Silence.

It filled her mind with a sort of calm comfort that Hermione wasn't used to at all. She'd spent her whole life overwhelmed, struggling to keep up with the noise inside her mind—wants, fears, failures, needs—that she hadn't even realized how much of her time was spent trying to navigate through her own thoughts.

She didn't realize it truly, or at least the full extent of it, until she discovered the peace that came with silence. It wasn't an outward silence necessarily, though she'd begun to enjoy those as well. She and Draco seemed to fall into a routine with one another, reading side-by-side, neither of them needing to fill the room with words. There was a fullness in the quiet, one that wrapped itself around them as his thumb brushed her knuckles in their clasped hands on the bed between them.

It was the inward silence she was beginning to grow accustomed to; thankfully those moments were coming more and more frequently. Hermione wasn't sure how much was due to the meditation they had all been working on or her Occlumency lessons with Draco or simply removing all the endless chatter from her mind during her sessions with Alys, unloading them and dropping them at her feet like gifts. Here, you carry this for a while.

Regardless of the reason, she felt lighter being able to enjoy a conversation without constantly overthinking it or without having to force her brain to focus. It was a new kind of contentment that she hadn't experienced before.

When she woke up later than normal one morning to find Draco's side of the bed empty and a cup of tea on the nightstand beside her, she smiled to herself before taking another moment to enjoy the company of silence in her mind.

It wasn't always easy. There were times when she'd start to fade, dropping back into those old habits of internalization and worry, but she was working diligently to stop the wayward thoughts in their tracks before they had the chance to fully hijack her from the moment.

She'd experienced a few of those takeover attempts in the last few days, but sweet gestures like the tea currently left steaming beneath a stasis charm beside her helped her silence her internal diatribe.

There were times when her brain would pick a random moment to remind her that Draco hadn't once brought up what she told him after he'd shared his memories. Neither of them had spoken of her confession, and she certainly hadn't said it again, though she'd wanted to on more than one occasion. She'd had to fight the urge to bring it up just to understand what his thoughts were, but she just left it alone, knowing him well enough now that he'd talk about it when he was ready.

She reminded herself often that it hadn't been for her. She didn't tell him she loved him so that he'd say it back. He deserved to be loved. He deserved to have someone care for him without wanting anything in return. She'd told him because he deserved to hear it.

Knowing that didn't stop the occasional thought from surfacing, rising to the top of her mind like smoke, threatening to choke her if she didn't extinguish the flames quickly enough.

It's too soon.

That's too much.

His actions hadn't changed at all since she'd said it. If anything, he'd become bolder in his affections. Her thoughts returned to the night of the bonfire, and even in a room by herself, she couldn't stop the blush that formed on her cheeks. His words in her ear and his hand between her thighs—less than ten feet away from the rest of the group—had her so flustered that they'd barely made it back to their room before she was reaching for his belt buckle.

As she drank her tea, she gave a contented sigh and forced the memory away, stacking everything into place in the boxes Draco taught her to use in her mind and focusing instead on the silence. Both he and Alys had talked about the importance of practicing this task every morning before even getting up, though Draco's focus on her Occlumency training, and despite the desire to allow her mind to get lost in the memory, she focused on maintaining that daily routine.

She pulled her hair up into a loose bun, securing it in place with her wand before she brushed her teeth and got ready for the day. As she splashed water on her face and reached for the flannel hanging beside the sink, all at once she remembered it was Sunday, and the silence she'd been enjoying inside her mind was suddenly shattered.

Harry.

Ginny.

Ron?

It was easy for her to forget that a world existed outside of the walls of The Willows. They each had family and friends, all with their own opinions on them being together; opinions that they'd been lucky enough not to really have to face just yet, excluding Ron's outburst.

Obviously, their opinions wouldn't influence hers, of course, but she did care enough about them to want their respect and, if not approval, at least their acceptance as well. She wasn't sure how long it would take Ron to realize how bad he'd messed up, but when he was hurt, he was a wildcard; he could show up tonight with an apology, face remorseful and one hand rubbing the back of his neck, or he could show up just as livid as he'd left two weeks ago. Or there was always the chance that he wouldn't show at all, and truthfully, that was the option she was hoping would come to fruition.

She really didn't know if she was ready to forgive him just yet.

Before her runaway thoughts could sink their claws in, transforming the tranquility she'd felt moments ago into a chorus of white noise, she closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she repacked her boxes, putting Ron's overreaction and betrayal away for now, along with the worries of Harry's and Ginny's reactions, knowing at some point, it was a conversation they would definitely have.

No reason worrying about it now, she thought as she got dressed.

Draco's low timbre reached her on the walk to the kitchen before she'd even made it into the common room.

"You're a dirty cheat, Finnigan."

Seamus's laugh filled the air just as she rounded the corner and he and Draco came into view. Hermione bit back a smirk at the sight of the two sitting opposite one another with a deck of cards spread out in front of them. Draco was shifting his scowl between the five spades in front of him and Seamus's beaming grin.

"I'm not cheating, you're just awful at poker."

Draco's scowl deepened, this time laced with an air of skepticism. "No, you just told me that a flush beats a straight." He spread his cards out and then slid them toward Seamus's side of the table. "I have a flush, and you have a straight.

"Yes," Seamus said, pushing his cards closer to Draco this time, speaking slowly like he was talking to a child, "but this is a straight flush. See—five, six, seven, eight, nine, all hearts. That's a straight flush."

Draco's eyes narrowed as he looked back and forth between the two sets of cards on the table. "And if I get a straight flush next time, you'll just magically have something else that beats it?"

"If I get a Royal flush, yeah."

Draco rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He wore a slight smirk as he shook his head. Before he could answer him, a squeak in the hardwood beneath her clued them in to her presence, and they both turned to face her.

"You're losing, I see," she said, just as Draco pulled her down into his lap.

"Well, he's cheating, so—

"I am not cheating."

"Of course, I'm losing."

"Poker just isn't your game, mate," Seamus said with a laugh, stacking the cards back neatly inside the box. He stood up and stretched just before scooping a couple galleons off the table. "Stick to 'Go Fish' and you won't lose all that Malfoy gold."

She expected Draco to make some quip about the Malfoy gold supply being bottomless, but instead he chuckled to himself as she watched Seamus walk away.

When Draco dropped a soft kiss to the hollow of her throat, she asked, "Gambling before eight a.m.?"

"We were both awake before the sun, just trying to pass the time. I didn't want to wake you." The tightness behind his eyes let her know there was more to the story.

"Bad dreams?" He'd been restless almost every night since sharing his memories, and though this was the first time he'd woken and left the room without her, she assumed he hadn't been sleeping great already. He truly seemed lighter throughout the day—the scene she'd walked into this morning was proof of that—but there were still nights when he battled those same demons he'd shown them in his memories. A fight she knew she couldn't save him from.

He shrugged, lifting her hand to place a kiss on the inside of her wrist, just above the scar still safely hidden beneath the sleeve of her jumper.

With a soft hand on his chin, she turned his face up to hers. The blue flecks in his eyes were just visible in the bright morning light. "You can talk to me about it."

"I know," he said, his own hand reaching up to twist around one loose curl. In spite of the slight shadow of dark circles beneath his eyes, the smile he wore said he was happy, as contented as she'd felt when she'd awoken to find the tea he'd left for her this morning. She didn't want to push him if he wasn't ready, so when it was obvious he wasn't going to say more, she kissed him rather than push him to speak.

The rain and sharp October chill in the air led them all inside for visits, but the shift that had occurred over the last eight weeks was evident in their seating arrangements. Where they'd all been detached, enjoying their visits with their own friends and family separate from one another, this week their normal dining table had been extended enough to allow room for everyone.

It wasn't anything they'd planned in advance.

Dean arrived first, his wand in one hand pointing above him to block out the rain and the other holding the hand of a woman that Hermione had never officially met but knew on sight immediately. Though she'd only seen her once, as one of the figures that Dennis's boggart had taken, Hermione was certain she'd never forget her face, having watched her die in Dennis's worst fear.

Dennis's mother removed her arm from Dean's and pulled Dennis into the type of hug that only mothers can give. Hermione was only jealous for a split second before the smile on Dennis's face overwhelmed the feeling of loss with happiness for her friend. Dennis led his mother and Dean inside, where they sat at the dining table and began unloading the takeaway bag that Dennis's mother had been carrying when they apparated. Seamus followed them inside, patting Dean on the back as they walked through the door.

Before Hermione had much time to consider why Parvati hadn't joined them, another crack of Apparation cut through the downpour and a couple whom Hermione could only assume was Parvati's parents appeared. They both wore elegant robes, and Parvati's father flicked his wand above his head, conjuring an umbrella large enough to cover them both.

Hermione tugged her jumper tighter around her as a cool wind cut through the air. She felt warmth encircle her, starting at the top of her head and draping down her body like a thick blanket, and she glanced her eyes up at Draco standing beside her and caught his slight smirk as he continued looking at the Apparation point.

Turning back to follow his gaze, Hermione saw Parvati take the few steps off the porch down to the pathway to meet her parents. Her steps were tentative, her eyes glued ahead as she shuffled toward them. When they were a few paces away, all three stopped; Parvati looked at her parents with her face full of apprehension, and they stared back, her mother's hands wringing and her father wearing a look of forced stoicism. After a split second of hesitation, her mother wrapped Parvati in a hug just as Dennis's mother had done, and then her father leaned down to do the same, his arms wrapping around both his wife and daughter.

Hermione looked away, feeling like she was intruding upon a special moment between Parvati and her parents. She remembered how Parvati had cried, sharing with them all that her parents had a hard time even looking at her after the war, but something must have changed for them because not only were they here, but their heavy embrace now said this was more than just an innocuous visit.

As great as it was to see Parvati experiencing this moment of reconciliation with her parents, it also took Hermione's breath for a split second.

Grief was like that. You could go days without feeling the heaviness of loss, weighing down your actions and consuming your thoughts, long enough that you begin to think that you're completely healed. And then, materializing from nowhere, a seemingly insignificant moment, something as simple as watching a friend interact with her own parents, could take you back to that feeling of pain, ripping the bandage from the wound and the air from your lungs.

But, as she always did in these moments, Hermione closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of the rain and Draco beside her, focusing on the feel of his hand on her back and the sound of the downpour against the roof above them.

After a few seconds to ground herself, Hermione opened her eyes and found that Parvati and her parents had gone inside, leaving only Nicola, Draco, and Hermione waiting for their guests, and Hermione wasn't even sure who to be expecting other than Harry. Hermione glanced through the windows and watched as Dennis stretched the table and Parvati conjured a few more chairs.

Pansy arrived shortly after, Daphne Greengrass holding onto her, and Nicola's smile was contagious as her daughter climbed the steps to greet her. After a tight hug, they started inside as well, but Daphne stopped momentarily to lay her hand across Draco's arm. She said nothing; she just stopped long enough to look up at him, a sad smile on her face, before she let him go and followed her mother inside.

Pansy dropped a kiss on Draco's cheek and then flicked her eyes quickly from Hermione's denims to her oversized jumper—it's comfortable!—before muttering, "Granger." She turned back to Draco and said, "Blaise is running late, he'll—"

Harry and Ginny's Apparation stopped her mid-sentence, and Hermione immediately stiffened. Ginny had only been to visit once since she'd been here as visiting time interfered with her typical Sunday afternoon practices, so her presence here tonight certainly suggested that Ginny had something to say. The look on her face as she walked to the porch gave nothing away, but Harry, on the other hand, wore an expression that could only be read as "I'm sorry."

Draco squeezed her hand once before he and Pansy went inside, leaving Hermione alone with Harry and Ginny. She started to fidget, falling back into old habits quickly beneath the gaze of her friends, but she took a deep breath, planted her feet, and stood up taller, lifting her head to face them just as they both reached the safety of the porch.

Rain dripping off both of their faces, Harry lifted his wand and dried them just before he awkwardly stepped toward Hermione.

"Hey, uhmm…" Harry rubbed his arm absentmindedly before he looked up at her again, green eyes looking every bit as hesitant as Hermione felt. "I'm sorry, 'Mi. I didn't mean for you to think I was upset with you. I—I really didn't know what to say. Every time I tried to owl you, it came out sounding like I was prying or chastising, and that's… that's not my place, so—"

Before he could finish, Hermione practically tackled him, feeling the anxiety that had been bubbling in her stomach finally start to subside. She knew she shouldn't have expected any different, not after what Draco had said about his conversation with Harry, but still, it had been hard not to worry. Now, with Harry's hand patting her back, she felt tears sting her eyes again. For the second time this week though, they were tears of joy, an outward expression of the relief she was feeling at both her accomplishments and the love of her friends.

Hermione's gaze shifted to Ginny as she pulled away from Harry, wiping her eyes and taking a step toward her. Ginny crossed her arms and frowned at her, and Hermione had to force herself to not speak as she bristled.

"Why are you looking at me like you're worried I'm going to scream at you? Do you really think I'd be upset with you?"

The weight that had sunk to the bottom of Hermione's stomach the moment that Ginny's arms crossed immediately disappeared leaving behind only weightlessness and chagrin at having assumed the worst in the two people who loved her most.

"Surely you know me better than that," Ginny said with a smirk as she too pulled Hermione into a hug. As she pulled away, she couldn't help but think Ron was going to be a much bigger hurdle.

"I'd be lying if I said I understand," Ginny said, her face turning serious again, "but I know you well enough to know that you've never done anything impulsively in your life. And, truthfully, it says a lot that he was willing to come to our house knowing both of us—"

"One of us," Harry interjected as he cut his eyes in her direction, but Ginny paid him no attention.

"—would want to hex him the moment he stepped through the floo."

"He said you accused him of—" Hermione began, only for Ginny's sigh to cut her off too.

"That wasn't my best moment. Look," she said, taking a step toward Hermione again. "I know that I've held a grudge against his entire family, I know that, and I also know that what his father did to me has nothing to do with him, but it's not something I'm going to be able to just turn off all at once." She looked genuine, with one hand on Hermione's wrist and the other clutching the takeaway bag she'd brought with her. "But I will try."

"That's all I would ever ask of you," Hermione said with a smile, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off her chest.

They stood that way for a moment, the awkwardness of shared apologies and confessions still hanging over them despite the air of forgiveness, before Ginny spoke again.

"So…is it serious or are you just, you know, having fun?" The suggestive eyebrow waggle was completely unnecessary.

Harry's nose curled up as he shook his head. "Nope. Nope. Not having that conversation."

Hermione laughed, glancing inside once again, this time catching Draco's eye from where he sat beside Pansy.

Should've known he'd be watching, Hermione thought with a grin as she turned back to her friends.

"Well, the blush on your face speaks volumes," Ginny said at the same time that Harry plugged his ears.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his antics and said, "We aren't just having fun, no. Though, we are having loads. Of fun, that is."

Harry covered his face with his hands and grimaced again. "Please stop. I change my mind; I am upset with you."

As their laughter died down, Hermione started to pull them inside—without the heat of nervous anxiety, the chill had once again begun to seep through Draco's warming charm—but hesitated.

"Is Ron…"

She didn't have to finish her sentence. They both already knew what she was asking.

Harry and Ginny traded worried glances before turning back to Hermione. Harry shrugged slowly, and Ginny said, "We haven't talked to him."

"He's angry with Ginny because of her right hook—

"Which he deserved."

"—when she found out he'd told Pansy about Theo, and he's angry with me because I wouldn't agree with him. You know him as well as I do, 'Mi. In a week or two, he'll regret everything he said. For now, I'm just letting him stew in it."

Hermione sighed. Harry was right, and even though she wasn't sure if she was ready to forgive him yet or not, it did still sting that he hadn't already come to the conclusion that he was wrong.

She nodded and led them inside to join the others, pushing back the small seed of discontent that began growing inside of her at Ron's avoidance.

Hermione took the seat beside Draco… which put Harry and Ginny across from him. When Ginny slipped into the chair beside Pansy, they turned to one another, each sizing the other up momentarily before directing their attention back across the table toward their own respective guest.

Before Hermione even had a chance to finish that exact thought in her head, Pansy said, "Well, this isn't going to be awkward at all."

"And that's why I brought wine," Ginny said, as she began pulling miniaturized bottle after bottle from her coat pocket, returning each to their original size as she set them onto the table. "Bottles and bottles of wine."

Pansy looked on, her eyes wide, before her mouth turned down and she dipped her head slightly. "I'm impressed, Weasley."

Harry was looking at Hermione, blinking as if he thought the other shoe would drop any moment, and Draco just stared at the scene playing out across from him as Pansy transformed her cup into a wine glass and Ginny topped her off.

"I'm the youngest of seven…I know far too much about alcohol."

"Speaking of your siblings, could you pass on the message to your brother that I have no intention of speaking to him?" She sipped her drink as haughtily as possible, a feat Hermione recognized as something completely unique to Pansy. "One would imagine the returned owls would give him enough indication, but apparently he's much too thick for that."

Hermione was stunned, but she supposed she shouldn't be. Pansy had broken things off with Ron, presumably due to his temper tantrum. People could say what they want about Pansy, but, just as she'd told Hermione in their tête-à-tête two weeks ago, she was fiercely loyal to those she cared about. And Ron's behavior and insinuations toward Draco had been enough for her to cut him out entirely.

Ginny paused momentarily, her head tilted to the side as she contemplated Pansy's words. She gave a small hmm, and said, "Yeah, I'm not gonna do that. You opened that can of worms."

Pansy, surprisingly, said nothing snarky in response. She lifted her glass as if to say, "Touché," and then continued drinking.

Ginny passed another bottle down to Nicola on the other side of Pansy and stood to hand a third and fourth across the table to Dennis's mother and Draco, who looked too stunned to say anything.

Hermione put her hand on his thigh under the table, pinching him lightly and then smirking as he flinched. He offered Hermione a sideways glance before muttering a 'thank you' to Ginny and pouring a glass for himself and Hermione.

"I wasn't sure if you guys were allowed to drink here or not." Harry cast a pointed look at Ginny as he spoke, but she just ignored him as she downed her glass in a single swallow.

"They haven't explicitly told us we can't," Hermione began, "so—"

"Between me and Draco," Seamus said, "we've supplied these sots with enough whisky to knock out an Ironbelly."

Ginny mouthed "Draco?" to Harry who only shrugged in response before Nicola spoke up.

"Something tells me that an Ironbelly would have better taste than to drink that swill you call alcohol," she said, cutting her eyes at Seamus.

"Well, some of us don't have thirty-year-old Scotch money," he replied, sitting up taller and mocking Draco's aristocratic tone.

Draco shifted his eyes slowly toward Seamus, lowering one eyebrow at him. "First off, I do not sound like that, and secondly, it isn't my fault that your tastes are so plebian."

Seamus leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, a smirk on his lips and a mischievous glint in his eye. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were insulting me." When Draco narrowed his eyes at him across the table, Seamus tilted his head to one side and his smirk grew to a full-on Cheshire grin. "That's very daring of you…some might even say fool-hardy. How very Gryffindor."

Draco's eyes widened just a fraction before he schooled his features. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I think you know I would," Seamus said, looking like a child who just discovered that Christmas came early.

Everyone at the table looked back and forth between the two of them. All of the visitors wore matching looks of confusion, and all those they were visiting were biting back smiles of their own as they watched the staring match between Draco and Seamus.

The longer they stared one another down, the more Draco glowered and the more Seamus beamed.

"Is someone going to tell us what's going on, or are we just meant to spend the next hour watching these two flirt?" Ginny asked, breaking the tension enough that Draco's scowl fell and for a split second he looked at Seamus imploringly.

"Sorry, mate," Seamus said before clapping his hands together once and immediately following with, "Would you lot care to learn what we worked on this week?"

"Fucking kill me," Draco mumbled before pinching the bridge of his nose.

Unfortunately, that just made Seamus even more eager to share the news with the rest of the table.

"We worked on the Patronus charm," Seamus said, looking downright giddy. "Fancy bit of magic, you know."

"I would like it noted—" Draco tried speaking over Seamus, but it was no use.

"—and we each had our very own—"

"—that you have no control over what form your Patronus takes—"

Suddenly, the crack of Apparation was heard outside, and Draco immediately stood, his chair squeaking loudly across the floor as it slid out from behind him. "That's Blaise," he said, as he quickly left the room.

"Don't worry, we'll wait for you," Seamus called after him, and Parvati slapped him on the arm.

"You're awful, you know that!"

"Ouch!" he said, rubbing his arm. "He started it. He called me plebian."

"You are plebian."

Hermione looked across the table at Harry, Ginny, and Pansy, who were all gaping at the place where Draco had been sitting and shifting their eyes to Seamus and Parvati squabbling at the end of the table.

"Well, that was weird," both Pansy and Ginny said at the same time before snapping their heads toward one another in shock.

Glancing down at the rest of the table, Hermione noticed that Daphne was wearing a matching expression of shock. The only ones who didn't appear stunned, outside of those residing at The Willows, were Parvati's parents and Dennis's mother, who clearly didn't understand the significance of a friendship between Seamus and Draco.

It was just more proof at the dividing lines that the war had solidified between them all. But perhaps this was a chance to shatter the brick wall separating them, to at least begin to bridge the gap for the rest of the world as well.

"They seem… friendly." Harry said, always the diplomatic one these days.

"Umm…yes," Hermione said, nodding her head slowly. "We all are. This… I think things have changed quite a bit over the last two months." She finished with a firm nod.

"That much is obvious," Pansy said, downing the rest of her wine. When she glanced toward the wine bottle in the center of the table, Ginny gestured for her to help herself.

Just as she began pouring, another crack of Apparation sounded from outside. Before Hermione could ask the question on the tip of her tongue—"Were we expecting anyone else?—angry shouts rang through the walls around them.

For a split second, everyone hesitated, looking toward one another in confusion, before Harry jumped into action first, bolting for the door, wand-in-hand.

Just as he opened it and barreled out, Harry's shoulders sank. "Shit," he said, pocketing his wand before Hermione had even gotten her head out the door to see what was going on. Pansy and Ginny were still blocking the doorway in front of her, and as Harry ran out of sight, and she tried to push through them, Pansy and Ginny shared a look of aggravation, both rolling their eyes before blocking Hermione's exit and pulling the door shut behind them.

"What's going—" Hermione began, but then she heard a voice she hadn't at all been expecting.

Ron.

His voice rang loud and clear through the doors separating him from the group inside. "You stood there, with a wand, and watched while your sadistic fucking aunt put that word on her arm, a word she has to live with it the rest of her life."

Hermione could hear Harry trying to intervene, but Ron kept yelling over him. "You could have stopped it, and you didn't! You stood right there and watched. Probably thought she was finally getting what was coming to her!"

"Ron, that's enough, mate," Harry said, his voice just as angry, but it did no good.

Hermione tried to push past Ginny and Pansy, but they refused to budge. Pansy was red in the face, her jaw clenched tightly as she blocked the door, and Ginny just shook her head. "Let Harry handle it. If you go out there, it's just going to make it worse."

"You said you wanted her dead before. I'm sure you were just excited to be there to see it fucking happen. I don't know what you did to convince her that you aren't bloody vile, but you don't deserve her!"

She hadn't heard Draco speak a word until this point, but finally Ron's words had struck a cord and the dam that he'd created for himself officially collapsed.

"You think I don't fucking know that?" Draco shouted, his voice angrier than she'd ever heard him speak before. "You think I don't ask myself every day why she's with me? You think I don't wonder what the hell I did to deserve her? Because I do. And the answer is nothing. Fucking nothing. The bigger man in me wishes she wanted someone else, someone who was worthy of her. But the selfish man in me—the one we all know tends to win out—the selfish man in me just thanks the bloody gods that she chose me. For some fucking strange reason, she chose me. So, I'll be right here trying my best to be good enough for her for as long as she'll have me!"

"Move or I'll move you," Hermione said, pulling her wand from her hair. She never raised it to either of them, but if they hadn't stepped out of the way within about three seconds, Hermione wouldn't have hesitated. Ginny and Pansy glanced at one another once before they both stepped to the side and then followed Hermione out the door.

Draco and Ron stood in front of the verandah a few feet from one another, each red in the face and being restrained by Blaise and Harry. Ron was pointing at Draco while he yelled over Harry's shoulder, but Draco fists were clenched tightly on either side of him. Where Ron was actively being held back by Harry, Blaise merely stood in front of Draco. He looked just as angry as Draco and Ron, but he held his tongue, allowing Draco to fight his own battles.

"You think that makes up for it? You think sitting here, spouting off some noble bullshit, makes up for the fact that you stood by and let it happen?!"

Hermione made it down the steps and said, "Stop it! You don't know what you're talking about."

"I beat my hands bloody on that door to try and get out there to her, all the while you just—"

"He did do something!" she shouted, "He had no choice—"

Ron's eyes finally fell on her, as if he'd just realized she was present. His voice dropped, no longer screaming, but if anything, this was worse, the look of dejection and disappointment he was giving her now.

"There's always a choice, 'Mi. Always. Don't tell me he had no fucking choice."

Where Ron's shoulders had started to slump in defeat, Hermione's presence and Ron's last words just seemed to anger Draco more. He took another step toward Ron, but Blaise put a warning hand on his arm and shook his head at him, muttering, "No, that's what he wants."

"He would've died, Ron. We all would have—"

"Then he should have died!" Ron shouted, and his words took her breath. Even at his worst, she never would've imagined him capable of saying something so hurtful. She took a step backward, feeling the familiar sting of unshed tears. "Then he should have died. That's what Harry would've done. That's what I would've done." He took a step toward her, but Hermione shook her head and retreated further away from him.

Ron shook his head as well, looking at Hermione pleadingly. "There's literally nothing that would have stopped either of us"—he motioned toward himself and Harry—"from doing something, anything. Death or otherwise. So, don't tell me he didn't have a choice. Don't—"

"This conversation is over," she said, her voice final and quavering despite her attempt at cold disassociation. When Ron opened his mouth to speak, she shook her head and turned away from him. Walking to Draco as if she were Imperiused, her feet drawn toward him like a magnet, she touched his arm, but his eyes were glued on Ron. It took her a moment to pry his fists open enough for her to lace her fingers through his.

Hermione could hear Ron and Harry arguing behind her. She could hear Ron's shouts at her as well, about how Draco would ruin her life, about all the ways that her future would be destroyed simply by being associated with him. She clenched her jaw, fighting back the tears she knew she couldn't hold back much longer, and Pansy's voice drowned out all the others, finally enough to silence Ron.

But Hermione tried not to pay them any attention, allowing their words to drift away as she tried to get Draco to look at her. It took her saying his name three times before he took a deep breath as if he'd just awoken from a dream and turned to face her. His arms were completely taut with the stress of trying to restrain himself, and when she put her other hand on his stomach, she felt the muscles there trembling beneath her fingers.

She pulled him toward the door, not paying any attention to whatever the rest of them were doing; she just wanted to get him back to their room before he lost what little bit of restraint remained.

The entire walk back to the door, Draco's eyes bore straight ahead, never flinching, never faltering. He slipped his hand from her own when she stopped to close the front door behind them, and when she turned, every person who'd remained sitting, Parvati and her parents, Seamus and Dean, Nicola and Daphne, and Dennis and his mother, were very obviously looking anywhere except at her and Draco, as if they hadn't just heard every word of the conversation less than ten feet from the verandah.

Draco never stopped. He walked past them all, turning into the kitchen before heading directly toward their room. Hermione did for only a moment, her eyes roving over the guests at the table while a heavy blush broke across her face, painting her cheeks. She felt the warmth across her skin just as Nicola's eyes fell on her. She gave her a knowing look, and Hermione, now knowing the difference between that look and pity, recognized it immediately for concern. When Nicola started to stand, Hermione shook her head and mumbled, "We're okay," as much to herself as to Nicola, before leaving the room as well, just in time to watch Draco's back disappear into their hallway.

She ran to catch up with him, her mind already beginning to go over every word of the shouting match she'd overheard. For whatever reason, Draco seemed to want to get away from her as much as everyone else, and she couldn't understand what she could have said or done that would make him upset with her as well. But just as she rounded the corner down their hallway, the door to their room slammed shut, causing her to flinch and stop so quickly that she almost lost her balance.

After only a split second, she pushed through her anger and self-doubt and closed the distance to their room. Reaching out for the doorknob, she expected it to be locked, but she felt it turn with ease, allowing her to breathe a bit easier as she stepped through.

Draco's back was to her, and he was leaning over his desk, his hands gripping the edge and his head bowed. He didn't move at all as she shut the door behind her, so he must've known it would be her following him into their room. She twisted her opal ring around her finger as she stepped toward him but forced herself to stop the moment she realized what she was doing. She had nothing at all to be nervous about. She'd done nothing wrong; his anger couldn't have anything to do with her.

He'd told her before that old habits die hard, and sometimes slipping back into his old defenses was the only defense he had, but she wouldn't let him. She stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around him, resting her palms on his chest and her head against his back. He didn't move, and she took that as comfort enough that his anger hadn't somehow bled over onto her. So, she stayed, her head rising and falling along with each heavy breath he took as they stood there.

He still felt just as tense as he had outside, but he was no longer shaking at least. More than once, she felt his breathing falter like he was about to speak and then thought better of it. Fighting the urge to fill the silence, she gave him time to figure it out on his own, knowing he'd speak when he was ready.

She was right.

When he finally did break the silence, his words drove straight through the fear she'd felt when he'd slammed the door, fear that he'd been angry with her for some reason. It cut through her own anger at Ron and her disappointment and shock at him for having said the things he did. She'd expected anger, spitting venom in the same way Ron had been, but in its place, she heard only brokenness.

"Do you regret it?"

She thought she understood what he meant, but the sheer unexpectedness of his question stopped her up short, and the "what?" that poured from her mouth was almost involuntary.

"This. Me. Do you regret it?"

"Wha—no. No. Of course not. Why wou—"

"Because this is just the beginning. Nothing he said was wrong."

Again, his words left her mind reeling, and for a moment, she was unable to make her mouth form all the words running through her mind. She tried to turn him around, pulling his arm to make him face her, but it was like trying to move stone.

"Everything he said was wrong," she said, trying to understand what could possibly have made Draco think she regretted any of this or that Ron had been correct in his judgment of him.

"I really did just stand there. I—"

"We've already talked about this."

"—really did say I wanted you to die. Your—"

"We were twelve!"

"—life really will be ruined."

Finally, she succeeded in getting him to face her, but he refused to look at her; his gaze was focused at some point over her head, and his jaw was set.

He took a deep breath, his eyes closing as his brow furrowed, as if he was trying to rein himself in and keep his words calm. "If you're with me…you should just—"

"I don't care about any of that!"

Draco said nothing; he opened his eyes but continued to look away from her, this time his eyes, dark as storm clouds, were trained on the wall to the left of them. The muscles in his jaw rolled as she watched, unsure of what to say next. Of all people to be listening to, of all people to let get beneath his skin, she really never thought it would be Ron. And yet, his words had been enough to send Draco back far enough that when his eyes finally met hers, she noticed they were no longer his. His defenses were up, his Occlumency shields set in place, masking his emotions or pulling them back far enough that he could hide from them.

It was too much.

She'd let him hide after the letter. She'd let him withdraw from her, to pull back enough to shield himself in whatever way he knew how, but that had been out of anger. This hurt, this running away from her, she wouldn't stand for it.

"No," she demanded as she stepped into him. With her chest as close to his as she could get and still be able to look up into his face, she stared him down. She refused to wipe her face, knowing the evidence of her anger was currently running down her cheeks, but she wouldn't hide from it. "No. You don't get to do that. You don't get to shut me out!"

Her voice piercing through the silence caused him to crack. His shields fell around him like glass, and the look he gave her now was no longer one of anger or hurt, but shame. As his brows turned downward and his shoulders sagged, she put her hands into his, lacing their fingers together at his sides.

"Nothing he said matters," she said, her voice no longer loud and echoing off the walls around them. "Nothing. Please don't push me away." She hated herself for the quaver in her voice, but she couldn't stop it any more than she could make herself stop caring for him.

He took a shaky breath, leaning backward enough to rest against the desk behind him. She thought he was trying to pull away again, to distance himself from her, but he pulled her with him. Flush with his chest now, she wrapped her arms around him, powerless to the sob that broke through her at the feel of his hands on her back, clutching her to him like a lifeline.

She hadn't even realized how terrified she'd been, hadn't even noticed the shallow breaths she'd been taking. After he'd been angry with her over his father's letter, even though she'd been worried, she had never truly thought things were different between them. She just thought he needed more time to work through it. But the look on his face as he ran through all the reasons he wasn't good enough, why she shouldn't be with him, her heart seemed to still, to stop beating entirely as she waited for him to end it. She'd been waiting for him to pull away entirely, and her thoughts only solidified further the moment his Occlumency shields had raised in front of her like a fortress.

"I'm sorry," he breathed the words into her hair, barely more than a whisper. "I'm…I'm just waiting for you to realize that this is all too much. That it's not worth all that comes along with it."

Hermione stepped back, reluctant to leave his arms again, but needing to see him, needing him to see her as she said, "I'm not going anywhere." She pushed up on her tiptoes, making herself as close to eye-level with him as she could and took his face in her hands to repeat herself. "I'm not going anywhere."

The deep furrow in his brow remained, but at least now he was looking at her. His gaze never left hers as she kept speaking, desperate to bridge the gap between where he'd been hours ago and the distance Ron had set him back from his meddling.

"I have a lot of regrets. This isn't one of them. You are not one of them. I don't care what anyone else thinks. Anyone who actually knows you knows that you're a good man." Something flashed across his face, a split second of fear, as if he were terrified that he wouldn't live up to her assessment of him. "Those who don't, don't matter to me."

He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh and shifted enough to slide into the chair beside the desk, pulling her down across his thighs. Taking a deep breath herself, she buried her face in the crook of his neck as the tension in his shoulders relaxed beneath her arms and the jittery nerves that had been rising in her chest began to subside.

She knew there was probably something to be said for the way her heart had almost stopped earlier. The way her chest had constricted at the thought that he was about to end whatever it was they had together simply because Ron had convinced him that he somehow wasn't worthy. She was likely sporting some unhealthy layer of codependency based on the way she was currently clinging to him as if she were afraid to let him go, and he seemed no different; one of his hands was clutching her shirt and the other was buried in her hair along with his face. But she'd unpack their reliance on one another later with Alys. Right now, she just needed to feel him, the realness of whatever this was that they'd refused to put a name on.

Well, that wasn't entirely true.

They had given it a name.

Everything.

She swallowed and lifted her face enough so he could hear her. "Promise me you won't shut me out," she said, her lips barely grazing against his collarbone as she spoke. "Not for any ridiculous self-sacrificial reason like you think I deserve better."

Draco sat back, relinquishing his hold on her shirt but his hand remained there, his thumb brushing slow strokes across her back. "I wasn't lying when I told him I was too selfish for that." After he pressed a kiss to her temple, she turned so she could see his face as he continued. "I… I don't want to lose you, but I wanted to give you an out if this was becoming too much."

"I don't want an out. I meant what I said the other night." He stared straight ahead, and in his profile, she watched him swallow. Based on that and the way his thumb stopped moving along her back, she thought he knew what she meant, but just in case he didn't, she said it again. "I love you."

He froze, only his eyelids moving as he blinked rapidly, and once again, she began to think she was overstepping.

"Maybe it's too soon to say that, I—I know we haven't talked about it. Or maybe you aren't ready to hear it…."

He curled his free hand around her own against his chest, and she bit her lip to stop her rambling. He didn't owe her a response, and—

"No one has ever said that to me before."

She'd watched his mouth move, watched as he formed the words, and yet they didn't immediately register in her mind. She opened her mouth to speak, but she wasn't sure how to formulate the question that was weighing so heavily on her. Surely, he didn't mean no one. Finally, the words came, and she could think of no less blunt way to say them than just to ask him exactly what he meant.

"I mean no one. Unless you count when my father wrote it in his letter to you, which I don't."

He still hadn't looked at her, and if not for the way his heart was racing beneath her hand, she wouldn't have even noticed how uneasy it made him feel to admit that out loud. It felt awful to focus on herself in this moment, but she couldn't stop her mind from returning to the countless memories she had of her parents telling her they loved her, or even Harry and Ron saying the same, in jest after she'd essentially done their homework for them or genuinely in any number of situations where she'd needed to hear it. She couldn't imagine how lonely his life must have been to not ever know how much you meant to someone.

She remembered his face in the memory he'd shared with them, of his return from Hogwarts their first year. He'd stepped up to his father expectantly, and then the moment Lucius's smile had disappeared, so had Draco's.

"I know my mother does, in her own way, but I've never actually heard her say it." He turned to face her finally, his eyes wide and vulnerable, allowing himself to be seen. "I've never said it either. I just wasn't expecting it, and I didn't know what to say. I don't feel like…" His gaze fell to the space between them where their hands lay still entwined. "…someone who's…"

She pulled her hand from his and laid it across his cheek. When his eyes met hers again, she said, "You're worth that and more, you know that, right?"

The heaviness in his face receded a bit at her repetition of what he'd said to her before their date. As she dropped her forehead to his, she closed her eyes and said, "You don't have to say anything. If it makes you uncomfortable, then I won't—"

"Say it again."

Opening her eyes, she found a serious expression on his face, no longer worried and vulnerable, but insistent and hopeful, his eyes penetrating and locked on hers.

"Say it again," he repeated.

She smiled, pulling back just enough to look at him full on as she twisted her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "I love you."

His lips were on hers almost before she'd finished saying the words.