A/N: Chapter Fifty!

I followed him into the upstairs area, where I assumed he lived. It was small, but tidy and reminded me of his room in the Puddlemere house. Only, there were various walking sticks and even a wheelchair tucked in the corner. Seeing those things left a knot in my stomach; a knot that tightened as he returned from the kitchen with a couple beers. I couldn't remember the last time I had beer, but I did know it was with him, maybe one or two months before the Katherine incident. As of late, I found myself looking back to those days, before we fell in love and before things turned so complicated. It was simple then, being friends and having him there, down the corridor, where I could call out to him and banter, as we used to. Innocent and carefree.

Nott looked to me then, popping the caps from both our bottles. His gaze weighed heavy, though not as much as his hand on mine. "I owe you an apology," he voiced, waiting for my eyes to fall on him, which they did. "I owe you everything, really."

"You don't owe me anything," I voiced back, sincere.

"Granger, what happened in that Hospital Wing —"

"Let's not talk about the Hospital Wing."

His expression wavered. "Isn't that why you came here? For an explanation."

"No," I said to him, unsure about the entire ordeal. "I came here to see you. Things are — Things are complicated right now and I just — I had to see you."

It was then that something clicked behind those blue eyes of his. "Draco?"

Just from that, just from the simple fact that he could pinpoint the problem, after having spent two years in a different continent, was the reason I knew going to the Northwest Territories in search for Theodore Nott was far from a mistake. The knot in my stomach loosened, and I exhaled, having a drink. From the moment I had left London, to then, I had avoided the single issue that was my relationship with Draco Malfoy.

Nott studied me, weighing the possibilities in his mind, as though he could see straight through my defences and into the fabric of my being. I didn't speak, as I wasn't sure what to say or how to say it. In truth, I didn't want him to know the details of what had transpired prior to my arrival. Growing up, Draco was his best friend. Several times during his childhood, he had retreated to Draco's home, after having fought with his father or otherwise. There was a close, complex friendship between the two. It was low maintenance and carried with it, years of history. Similar to mine and Harry's friendship. Although we didn't speak everyday, the trust and loyalty was there. Same was true for Nott and Draco. For that reason, and that reason alone, I felt I couldn't tell him the truth.

In part, because I didn't want to speak those words out loud, but also because I wasn't sure about the truth. By definition, sex without prior consent is rape. It's an uncomplicated, straight forward way to observe the issue. It's something I would preach to any friend or family member to ever find his or herself in a similar situation. But there was one problem in the grand scheme of things, one thing that drew me to Draco the morning after and confused me more than I had ever anticipated.

I didn't feel raped. I didn't feel degraded or disrespected, as victims of rape are supposed to. No, he didn't wait for my consent and no, I wasn't in the mood for sex, but even he could tell, moments after, that what he had done was on some level, wrong.

Did I feel he would do it again? No.

I was sure, down to my bones, that he wouldn't so much as kiss me. It was written all over him, the night of, the morning after, and moments before I had left for Yellowknife. He seemed shocked when I told him I would write him, as though he didn't deserve contact. Part of me pitied him, but another part of me wondered what was so wrong with me, that I didn't feel half as hurt as I should have.

If anything, I felt distant.

"Granger?"

I looked to Nott, having disappeared into the labyrinth that was my thoughts. "Yes?"

"Would it be all right to hug you?" he asked, eyes flicking to me. "You look like you could use one."

I smiled weakly, setting my bottle on one of the tables and watching as he did the same. There were moments, being there, wherein I'd simply look at him, at his face and his eyes and his arms and his chest and his legs and his hair. I couldn't believe he was in front of me, and I couldn't believe the feeling that burst through me, when we touched. It happened down in the shop and it happened then, in the attached flat. Nott scooted closer to me and melded our bodies together in a hug. I tried to keep my composure. I tried not to hold him too hard or squeeze him too tight. I didn't know the details of his physical condition. I knew only what I had observed, which was a significant change, one that rippled through me with every second I spent in his presence.

Suddenly, he was in my life again.

It overwhelmed me, but at the same time it calmed me.

I was unbelievably happy and relieved to be near him, but the emotions that followed echoed emptiness and despair, because I knew this was temporary. There would be a day (soon, in fact) when I would wake up in a world without Theodore Nott. It was inevitable. He was going to die.

"You're shaking," he observed, combing through my hair. "Tell me what's wrong, Hermione."

I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent, using it to calm the jumble of emotions in my gut. "I can't," I whispered to him. "Just…lay down with me."

Without asking, without furthering the topic, Nott did as I requested and lowered us to the bed. It was the same as before, years ago, after the New Year's Eve party at Daphne's. Just us, in bed, facing one another with mirroring looks.

"Come home," I murmured, drowning in those oceans. "Just cut the shit and come home already."

He smiled then. "I missed your foul language."

"I'll shout rare and unique expletives at you everyday, if you pack your things right now and take the Port Key to London with me," I vowed, smiling back. "Promise."

"You don't leave for another couple nights," he teased.

I rolled my eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I do."

From there, our conversation faded into comfortable silence. I blinked and breathed, unable to tear my eyes away from him, feeling our hands slowly come together in the narrow space between us. It had been ages, and yet, our minds and bodies were still in tune with one another. His eyes flicked to my lips, and I knew, from the second it took for colour to find his hollowed cheeks, that the thought of kissing me had lingered in the back of his mind, only to surface as we lay there.

Again, I didn't know his physical condition and I didn't have the courage to bring it up, so I did nothing. I kept still, less than twelve inches from him, blinking and breathing, watching him, practically listening to his internal debate.

"You know," I started to say. "Coming here, I had this whole speech prepared. I was going to burst through the front door of wherever you've been and demand you explain yourself, because that's what I visualized for the past two years."

"But?" he furthered.

"Oh, I still plan on doing that, just, you know, later."

Nott cracked a smile at this. "Once a nutter, always a nutter."

"So tempted to smack you right now."

"Do it," he challenged. "Merlin knows I deserve at least one."

I tossed him a knowing look. "I'm obviously not going to hit you."

His face screwed a moment, before he realized. "It'll take a lot more than a measly slap from Hermione Granger to hurt the powerful and mighty Theodore Nott."

I snorted with laughter. "Once a twat, always a twat."

"Oh…now you're going to get it, Granger."

"Really?" I asked, hoping I sounded somewhat unimpressed.

He nodded, moving closer to me. "Close your eyes."

I opened my mouth to protest, but followed his instruction nonetheless, silently wondering whether he was actually going to smack me. I mean, he obviously wasn't going to because he was Theo, but he was definitely up to something. I figured he would tickle me, as he already knew my spots, and from there, I mentally prepared for the torture that would soon consume every inch of my body, until something unexpected swept over my lips.

He kissed me.

It was light and lasted about three seconds, before I had the chance to respond, but it happened. I opened my eyes afterwards, breathing deeply.

Another few seconds passed, wherein neither of us said anything. I couldn't believe he had done that. I mean, I was into it and wanted him to do it again, but I still couldn't believe he had done that. It made no sense for him to do that, after maintaining distance between us for two whole years. What was the point of breaking up with me and fleeing the continent, if he had it in him to kiss me like nothing happened?

"Things are complicated right now," I explained. "Between me and Draco."

Theo nodded, knowingly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. It — It was selfish and stupid and —"

"Do it again," I murmured to him, catching his gaze, watching, waiting, hanging over the edge of the last second. "Before I change my mind."

A moment of silence followed, as though he were waiting for me to change my mind and object. I didn't. I simply waited and delved deeper and deeper into whatever was happening, until it happened again.

"Like this?" he murmured back, brushing a hand under my chin and smoothing our lips together. "Or like this…"

I inhaled deeply, vibrations erupting from my core to the tips of my toes and back again, as his tongue danced across the slit between my lips, coaxing them apart and deepening the kiss. It was a smooth, sensual deliverance, one that left me breathless and begging for more, with the tug of his collar and the arch in my back. He was no different. His hands found my hair and then my sides, skimming along the bottom hem of my top with his fingertips, grazing my skin with his.

This time around, it lasted longer than three seconds.

Within the next moment, I curved one leg around him and slowly straddled him, caught in the heat and the overwhelming reality of being with him again. His hands fell to my hips and from there, it could have happened. I could feel it.

"Hold — Hold on —"

Theo separated from me, lips swollen and even more kissable than when we started. "What's wrong?"

By this point, I was breathing hard, mentally cursing myself. "Sorry, I just — I spent the past two years trying to get over you and — and now that you're here — in front of me — I — I just —"

"It's okay," he told me. "We don't have to do anything. It was my fault for —"

"Do you still love me?" I asked, before I could stop myself.

He paused, looking at me. "Of course I do."

I exhaled, realizing then that I'd been holding my breath.

From there, we retreated to our sides; still close but distant, in that we were absorbed in our thoughts. I didn't know exactly what he was thinking, but I knew it had to do with what almost happened. I could see it reflected in those oceans, lapping over me again and again, demolishing the barrier between us as though it were made of sand.

"I broke up with you," he started to say, brushing the hair from my face. "But that doesn't mean I stopped loving you, you nutter."

I pouted. "You're ruining the moment."

"What can I do to fix it?"

"Tell me everything," I voiced, staring between his eyes, hinting at what he had been doing all this time, for the past two years. "Do you think you can do that?"

"I can do that," he nodded, finding my hand with his, as we lay there. "It started with my Port Key from London to New York…"

A/N: Thoughts?

Cheers

xo.