She could almost hear their jaws hit the floor as she kissed him, her hands on either side of his face and the soft pressure of his pressed against her back. She thought about taking the kiss further, really laying it on him, - go big or go home, right? – but her goal was to get Ron's attention, not to give him an aneurysm.

She broke the kiss and whispered, "I hope this is okay," their faces still close enough that only he could hear.

"A little late for that," he said. She opened her eyes, unsure if he'd be bothered that she'd used this situation as a way to break the news to her friends, but she found his eyes gleaming. She should've known that any opportunity to upset her friends, particularly Ron, would be downright festive for him.

He licked his lips. "Of course, it's okay," he said, the smirk turning into a full-on smug grin as his eyes shifted toward her friends, just barely visible behind her. "Making the Weasel's face match his hair is just icing on the cake."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hold back the smile that broke across her face as well. Being able to have it out in the open was exhilarating, even though the certain impending fallout was more than a little daunting. She bit her lip, taking another moment to entwine her fingers through his before she turned back around.

How Draco hadn't just dissolved into a fit of laughter at the sight of her two best friends gaping at her like she'd just sprouted another head was beyond her. It honestly took her pinching her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from doing it herself. It was quite hilarious.

Ron's face was a deep shade of crimson and growing redder by the minute, and he may very well have been hyperventilating. Harry, on the other hand, had eyes as wide as saucers, and he seemed to not be breathing at all.

"Are… are…" Ron couldn't seem to find the right words, and the more he blinked and gawked, the quicker his eyes flashed back and forth between her and Draco. He shifted his weight, putting one foot in front of him like he was thinking strongly about taking a dive at Draco before he rubbed a hand down his face.

He exhaled loudly and said, much more calmly than she would have thought possible given the obvious look of pure rage on his face, "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

After a year of feeling like she was, in fact, out of her mind, this question was probably the worst possible thing that he could have said to her.

She started to step closer to him, ready to let the punch fly that had been itching across her palm since he first Apparated here, but Draco's hand in hers clenched slightly, and he held her there. He was right; that wasn't the right answer, and she was sure that her intentions were written all over her face.

"How dare you!" she said, stepping closer to Draco, needing him, needing to feel the comfort of his chest brushing against her back.

"You can't possibly be thinking clearly. Whatever the hell they're doing to you in this place apparently isn't helping you, and –"

"No!" she said, her voice carrying across the patio, and she realized that everyone else was silent, watching the spectacle unfold around them. Ron, surprisingly, had stopped speaking, and she took a breath before continuing. "No. You aren't going to talk to me that way, Ron."

Ron looked past her, his eyes finding Draco's. "What did you do? What did you do to her?"

Draco tensed behind her, his hand like ice in hers at the insinuation. He'd called it before, in his tent, when he said that people would think he'd tricked her. At the time, she remembered thinking that was ridiculous; no one in their right mind would believe that, and yet, here they were, staring down at Ron who was suggesting that very thing.

"I didn't do anything to her." His voice was as metallic as his eyes, somehow molten and icy at the same time.

At some point in the conversation, Harry had managed to close his mouth and take a step toward Ron, putting an arm on his elbow, trying to calm him, but Ron shook him off, taking another step toward them.

When he did, Draco stepped in front of her. Throughout the entire exchange, he'd given her the freedom to handle the situation with Ron herself, which honestly had shocked her. At school, he'd always been eager to incite any Gryffindor, but Ron and Harry in particular, but obviously, as he'd proven over and over again in the last six weeks, he wasn't that person anymore. He'd allowed her to handle the situation with Ron in her own way, but now, as Ron stood less than an arm's length away, his face still vicious and tinged with the heat of anger, Draco stepped in front of her.

He towered over Ron, the even lethality of his gaze completely dichotomous with the fury radiating off Ron.

"What? You think I'm a threat to her," Ron said, a bark of laughter ringing out across the yard. "That's rich. I've never cursed her before. I've never called her the names you have." He emphasized his point with a finger jammed into his own chest. "And I've certainly never wished that she died. Remember that Harry?" Ron asked, his eyes never leaving Draco's.

Hermione gripped Draco's hand, worried that fists were about to start flying. Regardless of how he'd held her back, the heat rising up his own collar and the sharp outline of tension in his jaw and arms said that he was struggling quite a bit with not waylaying Ron himself.

"Remember that?" Ron asked again, narrowing his eyes at Draco and tilting his head to the side, goading him. "It's only a matter of time before a Mudblood gets killed. I hope it's Granger."

"Ron, that's enough. I think-" Harry tried to interject, but Ron spoke over him.

"That's what you said, Malfoy. Hermione, did you forget about that? Because, I sure as hell didn't."

She hadn't seen him this angry since he'd stormed out of their tent during the Horcrux hunt, running away and leaving them behind, snarling at Harry about being lucky that his parents were dead. She thought he'd changed, taken control of his temper, but she'd been wrong.

This was a mistake, she thought, as she tried to step around Draco, but his arm locked around her, holding her in place behind him. She tried reasoning with him."Ron, you need to-"

Ron's eyes had shifted toward Draco's hand across her stomach as she'd attempted to step around him. "Did you forget who he was? Did you forget that he stood there and watched while his fucking aunt –"

Seamus came completely out of nowhere. She hadn't even heard him walking toward them, and neither had Ron apparently. He put a hand in between them, pushing Ron firmly backward just enough to get him at arm's length again.

"Yeah, that's about enough of that, mate. I think you need to cool off."

Ron looked at Seamus just as flabbergasted as he'd been when Hermione kissed Draco, as if he couldn't exactly understand what he was seeing.

"It's all of you," he said, casting his eyes across the porch. Hermione followed his gaze and noticed that everyone was now standing on the patio, looking down at them. Every one of them, including Blaise and Pansy had their wands drawn, though still held at their side. Looking back toward Ron, she noticed that he'd certainly seen that he was on the losing side of any altercation that might happen between them.

She watched Ron's face fall slightly when he noticed that Pansy was clearly on the opposing side as well. Pansy lifted one eyebrow at him, as if to say, 'You did this to yourself,' and Hermione thought, if nothing else, Pansy was fiercely loyal. Ron clearly had an issue with Draco, and Pansy wasn't going to take Ron's side whatsoever if it meant turning her back on her friends. That surely said something about Pansy and her character, and it was a trait that Ron was very obviously lacking.

"Seamus," Ron said, after he pulled his eyes from Pansy's and swallowed, "weren't you just trying to curse him in the middle of the meeting a few weeks ago? What kind of brainwashing are they doing here?"

Seamus crossed his arms in front of his chest, and Hermione was sure he was doing so specifically to show the bulging of his biceps in the process. For the first time, she saw Seamus the fighter, not the boy she'd been in school with. He lifted one eyebrow toward Ron but said nothing.

"Come on, Ron," Harry said, laying his hand across Ron's shoulder. He didn't shake it off this time, but the tension in his face seemed to thaw slightly, and the glare he'd been giving Draco once again shifted to a look of incredulity.

"You've all gone barmy," he said, shaking his head and laughing in astonishment as he turned to walk away. She let out a shaky breath and stepped around Draco, his arm finally relinquishing the grip he'd had around her now that Ron was walking across the yard.

Ron stopped and turned back around just before reaching the Apparation point. "He's going to hurt you, Hermione."

"He certainly can't hurt me any worse than you have," she said coldly.

"He's a fucking Death Eater," he yelled the words across the yard, spitting them at her, and she felt Draco flinch beside her. She honestly hadn't thought that Ron would go that far, and apparently Draco hadn't either.

"What happened to 'they all deserve a second chance?'" she asked, but she had her answer the moment that Ron glanced toward Pansy. "Oh, I see. You were already dating Pansy then. That didn't have anything to do with him at all."

Ron simply shook his head as Harry kept pulling him toward the Disapparation point.

"Just for the record, I didn't care that you were dating Pansy. I told you that. I told you that I was happy for you, because clearly she isn't the same person that she was a year ago."

"She isn't," Ron said, emphatically squaring his shoulders to face her, his eyes never wavering from Hermione's, never glancing toward Pansy on the patio.

"So, what, everyone deserves a second chance but him?"

Ron sighed and for the first time, he no longer looked angry, he looked hurt. "Yes, everyone but him. He's the snake who made your life hell, and just because you're fucking him doesn't mean he's changed."

"That's enough!" Harry said, taking Ron by the arm and pushing him the rest of the way toward the Disapparation point. "You need to leave."

Ron's last words hung in the air as the sound of his Disapparation reverberated around them. Was that what it was about, that Ron was hurt somehow at thinking that she was able to let Draco touch her and yet she'd had a panic attack almost every time he'd tried? Surely not, but his last comment had definitely made it seem that way, and somehow that stung worse than anything else he'd said. She'd never wanted to hurt him, even despite all the times he'd hurt you; she'd never once wanted to hurt him.

Harry walked back toward them, and Seamus clapped a hand on Malfoy's shoulder once before climbing the stairs and sitting back down at his normal table, Parvati, Dennis, and Dean taking their seats as well and striking up a conversation as if nothing had happened.

She knew she looked entirely too much like her younger self as she put her hands on her hips and used the advantage of standing on the top stair to stare down at Harry. "Do you have something ugly to say?" she asked, her tone icier than she'd intended.

"Nope," Harry said immediately, shaking his head quickly as if he was afraid that she was about to start attacking him with birds. "Nope. Nothing to say about," his lips pressed tightly together as his eyes darted between her and Draco, "that. I'm… I think I need to…"

He shuffled awkwardly, and she sighed before offering him some slack; at least he wasn't agreeing with Ron. "You can go make sure he's okay."

"I think I should, especially if he… tells Ginny." Harry looked at her sheepishly, his eyes intentionally avoiding Draco's beside her.

She hadn't even considered that he would immediately go and tell Ginny, but, of course, that's what Ron would be doing. Knowing Harry wasn't agreeing with him, Ron would find someone who did, and he'd certainly find that in Ginny.

She nodded, and Harry leaned forward to hug her. "I don't understand," he said, into her ear "but, I know you enough to know that if you trust him then I can too."

She didn't want to cry. Not now. Not in front of everyone. But hearing Harry tell her that it was okay, that he'd stand by her, made her feel as if a weight had been lifted off her chest.

She wiped her face quickly and muttered a 'thank you' to Harry before he turned to walk away. She didn't feel like sitting outside while everyone else enjoyed their visits with their friends, and she certainly didn't want to ruin Draco's visit either, so she started to head back inside. She expected Pansy to be glaring at her the way that Ron had been, but instead, she looked … impressed?

Hermione looked at Blaise and found him not looking at all surprised as her friends had been. Had they already known? Or had the shock already worn off?

"Are you okay?" Draco asked from beside her, his hand tightening around hers as she started to pull away from him.

"I'm fine," she said, and, stopping to think about it for a second, she realized she actually meant it. After Ron's blow up, it would be expected for her to be upset, but instead she felt relieved at having it out in the open now and blessed at Harry's support of her. She turned to face Draco, and seeing the slight furrow of his brow, she knew Ron's words had gotten to him.

Ron had touched on the very thing that Draco carried with him every day.

"I see it every day," he'd said after she showed him her memories and she'd seen how badly it affected him. "I live with the horrible choices I made every day… How can you even look at me after that?"

"Don't," she said, squeezing his hand, feeling the coldness of his fingers and knowing that he was fighting an internal battle that she probably couldn't help him with. It didn't stop her from trying either way. "Don't listen to him."

"He isn't wr-"

"Don't," she said again, laying her other hand across his cheek. "He is wrong. And none of that matters."

His jaw muscles rolled beneath her palm, and he closed his eyes before giving her a short, tense nod. He said nothing more to argue, but she knew he didn't completely agree with her either.

Inside, Hermione made herself a cup of tea, trying to calm down and not rehash the entire fight with Ron. Her hands still shook as she poured the steaming water into her cup, wincing slightly as a bit splashed over onto her fingers.

"Well, aren't you graceful?"

Hermione jumped, having not heard anyone in the kitchen with her, and she spun around to find the derisive face of Pansy looking down her nose at her, painted lips giving her a smirk that they had to have taught all First-Year Slytherins.

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned away from Pansy to wipe her wet hands on the dish-towel hanging beside the counter.

"Did you come in here just to insult me?" Hermione asked. She faced Pansy, leaning against the counter behind her and refusing to back down.

The situation with Ron certainly didn't go as planned, and Hermione was still seething over it, but if she were being completely honest, she felt invigorated, alive. It'd been awhile since she had something to be so passionate about, and it felt good to be her fiery self again. As much as she knew she'd been wrong when she'd believed Draco had been the one to share her secret about Theo, looking back, it'd felt entirely too good to hit him for it. The thumping in her chest from something other than fear had been exhilarating, and the situation with Ron had felt no different.

It felt damn good to feel like herself again.

So, she stared Pansy down, unwilling to railroaded. Pansy stared back, the smirk fading from her face as her eyes narrowed. They stood for a moment, each refusing to be the first to look away or break the silence.

But Pansy gave; she looked down before leaning her back against the counter opposite from Hermione. "No, I didn't."

When she said nothing more, Hermione picked her teacup off the counter and started to the leave the kitchen, feeling elated that she'd won whatever arbitrary and juvenile battle of wills had just taken place between her and Pansy. Before she made it out of the doorway, Pansy spoke up again with no trace of her characteristic haughty voice.

Quietly, as if it were someone else speaking entirely, Pansy said, "I may have been wrong about you."

Hermione turned slowly, in a state of disbelief, thinking that she'd surely misheard Pansy. She was looking out the window, not wanting to make eye contact with Hermione while she spoke. There was a faint pink tingeing her cheeks, and Hermione realized she'd never once seen Pansy blush, not when catching her snogging Ron, not when she'd caught her half a dozen times in various states of undress with Draco in school. But here she was, uncomfortable finally, in admitting her own incorrect assumptions.

"You didn't have to say that, about me not being the same person I was in school." She turned to look at Hermione, her face one of clear vulnerability that Hermione had never seen her wear before. She thought for a moment how lonely it must be for all these Slytherins having to hide their true selves all the time. "I said what I said at Hogwarts, about Potter, because I… I…"

A shadow crossed Pansy's face, a look of remorse or fear as she struggled with the words.

"Pansy," Hermione said, "you don't owe me anything. You don't have to explain yourself to me. She shrugged. "Draco cares for you, and that's enough for me. If Ron gave you a chance, then I know he sees something in you too."

Pansy sniffed softly, her stoic countenance returning as she said, "That doesn't matter now. He had me convinced he wasn't so hung up on mistakes from when we were fifteen, but clearly that was a lie."

Hermione sighed, feeling a bit torn. She was angry with Ron, angrier and more hurt by him than she'd ever been, and yet, she hated the idea that Pansy was giving up on him because of his temper. And now she was aggravated with herself because of what she was about to do.

"Ron has a horrible temper, especially when he feels as if he's been slighted or is taken by surprise. He… he doesn't really know how to handle being overwhelmed."

Pansy gave her a skeptical look.

That's an understatement.

"He will have regretted all of that the moment that he Disapparated." He could be a real jerk, but he was also insanely caring, honest to a fault, and, despite the tough exterior he tried to make the world see, he wore his heart on his sleeve. Hermione knew him almost more than she knew herself, and she was certain that the moment he'd left, he'd immediately regretted everything he'd said to her, but he was also too prideful to admit it just yet.

"Are you really taking up for him after…" The words hung between them. She knew that Pansy was thinking about how she found out about Theo, but, instead, she quickly said, "Everything?"

"No," Hermione said after thinking about it for a moment. She supposed that she was in a way, in all honesty, but she wasn't at all giving him a complete pass. "No, I'm still angry with him, and I'm a long way from forgiving him, but I know him well enough to know that he'll come around. And when he does, he'll apologize. I don't hate him, nor do I want him out of my life, but it will take me a while to completely forgive him."

"Was that whole tantrum because he was jealous?" Pansy looked as if she was trying to act like she really didn't care, but the way she looked down at her fingernails was just a bit too obvious.

"Definitely not. He isn't jealous, but he's probably hurt, thinking that I could open up with Draco in a way that I couldn't with him."

Unbidden snippets of memories flashed through her mind.

Locking herself in the bathroom after waking from a nightmare, and Ron trying to comfort her. He really was just trying to help, but his hands on her skin after dreams of Greyback doing the same was just too much.

Another of her sobbing into her hands, trying to completely withdraw into herself after Ron had asked hastily, after yet another failed attempt at intimacy, "What's wrong with you?" She was sure the words had come out before he really thought about them, and just like tonight, he'd regretted it immediately, but she would never be able to forget what that felt like, the shame rolling off her, the overwhelming feeling of failure, like something actually was wrong with her. She'd felt bitter and broken, like all that she'd given during the war hadn't been enough because she was still giving, allowing it to take more and more of her until there'd be nothing left at all.

Him begging her to talk to him, to just tell him what was wrong, but she couldn't. Every time she'd tried, she'd seen the look on his face as he asked her, "What's wrong with you?" It was as if every single instance just morphed into something bigger, a snowball rolling down a hill, picking up speed and weight as it went on.

A silence fell around them, neither of them really knowing where to go from there, before Hermione asked, "Do you care for him? Or was it just…"

A fling?

A distraction?

"I don't know," Pansy said with finality, but she still stood there, appearing to take Hermione in as if she couldn't quite figure her out. After a moment, she said, "I told him that you were going to hurt him, that you'd never risk your impeccable reputation by being associated with him."

For a split second, Hermione was confused, thinking they were still talking about Ron, but as Pansy kept speaking, she understood that she was referring to the reason that Draco had told her they weren't "friends" before, the reason that he'd tried to distance himself from her…

Which meant that he'd felt something for her since at least their second week here.

He'd had her S.P.E.W. badge since Fourth Year, his mother told her that he'd been "fixated" on her during school, and he'd admitted to having fancied her to some degree back then, but this definitely seemed like more than that, like he'd been discussing her with his friends. But if she and Pansy were going to be in one another's lives, and if Hermione had her way, she intended on being a part of Draco's for as long as he'd allow it, then they should talk about some of their other issues rather than about Draco.

"My reputation isn't entirely 'impeccable,'" Hermione said. "You made sure to throw that in my face a few weeks ago."

It was Pansy's turn to sigh, and she closed her eyes briefly before continuing. She chewed the inside of her cheek, and Hermione thought she'd never seen Pansy fidget before either. Apparently, Hermione herself had something in common with a few of the Slytherins after all – apologies were hard.

"I shouldn't have said that to you. I'd just found out, and," she pursed her lips, "the image of you in my head is apparently quite different from who you are. I'm just so used to everyone hating all of us that I couldn't imagine any reality where you weren't happy about having rid the world of one more snake." She said the last of the sentence in one quick breath, like she was worried if she stopped then she wouldn't be able to finish.

Pansy's hand shook slightly before she put it behind her on the counter.

She could benefit from being here too, Hermione thought. Draco and Blaise both had mentioned that Pansy had gone through quite a lot since the war ended, after having tried to hand Harry over to Voldemort. And Hermione had seen firsthand in Seamus' memories some of what Pansy had to endure; it was obvious that she had just as many scars from the war as the rest of them. She was just better at hiding it than most.

"I regret it every single day," Hermione said, willing herself not to cry. She was fairly new to allowing herself to feel emotions, but here and now, in front of Pansy Parkinson of all people, she didn't want to, even if they were having this strange 'bonding moment.' "If I could take it back I would, along with about a thousand other things."

"I'm sorry for saying that to you," Pansy said, her eyes downcast as she spoke. "I get upset about the way we're all treated now, as if we weren't tortured and abused just like the rest of you, and sometimes… sometimes it's hard for me not to lash out, especially when the whole world seems to shit on us every chance they get." She stood up a little straighter, and it was as if Hermione could see the walls fall back into place. "I don't suppose I have to tell you how protective I am over the very few people who I care about."

Hermione mirrored her stance, trying to emulate Draco's "devil-may-care" attitude a bit as she raised an eyebrow. She was sure it didn't have quite the same effect, but she was leaning into it regardless. "I could say the same to you," Hermione said, and then walked out of the kitchen. She never turned back, but she could've sworn she heard Pansy chuckle slightly as she walked away.

Later that night, as they sat together, her back against his chest and his legs on either side of hers as she attempted to finish her book, she asked him, "So, it was Pansy who convinced you to stay away from me?" She was already having a hard time paying attention to the words on the page with this idea running through her mind and the way his lips kept brushing across her neck.

"Hmm?" he asked absently, pulling the strap of her tank top down so he could kiss along her shoulder.

She draped the ribbon through the center of the book, marking her place, and then closed it. Reclining her head back onto his shoulder, she said, "Pansy told me that she was the one that said you should stay away from me. Why you said we shouldn't be friends."

He stopped kissing her and rested his chin on her shoulder. "What I said was 'we weren't friends,' but yes, you can blame her."

"Well, I don't blame her, I blame you," Hermione said, cutting her eyes at him with a cheeky grin. "But that means you were talking to your friends about me since we very first got here."

She anticipated a sarcastic remark or for him to act like Pansy had twisted the truth a bit, just like he'd done after his mother said he'd been "fixated on her." What she didn't expect, however, was the truth.

"I've been talking to my friends about you for a long time," he said in that infuriating nonchalant manner that Hermione wished she could pull off.

She felt her heart shudder slightly at the implication as she asked, "Why?"

He took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I was a little shit in case you weren't aware, and you were one of the very first people who ever called me on it."

She thought that surely, he'd stop there, but then she thought how stupid it was to ever make assumptions about Draco at this point. She was wrong about him the vast majority of the time. He fumbled with the hem of her sleeping shorts, making it obvious that the nonchalance he'd had earlier was at least partially feigned, and continued. "I fancied you in a way that pathetic little boys fancy girls they don't deserve. It's probably completely pathetic to admit it, but I was a bit obsessed with you after you hit me." She couldn't help but laugh. As he paused to kiss her neck again, she felt him smiling against her skin.

"No matter what I said or did," he continued, "you were unfazed, brave and unwavering in a way that I wished I could be." She felt him tense slightly, his jaw tightening against her cheek. "I wanted to hate you, but I couldn't, no matter how much my father told me to or how much Pureblood bullshit they fed me. I… I couldn't reconcile it. I think I was so obsessed because you were Muggle-born. It didn't make any sense. Everything I'd been told my whole life said that you shouldn't be…" He paused, looking for the right word. "Perfect. But you are."

There it was again. He'd used that word to describe her before, and of course, it was absurd – she wasn't perfect, not even close – but hearing him say it brought heat to her face and a fluttering in her stomach.

"In Azkaban, I…," she felt a slight tremor rock through him at just saying the name. Pausing to take a breath after she put her hands on top of his, he pushed through it, his voice losing all of the normal qualities he possessed - confidence, sarcasm, compassion - leaving him sounding hollow. "The Dementors are gone, but they might as well still be there. The effects of them live in the walls, in the foundation of the whole place. It felt like… like nothing exists anymore there but hopelessness, death. They have to rotate the guards out every month because it affects them just as much as the rest of us."

Hermione was astonished. She knew it was prison – it wasn't supposed to be fun – but that was atrocious. No one should have to live that way, regardless of their crime. She paused, trying to imagine whether or not she'd still feel that way if Greyback or Bellatrix were still alive, but she pushed it from her thoughts. They weren't, so it didn't matter. Morally speaking, it should be considered "cruel and unusual punishment" for anyone to have to live that way. Surely, Kingsley could improve the conditions. She reminded herself that when she got out of her, she'd planned on trying to help convince the Ministry and St. Mungo's to fund The Willows full time, but this was another cause she intended to take up as well.

"Every day I thought I was going to die," Draco said, pulling her out of her thoughts and dousing the proverbial fire that had been growing in her while he talked about the awful conditions that he'd had to live in. "Every morning, I woke up surprised that I'd made it through another night. I don't know who hates me more in there, guards or other prisoners. They…" he stopped for a moment, and she felt him shaking slightly behind her. She wanted to tell him he didn't have to go on, he didn't have to tell her this if it was hurting him, but at the same time, she knew what Alys would say – that this was something he needed to talk to someone about. The idea that he trusted her enough to share part of this burden that he carried with him every day was overwhelming, both in a sense that she felt she didn't deserve it but also that she was privileged enough to be able to help him carry it.

He swallowed thickly, the sound loud in her ear, before he took another shaky breath and continued. "I had a lot of 'accidents.' New guard's sister was killed by 'one of my kind,' there'd be an accident. A few Death Eaters happened to pass by in the rec yard, another accident." He gave a dry laugh and added, "I didn't know how many more accidents I had in me. I was just waiting for someone to kill me, and I… I welcomed it."

He dropped his forehead onto her shoulder, and the next sentence came out muffled and warm against her skin. "I wanted to die in there."

She had to bite back the sob that threatened to pour out of her. She'd been there. She'd felt that, and she'd never been able to say it out loud to anyone else. She hated, absolutely loathed, that he'd felt it too. It hurt her, like a knife straight through her chest, that he'd felt it too, but at the same time, it was a relief in some way to know that she wasn't the only one who'd been that low.

"And, then," he continued, lifting his head and resting his chin on her shoulder again, "when my trial came, you were there… you were the first person in my whole life who ever stood up for me. My own parents didn't do that, not really. But you did… and Potter for whatever reason. You two, of all people, should hate me more than anyone, and somehow you didn't, and I couldn't understand why. I was awful to you more than anyone else, and yet you sat there and tried to convince the Wizengamot that I wasn't the monster they thought I was."

She rubbed her thumbs across his knuckles, and his hands twitched beneath hers as he said, "That I thought I was."

She felt like her heart was ripping in half, hearing him be so open and honest about his time there, how much it had taken from him just being behind those walls. As much as this hurt, he deserved to be heard. He'd watched her memories, felt her living them even, and he'd done it because she asked him to. She wanted to be able to return that, repay it somehow, not just because he'd done it for her, but because she cared for him. He deserved that, for someone to care for him, for someone to care for him enough to listen.

"So, when my official sentence started and it was only a year when I'd been certain it was going to be life, I felt like maybe I didn't want to die so much anymore. It was still hell in there, still just as awful, but, I… I thought about you, and it didn't feel hopeless anymore."

He stopped speaking, and Hermione knew she should say something, but it felt like a boulder was lodged in her throat.

She twisted out of his grip and turned to face him. Wrapping her arms around him, she buried her face in his neck and wished that she could take away everything that he'd ever been through. It was heartbreaking to hear even just that little bit of what he'd gone through in prison, and she knew he had left out the most of it, the parts that she knew he still lived with every day, if the shudder she'd felt at the beginning was any indication. She knew he'd purposefully spoken around the worst of it.

She kept her head on his shoulder, comforted by cloves and bergamot and the smell of his shampoo, and feeling his arms around her back, fingers brushing along her spine, and his chest rising and falling against her own. She believed him; of course, he wasn't lying, but hearing him tell her how much she meant to him, how she'd helped him without even realizing it, quite literally took her breath away.

"So, yes, I've talked to Pansy and Blaise about you," he said, directing her attention back to him and not the pounding in her chest and the heat rising through her whole body as he spoke to her. "But no matter what she said to me, I can't possibly stay away from you."