A/N: Chapter Forty-Five!

In a bit of a daze, I retreated down the stairs, head spinning and thoughts racing, as I found Ginny drifting in and out of sleep in the lounge. So many questions. So little time for answers. I blinked hard and continued into the kitchen, where I knew there was a bottle of merlot with my name on it.

"Hermione," Harry smiled, a little startled, uncorking that same bottle. "Fancy a glass?"

I nodded, finding my place beside him, watching as he poured the wine, looking up at him every now and then, simply thinking. For some reason, it made me emotional to be around him. I had to remind myself that what I had heard could've meant nothing and that Draco had always been very observant. No more. No less.

But the manner in which he had spoken echoed long after.

It was all I could do not to rush up those stairs and demand the truth.

I had to remind myself that I couldn't, as I had promised him I wouldn't ask about the woman he loved (liked?) nor would I ask about what she had done to leave him so heartbroken. Perhaps it was unrequited love. I had known Ginny for years, and as I mentioned earlier, she truly blossomed during her last few years at Hogwarts. Perhaps Draco had noticed and harboured something for her? Still…

Harry tossed me an amused look. "You look constipated."

"Er — what?" I asked, snapping out of it. "Oh — erm, no. I'm — I'm fine."

"You sure?" he asked, handing me a glass of merlot.

I nodded, rather hard, and took a large, long sip from the glass, emptying it one full go. It should have ended there, really, but it seemed the wine only furthered the thoughts racing through my mind, making them travel twice as fast, shouting them in a voice that was twice as loud. I breathed in and out, seconds away from losing it, until finally — it happened.

My eyes darted to Harry. "Are you and Ginny okay?" I asked him, sounding more exasperated than I had intended.

The Chosen One arched an eyebrow at me, lowering his own glass from his mouth and motioning for me to follow him. I did, out of the kitchen, into the corridor, and towards his study. Inside, the walls were lined with shelves and there was a single desk situated in the centre of the room. It was large and mahogany, and reminded me of the desk in my mother and father's study. Only, this one had places for a pot of ink and a quill, as opposed to a computer.

"It's nice in here," I commented, brushing my fingertips along the spines of the nearest books — a little turned on, if I had to be honest.

Harry forced a smile and nodded, as though something were on his mind.

I turned away from the shelves and followed him to the desk, where we sat across from one another, in silence.

It took about two minutes for him to speak, and when he did, there was no turning back.

"Malfoy told you?" he asked, rather casual despite the subject matter.

I didn't say anything, alarmed.

Under the dim light, it was difficult to make out his lightning bolt scar, seeing as the marking had started to fade the moment Tom Riddle had been defeated, but I was no fool to the fact that Harry still touched it on occasion, in a moment of panic or fear or uncertainty or helplessness, as though he expected it to sting.

I watched on, as his hand brushed over his forehead and then sunk to his lap. If I hadn't been frozen with fear, over the question that had come from his lips, I would most certainly have gone over there and hugged him. It was difficult, watching him unravel before me. He was usually so strong and so composed at work. I realized then, what a terrible friend I had been. Selfish. Ignorant. Stupid.

During our time at Hogwarts, something as serious as this would never have slipped under my radar.

I would have known and I would have helped.

But, there I was, having yet to utter a word.

"Are you okay?" I finally asked, feeling ridiculous.

Harry looked to me, as though he were absorbed in his own thoughts and as though he had forgotten that I was there. I wondered how many nights he had spent, alone in that same room, thinking, pondering.

"I'm not sure about the details," he admitted to me. "All I know is that something happened between them in Whistler."

I blinked — hard. "Ginny cheated on you?"

"It was only a kiss," he shrugged, though I could tell it bothered him to speak those words. "I — I should explain that we were having problems at the time."

"That doesn't excuse cheating," I told him, eyes wide with concern. "Harry, have you kept this to yourself all these years?"

He was at a loss. "It's not like I can shout it from the rooftops. She's the mother of my child, Hermione."

I blanked, uncertain as to what I could possibly do or say. "Does — Does she —"

"She doesn't love him," he quickly answered. "She doesn't really even like him."

"But — then — why would she —"

Harry exhaled, drinking the rest of his wine. "Lapse in judgment, I suppose. Like I said, we were having problems. Around that time, we had been trying to conceive and we ran into some serious complications, having been told by multiple Healers that we could never have children together. It was stressful, on both of us, and our marriage suffered. I slept on the sofa for weeks — and then we went to Whistler. It was difficult being there, acting as though we were fine and that we hadn't fought for a solid two months, but there was no choice. We had to pretend," he explained. "Am I angry that she turned to him, even for something as small as a kiss? Yes, absolutely. But I'm angrier at myself, for pushing her to that point. I should've been there for her. I should've taken days off and done things with her, especially after she left the team to start a family."

I listened, heartbroken and at the same time, confused beyond measure. "Harry, I — I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he said to me, smiling again, only with his mouth. "It's all in the past."

From there, I couldn't help thinking back to Whistler, to the game, to the moment Harry and Daphne had been forced to kiss and the way Ginny had shrugged it off. I wondered then, had she planned to kiss Draco by that point? Did she use that dare as a way to lessen her own lapse in judgment? Did the kiss happen while they were sober? The answer was right there in front of me. I was just too blind to see it.

Perhaps that was the reason Ginny didn't want me to date him. It wasn't that she had feelings for him. It was that she didn't want him around, and the fact that I was dating him made that close to impossible.

I breathed in and then out, in an attempt to level my thoughts.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked me.

"What? Oh — yeah. I'm just — I don't know. I'm not sure what to think right now."

He nodded, distantly. "One step at a time," he voiced, as though it were his mantra. "One step at a time."

Two Hours Later

In the hours that followed, I had left the Christmas party and retreated to the oasis that was my bathtub. I stripped out of my clothes and into the warm water, sighing with release as the tension in my muscles lessened some. There was still a long road ahead, before I could make sense of the thoughts racing through my mind, but the first step in doing so involved a nice, relaxing night at home. I lit some candles and used my favourite bath bomb, immersing myself in the dim lighting and the soft aroma (vanilla, with a touch of cinnamon) as well as the music I had going in the background.

"White Flag" by Dido

I quite liked her voice. It calmed me, as did the lyrics and the soft beat.

Do you want to know what didn't calm me? The voice on the other side the door.

"Hermione?" Draco called out, knocking. "You in there?"

I groaned with disdain, wanting nothing more than to submerge myself in the water and disappear. Though, that would probably have given him more of a reason to think something was bothering me. Since leaving the party, I had avoided him and although I did question his intelligence (on occasion) he had to have known there was something on my mind — and that he was directly involved.

"Come in," I said to him, without making the effort to rearrange the bubbles.

He entered moments later, leaning against the sink, making an obvious attempt at trying to catch my gaze, which I pointed in every direction but his. "Did I — Did I do something wrong?"

I scoffed at this.

"What's going on?" he furthered, genuinely concerned. "I thought we had a good at time the party. I thought you — "

"Save it," I interjected. "Just leave. I want to be alone tonight."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Hermione, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's bothering you."

"You want to know?"

"Yes," he answered swiftly, without a moment of hesitation. "Please, by all means, tell me."

"Fine," I countered, rising from the tub, as he had already ruined the calm, relaxing atmosphere with his stubbornness. I then reached behind him and wrapped one of the fluffy white towels around myself, leaving the ends of my hair soaked and my skin glistening against the candlelight.

Draco focused his eyes on mine the entire time, waiting for me.

I folded my arms in response, mostly to keep the towel in place and also because I was very, very annoyed.

"Are you going to say something?" he asked, sounding rather annoyed himself. "Or is this a game of charades?"

"Oh, piss off —" I grumbled, making motion to leave the room.

From there, he followed me into the bedroom and closed the door behind us, as I hurriedly changed into a t-shirt and some boy shorts. I could feel him looking at me, tearing holes through the back of my skull with his penetrating stare. It was beginning to do my head in, everything I had heard in James' room and then later, what Harry had told me.

It didn't involve me, not directly, but that didn't stop the truth from seeping deep into my bloodstream, propelling me further and further until I couldn't hold back.

"You kissed a married woman!" I shouted at him, turning around, chest rising and falling as I breathed in and out, heavily and deeply.

Draco paused, looking at me, taken aback. "That's what this is about?"

"Yes —" I retorted, swiping my wand from atop the dresser and pointing it at him with fire in my eyes. "Now leave before I count to ten, or so help me Merlin, I will curse you into oblivion."

"Put the bloody wand down," he said to me, calm despite the threat. "You're acting like a child."

I blinked — hard. "Beg your pardon? I'm acting like a child? Am I the one who goes around fucking and chucking, propositioning people, and snogging married women?!"

Draco sighed. "I don't understand why you're so bent out of shape."

"She's my best friend," I enunciated, seething with contempt. "How could you?"

"How could I?" he repeated, moving closer, snatching the wand from my grasp and tossing it to the bed. "How could you?"

In that moment, there was a fissure in the wall that I built up between us. I paused, confused and then realizing, but it was too late for me to say something, as he beat me to it.

The man scoffed. "Nott was like a fucking brother to me, before you came between us, and now, because of you, he's gone and no one knows where he is."

I opened my mouth to say something, exasperated.

"Do you honestly think he would have disappeared if it weren't for you, Granger?"

"That's not fa —"

"No, it is fair," he interjected. " — and I'll tell you why, because before you were in the picture, he was fine. Yes, he was lonely but at least he was at peace. Now, he's gone, doing Merlin knows what, with no one by his side."

I did nothing but blink, blocking the emotion that pooled around my eyes.

Draco paced the room, mumbling things under his breath, wiping his own eyes and avoiding me at all costs. It was strange seeing him like that, hearing those words come from him. Until then, he'd never spoken to me about — about Nott. It was stupid of me to think I was the only one distraught over what had happened. But no one else spoke about it. No one else acknowledged what happened — at least not around me.

It occurred to me then, that there was a chance Draco's opinions weren't his alone. Perhaps Daphne, Astoria, and Blaise agreed, and that was the reason they chose not to speak about Nott — because if they did, this would've happened.

I moved to the foot of the bed, eyes closed and mind numb.

In those few seconds, something cold danced across my clavicle. It was the necklace. I had forgotten, until then, that I had it on. It was cool against my skin and coaxed an unexpected shiver from deep within me, one that dispersed to the ends of my being and back again.

If I tried hard enough, I'm sure I could have heard his voice, speaking those words again, the ones that haunted me and drove me to memories of him night after night after night.

It wasn't long after that, that Draco took notice.

"Hermione," he said to me, the anger in his voice fleeting, replaced with guilt. "I shouldn't have said those things. I'm sorry. Please...Please believe me."

I didn't respond. I simply sat there, head tilted down, eyes closed, as he watched. I felt him sit down beside me, where he brought my head to his chest and mirrored my thoughts and feared with some of his own.

"Just so you know," he started to say, his arms around me. "Ginny isn't the one. Yes, I kissed her in a moment of weakness and yes, I regret it more than anything — but she isn't the one. It may shock you to hear this but — but I respect Potter too much to come between them. I guess — I guess that's why I told him the truth."

"You told him?" I asked, glancing up.

Draco nodded. "Do you remember the black eye I earned from skiing, on our last day? Well, it wasn't from skiing."

There was a raise in my brows. "Go, Harry…"

Right then, he smiled, laughing a little. "It was nothing compared to when you slapped me in Third Year."

"That was amazing," I furthered, rather fondly. "Though…I'm still a little confused about something."

"What is it?" he asked, looking to me.

I paused for a moment, immersed in thought. "If — If Ginny isn't the one, then —"

Draco laughed. "Do you really have to ask?"

"Daphne?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake. Don't take this the wrong way, but for someone so clever, you're a bit of an idiot when it comes to things like this," he remarked, earning a nudge in the ribs, which only made him laugh some more, before he drew me close to him and whispered. "It's you, you nutter."

I blanked, confused beyond comprehension. "But — that makes no sense."

"Doesn't it?"

"You said she was another woman."

"Aren't you?" he furthered.

I swallowed hard, thinking back. It — It did make some sense, on some level. I suppose part of me had always known that Draco had feelings for me, even when he was with another woman and even when I was with his best friend. It occurred to me on several occasions that he could still have harboured something for me, through all of that; with or without the letter; with or without the dresses; with or without the titles or the private planes or the dances.

His hold on me loosened a little. "I know you want to take things slow, and that's why I didn't tell you sooner, but now that the truth is out, and you know how I feel, maybe it's time we talk about where this is headed…if anywhere at all."

Something tugged at my heartstrings. "I…I don't know if I'm ready to have that talk…"

"That's okay," he said to me, bringing my closest hand to his lips, where he kissed it. "I'm good at waiting."

I breathed in, smiling a little, fading into him as we embraced. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't the 'relationship' that I had imagined, growing up, but I liked it. I liked being around him — around Draco.

His arms felt good around me and I liked the way he combed through my hair, with only his fingertips. "I'm sorry for kissing your best friend," he eventually said.

It was then that I closed my eyes, and offered him my own apology. "I'm sorry for driving yours out of the country."

This time around, Draco didn't have something funny or clever or hurtful to say. Just the truth. "He was your best friend, too."

A/N: Thoughts?

Cheers

xo.