A/N: Chapter Forty-Seven. This one, I'll admit, is quite controversial.

Draco stirred beside me, as I reentered the bed, curving my body against his. It was cool that night, but the temperature within me had risen, blurring my thoughts and distorting my senses. He turned to face me, waiting for his eyes to adjust, whilst steadily aware that I was not okay.

"Hermione," he murmured, using wandless magic to light the candle at his bedside table. "What's wrong?"

I swallowed hard, fingers shaking with the note in hand.

His eyes found the parchment, and without further word, he carefully lifted it from my loose hold and flattened the creases with his index finger and thumb. I watched him. I watched as those orbs traveled from left to right, as the fatigue slowly but surely faded from his features, leaving him aware and alert and quick to understand the situation at hand. It took three, maybe four seconds for him to look back at me.

In that moment, something changed.

He lowered the letter. "When was this delivered?"

"Just now," I answered, regaining some composure.

Draco breathed in and then out, levelling his thoughts. It was a lot to take in, and I was well aware of that. I couldn't expect him to understand, to grasp the fact that I done this without telling anyone.

It was something I had done months upon months ago, long before the incident in the park and long before I decided to go to counselling.

I looked to Draco, prepared for his reaction, to be talked down and reminded that I was taking steps and recovering and no matter how slow, that I was finding balance in my life again. It was the smart, sensible reaction, the one I would have given him, had our roles been reversed.

But that was not what happened.

There were no words.

None.

What did happen, took me by storm and crashed over me in waves.

He set the letter down and curved his hands through my hair, drawing me towards him for a hard, emotionally-driven kiss. I gasped, sucking in what little oxygen I could, pushed backwards against the pillows, trembling beneath him as his heart hammered against mine, ignoring the knots in my chest and struggling to see through the thick fog that enveloped him, as he reached between my legs and shifted my panties to the side.

I didn't know what was happening, whether he was proving something to me, or to himself.

Either way, it happened quickly and left us muddled and slicked with sweat, in bed, chests rising and falling with insurmountable speed as we struggled to breathe. His hold on me loosened, and from there, we separated. I rolled to one side and felt his weight roll to the other.

An uncomfortable stillness followed.

I knew he was there, but also, that he wasn't.

"Draco?" I voiced, because the silence was unbearable. "Please say something."

It took him several seconds to respond, during which time I could feel the tremors than ran through his spine, confirming to me the depth of his fears and insecurities. I almost didn't want him to say anything, to just sleep and pretend nothing had ever happened, but I knew him too well to know he couldn't ignore the confusion and the haste and the turmoil that surrounded the last moment, as well as this one.

"D — Did you want that?" he stammered, bouts of horror in his tone, as though his mind had already been decided, as though the word had crossed his thoughts, and in its wake, left him hanging on the edge of that question.

I didn't have an answer.

A/N: Thoughts?

Cheers

xo.