water sources can be, there was an unusual quality about this area in particular. It was like beauty hung in the air and clung to every surface. Though it was daytime, she could see little sparkles of gold floating and fluttering in the air, sometimes clinging to trees and rocks. The way the trees swayed against the wind was like a rhythmic, elegant dance. She could see the clear, crystalline, almost purple-tinted water that cascaded over smooth gray stone and filled Hermione's nostrils with the scent of the recent rainfall.

Steam was rising from the pocket of space that Draco inhabited, and she came to the realization that he had clearly enchanted the space around him to increase the environmental temperature to something much more pleasing than the frigid cold that she had grown used to. She could feel the warmth ebbing and flowing toward her, heating up her bones from the inside as she took in a deep breath, filling her lungs with steam.

And then there was him.

Though he was still quite a distance from her, she could see the slight flush to his cheeks as the hot water brought color back into his face. His hair was slicked backward and glistening with moisture; she could faintly make out where the strands separated as he had raked his fingers through the silver-blond. He was unclothed from what Hermione could tell. His broad chest, rising and falling with deep relaxed breaths, was covered only by the lapping water and swaying clouds of steam.

His eyes were closed, forehead smooth, and head tilted back. It looked like he was resting, perhaps sitting, against the smooth grey stone, overtaken by bliss. Perhaps he was asleep.

She hoped he wasn't. She wanted to see him alive, alert, and animated.

"Enjoying the view, Granger?" his lips moved, his voice carried, but his eyes remained shut, as if undisturbed by her.

She jumped, not expecting him to move as though she were staring at a painting that had just come alive. Her skin faintly stung with heat as a blush blossomed on her face. She dropped her gaze, her focus suddenly set on the the white rabbit that now stood in place, mere feet from him. The light around the rabbit had faded and left the creature in a trembling state as it stared immovably at Draco.

She stepped forward, closing the space between herself and the hare.

"Could you please not enchant the rabbit to be your slave?" her tone was defensive, compensating for her embarrassment of staring so blatantly.

His eyes calmly opened and he reached for the wand before casting a simple Completion charm on the rabbit who suddenly shook awake. The rabbit quickly darted away, hopping faster than Hermione had seen it. It hadn't left her side for days - since the time she had spent gathering ingredients for her burn salve. Her suspicions seemed all but confirmed.

"It was enchanted this whole time, wasn't it?" she accused. She wasn't angry, it felt like anger wasn't an option at the moment.

"Hello to you too, Granger," came Draco's silky voice.

Her chest tightened suddenly and her breath became caught in her throat as she saw him. His eyes were vibrantly blue - bluer than she remembered, the silver taken over by the amount of colour. The pupil-less, unmoving, unfeeling creature was gone. His gaze on her pierced her, debilitating her.

It wasn't his gaze, it was him.

The sudden sense of relief flooded through her, and she wanted to fall to her knees and cry and thank the Gods that he was back. Instead, she swallowed hard, mustering the overwhelming feelings down into her stomach in a feeble effort to assert control over her reactive body. Hermione was not particularly known for asserting control.

"It-It's not safe out here."

"I've placed wards and Disillusionment Charms all around us," he responded calmly, his voice somewhat weak from lack of use, though to her his words sounded like music after so long in silence.

"Among other spells," she responded. Upon closer review, she could see the steamy water that he had clearly enchanted to flow at a much hotter temperature, and the river-rocks that had been enchanted to stack atop one another, providing a comfortable, smooth bench for Draco to rest on. It was difficult to believe they were still in the Forbidden Forest. It felt wrong to witness this beautiful a sight in such a wild and dangerous space.

Draco's gaze lingered on her curiously, "You're pale as a ghost, Granger. What happened?"

Instinctively, Hermione touched her cheek before releasing the breath that she had been holding onto.

"N-nothing," she responded.

Her mouth still felt dry, and the tightness in her stomach had not loosened. Despite the joy of finding him safe and free from the grasp of Death Eaters, the sight of him here, healthy, in a hot, bubbling, flowing stream caused Hermione's nerves to fray, and the panic of waking up to an empty bed had caused her undeserved anxiety. She was undeniably on edge.

Draco raised a skeptical brow.

"Sit," he urged. Without having to think about it, Hermione obeyed and sat down on the stony ground next to the flowing water.

"Are you still mad at me?" The words broke her daze as they sunk in.

Mad at him? She looked at him, confused.

"You don't remember getting upset with me and calling me insensitive? Or cruel?"

"Oh," she winced at the words.

How could she forget the fight they'd had the night he decided to leave. Though the days had blurred together - Hermione could hardly recall one day from the last - yet being reminded of the things she had said to him, causing him to leave and inexplicably be injured only added to her overall stomach ache.

"No," she responded, "I'm not mad at you."

He nodded, his expression softening as he sunk deeper into the water, letting the liquid flow over his shoulders. His skin glistened with the water. She wanted to reach out and touch him, feel his warmth. Press her head against his chest as he spoke so she could feel the vibrations of his words against her cheeks.

"You scared me," Hermione murmured, changing the subject as she reached instead to touch the flowing water. It was warm and felt so comfortable against her skin. "I woke up this morning and didn't know where you'd gone, I thought something happened to you..."

"Sorry, I know," he murmured, wrapping his thin long fingers around the silver sage necklace that rest in the center of his chest. "I had to get out of that bed as soon as I could."

"What was it like?"

She didn't have to explain herself further as his gaze fell on the water, toward its winding and twisting path downstream.

"It was like being lost in your own body," he mused quietly. Though he was distant, this was the closest she had felt to him in days. "Like being trapped in a prison without any chance of escaping. It was horrid the first few days, but I ultimately found some distractions…"

"You look like you're doing much better," Hermione said, attempting to draw him out of his reverie. She wasn't sure if he meant to be mysterious with his statement. Draco nodded, glancing back at her.

"I feel marvellous," he responded with a dry smile. "I had been starting to get some of my senses back over the past few days, but this morning when I woke up, I felt... normal. Well, not normal. Everything is more. It's hard to explain, I feel so sensitive." He ran his fingers over the top of his arm and watched as the light hairs rose while goosepimples formed on his skin.

"This is going to sound like a silly question," Hermione warned, "but did you hear music while you were - er - in that state?"

His expression flickered with a surprised quirk of his brow to a small, controlled smile at the corner of his lips.

"I wasn't sure it carried to you."

She stared at him, willing him to share more. How could he even know that it would carry if it was a side effect to the poison? And why was he smiling? Hermione got the feeling that Draco was being oddly tight-lipped about the whole thing, and decided to uncharacteristically drop it. There was plenty of time to probe later.

"You can see alright?"

He nodded, his gaze on her face before flickering down to her fidgeting fingers.

"You're being rather nice to me today," he stated without meeting her eyes.

Ouch. Whether he meant for it to sting or not, she could feel the stab of his words on her conscience like a tiny pin-prick that struck deep.

"Your hearing seems better," Hermione continued, ignoring his statement.

"My hearing is perfect. I'm all caught up and ready to take my NEWTs thanks to your daily lessons."

"You could hear me?" Her brows rose with surprise.

"Not always. Sometimes my hearing would fade in and out. I could hear you talking to yourself, asking me questions like I could answer you. It was sweet," he said with a smile, "it was like I wasn't alone."

"You weren't," Hermione replied quietly.

His gaze ran along the brook's edge, avoiding her face as they sat in the silence. Her cheeks grew warm and her eyes followed his as a dense mist drew upward, lingering around her, and seducing her with the hot humidity. Without second thought Hermione moved to undo the straps of her black Mary Jane shoes, tossing them and her socks to the side before dipping her bare toes into the water. As her tender skin came in contact with the steaming stream, Hermione released a heavy sigh, her lids falling shut as her shoulders dropped, the weight of her body sinking into the ground.

Draco ran his hand through his wet blonde hair where the strands remained slicked back. His pointed features and sharp jawline appeared as handsome as ever. Life had brought color back into his face, and Hermione's regular meals had issued flesh to his bones. His eyes caught hers staring. Somehow, she had forgotten about his intensity. The charisma that was both entrancing and overpowering. How had she ever gotten used to it?

Silence floated around them and Hermione dropped her gaze and bit her lower lip, fidgeting anxiously with her fingers once more. She couldn't deny the awkwardness that clung in the air around them, and yet a familiar tension continued to reverberate between the two. It was difficult to know what to say. It was impossible to know how to feel, knowing everything Harry had told her. She held this heavy secret. She knew everything, and he had no idea.

"Would you like to join?" Draco offered, watching her mindlessly kick her feet as the water responded with deep, splashing ripples.

"Er…"

Hermione considered it.

Though her instinct would have been to decline, she felt a strong twist of envy at the sight. She hadn't felt the sensation of a hot soak in a terribly long time, having to resort to freezing cold Sottish spring-water or Scourgify spells to maintain her hygiene. She gave the running heated brook a thoughtful glance before bobbing her head with a small nod. Without provocation, she saw as his hand lifted from the water to fully cover his eyes, allowing her the opportunity to undress with a semblance of privacy - as if that existed in the middle of the open Forest. She fought the smile that curled at her lip from his cheeky lack of prompting before her fingers moved to undo her button-down top and squirm out of her Hogwarts skirt. She disrobed down to her underwear and bra then gingerly stepped into the flowing water. The sensation immediately elicited a relaxed sigh from her lips as her foot, then leg, then hips gradually entered the water. It was warm, far from the intense heat that the steam seemed to indicate. She could sense the tension in her shoulders slowly melt and drift away with the flowing waters.

The stream felt about five feet deep and four feet across as she navigated her way closer to him, letting herself sink into the depths as the stream flowed rhythmically over her, kissing her clavicle. She rested against the rocky edge next to him and granted herself the opportunity to stare as his eyes remained patiently covered. He looked much much healthier, which was obvious by the fact that he could walk and talk again. Still, she was surprised at his rapid rate of recovery. Small droplets of water had collected on his chest, and she watched as a few droplets combined then trailed down the space between his pectoral muscles in an imperfect, serpentine line before dripping down his bare abdomen.

"Geez, Granger, how many pieces are you taking off?"

"Er - you can stop covering your eyes now," she ushered, averting her gaze toward a rock that she suddenly found particularly fascinating.

Upon lowering his hand, Draco glanced at her with perfectly clear silver-blue eyes as he ran his fingertips over the flowing water, letting it course through and over each digit.

"Have you ever had - what is it the muggles call it - deja vu?" he asked with a brow quirk.

The fact that this was not the first time she had shared a hot bath with Draco had surprisingly escaped Hermione. She stared at him wide-eyed as the heat of a blush rushed up her neck and settled in her cheeks. He smirked that damn notorious smirk as his gaze lingered, taking in her embarrassment.

"Why would you bring that up?" She accused, tempted to bury her face in the water to escape the situation entirely.

"Oh stop," he grinned, clearly enjoying her reaction. "I was just joking. Look, I'm all the way over here."

Hermione nodded, though the solemnness of her expression did not fade as the sight of his Dark Mark came into view while he waved his arm, emphatically illustrating the distance between them. Whatever blood that had rushed to Hermione's face seemed to drain quickly as her skin blanched. Her gaze remained glued to the Mark when he noticed and pressed his palm against the wretched tattoo, covering it from her gaze.

"Sorry," he murmured, lowering his left arm under the water. "I couldn't find the bandage I'd used to cover this."

"I used it," Hermione replied, her voice small, "to cover your wound. It's not that."

It was difficult to find the words as the image of the dead, disfigured Death Eater flashed in her mind.

Upon seeing her reaction, the stillness of her form and the sudden tightness in her jaw as the pulse in her throat quickened, Draco turned to face her, his expression suddenly humorless.

"What happened last night?" He asked, watching her every move.

"How do you know about last night? Oh," she caught herself as she noticed his fingers clasping the sage necklace again. He must have been gaining the sense of touch for a few days, but hadn't indicated it to her at all. She wished she had tried to squeeze his hand again. She had long given up hope and stopped trying, it had depressed her too much.

"I felt it. Your heartbeat. I thought you were in danger and couldn't do anything about it. But then you came back sobbing; I could feel you shaking against me. I wish I could have... helped. What happened, Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Her lips felt dry and head felt light. She tried with all her might not to let the image come back into her mind, but it was instantaneous and automatic.

Draco made his way toward her, watching her with concern. Her body froze as his hand rose from the water and the warm, wet sensation of his palm pressed firmly on her shoulder. A tightness formed in her chest as she tried to release the breath she had been anxiously hoarding, attempting to fight through the discomfort of his heavy stare as he studied her features, pressuring her to open up to him. She didn't want to; it hurt too much. She wanted to sit in the moment and appreciate his recovery. She wanted to be happy, only happy. Something she hadn't felt in days.

"I know you don't trust me, but..." Draco started.

"Stop," she begged.

In response to her curt words, Draco's hand fell to the water. Hermione nearly interjected as he left her skin sensitive to the open air and to his absence. She turned away, distracting herself, hiding her nervous and tired face.

She cupped a handful of water and ran it over her neck, chest, and arms mindlessly as she attempted to clean her body and mind from the current conversation.

His jaw tightened at her response as he returned to his seat, irritated at her lack of communication. He hated her silence, and hated that she was keeping information from him.

Especially information that had caused her harm.

It was impossible to explain it to her, in the moment, as she shut down and attempted to busy herself to hide whatever she had seen or done. And yet, to him, she was utterly transparent in her emotions. He could see the seriousness of her experience in the way her gaze dropped and shoulders slumped. He could see when she would protectively wrap her arms around her torso, keeping her soft, vulnerable flesh safe as discomfort grew within her. But with the amount of distrust she had, he knew she wouldn't confide in him.

And why should she? He kept secrets of his own.

Everything he had experienced while deep in his mind, shackled by the venom.

Or the fact that he had awoken to her resting on him and, for the first time in days, had finally developed the physical ability to hold her in his arms once more and squeeze her tight. But he knew he shouldn't. She didn't want him. It was a bitter reality that set in as he woke up to her pressed against him - knowing she had cast him aside and flung cruel words to him mere days prior. So he did what he knew how: he fled.

To take a quiet bath alone and gather his strength once more.

But he wasn't alone.

Did he even want to be? He invited her there.

"Why, Draco?" Her accusatory tone that broke the silence caught him off-guard, harshly drawing him out of his stream of thought. "Why did you do it?"

"Er," he responded, dumbfounded and a bit disturbed.

"It was awful and so unnecessary - why?"

Her tone was hard. He could feel his muscles tense in defense to her words.

"Are you truly going to bring up the Death Eater nonsense again? I told you I'm not a sodding Death Eater -" he bit, his tone laced with acid. Though he was tired, his body jolted up, bracing against impact as his expression grew steely.

"No, no, not that," she quickly corrected, flinching at his tone. She continued to run her fingers through her now wet dense curls as she faced away from him, drawing some comfort from the repetitive motions. "Why did you get me the venom? Why did you put yourself in danger to get it?"

"Oh," he paused, allowing time for his muscles to relax as he ruminated on the question. His voice grew quiet and calm once more. "Er - you mentioned it. That day that you were about to yank out both of your arms trying to pick a plant, you mentioned needing it. And I'd seen one earlier, saw a whole pack of 'em actually. So, I figured I might as well pluck a few quills since you said it'd be helpful. What I didn't know was that it was a young one I'd cornered, and its mum charged at me." He chuckled. "I really pissed her off. And there you have it, me lying in a bed for three - four days?"

Hermione's brows knit. She couldn't help but feel a bit disturbed at his laughter. None of what had happened was funny to her.

"Nine," she corrected. His eyes grew wide as he let out a low whistle. "So why did you put yourself in danger for me?"

While he couldn't see her face, he could hear the words laden with thinly-controlled emotion. He leaned toward her.

"Er - listen, it wasn't a big deal, I -"

"You got hurt because of me," she continued, her voice breaking. Heat rushed to her cheeks and stung her eyes. "I treated you horribly, and you still..."

"It was nothing - please don't cry," he urged, stepping toward her, but hesitating to make any further move.

"It wasn't nothing," she challenged as tears fell down her cheeks. She turned to face him, her face stained with streaming tears and lower lip quivering in a pout. "I know everything, Draco."

Draco froze at her words as he watched her carefully, perplexed and curious to know what she meant by 'everything'. His eyes took her in, studying her. From her wet, dark eyelashes and half-hooded eyes as she averted his gaze, to the bright pink curve of her nose as she sniffled. Her lips quivered as she tried to keep herself from sobbing openly, but he could tell she was teetering. It wasn't pure pain she seemed to be experiencing, but guilt. And for Hermione, it seemed to translate to the same.

"Harry told me," she continued.

"Potter?" He wondered if she had a bad dream. Draco may have been out of the game for well over a week, but last he heard Potter was nowhere near the Forbidden Forest and had no way of reaching Hermione.

"He told me about that night - how you saved me. He told me what you did, Hagrid and Ginny saw it all. You put yourself in danger to save my life, you chose me over aunt, over the Death Eaters."

Over his family.

Oh God.

His father.

Her voice continued to rise and tremble, the pressure of spilling everything out overwhelmed her like the emotions that clung to her heart. His gaze bore into her as he processed the words, struggling to understand the implications of her knowledge.

"This whole time I thought you were… I was scared you were evil, and I treated you so horribly."

She lifted her eyes to finally meet his. Her normally warm, caramel-chestnut eyes were swimming in tears. As each tear fell, fresh ones formed and followed.

"You couldn't have known."

He was trying to comfort her with his words. Why would he do that?

Her eyes searched his. She could see the concern painted in his brows. His curiosity drawn in the lines next to his eyes as he looked at her. Despite it all, she could feel his reservation. His hesitation as she opened herself up to him, and he didn't know whether to allow it. To acknowledge it. To sit in it with her.

He was afraid?

He was guarding himself, from her.

The idea broke her heart.

Hermione choked on a sob as she ran through all the horrible things she'd regretted.

As the guilt and anxiety of being so wrong had been pushed deep below the surface for several days, it all came spilling out like hot magma and felt like there was no stopping the pain and regret as it poured out of her.

"I made you sleep outside! I cast you out and accused you of being cruel and wicked. I should have trusted you - I should have listened. You were so nice to me, Draco, and I didn't deserve it. I was s-so awful!"

"Stop," he whispered. He reached out to her, resting his hands on her shoulders as he squeezed them and urged them to stop shaking. "Hermione, stop."

She couldn't stop. She kept weeping. She buried her face in her hands and let the tears fall. It was so much, she was so tired. This is what emotional exhaustion must feel like. The pain of realizing she had cast aside Draco. Finding him injured. Learning it happened because of her. Seeing him healed, talking, and laughing. Feeling his touch again. She'd had whiplash from the highs and lows.

So she wept.

And he watched her unravel.

She tried to speak, to continue her confession and admittance of guilt, but the words would choke on her tongue and catch in her throat as she struggled to breathe.

Through the blur of tears, she could hardly see the concern on his face anymore as he stood unsure of how to comfort her.

Was he stunned?

Upset at her for coming around too late?

Oh God, maybe he had changed his mind around her. Maybe she had damaged their relationship so much that he had moved on? Maybe he had a lot of time to think while he was incapacitated. Maybe he decided he would rather keep her at a distance, and didn't know how to tell her.

She regretted opening up. Tearing herself open and showing her insides, creating a space of utter vulnerability where even the air seemed to sting and burn as she stood there, not comforted and not accepted. She wasn't sure if he was being cruel or careful. It felt like cruelty.

It hurt so bad.

She reached out, impulsively, instinctively, seeking comfort. She reached for him, grabbing at his arm.

It was like something clicked when her touch found his, when she sought him.

Immediately, he opened his arms and wrapped them around her before pulling her into his embrace, squeezing her into his chest. His fingers slipped into her hair where he cradled the back of her head, pressing her into him. The warmth of his body immediately hit her as she buried her cheek into him and sobbed. She could smell him. His familiar scent. Reminded her of earl grey and leather, mixed with the scent of firewood and smoke that clung to him after days in the cave. He felt like home.

She pulled back slightly to look up at him. Her eyes found his and she could see the concern in his features. It was enough for Hermione.

Without much thought - it hurt to think anymore - Hermione rose to her tiptoes and, wrapping her arms around his neck to draw him down, Hermione pressed a kiss to his lips. The kiss was hard, pleading, desperate. Begging for him. Searching for his approval and affection. It caught him off-guard and his body stiffened in response as he held her arms.

Oh God.

He wasn't reciprocating.

She knew what his kisses were like when he wanted her. She had tasted that passion and emotion pouring out of him in their kisses of the past. This wasn't that.

He didn't want to kiss her.

Hermione recoiled, disgusted with herself as she stumbled back, pulling herself out of his reach.

"I-I'm so sorry - I shouldn't have," she whimpered. Though her tears had run dry for a mere moment, she could feel fresh ones bubbling up inside her once more. "I need to go -"

She turned on her heel and moved toward the edge of the stream. The water felt thicker and heavier than before as with each step she waded toward the edge of the stream, desperately seeking to escape. To run as far from this as possible. She could feel her heart cracking and breaking with each step she took.

Her fingers reached the edge of the stream as she pressed her palms to hoist herself up. She didn't care that she was barely dressed. She didn't care that it was likely freezing outside and she would have to run back to the cave utterly soaked. She didn't care. She needed to get out of that embarrassing, humiliating, devastating situation.

Her foot pressed against a stone as she moved to lift herself out of the stream before -

"Wait -" his voice came out.

She didn't have an opportunity to respond at all before his hand caught her elbow. He pulled her back, he didn't give her an option to leave. She didn't fight him as he pulled her back into the warm water.

"Hermione," his words filled her mind, slipping delicately through the ringing in her ears and cutting through the mix of rage, pain, and confusion. "Hermione," he repeated again, taking her face in his hands as he urged her to look up at him. The soft, gentleness of his tone soothed the rough edges of her emotions.

"Breathe," he urged, his voice barely louder than the sounds of her ragged breaths as her lungs quivered in her chest. He drew his thumb over her cheek, then down to the tip of her nose to wipe away the tears that continued to stream down her face. "Breathe," he repeated again, urging her to listen. He held her still, forcing her body to fight or relinquish against his hands. She held her breath, forcing the air to still as she let out an intentionally long barely-controlled breath.

His eyes searched hers. They were burning, with curiosity, with hunger, with anger - she couldn't tell. She could feel herself be scrutinized by him and she let him.

His grip on her relaxed as her breathing grew controlled and she could feel the air expand and contract in her more deeply. His thumb continued to wipe tears away before tracing the slight arch of her brow, then down to slowly swipe over her lower lip that continued to tremble.

She didn't know what he wanted. She didn't know what to give him.

His movements were slow and careful, as if not to disturb a flighty bird that might fly away at any minute from a sudden movement.

Draco let his fingers run though her hair, gently peeling strands that were stuck to her forehead or to her temples, and tucking them back against her ears. He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against her forehead before he pulled her into his warm torso. She pressed her cheek against his chest as he held her, the steam around them dancing like wispy fairies.

Then, ever so slowly, and with fragile delicateness, Draco ran his fingers over her chin before gently pinching it and lifting her head. In a moment that took Hermione's breath away, his lips found hers.

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Author's Note:

Hi lovely!

Just an FYI, for future (near future, I should say) sexy scenes,

I will be posting the explicit versions on AO3, given the limitations that FF has.

I will share the link to the upcoming explicit chapters once they are posted and will have to keep the versions on here watered down.

It hurts my soul to have to do, but I enjoy some PWP action so you can look forward to that.

Additionally, thank you, as always, for reading and supporting my passion.

Thanks so much for all of your reviews and positive feedback - please continue to share the love.

It keeps me going, you have no idea.

May you have lingering thoughts of Draco in steaming streams,

Syren