October 11th – 16th (Week 8)

As the rest of week eight passed by, Draco continued to change.

Throughout their time at The Willows, he'd already been much different than the image Hermione had built for him in her mind. He was accepting when she'd thought him small-minded. Warm and kind when she'd thought him cold. And sweet. Sweet.

She thought of the obvious differences between the real him and the one she'd manufactured based on their history and the war as she watched him make quick work of that morning's dishes. It had only taken one day for the magic to flow back through him like a second skin.

Hermione's eyebrow quirked up, a half smile on her face as Draco began rolling up his sleeves. Just as he sank his arms into the soapy water, he stopped up short. Blinking, he sighed to himself and removed his arms from the water. After wiping his hands on the towel hanging below the sink, he flicked his wand toward the sink, and the dishes began washing themselves. She hid her smile behind his back as she strolled over to rest her head against his back.

"You were just going to let me wash them by hand, weren't you?" he asked, the words rumbling through his chest and vibrating her cheek.

"I knew you'd get there," she said with a laugh. "I just assumed you'd be halfway through them before you remembered."

The handful of soap bubbles he tried to throw at her missed dismally as she left the kitchen.

Over the last eight weeks, Draco had opened up more to each of them, even if, to the average person, it didn't appear that way. In the first few weeks, he'd spent the majority of his free time either in his room or the art therapy room, away from the prying eyes of the other guests. But slowly, he'd dropped those defenses, allowing himself the opportunity to be seen, and though Seamus had been cold at the beginning, even that had changed.

When they'd both been furious during her boggart attack, each of them standing up for her in a different way, something shifted between them. They weren't exactly friends then, but Seamus's open disdain had dissolved, allowing them to at least sit beside one another during their sporadic bonfires and share a flask along with the rest of them.

After Seamus had stood up for him, stopping the fight between Draco and Ron before one of them had started swinging, a further shift had taken place.

Along the way, the layers had peeled back, revealing a Draco that Hermione had come to appreciate but the others had yet to see. He could laugh freely at something Dennis said, have a conversation with Parvati, or even play a game of chess with Seamus.

"Malfoys don't really have friends. We have alliances."

She'd known then that his statement wasn't entirely true—Pansy and Blaise were here every week to visit him—but it wasn't entirely false either. She couldn't deny that during school, his "friendships" had been just that, a means to an end, a way to further someone else's goals, and she assumed that his father had been the same. She certainly couldn't imagine Lucius Malfoy having a night out with the Lestrange brothers or Antonin Dolohov.

It was a bit surreal, watching Draco and Seamus animatedly talk Quidditch over a fire as they each ridiculed the other's choice in genuine good nature, Seamus clapping Draco on the back in the same way she'd seen him do with Ron or Dean over the years together in the Gryffindor common room.

All he'd needed was to be cared for, people to see through the distance he kept, theseparation between him and the rest of the world. Hermione wasn't sure if that was because he thought he didn't deserve to be cared for or because he was afraid of their rejection. His reactions and comments when they'd discussed his memories at group definitely showed the dichotomy in his own motivations; it seemed like a part of him wanted to show everyone that he'd had no other choice, to let them see how conflicted and trapped he'd been. But then it seemed like another part of him thought his actions didn't warrant a second chance.

But seeing him interact with the others and the way he'd been so quick to open up to her told Hermione that the former belief was winning out.

Hermione walked into the group therapy room on Wednesday evening along with the rest of the them to find the chairs all pressed against one wall similar to the way they'd had them moved during their boggart practice. Immediately Hermione's heart jumped into her throat, and her mind returned to the feel of the boggart's hands on her skin.

She swallowed thickly, knowing her face had turned stark white, betraying the air of calmness she was trying to show off. Blinking, she reminded herself that there was no cupboard in the room. When Walt stepped into the center, right where the boggart had been before, Hermione's pulse slowed.

"No need to look terrified," he said with a warm smile, lifting his hands placatingly. "Tonight's exercise doesn't involve fighting anything other than your own mind." His eyes scanned the room, stopping briefly on each of them as he always did. "Tonight, we'll be working on the Patronus charm."

Hermione's heart didn't jump in her throat as it had when she'd first entered the room. Instead, she felt it plummet like a stone into the pit of her stomach as the first vestiges of nerves set in, coiling and twisting around in her chest; she could no longer cast a Patronus.

She'd tried to cast one at the end of last year just to send a message to Harry and Ginny that she'd be working late, but she hadn't been able to produce one. Realizing she hadn't cast one since just after the war, she tried again… and again, over and over, a task that had ended in tears as the hum of failure grew to a deafening roar.

The tiny wisps of blue smoke that swirled around her wand each time she'd tried had been a further slap in the face, a harsh reminder to all that she'd lost and was still losing, a critical part of herself that she was afraid she'd never see again. But she'd quit trying soon after that when it had been painfully obvious that she was no longer able to do it.

Pulling herself back to reality, she reminded herself of the things Alys had been telling her over the last two months. It was okay to not be that same person she was before the war. It was okay to have taken in all that happened to her—the war, the loss, and the subsequent fallout in her life—and allow it to change her.

"Change is rarely easy, but it isn't always bad either."

She took a calming breath, focusing on Draco and Nicola on either side of her, knowing that not only was she not alone in her fears, but she wasn't alone in trying to overcome them.

The others must have still been wearing worried expressions as Walt soon said, "Don't worry. This exercise is not to teach you to cast a corporeal Patronus, so if you've never tried or if you're unable to, that's fine." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, and she heard Nicola do the same beside her.

Susan stepped toward Walt, taking her place beside him and saying, "We're going to split you guys into two groups so that we can have more individualized instruction." She lifted her hands to indicate the two sides of the room. "Dennis, Seamus, and Parvati, you guys will be with Alys, and you three will be with me," she said, nodding toward Hermione, Nicola, and Draco.

As the two groups separated, each taking a different side of the room, Nicola said, "I haven't even tried this in years, not since the war started."

Susan joined them, removing her wand from her pocket. "Were you able to before the war?" she asked, looking toward Nicola, but obviously the question was directed toward all of them.

"Yes, but I never needed it until then, and when I tried…" Nicola paused for a moment, her gaze shifting to the wand in her hand, before she looked back up, lifting her chin to meet Susan's eyes. "I couldn't do it anymore."

Hermione took a step toward her, placing her hand on Nicola's shoulder in understanding. "I couldn't either, so I just stopped trying," she said, as if her heart still wasn't residing somewhere in the base of her stomach. It didn't matter how much she'd grown in the time she'd been here or how much she'd come to terms with; it still gnawed at her that she'd been unable to do it.

When Susan's eyes fell on Draco, Hermione and Nicola both turned toward him as well. He was looking back at them, eyes the color of blooming thunderheads, and said, "I've never been able to." He hadn't flinched, hadn't looked away as if admitting that he'd never cast a Patronus somehow meant something was wrong with him. Instead, he drew his wand as well, the rigidness of his stance the only indication that he was at all nervous about attempting one in front of an audience.

"That's fine. Just like Walt said, the exercise isn't necessarily to teach you to cast a Patronus. Instead, we're using this as a metaphor more than anything to help you each understand that you are in control of your thinking. One of our predominant goals has been to help you each change your way of thinking, about the events that happened during the war, your own actions, and yourself. As Walt has mentioned before, of your thoughts, emotions, and actions,"—Susan held up one finger for each—"the only two that you really have much control over, are your actions and your thoughts. With this exercise, we want you to focus on a positive memory. In order to cast a Patronus, it would need to be a very powerful memory, one that deeply resonates with you. But, if you're unable to, that's fine. What we want you to understand from this isn't whether or not you think your memory is strong enough or you yourself are strong enough. The goal is for you to learn to focus on good memories, memories of happiness, contentedness, excitement, anything that can serve to take your mind to a different moment, particularly in times when nothing else seems good."

Hermione returned the nod that Susan offered them each in turn, indicating that she understood, but the urge to prove that she could do it was overwhelming, not necessarily to the others, but to herself.

Susan said, "Okay, first I want you each to close your eyes and concentrate on the happiest memory you can think of. Happiness looks different to everyone; it can be a time when you felt perfectly at peace or a time when you were overjoyed. The point is, it's going to be different for each of you, but I want you to take a moment to consider your most powerful memory."

Hermione's memory had always been the same one.

Oddly enough, it hadn't been the moment that Professor McGonagall sat in her living room, cups of tepid tea in front of her and her parents as they listened to the woman who would ultimately become her mentor and her friend. She'd been stunned —too stunned to speak, but she'd never once felt disbelief. Not when McGonagall, the fierceness of her tight bun and no-nonsense demeanor offset by the kindness in her eyes, told them all about Hogwarts and about the magical world in general. Hermione's ears rang as she tried to take it all in, hanging on McGonagall's every word as if the woman herself was the key to every mystery, every unknown in her life. Hermione had bitten into her cheek hard enough to wince just to make sure it was real.

Professor McGonagall talked for hours, long enough for the flickering orange flames of the fire beside them to turn to nothing more than glowing embers, both of her parents so enamored that they hadn't even noticed until McGonagall shot a wordless spell into the fireplace, bringing the fire back to life and igniting another inside of her to match.

It wasn't that moment.

Her happiest memory had been the very next day.

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight fell across her face, Hermione's eyes shot open. At first, she was terrified, thinking perhaps it had all been a dream, but slowly, as she willed herself to calm down, the memory of the night before grew clearer, the soft edges marred by sleep began to solidify, and she breathed easier, knowing that it had really happened.

Even though the sun had barely risen, she was too antsy, her senses too alive to lay in bed any longer. She'd climbed from her bed, tiptoeing down the hall and into her parents' room. The moment their door squeaked open, her mother's head popped up above the blankets, chocolate brown eyes, puffy from sleep and matching Hermione's own, peered down at her as she smiled and lifted the blanket, inviting her in.

It had been years since Hermione had sought the comfort of their bed, needing it after a nightmare or an especially hard day at school, but on this morning, filled with equal parts trepidation and excitement, Hermione had crawled in and climbed across her mother to lie between them. The warmth of her mother's arms around her was just as much a comfort as the fluffy blanket they were under. Burrowing into her father's chest, she breathed in the lingering smell of his cologne mixed with the floral fabric softener her mother used on the sheets, and she clung to them, overcome with the change that yesterday's news meant for their life.

Paired with Professor McGonagall's words, her father's kiss on her forehead, and the calming touch of her mother's hand on her arm, a building wave of elation rushed through her, an orb of light filling her chest and traveling through her extremities, and she couldn't contain the tears that spilled over, leaking from the corners of her eyes and dropping tiny circles on the sheets beneath her.

She'd always known she was different—the rest of the students in her school had certainly let her know just how different she was—but oddly, she'd never been too terribly bothered by it. She'd had her moments of aching for friendship and understanding, but somehow, she'd always known that at some point in her life, it would all make sense.

In the comfort of her parents' bed, with both of them holding onto her, she felt safe and loved as she always did with them, but she also felt validated. For the first time in her life, she felt accepted.

That had been her memory. That had always been her memory. When she'd first learned to cast a Patronus in the Room of Requirement, with Harry's instruction and the encouragement from her friends beside her, that had been what she concentrated on.

But now, as much as it pained her to admit it, that memory was tainted, tinged with a sadness so deep that it only succeeded in producing tiny, pathetic wisps of smoke. The memory that had once brought her so much joy was forever marred by the fact that she'd never have that with them again. Certainly, she was too big to be snuggled between them in their bed, but she'd never feel her father's reassuring hug or smell his aftershave, and she'd never hold her mother's hand or—

"Are you alright?"

Draco's voice beside her cut through the memory and the feeling it was stirring up inside her, one that had been completely counterproductive to the feeling she'd need to cast a Patronus. Hermione blinked, offering him a soft smile as she shook the thoughts away before they could overtake her completely. She licked her lips, and his hand came up to brush across her cheek.

"Mmhmm," she said with a nod. "Just…lost for a minute." She blinked up at him and smiled, reminding herself that it was okay to feel that, the opposing feelings of joy and loss that streaked through her memory like watercolor, bleeding together to create something else entirely.

Hermione began cycling through each of her memories, trying to find another strong enough to conjure a Patronus, something that was powerful enough to eliminate the threat of not only Dementors any longer, but now the more pressing threat that her own mind posed against her.

Susan reminded them all of the words—not that any of them had forgotten—as Hermione thought back to the feeling that accompanied her realization that Harry was alive, the moment she'd seen him rise from the ground, determination on his face, ready to finish what had been started almost two decades prior.

But that memory was also tinged with fear and anger. She knew before she even uttered the incantation that it wouldn't work.

As she tried to find a suitable memory, Susan spoke the words, calm as always but with a forcefulness Hermione had rarely heard from her, "Expecto Patronum." What looked to be a small blue light, no bigger than a fist, sprang from the tip of Susan's wand and circled around the room. Even those in the opposite group stopped to watch. As the blue orb slowed, swooping down to circle around Susan's head, Hermione recognized it as a sparrow, its tiny wings flittering, allowing it to do one last ring around them all before it faded.

"Your turn," Susan said, smiling encouragingly at them. "Remember, it's okay if it isn't corporeal. This is meant to be fun."

The look on Draco's face said that he believed Susan's perception of fun was a bit skewed, but he muttered the words anyway. A few blue tendrils escaped the front of his wand, which wasn't funny at all, but the look he gave her was so reminiscent to one of Ron's characteristic looks of befuddlement that she had to pinch her lips between her teeth to keep from laughing.

"I'm so glad you're enjoying yourself," he deadpanned. He narrowed his eyes at her, but his lips quirking up on one side completely ruined his feigned irritation.

Susan rolled her eyes at them both and continued instructing Nicola on the proper wand movement, giving Hermione a fond recollection of her time in Dumbledore's Army.

"Let's see you try then," Draco said, folding his arms across his chest.

She rolled her eyes at him, saying, "Fine," knowing good and well she couldn't do it either. Instead of giving in to the feeling of failure starting to rear its ugly head, she took a deep breath, planted her feet firmly on the ground and…

…faltered.

The self-satisfied smirk that had grown on Draco's face began to fall as he realized that she was actually having trouble. He started to step closer, a question forming behind his eyes, when she shook her head. "I'm fine. I…just haven't found a memory yet."

She closed her eyes, quickly running through every good thing she could think of, getting her O.W.L. scores, holding her Hogwarts diploma in her hand for the first time, the realization that the war was finally over, being offered the job at the Ministry, but each of those memories too were laced with disappointment, masked in the fog of depression that accompanied every aspect of her life after the war ended.

Frowning, she felt Draco's hand on her back, the warmth from his skin travelling up into her chest and bringing to mind more recent memories.

She didn't think of a single memory, but of many.

Draco's shoulder brushing against hers as she fell apart beside the granian pasture, a surprising comfort in just his presence.

The sincerity and remorse on his face as he pulled glass from her hands.

One hand brushing a curl behind her ear while the other tilted her face up to his. "You're worth that and more, you know that, right?"

On their date, with the flickering candlelight highlighting the flecks of blue in his eyes as they searched her face. He'd been looking at her, his lips slightly parted and a smile playing at each corner, as if she were everything.

Not just their first kiss, the one that had left her dizzy and hungry for more pressed against the wall in his father's study, but the others as well; those that had immediately followed, tentative and exploring though they'd both clearly wanted more.

Every time he'd pulled back, taken things slowly.

The same feeling coursed through each memory like an undercurrent, tying them all together. The same feeling she'd had in her original memory, snuggled between her parents. The circumstances were different, as was their relationship, of course, but the feeling that accompanied them all was the same, albeit brighter.

Accepted.

Hopeful.

Seen.

"Expecto Patronum," she said, and a bright light turned the darkness behind her eyelids orange. When she blinked them open, she was greeted not by the otter she'd been expecting but the largest moth she'd ever seen. It waved its wings almost lazily, fluttering around Draco's head before landing on one shoulder. Cerulean trails rose and twirled from the tips of its wings and the two long trains that dropped off the bottom of each, dripping like a waterfall down his back. He blinked up at it, the moth's wings touching together one last time as if it were waving at him before it faded into a soft cloud of blue smoke.

Hermione stood almost in a daze, watching as the last of the wisps waned, a soft smile gracing Draco's face as his face turned from where the moth had been to meet Hermione's gaze.

She was beaming, vaguely aware of Nicola's hand on her arm and Susan's felicitations. Rather than being trapped inside her own head, overwhelmed with painful memories and a war she'd soon forget, she was consumed, her mind fixated on something else.

Something she almost didn't recognize.

What once was familiar now felt foreign, welling up inside her like a balloon being filled inside her chest.

Pride.

She couldn't remember the last time she felt proud of herself about something or even doing something that she felt she could be proud of. But here it was, a welcome reprieve snuffing out the twinges of disappointment and fear like water on a match.

She brushed the tears from her face, knowing it was more than just the moment. More than just the ability to conjure a Patronus, though that was exciting in and of itself. She knew it probably said something much deeper about her state of mind, but in this moment it felt like there was physical evidence, an actual visible representation of her ability to once again be happy.

Blushing beneath the eyes of the rest of her group, she pulled a hair behind her ear and shuffled out of the center of the pseudo-circle to stand between Draco and Nicola.

"I don't know why you look so surprised," he whispered in her ear. "I expected nothing less from the Golden Girl." It had been awhile since he'd called her that, but, like always, she couldn't contain her eyeroll as she bumped his shoulder with hers.

With a light tone that matched her grin, she said, "I'm glad you were so confident in my abilities."

"Always."

The seriousness in his voice pulled her eyes to his, away from where she'd been watching Seamus flourish his wand much too vigorously. All traces of playfulness were gone from his voice, leaving behind nothing but sincerity in the smile he offered her and causing her heart to stutter in her chest.

The rest of the week's nightly group sessions included either light meditation, an exercise in focusing their attention and being more mindful, or further attempts at conjuring a corporeal Patronus.

Walt continued to impress upon them—with his own Patronus cutting through the air above him more like yet another flying animal than the large fish it was—that this was just an "easy" week, all of their attempts were meant to be "fun," a break from the intensity of all the memories they'd sifted through over the last two months.

A break that Hermione thought they certainly needed after the weight of Draco's memories had hung around them like a cloud during that group session.

Seamus's ram came as no surprise to anyone when it exploded from his wand and raged around the room, massive curling horns protruding from the top of its bowed head, and Nicola's orca made her cry as it glided around the room, rolling its immense body lazily and flipping a fin at her just like the large male had done on their kayaking trip.

Despite the similarities between Seamus and his rowdy and strong-mannered Patronus, the most fitting was likely Dennis's. Where Draco seemed almost bored with the entire process, muttering the incantation and twirling his wand in the air half-heartedly, Parvati and Dennis were both red-faced and cursing under their breath every time their wand shot forth swirling furls of various shades of blue instead of an animal.

But right before the session ended, moments after Parvati had flopped down into one of the chairs lining the room and grumbling something that sounded like an expletive, Dennis squared his shoulders one last time and tried again. It seemed like just as much of a surprise to him as the rest of them as a dog sprang from his wand and did laps around the room.

Where Seamus's ram was formidable, Dennis's golden retriever looked friendly and adorable, two qualities that fit Dennis perfectly as everyone congratulated him and a bright blush worked its way up his face.

So far, only Draco and Parvati had yet to manage a corporeal Patronus, a fact that eventually came up that night following group.

They sat around a roaring fire in front of the veranda, each of them with a drink in their hand poking fun at Seamus.

"Of course, letting you pick the game would result in playing one that involved alcohol," Hermione said with a pointed look in Seamus's direction.

He shrugged his shoulders, a gesture Hermione could barely see from the obstruction of Parvati sitting in his lap. As the flames highlighted the red in his beard, he said, "I'm Irish," like that was explanation enough.

"So am I," Nicola replied, making everyone laugh at the unamused expression on her face before it shifted to a smirk as she took a sip of her drink. "You really have a strange preoccupation with this game, you know that, right?" she asked him, lifting one eyebrow at him challengingly.

This only caused Seamus's smile to grow, until his grin turned mischievous, showing all his teeth, "I'm a child at heart."

"No, you're just a child," Parvati said from his lap.

Nicola crossed her legs and frowned at Seamus again. "I told you before that I'm too old for this game."

"What would you prefer? Bridge? Bingo?" Seamus laughed at the impassive expression on her face.

She looked down her nose at him in a way that reminded Hermione way too much of Narcissa Malfoy and said, "I'm beginning to think you do this just to annoy me."

"He does," Parvati butted in with a laugh as she used her hand to cover Seamus's mouth. "There's something wrong with him, real—ughhh, you're disgusting!" she shouted, wiping her now wet hand on his shirt. Seamus chuckled as he snapped his teeth playfully in her direction before she pushed him as far away as their seating position would allow.

Dennis spoke over them, saying, "Okay, okay, I'll go, if you two are done," and Seamus shushed Parvati as if she were the one halting the game with her antics. "Nicola, what's the wildest thing you've ever done?"

"Oh, she's much too old to have ever done anything fuowwww," Seamus started before Parvati twisted his ear.

Nicola's lips pursed as she alternated between contemplating the answer to Dennis's question and glowering at Seamus. After a moment, she asked, "Have you heard of Woodstock?"

Hermione, Seamus, and Dennis all nodded, but Draco and Parvati, the only two Pure-bloods not including Nicola herself, both shook their heads.

"Well, suffice it to say it was a huge Muggle music festival in New York, and I went," Nicola said with a smug smile.

Before she could continue, Dennis said, "But you told Walt you'd never been to the States."

Nicola replied seriously, "It isn't something I really talk about. Even those in my family don't know."

"Just a concert?" Seamus interjected, half a smirk on his face. "That's the best you've got?"

"Will you leave her alone?" Parvati slapped his arm, but Nicola's eye roll said she wasn't bothered by him.

"She knows I'm kidding," Seamus said, but when Parvati gave him an irritated look, he nodded his head in acquiesce for Nicola to go on.

"You poor, sweet child." Nicola's words fell off her lips like honey, and she quirked an eyebrow at him sarcastically. "No, it was not just a concert. It was massive, hundreds of thousands of people, as far as you could see. I drank entirely too much, experimented with Muggle hallucinogens, and… had the most fun I've ever had in my life." She finished speaking with a sigh and a wistful smile on her face.

"It was my last desperate attempt at rebellion before I was forced into a marriage I didn't want," she said, the smile dropping from her face. A split second later, she inhaled deeply, shaking her head as if to clear it of bad memories before they could take root. "Oh, and I got a tattoo."

"No, you did not," Hermione said in astonishment, looking toward Draco as if he could confirm this, but he only shook his head, just as surprised as she was. The idea of Nicola, prim and posh as ever, inside a seedy tattoo parlor was just too much, but Nicola just tilted her head with a secret grin.

"Proof or it didn't happen," Seamus said, sitting up in his chair enough to almost knock Parvati off his lap before he caught her around the middle and pulled her further into him.

Nicola bit her lip in a most uncharacteristic way before she took a breath and stood up quickly, not allowing herself a moment to think before she'd tugged down one side of her slacks far enough to reveal the words "live free" in flowing script across the top of one thigh. Roses circled around it along with the silhouette of three birds.

One hand covered her front, but in the back, her green lace knickers were on full display less than two feet from Dennis's face, a fact that wasn't lost on him; even in the darkness of night, with only the flames of the fire affording them any light, Hermione could see his face turn a bright shade of red.

Nicola, on the other hand, looked completely self-satisfied as she buttoned her pants and returned to her seat, having completely silenced Seamus. He sat completely shell-shocked, eyes wide as if he hadn't quit processing what just happened. As he blinked, a broad smile covered his face, and he said, "I stand corrected."

Parvati and Hermione laughed at both his expression and the embarrassed way Dennis was covering his face, red cheeks peeking through his fingers.

"Alright, Dennis," Nicola said, laughing at him as one eye peered at her through his fingers. "Your turn. How did your date with Terri go?"

The color on his face just deepened, causing Seamus to laugh harder and Parvati to try in vain to pull his hands from his face.

"I told you she'd chew him up and spit him out," Nicola said to Hermione under her breath, but clearly Draco heard if his immediate chuckle was any indication.

Dennis dropped his hands and sat up straighter, biting back a smile that still turned up the corners of his lips no matter how hard he tried. "I am a gentleman. And I don't kiss and tell."

Seamus's roar of laughter broke Dennis's resolve entirely, and his smile was on full display. "I really like her," he said. "She's coming for the Halloween party actually."

Seamus clapped him on the back, and Nicola looked on, clearly impressed.

"I have one," Parvati said, breaking through the ambience of laughter and looking through the fire at Draco on the other side. "Why do you, very obviously, not want to cast a Patronus?"

Hermione cut her eyes at Draco, along with everyone else. He was reclined in his chair, the very air of nonchalance. "And what makes you think I don't want to?"

"Oh please. I've been beating my head against the wall for the last three days, and you're barely trying." Parvati stared him down, impervious to the look of indifference he was wearing.

Both Dennis and Seamus seemed shocked, their mouths agape as they stared back and forth between the two, likely remembering the way Draco had clearly been just passing the time with his Patronus attempts.

Hermione kept quiet beside him, but her ears perked up. Truthfully, she'd been wondering the same thing, but thought that if he wanted to talk to her about it, then he would. She'd noticed the second day, when he'd only even said the words when someone was looking at him, but she wanted to give him the opportunity to work through it himself if that's what he wanted.

Nicola rolled her eyes at Dennis and Seamus's reactions. "Seriously? Are you two blind?"

"Is that your official question?" Dennis asked, his eyebrows raised sarcastically.

Before Nicola could respond to his quip, Parvati shushed them both with a wave of her hand, turning their attention back to Draco, much to his chagrin. "Hush. It's not your turn."

Draco was silent for a moment, looking down uncomfortably into his transfigured glass of whisky. He looked back up and then let out an aggravated huff when he realized they were still staring at him expectantly.

"I liked it better when you lot were ignoring me in this game," he said, taking his time as he sipped his drink.

"Is it embarrassing?" Dennis asked, nodding placatingly. "Have you done it before, and it's like a blobfish or something?"

"A blobfish? Really?" Seamus asked, laughing as he threw a chair cushion at Dennis's head.

"I don't know!" He swatted it away and lifted his hands in exasperation. "What other animal would be embarrassing?"

"A flobberworm. Cockroach. Blast-ended skrewt."

As the two began squabbling and speculating about what animal Draco's Patronus could be, Parvati shushed everyone again. When Draco realized once again that everyone was staring at him, he heaved a sigh of long-suffering, as if he were trying to enjoy his drink amongst the company of toddlers.

"I wasn't lying. I've really never done it before."

When he didn't elaborate, Hermione couldn't help but ask, "So, why don't you want to then?"

He shot her an irritated look as well. "Whose side are you on, here?"

Trying and failing to hide her laugh at putting him on the spot, she shrugged and said, "I'm curious too."

His lips formed a straight line, pinched together in annoyance, as he looked at each of them, understanding that they weren't going to leave him alone until he answered. After killing the rest of his drink, he leaned forward and sighed once more resignedly. "I'm terrified it's going to be a fucking ferret."

Parvati's mouth fell open, half in surprise and half in a fit of hilarity, and Dennis almost fell as he'd been resting on the edge of his seat waiting for Draco to answer. But Seamus's bout of laughter drowned out them all.

Hermione covered her hand with her mouth, but she was helpless to the giggles that poured out of her, both from the alcohol and from the look on Draco's face as he lifted his palms toward all of them as if to see, "See?"

Poor Nicola was looking on, a look of bemusement on her face as she said, "I feel like I'm missing a critical bit of information here." None of them could hold their laughter at bay long enough to share the story of Draco's stint as a ferret in fourth year.

Her seriousness paired with Draco covering his eyes with his hands as he shook his head cracked through Hermione's attempt to keep it together. The laughter intensified, and she was helpless to it. She leaned back in her seat, feeling the customary ache in her abdomen as she gave in. Every time she thought she had it under control, she'd look at Draco, his face completely unamused, and then start up all over again.

By the end of it though, even he was laughing along with them, his eyes crinkling on the sides in a way she'd only seen on very few occasions, and just seeing him drop his guard, feeling comfortable enough around them to allow himself to let go, even if only for a moment, filled her heart completely.

"Come on, mate," Seamus said, once the laughter had died down enough. "What are the odds it'd be a ferret?"

"Much higher than I'm willing to gamble on, thank you," Draco said without hesitation.

Hermione tried to ease his worries. "No one would—"

"Laugh?" he asked seriously, before lifting his hand pointedly once again.

Hermione snickered. "I was going to say, 'no one would know.' We can't tell anyone, remember?"

When everyone continued to stare at him, he swore and took a drink directly from his flask rather than pouring another into his glass. "You aren't going to leave me alone about it, are you?"

A few muttered "nope"s and headshakes made him stand, and Hermione sat up. For a split second she worried that maybe they actually had offended him, but instead of walking away, he pulled his wand from his pocket and glared at Parvati.

"Patil, if this is a bloody ferret, I'm holding you personally responsible," he said, and Parvati hid a laugh behind her fist as she nodded up at him.

Draco took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Glancing toward Hermione once before he lifted his wand, he said, "Expecto Patronum."

They all watched in awe as the familiar blue smoke swirled in front of them and a large shape appeared.

Hermione, admittedly, was about three drinks in, so it took her a moment to make out the muscled torso and billowing mane.

"Is—is that—"

"Holy shit, it is!"

Hermione's jaw dropped when her wine-soaked brain managed to piece together that Draco's Patronus was a lion.

"Fuck me," she heard him mutter, just before the laughter broke out yet again.

He sank back into the seat beside her and resumed his annoyed expression, palm over his eyes and shaking his head. Even with her lips pinched between her teeth, Hermione was unable to hold in her mirth as she lay her hand on top of his across the arm of his chair.

The hand covering his eyes fell away, and she noticed he was laughing too, despite himself. He turned his hand over, lacing his fingers with hers and tugged on her arm gently. When her brows furrowed in confusion, he lifted their hands from the armrest and pulled her toward the front of her seat then over into his lap. She dropped down with an oof, thrown off balance slightly by the amount of alcohol in her system. His chuckle reverberated through his chest and across her back where she reclined against him.

Since she'd taken his hand in front of everyone else during group a few days ago, Draco seemed to have no qualms with these open displays of affection. In fact, more often than not, he was the one who initiated them, resting a hand on her thigh during breakfast, dropping a kiss on her cheek as she did dishes. Now, everyone else was too busy laughing to notice his arms around her and his lips ghosting across her throat, sending a shiver coursing through her despite the warmth of the fire.

When his hand left hers and inched its way up her thigh, all signs of the shiver were gone, replaced by a growing heat that would rival the flames in front of them. She bit her lip to bite back a sigh as the side of his palm brushed against the seam of her denims. Her legs were turned just enough across his lap, and her bum far enough into the corner of the large Adirondack chair they were seated in for his actions to be hidden from the rest of the group…hopefully.

"Is this okay?" His question blew warm breath across the wet spot on her neck from where his lips had been, and all she could do was nod, afraid to open her mouth to speak and bring everyone else's attention in their direction. "Do you think anyone would notice?" he whispered, rubbing his hand between her thighs again, somehow both gentle and firm at the same time, and it was all she could do to keep still.

It was hard to believe that six months ago, she couldn't be touched at all, and yet now, when it was Draco's hands on her, she melted, forming against him as if she were made to fit there.

Just as she turned to kiss him, her lips aching to be on his, Seamus's voice broke through the wall of voices around the fire, bursting the small bubble they'd created for themselves.

"I'd just like to point out…that,"— he gestured up toward the sky where Draco's lion had been moments before, spilling his drink in the process—"that didn't happen during group, so I can tell whoever I want."

Hermione had been so caught up in the moment that it took her a beat to even understand what Seamus was referring to, and she knew that if he wasn't so sloshed, her deer-in-the-headlights look, all flushed face and wide-eyes, he would definitely notice that neither of them were paying much attention to the group any longer. But, being sloshed, Seamus didn't notice at all.

"I hate you so much," Draco said, but the lack of bite in his tone and Seamus's subsequent laughter said neither of them believed that anymore. He gently pushed her to her feet and stood himself, pocketing his flask in the process. As he pulled her toward the veranda, she said goodnight to everyone, brushing Nicola's shoulder as they passed, and he muttered under his breath, "I'd prefer the sodding ferret."