Although they'd only met in Hermione's favorite spot twice, every movement she made toward her ledge felt…right. It felt normal, as though her body had been doing this for years.

She slid onto her spot and Draco across from her.

Clad in black, the green Slytherin symbol of his sweater looked like an emerald, the pink sun turning Draco's complexion rosy.

Guilt coursed through her as Ron's hurt expression flashed across her mind. He hadn't deserved what she'd done, or rather, what she hadn't done—given him an answer, given him her. She just…couldn't be near him for the time being. Nevertheless, that didn't help the spreading shame.

Draco's voice pulled Hermione back to the present. "What?"

He inclined his chin at her hands. "You're fidgeting."

"Well spotted," she grumbled, pulling her hands into the sleeves of her jacket.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" Draco sighed and sat back against the stone column. "I meant that as a precursor to ask if you were alright."

A huffed chuckle exited Hermione's mouth, and she suspected the roll of her eyes was as obnoxious as it felt. "Yeah, I'm just brilliant."

The whisper of a smile appeared. "Sassy today, aren't we?"

"No, you're just asking stupid questions."

He sucked in a breath, nodding. "Fair."

"We wouldn't be talking if everything were fine. If I were alright, I'd be reading in the common room, curled up by the fire next to Ron. If I were alright, I wouldn't have just blown off my—" Ron wasn't her boyfriend, so what could she say? Did she even know what he was to her anymore? Although she wanted a sure answer to the question, she didn't have one. "—Ron," she finished. "I wouldn't have yelled at him and practically told him his presence in my life was useless." Hermione placed her face in her hands, releasing a long breath. "I'm sorry," she said, looking up, "I didn't mean to snap."

Draco shrugged. He pulled both knees to his chest and clasped his hands together around his shins. After a moment, he said, "You—you and him—you're not together?"

Hermione sighed but shook her head. "Just—well, I don't really know what we are. We're more than friends, but we're not actually together. I don't know. It's complicated."

"Sounds it."

Hermione jerked her head up, glowering. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Laughing at me."

Draco snorted, an exasperated expression on his face, but the grin that formed told Hermione he was fighting to hold it back. He cleared his throat, though the grin partially remained. "I'm not laughing at you, I promise."

"Then what are you laughing at?"

"For a few years now, we've had a bet going in the Slytherin house that you and Weasley were dating. Stupid, I know, but the constant debate kept us busy and entertained." He ran a hand through his near-white hair. "I guess I owe Crabb 20 silver sickles." Draco's grin faded and shadows formed in his eyes. He sniffed, rubbing a thumb along the tip of his nose. "I'm sure he won't mind if I keep it. I've got more use for it than he does, anyway."

Hermione could tell Draco was drowning, so she threw him a lifeline. "You thought Ron and I were dating?"

"'Course," Draco said. "Most everyone did. The way you two fought like an old married couple didn't help your case any, either."

"That's not attraction," Hermione said sourly, "that's Ron being an arse, and apparently I'm the only one willing to call him out for it."

Draco's throat bobbed. "What was it like?" he asked quietly. "Being friends with Potter and Weasley?"

Hermione thought for a moment. It was wonderful. Infuriating at times, but mostly wonderful. "Like babysitting two children," she said at last, her words a little lighter. She nearly chuckled. "They were always off to get into trouble or do something ridiculously stupid. Sometimes I truly feared for their well-being when I wasn't around. I'm amazed they managed to survive the summers by themselves."

Draco's gray eyes sparkled. "Sounds like you had your work cut out for you."

"Especially last autumn and winter," she said. "Harry, Ron and I were on the run, searching for a horcrux and avoiding snatchers. We'd managed to find the locket and were taking turns wearing it, but between the missing wizard families and the tension building, Ron couldn't handle it anymore.

"One morning, after wearing the locket for far too long and listening to its whispers, Ron lost it. He left, leaving me and Harry to continue. He was gone for months. It wasn't until Harry had located the sword of Godric Gryffindor that Ron found us again."

Draco tilted his head. "How did he find you?"

Hermione sniffed, tucking her hair behind an ear. "When Dumbledore died, he left us a few objects in his will. He left Ron a deluminator. After he left, he had been using to the deluminator and its light to track us, but since I had protection spells surrounding us, he hadn't been successful in finding us. In order to find the sword, Harry had to leave the shield I'd created, which led Ron to him just in time."

"Just in time?"

"We found out later that Snape had hidden the sword in a lake within the Forest of Dean. Harry had to dive into the frozen lake to retrieve the sword at the bottom. Once in the water, though, the locket around his neck had tried to strangle him. Ron, who had been following him, dove in, retrieved both the sword and Harry, and saved him from drowning."

"All this happened while the three of you were off the grid?"

"That and more," Hermione chuckled. "It was a crazy couple of months."

A silence gathered then, one that wasn't uncomfortable, but Hermione could tell Draco was. Though she came to the conclusion it wasn't for the same reason. She studied him, watching as his mouth opened several times, each time ending in him shutting it, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

"I'm sorry," Draco said at last.

Hermione's brows pursed. "For what?"

"For not doing more that day in my house. For being a coward and not standing up to my father, to Bellatrix."

"Draco—"

"No, let me finish. Please." Had his eyes not been filled with unspoken pleas, Hermione might have argued, but instead, she sat back, tucking one ankle over the other. "I knew it was Potter that day, even with how mucked up his face had been. I knew it was him, yet I didn't say so. I knew what Bellatrix would do to get the information she wanted. I knew what would happen to me if I spoke out against her, against him, and that terrified me. I was a coward that day.

"I told myself that it was enough of an effort to not reveal Potter's identity, but that was because I lied to myself to try and salvage any remaining dignity I had. And then, when Bellatrix announced that she and you would have a chat—" Draco looked up at last, staring deep into Hermione's eyes. His eyes brewed with a storm, the gray of his irises darkened with shadows. "Had I known she was going to use the Cruciatus curse on you, I would have tried to stop her."

Although hearing the words softened Hermione's heart, she knew Draco. She knew what he said was a lie, even if he didn't want it to be. "No, you wouldn't have."

He swallowed. "I've tried to convince myself otherwise, but you're right. I wouldn't have. I repeat that lie to make myself feel better about my spinelessness, but it doesn't make it any less true. I would have wanted—did want to—but I was too much of a coward, too scared of losing everything to stand up for something—someone—that actually mattered."

Hermione's scar prickled as the horrific memories from that day flooded her senses. She could still feel Bellatrix's weight on her crushing her ribs, the stench of her half-rotted teeth, the pain of her wand's power slicing into her skin. She'd seen the sorrow in Draco's eyes that day as he watched, but nothing done to her had been incentive enough to conquer his fear. It was something Hermione hadn't thought about until now. She didn't blame him, especially considering who his father was. It didn't excuse his behavior, but she understood—at least, as much as she was capable of understanding. She'd been terrified the entire time during the torture, but she hadn't known anything. Would she have reacted differently—withstood the torture—if she had known about the sword's location? Would she have been able to not break? It certainly wasn't the answer she wanted, but part of Hermione suspected she wouldn't have been much better than Draco when faced with fear.

Yet they both had withstood Voldemort's torture in the forest. Not a single truth had left their mouths that day. Despite the agony, despite his fury and madness, neither one of them had broken in a way that mattered.

"You stood against him," Hermione said softly. "When everything mattered, you were brave and stood against him."

Draco shook his head, several long strands falling over his eyes. "But I was terrified."

"Strength and bravery isn't determined by a lack of fear," she said, "it's the notion that you fight despite being afraid. And that's exactly what you did. When the world was against you, you fought for what was right. You fought for your family, your classmates, your school. Even when those you loved died, you refused to back down."

He snorted. "You make our interrogation and torture sound far more heroic than it was."

"Look, I'm no hero—"

"Sure you are."

"No, I'm not."

Draco stared at her. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

He waved a hand. "Encourage others and then degrade yourself."

"Because I'm not—"

Draco shook his head, the deftness of the movement causing Hermione to stop short. "While sacrificing yourself for others like Potter did is heroic, fighting in different ways does not make our sacrifice any less heroic." He took Hermione's hand in his, squeezing hard enough that she nearly pulled away, but something in his gaze made her pause. It was in his tone, his eyes, his composure—desperation, perhaps. Deep compassion dangling on the edge of desperation.

"Although it might not seem like we did anything to help, staying strong in that forest helped our people." A short chuckle escaped and Draco shook his head, the hair over his eyes bouncing. "Sounds strange to say our people."

Hermione cocked her head, her brows knitted.

Draco caught the look and sighed, pulling down his sleeve to show his bare forearm and the tattoo that had been magically inked there. "I'm a Death Eater, remember? Well, at least I was. I sometimes forget this place—Hogwarts—has been my home for the last six years. Although I know it never seemed like it, these students are my family. But that's not entirely relevant. What is is the fact that we never broke. Because we never told Voldemort the truth about names, passwords, or locations, we saved people. We bought the ones on the battlefield time. We bought Harry time. The battle could have been over far sooner than it was, and not in our favor. We could be dead right now, but we're not. We survived."

"Not all of us did," Hermione whispered.

An uncomfortable silence rippled between them like warm silk.

Then, "I know. Wrong or right, daft or brilliant, he made his choice. He knew what winning the battle would cost him, even if he didn't quite understand the price would be his life. His life and many others'." Draco gave Hermione's hand another squeeze—gentler this time. "You have to stop blaming yourself for living. It is not shameful that you survived and Harry didn't. It is not your fault."

"It feels like it."

"It is not your fault," Draco repeated, each word said with utmost intention. "There is nothing we could have done. We had no wands and were in no shape to fight back. Do not blame yourself for surviving when those we loved died so we could live. We wouldn't want to disappoint them now, would we?"

Although her heart remained heavy, Hermione felt her mouth twitch upward. "No, we wouldn't."