As he walked Hermione back to Gryffindor commons, Draco resisted the urge to shift closer. They were so close and all he wanted to do was touch her. Her warmth was addictive and her scent enticing. Hermione Granger reminded him of a Gourmand perfume—warm and spicy and sweet. She smelled of white chocolate, sandalwood and jasmine, and those bonfires she couldn't stand.

If she was a fire, then Draco was a moth because everything about her allured him. He'd have to be careful not to burn himself but damn him if he'd stand by and not take the risk.

Every time Granger touched him it felt like a current traveled over his skin. First with her hands on his biceps in the corridor—he'd had to swallow his astonishment and focus on keeping his mouth closed so he wasn't gaping like an idiot—and then when she'd placed her hand over his in the Room of Requirement.

He flexed his fingers when her phantom touch thrummed along his veins, and the ring on his finger warmed hot enough it nearly burned him. Draco took half a step away from her.

"You don't have to walk me back," Hermione said, not even fully turning to look up at him.

Draco shrugged. "I know. I'm sure Weasley takes good care of you." He decided not to voice his opinion again on who he believed would have caused Granger to fear someone's touch.

"A little too well," she murmured, a hint of disdain in her tone. She shook her head. "Really, Malfoy. I can walk back by myself."

He frowned. "So, you are ashamed to be seen with me."

Hermione sighed and at last faced him fully. "No, I'm not. I am worried however, what Ron will do."

Draco nearly stopped in the middle of the corridor. He'd forgotten what Hermione said. Her and Weasley—they weren't together.

He hadn't overstepped some unspoken line. He'd never mean to make Granger unintentionally unfaithful. She was too noble for that. Too noble for him.

Hermione continued. "I've just broken up a relationship that sort of existed but didn't—" She closed her eyes and exhaled, halting them just outside Gryffindor Tower. "Whatever. It's complicated. That's not the point. I hurt him, and the next day he caught me with your ring on my finger. Even though it didn't mean anything, I know it pissed him off."

Those words echoed through him.

Even though it didn't mean anything.

He swallowed those feelings and instead focused on the other half of the sentence. It pissed Weasley off. Draco couldn't help the smirk that picked at his lips. Served him right.

He glanced down at Granger's wrist and whispered, "I want to see it."

"See what?"

He put his hand between them, palm up. "I want to see what he did."

She tucked her right wrist slightly behind her. 'There's nothing to see."

"Granger," he sighed, "please don't lie. You're not very good at it."

That fire he'd seen before the war sparked in her eyes as she stared at him. For a moment, they just looked at each other and then she huffed, "He didn't mean it."

Draco lowered his chin. "Frankly, Granger," he whispered, an iciness on the edge of his words, "I don't care whether he meant it or not. No man should ever lay his hands on you."

He made to pass, but she caught his forearm. Draco stilled, the touch of her fingers like a brand.

Hermione dug her nails into his sleeve, pulling his attention from her hand to her eyes. "Don't," she said softly. "I'll handle him. Confronting him about this will only end badly."

Draco turned and very slowly took Granger's arm in his hands. The ring screamed in protest, searing the circumference of his finger, but he ignored the pain and focused on the softness of her skin. His fingertips grazed the surface of her palm, electricity dancing between the places he touched. Then, he grasped four of Hermione's fingers in his and gently pulled her sleeve up her arm. She sucked in a breath and goose pimples rose along her arm.

The bruised imprint of four fingers and a thumb wrapped like a cuff around her wrist made Draco see red. He'd seen her bloody, bruised, and broken before, but this was something different. This had come from someone she loved. Someone she trusted. Potter would be ashamed.

Hermione stroked the outside of his hand which caused Draco to push his fury aside for the moment. He stared down at her, though her eyes weren't on him. She brushed her thumb over the outside of his ring and Draco had to bite back a hiss as its heat flared.

Holding her like this, he realized, felt right.

Though he feared he would defile someone as good as her. It was an unnerving pattern that continuously appeared whenever he got close to someone—anyone.

He didn't deserve her. She deserved someone better. Someone who wasn't broken who could help her heal.

Draco slid his fingers from hers and began pulling away just as footsteps rounded the corner into Gryffindor Tower. Ginny Weasley appeared, red hair like fire in the torchlight. At the sight of them, she halted, eyes wide.

He expected Granger to immediately pull away, so it surprised him when she seemed more concerned with hiding her bruised wrist than creating distance between them.

Warmth flooded his chest.

"Ginny," she gasped, turning now that her sleeve covered the damage.

Ginny glanced between Draco and Hermione, brows raised. Draco could have sworn the ghost of a smirk appeared. The youngest Weasley jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "I'll walk back to the common room with you if you're...finished"—she waved a hand—"with whatever you two were doing."

Draco grinned and pulled on his mask of cool surety. "Oh, but we were having so much fun."

Hermione glared up at him. "We weren't doing anything."

"Nothing we can share, anyway," he muttered with mischievous enjoyment.

Hermione slapped the outside of his shoulder. "Shut up, Malfoy."

Ginny took a step back, shrugging. "I can go..."

"No, I'm coming," Hermione said, her voice higher than it was a moment ago. She turned in a circle as though she were looking for a bookbag to gather, but she hadn't brought anything with her, so she straightened, the bridge of her cheeks flushed.

Draco couldn't help but grin. "Now that you're in good hands, I'll leave you two ladies to your own devices." With a flourish of a bow, he said, "I'll see you around, Granger."

Hermione lifted a hand in farewell, eyes smiling. "I'll see you around, Malfoy."

….

Hermione's heart raced and she kept brushing her fingers along the length of her palm as if she'd still be able to feel his touch. She'd barely put up any protest, and as soon as the warmth of his fingers had met her skin, all fight had left her body.

Oh, she was in trouble.

Hermione turned to where Ginny gaped at her. "What?"

"'Nothing we can share'?" she said, grinning like a fool. "Hermione Granger, what were you doing?"

"Nothing," she huffed.

"That," Ginny pointed a finger at Hermione and then at the spot where Malfoy had been standing a few seconds ago, "didn't look like nothing."

"We were not doing anything. I promise."

The red head stared at her. "I saw the way you two were looking at each other." She shook her head. "You can't tell me it meant nothing. Did it mean nothing?"

Hermione swallowed and then whispered, "No."

"Well, if you weren't doing anything as you claim, then what were you doing with Draco Malfoy?"

"Preventing him from beating Ronald bloody, most likely," she muttered under her breath.

"What?"

She shook her head. "He was just walking me back."

"Why? Where's Ron?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and stopped to lean against the stone wall. "Sulking, probably." Or trying to force a cement wall to listen to him.

Ginny snapped her fingers in Hermione's face. "You did break up with him. I knew it." Hermione nodded. "So that's why he's been unbearably grumpy for the last few days," Ginny breathed, both hands on her hips.

"Yup, most likely."

"Why?"

Could she put into words why? Hermione took a breath. "There's still things I'm struggling with—things I'm working through. I have a darkness within me that I don't know if I can face on my own, and Ron's not willing to survive that with me. He'd rather I drown on my own than risk him drowning with me." She shrugged. "I had to do what was best for me."

Ginny nodded, frowning. "I'm sorry."

"I understand where he's coming from, so in the end, if us being apart is what helps us stay alive, then perhaps it's for the best."

"I meant I'm sorry that Ron's an asshole."

She nearly grinned at that. "I've changed since May, and I don't think he knows how to handle it."

Ginny put a hand on Hermione's shoulder and rubbed. "I know there's things he blames himself for, but we all changed after the battle. I know I've been a terrible sister. I said some nasty things to Ron in the midst of my grieving, and I still haven't apologized for it." She exhaled, her expression turning sorrowful. "I lost my boyfriend and Ron lost his best friend." She looked at Hermione. "You did too."

"You also lost your brother."

She nodded. "That was difficult. Still is." Ginny hooked her thumbs on the straps of her black leather backpack and inhaled deeply. "Can I ask what happened to you?"

A sharp pain riddled the scars on her back and Hermione had to bite back an inhale. She crossed her arms over her torso and bit her lip. "I wasn't the only one there that day," she said.

Ginny cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

"Draco Malfoy was there."

Ginny's eyes widened. "What?"

"It's a long story that I don't want to get into detail with, but he saved my life."

"No way."

She nodded and forced herself to talk about what happened, though this time the words came a little easier. "Voldemort took me as an incentive to draw Harry out. He apparated to the Forbidden Forest where his Death Eaters and followers were gathered." She took a breath and then continued. "He was going to kill me, and in my desperation, I pleaded with Malfoy. He was a coward and he'd run dozens of times before, so I never expected him to do anything, especially in front of his parents, the crowd of Death Eaters, and Voldemort himself. But when Voldemort shouted the Killing Curse, Malfoy shoved me out of the way."

Ginny gaped at her but Hermione continued. "He dueled Voldemort, but in the end, Malfoy lost and his father was killed."

"I had no idea," Ginny muttered.

"Nobody did—does. Even now I'm haunted by that day." As she said that, she glimpsed the shine of Harry's glasses from the nearest torch over Ginny's shoulder.

Hermione explained in vague detail about what happened after that, but when she reached the beginning of her torture, she couldn't continue. Her back ached and burned as though each lashed scar had been pressed with red-hot metal.

Ginny's expression had softened. "You and Malfoy both went through that?"

She nodded. "We both had our turn."

"And it—"

"I can't," she said softly but firmly. "I can't right now."

"No, I understand. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push."

Hermione took a breath and tried to ignore Harry's stare. "That's why I was with Malfoy. We were talking about that day." She rubbed her hands along the length of her arms to ease the chills crawling along them. "I think it might be easier to talk to somebody who understands the nightmares and the visions and the pain."

"Oh, Hermione," Ginny whispered and wrapped her arms around Hermione, squeezing tightly. Her embrace was warm and strong, and it comforted her to know she had a friend like Ginny she could rely on. "I can't imagine what you went through." She sighed. "What you're going through still."

Hermione pulled away and smiled at her. "I'm glad to have a friend like you."

Ginny grinned. "Same," she said and hooked her arm around Hermione's elbow. As they walked, she said, "That still doesn't explain why you were looking at Draco Malfoy like that."

She gaped. "I was not—"

"It's actually a little embarrassing how totally not subtle you were about it," Ginny teased, brows lifted.

Hermione's face heated. Had she really hidden her feelings that terribly? It had caught her off guard how forward Draco had been and how much she'd been lured by his touch. At that moment, the world hadn't existed outside of him. She'd been too enthralled, too entranced.

"I'm in trouble," she breathed, the words hardly more than air. She glanced at Ginny. "What if it became more than…subtle looks? Would you absolutely hate me?"

Ginny rolled her shoulders, the movement strong and graceful. Then she leveled a stare at her. "Why the hell would I hate you?"

"Don't act like that's a ridiculous question. It's Draco Malfoy," she hissed, hand raised to the side. "He verbally bullied me the first three years of school and I punched him in the face my third year. He was only ever terrible to Harry, not to mention he was a brat with an abhorrent father. He was a Death Eater who was manipulated by Voldemort, his father, and even Snape for God's sake! Draco has only ever been a childish coward, so I would understand if you think I've gone mental for ignoring all that and still"—she inhaled—"caring about him."

The hallway was silent for a moment as Ginny seemed to think. Then, she said gently, "I don't think you're ignoring those things at all. I think you're probably taking all of that into consideration. You're incredibly smart, Hermione. You've already thought about all the reasons you should hate him, and it seems you've determined them immaterial. Trust me, I know he's been terrible. I've witnessed him myself." She shrugged. "I also know that people change. What you two went through was life-altering. It was something terrible enough that you still can't verbally express the atrocities you endured."

Ginny folded her arms and sighed. "We all have an opinion on Draco Malfoy, but none of us know him intimately to any degree like you seem to. That's the difference. We can look back on anything we've done from the outside and make any number of assumptions, but there's so much more to us behind closed doors." She took Hermione's hand in hers and stared her in the eyes. "So what I'm saying is it doesn't matter what I think because I trust your gut. I trust you."

Hermione could only blink. Of course, she knew how it looked—her being with a Slytherin. And Draco Malfoy of all people, but nobody had been there to witness him in the forest. That had been the real Draco. She was sure of it. Because the Draco in the forest had remained. Despite the trauma he carried with him, he was still the same kind person who continued to save her life and defend her name.

After a minute, she whispered, "I'm not even sure what to say. That was really smart."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Don't sound so surprised. I have more brains than all my brothers combined."

Hermione laughed. "Oh, yes, I know. Your brothers all seem to share one braincell."

Just outside the common room door, Hermione turned suddenly and wrapped her arms around Ginny, burying her face in her shoulder. "Thank you," she mumbled. "Thank you for trusting me."

Ginny hugged her back, and the girl's warm scent of wood, sugared cinnamon, and leaves spilled over Hermione's senses. "Just know," she whispered, "that if he hurts you, I'll hang his body from one of the Quidditch goalposts." Ginny pulled away smiling, but a hint of wicked mischief lay just underneath.

Hermione wasn't sure if she should be grateful or terrified or both. So she just smiled back. "Thanks, Ginny."

Ginny said the password and the Fat Lady opened the door. Then she blew Hermione a kiss, said, "Anytime, girl. I got you," and walked into the common room as though nothing had even happened.

Hermione gaped, though some semblance of pride swelled through her. In fact, she might have felt a little worried for Draco if Ginny Weasley ever got her hands on him.