May 8th

Morning brought calmer heads. Hermione tossed and turned most of the night rolling over their argument in her head. At first, when it was all still fresh in her mind, she had been so incensed that Draco would attack her sanity she could hardly think straight. It made her even angrier when her mind went fuzzy. Later, as she had time to cool off and think rationally, she understood that he wasn't calling her crazy, just her decision to run off without a plan.

She hated to admit that he was at least partially right. As pleasant as her stay at Draco's flat had been, she wanted to stay. If she could somehow forget the world outside the four walls of his home, she wouldn't have even considered leaving. And if she knew that no one from the Resistance knew where to find her, she would have no reason to go. Their discussion wasn't going to be over. She was still a danger to him every single second that she remained. Still, she was calm enough to consider whatever options he might be able to suggest. Perhaps together they could come up with a suitable plan.

Knowing she couldn't hide away in Draco's guest bedroom forever, she stepped out into the corridor, prepared for Round Two if the wizard was in the fighting mood. Not really knowing him all that well meant she wasn't sure what to expect. With Augustus she knew there would always come a great deal of pouting after a row. His childish actions both infuriated her and charmed her at the same time. Antonin preferred to act as if nothing had happened. If they were both calm, he would kiss her hello and pretend their fight was just a bad dream they shared. Denial and avoidance were the cornerstone of their marriage.

Hermione wasn't sure how Malfoys dealt with losses of temper and raised voices. A big part of her hoped that after she heard the front door slam the night before that it would only be a matter of time before Draco came home cooled off. Each of them needed to go to their corners and lick their wounds. Once ruffled feathers were soothed she wanted him to come back, slip in the covers behind her, and apologize for being a complete arse. Of course, she knew he was stubborn enough to not be willing to admit that he was completely at fault. Hadn't the incident in the forest when she completely humiliated herself by getting confused and calling out to Harry proven that he couldn't just casually throw out the 'crazy' word?

Alecto once told her that her least attractive trait was her inability to concede the fact that sometimes, just maybe, she might be wrong. Oh, that had been a fun discussion! Hermione still couldn't think back on that night years later when the two shared a bottle or two of wine and complained about how frustrating their respective jobs had become. After ranting about an incident proving the incompetence of the witch Hermione hired as her assistant, Alecto gently offered the suggestion that maybe Hermione had been too hard on the poor girl, too demanding and unreasonable. Still Hermione refused to concede that she was wrong.

She hated when she came to the realization after the fact that Alecto had been at least partially correct. Sometimes she did just assume that her way was best and would hear no argument claiming otherwise. Her ill-fated crusade to free the house-elves came to mind. Because she believed they were all miserable and mistreated, she had to save them from their existence. No matter how many times she heard from others, including the actual house-elves themselves, that they were content and even happy, because they disagreed with her, she believed they were wrong. Opening up her closed mind to different possibilities was difficult.

Deciding that she would try to make amends even if she didn't think she was wrong, Hermione left her room to make breakfast. Experience taught her that men were easier to deal with when they'd been well-fed. The door to his bedroom was closed, a sign he'd eventually come home. She didn't have to wait long for the man to leave his room once the bacon was sizzling.

Still clearly exhausted from his excursions outside the flat the night before, Draco rubbed at his tired eyes. He stopped a few steps away from where she was cooking breakfast to gauge her mood. It was only after she granted him a small smile that he closed the distance between them to kiss her. Surprised at first by the affection, Hermione froze. She wasn't used to such an exuberant show of apology. Sure, the other men in her life would eventually come calling for a little make-up action, but they never started off with a kiss that she felt down to her toes. Perhaps, she had been arguing with wizards incorrectly her entire life. Over sooner than she was ready, when he broke the kiss to stare into her eyes, she was at a loss of what to say.

"I'm very sorry that I made it seem like I was calling you crazy last night. That was never my intention."

He seemed so sincere she couldn't help but believe him. It seemed only fair that she offer her own.

"I shouldn't have overreacted like I did. I'm sorry."

The tension between them that had been present since their heated discussion the night before all but disappeared. Whatever their relationship was, it seemed that they had successfully navigated through their first domestic squabble. She finished up their meal with her mind focused on ideas for how they could truly enjoy the making up.

How he spent the hours he was away from the flat was a topic that Hermione found herself curious about, but she didn't really want to ask. She didn't want to know which Death Eaters he interacted with when he left. Knowing too much about the outside world could either terrify her to the point that she never wanted to step outside again or encourage her to return to Hogsmeade. Draco wasn't in a rush to explain his absences either. It was possible he understood what too much knowledge would do to the woman.

Conversation stalled over breakfast. Maybe they weren't as over their disagreement as she assumed. Each time one of them would start to say something, they'd stop themselves. It wasn't exactly the most uncomfortable meal she'd ever been a part of, but it was high on the list. Later she would blame the awkwardness for making her blurt out the question she had been wondering for months by that point.

"When we were staying in the tent in the village, why did you get so angry that morning we were talking about Augie?"

Draco's fork crashed to his plate with a bite of eggs still on it. When he looked up to meet her eyes she saw equal parts confusion and anger present his stormy grey eyes. She wished she could go back in time a few minutes earlier to prevent the words from tumbling out. The timing was awful and completely inappropriate. If it was possible, she thought he was even a bit embarrassed. There were only a few times in the twenty-seven years that they had been aware of the other's existence that she could remember him being so out of sorts. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else in the entire world than at his kitchen table.

"Why would you ask me that?"

"I just thought it was interesting that you were so angry. I wondered why."

It was clear that he was debating within himself whether or not he was going to answer her question. All of the tension returned to the room and it began to grow. Draco stared at her unblinking for at least a minute. Hermione shifted in her chair, uneasy with the intense scrutiny. She briefly considered trying his tactic from earlier and just kissing him until he couldn't remember what they were talking about. Before she got her chance, he spoke.

"I was jealous."

"Jealous?"

"Obviously."

It it was possible, he became even more embarrassed by his admission. The tiniest pinking of his cheeks was a sight she didn't expect to see. He was usually able to hide his expressions better than that.

"What the devil could you have possibly been jealous about? Until I went to Cornwall, there hadn't been anything between Augie and me for thirteen years."

"And yet, after all of that time, you were still in love with him. Claimed that you would love him until you died."

She didn't know where he was going with his words, only that she was very uncomfortable. Why did she always have to keep talking when it was best to stay silent? Usually she was better. Maybe all of the time she spent over the past year alone on the run away from human interaction changed her. Draco rose to his feet, unable to sit still any longer. She hated herself for making him feel like he couldn't relax in his own home.

"I hated you that morning. Hated you both actually."

His confession surprised her enough that she couldn't even formulate a response to ask him why. She could feel her mouth hanging open, her confusion was evident. In the end, it turned out he didn't need her to ask. He was ready to tell her everything.

"I hated that you and Rook knew what it was like to love someone so completely. Even after thirteen years apart, he was all you thought about. You couldn't wait to get back to him the first chance you could. I hated you because no one has ever loved me like that."

Flustered, she tried to find her tongue.

"Surely, Astoria…"

"No one."

With the pink in his cheeks fully transformed into bright red, the wizard rushed to the front door. As it slammed shut again, Hermione concluded that she wasn't the only one who had a problem with running away.