31

September 23rd (Thursday) – Camping

It was Thursday, their third day in the woods, when spirits began to lift. They'd maintained camp where they were, content that they were distant enough that they wouldn't see any other hikers and spent the first two days in free climbing and fly fishing… or attempting to fly fish.

"Start slow, finish fast."

"Back and forth, back and forth."

"Watch your line creeping."

It was like a mantra. Walt was repeating it over and over to each of them, and the more he spoke, the more frustrated everyone became until finally Nicola snapped.

"I don't know what the hell that means, Walt!" she shrieked, her words sending a group of birds flying from the shoreline across from them on the small stream they'd been fishing. They all turned to look at her. Sure, they'd all been just as aggravated at their inability to catch a fish, which was hilarious in and of itself. Hermione had never once wanted to go fishing in her life, yet here she was, sullen over her inability to follow what seemed like the simplest of instructions.

But Walt, ever-patient and forgiving as he was, calmly walked toward her and said, "Here, let me show you." They all tried to emulate the motions he was guiding Nicola through as he showed her the right way to stand and roll the line off the tip of the rod. Hermione just kept getting caught in a tree, and Draco had already sat his down, taking a seat beside the water and laughing every time she cursed under her breath as her line had once again become entangled in a tree limb. Finally, after having to restring her line in the way Walt taught them earlier that morning for the fifth time, Hermione took a seat beside him on the rocks, stretching her legs out in front of her and leaning back to allow the sun to shine into her face. It had been overcast since their fast day in, but today the sun had been beaming through the breaks in the trees since they finished their surprisingly satisfying breakfast of freeze-dried bacon and eggs.

All of a sudden, Nicola gave another screech to their left, causing Hermione to sit up quickly and turn to see what had caused the panic, but instead of finding Nicola racing through the water after falling in as she'd expected, Nicola was wearing the biggest smile Hermione had ever seen on her face.

"I got one!" she was saying, as she pulled the fish in and Walt scooped it up in a net. "I got one!" Hermione couldn't help but laugh at Nicola's face; she was beaming like a kid in a candy store, her hair in a loose braid across one shoulder as she held up the net to show everyone. It was a surreal sight, Nicola, normally so prim and posh, dirt across one cheek and rugged hiking boots on her feet. There was no trace of the sadness that typically shadowed her features as Walt showed her how to remove the hook and clean the fish; instead, she looked much like Hermione imagined she would have in her twenties, uninhibited and free, before the war and societal expectations took the smile from her face.

After Nicola's fish, Dennis, Alys, and Seamus all added their own to their bounty as well, so their dinner that night was much more enjoyable. Trout roasted over an open fire in place of the freeze-dried meals they'd had for the last two nights definitely contributed to the change in mood. As if Nicola's mood was the driving force for the entire group, that was their pivotal moment. From then on, they all seemed to actually enjoy being out in the wilderness. The cold seemed much less biting, the food wasn't nearly as unbearable, and they all began to truly appreciate the beauty of the forest around them.

For everyone except for Draco.

The last two nights, Hermione had shown up in his tent, beneath a Disillusionment charm to ensure that no one saw just like he had requested before they left, but both nights he'd seemed distant and closed-off. She'd caught him Occluding on multiple occasions throughout the trip even, though she never brought it up, thinking if he wanted to talk to her about whatever was bothering him then he would. They'd agreed to talk to one another like adults, so, though her first instinct was that she'd done something wrong, she pushed that thought from her mind, hoping that he'd be comfortable enough to talk to her when the time was right.

Even with their improved moods, after three days in the woods, Hermione was ready for a hot shower. They'd all been told to bring along a swimsuit, but Walt hadn't mentioned a hot spring since before they left. When she brought it up to him after dinner that night, he agreed to take them to a secret spot that Alys had found months before.

After they'd cleaned up their dishes and changed into swimsuits beneath their clothes, he walked them about a mile away from their campsite to an area covered by heavy trees and berry thickets. He pushed through a naked blaeberry bush, and Hermione heard herself gasp at the sight of the most beautiful pool she'd ever seen hidden behind the trees.

"This place is pretty hidden," Alys said. "I've been out here multiple times since we built The Willows, and I've never seen anyone else."

Hermione walked forward to look down into the crystal-clear water expecting to see fish but found only smooth gray rocks covering the bottom of the pool.

"The water is too warm," Walt said, when he saw Hermione peering into the water. "It's just shy of 100 degrees, so nothing can live there except bacteria," he added with a smile.

"He's kidding," Alys said quickly. "The water is just fine. I've been in dozens of times and my limbs have yet to rot off."

That was all the go-ahead that Seamus needed as he ran headlong into the water wearing Gryffindor red swimming trunks, having stripped off his outer layer at some point during Hermione's conversation with Walt and Alys.

"Guys, this feels like a hot tub," he said, as he sank up to his chest in the water.

Alys and Walt told them all goodnight and left, walking together back toward the campsite.

Hermione watched them leave, wondering to herself why they didn't join in. Over the past few days, the counseling team had all spent time with the rest of the group, but every night, they left for the tents before everyone, and tonight Susan hadn't even joined in the walk to the spring. Nicola, noticing the expression on Hermione's face, said, "They aren't allowed to be our friends. Patient-Healer professionality and all that." Nicola pulled her shirt over her head and twisted her braid up into a bun on top of her head before removing her boots and pants as well. She stepped into the water, sighing deeply as she moved lower, allowing her body to be covered.

Parvati had already slipped out of her clothes too, and Hermione immediately felt nervous to take hers off. Parvati had always been pretty in school, but somehow over the last year, when Hermione had somehow grown into a shell of her former self, Parvati had blossomed. She was gorgeous in her white two-piece, tied on either side and flattering her dark skin perfectly. It accentuated her curves just so and, the part that made Hermione the most self-conscious, her skin was flawless, not a scar in sight.

Hermione was sure Parvati had suffered as much torture as any of the other students in her last year at Hogwarts, but her skin showed no traces of that at all. She was immediately reminded of the small scars that littered her hands and the numerous larger ones that were always hidden beneath her clothes, not to mention Bellatrix's magnum opus that covered the length of her left forearm.

Seamus' catcalls as Parvati strutted into the water and waded over to him pulled Hermione from her self-conscious thoughts. Just like at the beach, Hermione cursed herself for only owning a two-piece and then Ginny for forcing her to buy the awful thing before she came here.

"You not getting in 'Mi?" Dennis asked, as he sat down onto a log beside her to untie his boots.

Hermione heard the crackle of leaves behind her and she turned to find Draco walking toward them. "Umm, I'm not sure," she said, realizing when Draco's eyes dropped to her hands that she'd been pulling her shirt sleeve down further. She dropped her hand quickly and said, "I think I'm just going to sit here for now."

"Suit yourself," he said, standing up and removing his pants. Dennis was almost the exact opposite of Seamus, Hermione thought, as he took off his shirt and hung his clothes on a tree limb. Seamus was all broad shoulders and defined muscles, his chest covered in tattoos and dark hair, but Dennis was tall, lean, and fair-skinned, still boyish in his good looks. "Come on, Hermione, you know you're beautiful," Dennis said casually, giving her a broad smile as he splashed a handful of water in her direction before wading out to join the others.

Beautiful? Well, that was a first. He hadn't said it like he was flirting with her at all, but more like he was just stating facts, simply sharing common knowledge.

That certainly isn't common knowledge.

Hermione sat down onto the same log Dennis had used to unlace his boots, and Draco took the seat beside her.

"You aren't getting in?" Draco asked her. The laughing voices of Dennis and Seamus echoed around them as the two began wrestling in the water, each trying to dunk the other.

Hermione tugged her jacket tighter around her and sighed. "I… No," she said, leaving it at that. She didn't know where to begin.

I don't look like that.

I'm not ready for anyone to see.

I don't want those obvious looks of pity.

Draco looked up. The last rays of the sun where slowly dipping beyond the edges of the horizon, faint pinks and purples danced through the clouds in the remaining light. "It'll be darker in a few minutes," he said, glancing out toward the water before stretching his arm around her and rubbing his hand down her back. "I'll come in with you then, if you just need to wait a bit."

She turned toward him. How does he always know? "Am I that transparent?" she asked, offering him a smile before bumping her shoulder into his.

He shrugged and moved his hand back into his lap with the other. "Thanks to The Chosen One, I'm covered in them too. I get it."

Sectumsempra? She hadn't ever thought that those scars wouldn't go away, but then again, the curse was pretty dark. Snape said Draco would have died if he hadn't been there in time to save him. She knew how Harry felt about it, they'd talked about it often enough. It was one of the things Harry regretted more than anything, having almost killed someone simply out of his own ignorance.

"You didn't seem bothered by it at the beach," he said, before she had time to really process his own insecurities.

"Well, I was more preoccupied with my anger at you," Hermione said, causing Draco to laugh.

"And I didn't have a flawless Parvati Patil there to remind me of how awful I look."

Draco turned to face her; the look of dubious skepticism obvious across his features even in the dim light. "You're ridiculous," he said, shaking his head. "I could be biased, you know, being a man and all, but there is nothing awful about you in a swimsuit."

She didn't have time to respond, before he stood up, pulling her along with him saying, "Come on. No one can see now."

She turned away just as he started to pull his jumper over his head.

Oh gods. She'd had this dream, and there's no way she could stand and watch him get undressed without staring or salivating like a dog in heat or something equally as embarassing.

She kicked out of her boots and shimmied out of her trousers, looking down to see that Draco had been right. In the dying light of the sun, her legs looked much lighter than her bikini bottom, but you couldn't even make out the color of it, let alone see the scars across her thighs. She heard the sound of Draco's zipper and her fucking knees actually shook.

I am ridiculous, she thought as she pulled her jacket off and hung it and her shirt onto a tree branch near where Dennis hung his. She turned back toward him and was momentarily frozen.

Draco's skin seemed to glow in the reflection of the moon on the clear water, making him appear almost ethereal. Hermione could barely see ripples and ridges across his skin, the contours of his muscles and faint outlines of the scars he mentioned, though they would've been completely invisible to anyone not looking for them. Just knowing he was that close and at least partially unclothed had her heart quickening and heat spreading across her body, despite the chilly September air.

Shifting her face away quickly before he had time to notice her gawking at him like a lunatic, she stepped into the water and sighed at the warmth of it against her skin. After days of hiking and climbing, the feeling of the water on her aching muscles was like manna from heaven.

"Sweet Godric," she said, as Draco stepped in beside her. "This is magical."

"Alys did promise it would be," Nicola spoke up from further out in the water.

Hermione and Draco joined the rest of the group, sinking in the water to her shoulders and resting her knees on the flat rocks beneath them.

"What did we miss?" Hermione asked as Draco sat in the water beside her. With their height difference, the water stopped well below his shoulders.

"We were just starting a game of truth or dare," Seamus said, rubbing his palms together like a Machiavellian.

"And I was just telling these children that I'm much too old for truth or dare," Nicola said, placing heavy emphasis on children and making Hermione laugh at the way she looked down her nose at Seamus.

Draco took a drink from the flask he brought with him into the water and offered it to Hermione. Seamus, noticing their interaction, flicked his wand toward the back, pulling his own flask from the pocket of his pants and levitating it toward him in the water.

"Okay, can old ladies play just the truth part then?" he asked, as he took the lid off.

Before he could put it to his lips, Nicola snatched it out of his hands. "I said I'm too old for adolescent games, not that I am old," she said before taking a pull from the flask. She grimaced and shook her head, "Oh gods, I'm definitely too old for this swill." She thrust the flask back to Seamus who merely shrugged and took a drink himself.

"Draco, tell me you brought something less plebeian than firewhisky," Nicola said, eliciting a laugh from the rest of the group… except for Seamus who scowled in her direction.

"Of course," Draco said with a smirk.

"Speaking of firewhisky," Parvati said, as Draco handed his flask off to Nicola. "For our first question, I'd like to ask," her eyes fell on Hermione, "Hermione, have you ever been drunk on firewhisky?" Parvati smiled knowingly and raised her eyebrows once to emphasize that she definitely already knew the answer to the question.

"Are you really going to make me tell that story?" Hermione said, smiling despite the embarrassing memory of the one and only time she'd drunk firewhisky. Parvati only smiled in response, but Seamus laughed loudly, pulling Hermione's attention toward him.

"Well, you really have Seamus to thank for that one. He supplied all the alcohol." Hermione felt Draco's hand on her hip, causing her skin to break out in goosebumps despite the warmth of the water around them.

"Oh no no no," Seamus interjected. "I refuse to take credit for that. If I remember correctly, and I was pretty buzzed by that time, so I could definitely be wrong, but you stormed into the common room ready to kill someone and demanded a drink. I wasn't going to say no – there were actual sparks flying from her hair." He paused to take a drink before passing it to Dennis.

"Oh, I remember that," Dennis said, grimacing from the burn of the firewhisky. "Wasn't that when you attacked Ron and Lavender?"

Parvati laughed loudly, struggling to get her words out between giggles. "Yes! They came back covered in scratches and yelling about being attacked by birds."

"Birds?" Nicola asked. "What does this have to do with firewhisky?"

"I'm not following this either," Draco said, taking another drink of his own flask before passing it off to Hermione.

She took a drink, stalling to calm the fluttering of her heart as Draco's hand rubbed circles on her thigh beneath the water. "At sixteen I may have overreacted a bit in a fit of jealousy and conjured a flock of birds to attack my best friend and his girlfriend. I then proceeded to get absolutely smashed off firewhisky, supplied by Seamus and Dean, of course," she lifted the flask toward Seamus, who clinked them together in a toast, "and then woke up the next morning with a blinding headache to find myself hugging the toilet in my inside out pyjamas. I haven't been able to touch the stuff ever since."

They all laughed, and Hermione found herself joining in. This laughing along with a group felt much better than being the butt of jokes, and truly it was hilarious now that she thought back on it.

"But it all worked out," Parvati said, taking a drink as well. "You ended up together after all."

Draco's hand stopped its ministrations across her leg as Parvati continued. "Though I'm sure he's still terrified to see you angry… or a flock of birds for that matter," causing them all to laugh again.

"Oh, Ron and I aren't together," Hermione said quickly. "We're just friends."

"You were mad enough to attack the guy, and you two still can't figure it out?" Seamus asked, incredulous.

"We tried for a little while last year, but it was really strange. We're much better as just friends." She enlarged a rock beneath her so that she could sit down, and she sighed in relief when Draco's hand rested across her thigh. They'd only ever talked about Ron once before, and she wasn't sure how Draco would feel about everyone thinking she was still with him.

They were quiet for a moment before Dennis asked, "So, you're single then?" She laughed heartily and almost choked on the drink she'd taken from Draco's flask before he continued. "I mean, you've attacked me too. Is that like a prerequisite for a date?"

She pushed Dennis' face to the side, causing him to lose his balance on the rock he'd been sitting on. He fell off, his face sliding under water, and everyone laughed as he came back up, spitting out water and pushing his wet curls back from his face.

"You're incredibly violent, Hermione. Is this foreplay for you?" he asked, smiling down at her as he splashed water in her face.

A few months ago, just this conversation would have sent her running for the safety of her room, but with the lighthearted smile on Dennis' face and the way everyone else was laughing alongside her, she wasn't nervous at all. She trusted these people, as strangely as that felt after only these few short weeks with them, but she did.

All the splashing with Dennis had preoccupied her mind enough that she didn't realize that Draco had pulled his hand away at some point during their banter, and her thigh felt cold without his touch despite the warmth of the water.

"Can we move on to a different question now? I feel attacked," she said with a smile, trying to sway the conversation in a safe direction. She thought surely Draco wasn't bothered by that interaction, though, she honestly didn't know exactly where they stood. She looked at Seamus and asked, "You said weeks ago that you were here just to get your 'paper' signed. What did you mean?"

"Oh, umm… I've been doing MMA for a while –"

"And that is…?" Nicola interrupted.

"Mixed martial arts. It's a Muggle fighting thing, kind of like boxing. And, I got into some trouble. Apparently, they think I have an anger problem. Can you believe that?" he asked, pausing to take a drink while everyone interjected their own sarcastic response. "Anyway, so in order to keep fighting, I have to have a psych eval. Walt can sign off since he works in the Muggle world too, but he won't unless I finish the full twelve weeks here."

He shifted uncomfortably and wiped his mouth, running his hand down the length of his short auburn beard. "But umm, I'm glad. I do think being here has helped a lot… And I owe both of you an apology," he said looking toward Hermione and Draco. "I was just looking for someone to blame." He shrugged before adding, "Fucking Walt was right, but nobody tell him, yeah?"

They all laughed, trying to dispel the momentary discomfort of Seamus' apology. Hermione was a bit stunned. She knew Seamus had thawed quite a bit toward her and even Draco surprisingly, but she honestly never thought he'd apologize for his behavior their first few weeks here.

Hermione spoke up as matter-of-factly as possible, and they looked in her direction. "You were quite an ass, but more importantly you completely ruined firewhisky for me. Honestly, I'm not sure I can ever forgive you."

Seamus guffawed, and everyone else followed suit as he tried to give Hermione his flask. Every time she pushed it away, he'd get it closer and closer to her nose, causing her to gag between laughs as she splashed to get him away from her.

Afterward, they continued to share their stories, each of them giving the others a little more of themselves, and Hermione couldn't help but think that it was the first time she'd felt completely free of the burden of the war. She felt more like herself than she had in years, and oddly enough, she found that comfort not in her closest friends, but in the companions she'd made in the last few weeks, the ones who she had actually trusted with sharing parts of her own struggle.

In that moment, as they all laughed and passed around flasks, she realized that she could trust them with the rest of it.

Despite the comfort they all seemed to feel with one another now, five weeks in, Draco had been mostly quiet during their time in the hot spring. He'd laughed along with the rest at times and interjected occasionally, but he'd never shared his own stories – and no one had asked.

After they all left the spring, Hermione went to her own tent to change before heading to Draco's, under her normal disillusionment charm, hidden from view. She passed by Seamus' and Parvati's tents, and Hermione thought not for the first time how odd it was that they even put both tents up; they'd been openly sharing one since their first night.

That thought led her down the same rabbit hole she'd been on every time she'd thought about Parvati and Seamus' sleeping arrangements – would she and Draco ever have that? Did he even want that?

She felt a little sad thinking that whatever this was between them may not last past the remaining seven weeks at The Willows. She couldn't imagine her friends' reactions exactly, but though she knew it wouldn't be any easy discussion, she didn't think they'd actually be angry with her. They'd likely question her sanity and given that she was in the magical equivalent of a nuthouse right now, she couldn't exactly blame them.

And what about Draco's friends? She wasn't entirely sure where Blaise stood, but his enigmatic flirting certainly threw her for a loop. But Pansy? There's no way that would end well. Pansy already hated her, and even though she and Draco had merely been "distractions" for one another during the war, Hermione couldn't imagine that she would welcome any relationship he'd be having, especially if it was with "The Golden Girl," as Pansy always referred to her.

Hermione had just made it to Draco's tent, when her hand stopped just before touching the zipper.

What about his parents? The thought alone was terrifying. He'd always seemed so set on upholding their values and making them proud. Had he changed enough to go against them? Would he even want to?

She gave her head a shake in chastisement for getting ahead of herself. She supposed this was a conversation they needed to have at some point, but she wasn't sure how to broach it at all. They'd agreed to be adults and discuss things, and as easy as that was to say, actually following through with it had proven to be a bit more frightening. She took a breath, pushing those thoughts aside as she muttered a silencing charm around his tent, and unzipped the entrance.

She stepped inside, finding him sitting up against his backpack with The Complete Works of William Shakespeare in his hands, only his black jumper visible above his sleeping bag. He never looked up as she disillusioned herself, though she knew he had to have seen his tent open. She took a seat beside him, throwing her own sleeping bag out and snuggling down inside it.

She sat there for a moment, unsure of herself since he still hadn't acknowledged her. Though she knew something had been bothering him throughout their trip and she'd occasionally considered it had something to do with her, she'd always pushed those thoughts away. Now, sitting here inches away from him and seemingly being ignored, she couldn't deny the feeling that it was absolutely aimed at her.

This is silly, she thought when she realized she'd been chewing her lip. She hadn't done anything wrong, as far as she could tell. Was he already regretting this? Was he trying to subtly get her to leave him alone? That couldn't be it. He'd told her he wanted her to stay with him before they even left the Willows, and his hand had been on her thigh for at least part of the time in the spring.

She felt her face begin to flush, but not in worry or embarrassment, as was her typical fashion. If he was hoping he could just push her aside without being man enough to talk about it, then he had another thing coming!

She resolved herself to his silence.

If he's going to be a child, then I'm going to be a child, she thought as she reached into her bag for her own book. She flipped over onto her stomach, muttering a softening charm against the hard ground beneath her, and opened The Turn of the Screw. She'd just gotten to the Governess' encounter with the spirit of Miss Jessel when Draco closed his book with a snap and sighed.

Hermione didn't look up, refusing to humor his mood swings, but said, "What? You don't like Shakespeare?"

She'd barely finished the sentence when he said, "Would it be so bad?" His voice came out much too loud for their close proximity, and she was immediately glad for the silencing charm she'd cast before entering.

She turned her attention to him though, completely confused, and asked, "Would what be so bad?"

"If people knew." He wasn't looking toward her as he spoke. He'd raised his knees, resting his elbows on either side of them and dangling his book across his ankles. His gaze was unwavering, focused at the front of his tent, but she could still make out the way his brows were furrowed.

She turned over, putting her own book aside, and sat up to face him. She shimmied out of her sleeping bag and scooted closer toward him. "If people knew what? I don't know what you're talking about."

"This," he said, looking at her finally, and she was thankful to see that his eyes were free of the tell-tale signs of Occlusion. She saw only him, vulnerable and exposed. "This," he said again, motioning between them. He sighed and looked down at his hands, but quickly looked up at her again, his eyes full of resignation. "What do you want from me?"

What? Her mind was racing. Always the one to get the cart before the horse, she opened her mouth before she had any clue what she was going to say. "Draco… I don't… I'm not…" Did he think she didn't want anyone to know? Did he think she was ashamed of him?

As soon as he began speaking, fumbling for her words and completely at a loss, he turned away again and breathed in deeply, closing his eyes for a second, and said, "I… I thought I was okay with this… this thing we have here, but I'm not."

Here it comes, she thought, and blinked back the tears that started to cloud her vision. Her throat burned as she pushed her emotions aside, not wanting to show the hurt she felt and his rejection. It didn't matter that she already knew that eventually this would end; she wasn't ready for it to happen so soon. She steeled herself for the rest of it, the words she'd been anticipating for the last week.

"I could never be with you."

"I'd be disinherited."

"I'd be unable to face the rest of Pureblood society."

The sting of it all took her breath away for a moment, and she couldn't even respond.

"I knew from the beginning that we couldn't be any more than this, and still, I stupidly allowed myself to think maybe I was wrong, and that's my own fault. You didn't want anyone to know that we were even friends let alone that maybe we were more than that, and I can't blame you for that." He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair before bringing his eyes to meet hers again. He looked… broken. "I thought I'd be okay with that, but I'm not."

She blinked, her heart hammering in her chest as she tried to take in all that he'd just said.

"But you said you didn't want anyone to know," she said, her voice coming out small and fragile. Hadn't he?

As his face shifted from trepidation to confusion, she thought back to that conversation…

"Will you sleep in my tent? Do you think you'll be able to without anyone noticing?" He'd said that. He'd definitely said that.

"You asked me if I'd be able to come here without anyone noticing. That's why I've been disillusioning myself," she said, still unsure of what it was he was saying exactly. It definitely sounded like he was bothered by her attempts at secrecy, but he'd been the one not wanting anyone to know.

"I only asked you that because I thought you wouldn't come if someone would see you." He shifted his body toward her, and added, "Why would you think I wouldn't want anyone to know about us?"

The way he said us made her heart flutter, and a small spark of hope kindled in her chest, a feeling she hadn't felt in over a year. She dropped her head, looking down at her hands as they traced along the seams of her sleeping bag. She suddenly felt embarrassed. He'd apologized to her. He'd told her that he didn't feel that way toward Muggle-borns anymore, and that he hadn't felt that way about her in a long time, and yet, she still thought he was hung up somehow on her blood status.

Who's being prejudiced now?

She pulled the sleeves of her jumper down further, wanting nothing more than to hide everything, her own insecurities, her shame at thinking he was still somehow the same as he'd been in school, and her ever-constant fear of rejection. "When you first told me we weren't friends, I thought it was because you wouldn't want to be associated with me. Even though you said you didn't really believe all the lies about Muggle-borns anymore, I thought maybe you'd be …ashamed," she finished the last word with a shrug and a sad smile, as she brought her gaze back up to his.

He sighed, and she watched him deflate in front of her. His shoulders sagged beneath the weight of a past that he seemed to never be able to get away from, and he ran a hand across his forehead as he closed his eyes. He didn't look angry with her, but he certainly looked wounded. It's true that she thought that's how he felt – she'd thought it dozens of times today alone – but she didn't want to hurt him by admitting that she thought the worst of him.

"That thought has never once crossed my mind," he said as he opened his eyes, "but I can see why you'd think that." His voice held that same dejected quality it had before, when he admitted that he had no delusions of them being anything more than friends.

"I said that to you because I wanted more than that, and it wasn't something I ever thought I could have. I'll never deserve it," he said, reaching forward to take her hand in his. "I was trying to protect myself, and I hurt you. It was cowardly, and I'm sorry."

She leaned forward to rest her head against his shoulder. He pulled her to him and leaned back, laying his head on his backpack and her head across his chest.

The fingers on one hand were still entwined with her own, both of them resting on his chest, and his other hand lay across lower back. She breathed him in, feeling stupid for having thought the worst of him and for not just talking about it to begin with – like we agreed! But then again, he hadn't mentioned it either. Her mind was still reeling about his revelation that he wanted more, more than her friendship, more than this hidden, secretive relationship.

"But, wait, why did you think I wouldn't want anyone to know?"

He scoffed, and the rumble in his chest sent that now familiar tug of longing to the pit of her stomach. "You're you, and I'm me."

"And what does that mean?" She was tired of worrying about how he felt, tired of reading into everything that he said. She was sick of pretending like she knew all the answers. Fuck it. Someone just tell me, so I don't have to go searching for the truth.

"You're 'The Golden Girl.'" He ignored her frustrated growl at the gods-awful moniker that she couldn't seem to shake and went on. "You have an Order of Merlin, and I'm just a Death Eater. I've told you before that I know exactly who I am. Believe me, I have plenty of reminders of that fact. It would ruin your life to be with me. Why would you ever want that?" He wasn't asking her. It may have been a question, but the emphasis was on how stupid she'd be to risk her reputation by associating with him.

"That's what you think?" she asked, lifting her head and turning to look at him. The flickering lamp light hid the blue flecks in his eyes, and all she could see was steely gray.

"That what I know, Granger." He always slipped back into using her surname when he was angry, Occluding, or, in this case, reticent. "I get howlers every single day outside of here. Death threats almost as frequently. I know exactly what everyone thinks of me. They would think just as poorly of you if anyone knew about this," he said, his hand gesturing between them. "Or worse, they'd think I'd tricked you somehow or Imperiused you even."

She sat up, needing to get this across to him. "Draco, my face has been all over The Prophet for years, and it hasn't always been good. I've been at the center of a non-existent love triangle. I've been a whore who was chasing after boys for their fame. I've been 'Harry Potter's Mudblood,' and thanks to Rita Skeeter, I have the scars to prove it. " She held her hands out of to him, knowing already that he had to have seen them already though he hadn't known where they'd came from.

"Hell, even Ron's mother believed all that rubbish and refused to speak to me for almost a year. Whether or not it's because of you, there will always be those who think poorly of me. And besides, you are not just a Death Eater. I meant what I said to you the other night, Draco. You're a good man. None of the rest matters. This doesn't matter," she said laying her hand across his forearm. "Neither of us are who the rest of the world says we are." She searched his eyes, hoping to see some sort of recognition, some sort of sign that he believed her, but he seemed to be searching her for similar answers.

She leaned back down, kissing him to prove that everything she said was true. She didn't care what everyone thought about him. She didn't care what her friends thought. She cared for him, and now, knowing that he just might feel the same, nothing else mattered.

He kissed her back, reservedly at first, as if he didn't want to allow himself that same hope she'd been denying as well. But he gave in quickly, pulling her down to him and holding her close, his hands on her back as she leaned down onto him.

She threw caution to the wind and shifted herself to put her knees on either side of his hips and rested her head against his forehead. "For being so smart, we're both incredibly stupid."

He laughed and kissed her again, moving his hands to her hair and pulling out the elastic holding her braid together. Thankfully, despite their time in the woods, she'd continued to magically prevent her hair from frizzing to the point of making her look like a poodle and he easily ran his fingers through it. The braid untwisted, and her hair fell on either sides of her face.

"What did you mean, you wanted more?" she asked, breaking their kiss and sweeping her hair to one side, so that she could see him again. She leaned up, so she was sitting on him and looking down at his face.

He lifted one brow. "You're right. You are incredibly stupid." When she slapped his arm playfully, he flipped them, reversing their position so that he was above her, his hands on either side of her head and his eyes on hers. The aching between her thighs intensified as she realized how similar this was to their first kiss, the way he'd boxed her in, looking at her with eyes filled with hunger and making her feel both trapped and empowered.

"I said we weren't friends because I don't want to just be your friend." He paused to plant a kiss on the pulse point of her throat before murmuring against her skin, "I don't want Creevy or insipid Shakespeare quoting muggles to flirt with you."

He moved to the other side of her neck, trailing kisses along her delicate skin, raising goosebumps across her body. "I don't want people to think that you're single."

Her heart felt like it might explode, and she was certain he could hear the way it thudded so loudly against her chest as his lips swept across her collarbone. She lifted her chest, unable to resist keening beneath his touch, and put her hands under his shirt to trace the outline of his abs.

The moment her skin met his, he paused. She thought he'd pull away again, the way he always did, but he didn't. His pause lasted only a split second before he sighed against her, his chest pressing against her own.

"I don't want anyone to think you're dating a sodding Weasley." His own hand found its way beneath her shirt, and his thumb brushed just beneath her breast, sending a shockwave to her core.

"What do you want?" she asked, unable to stop herself and aching to hear him say it. Her voice was wanton, coming out in one breath as she pressed herself against him, longing for a type of contact she'd never felt before.

He pulled back to look down at her, and her skin cried out at the absence of his mouth, a shiver coursing through her at the feel of cool air as he pulled away. He looked down at her, his eyes smoke and lead, burning with the same blaze she felt raging throughout her body, and said, "Everything."