Draco had the day off, and Hermione was thankful for that for several reasons. On one hand, Draco was still in a fair amount of pain. He tried to hide it from her, but he winced with nearly every movement he made.

On the other hand, now that Hermione had told him about the Horcruxes, she felt like a cauldron about to bubble over in her excitement to talk to Draco about Horcruxes.

The third reason was selfish, and greedy. She'd have the whole day with him. She'd never had one before. Her heart thumped excitedly in her chest.

"Tell me everything," Draco had said once she'd told him about the Horcruxes.

So she had grabbed her purple beaded bag and pulled out everything she had. Books, notes, scraps of parchment. Everything she had ever collected about Horcruxes.

Draco stared at the pile with a look of bewilderment on his face. She kissed him on the cheek, finding his expression adorable. "It's a lot, I know," she said sympathetically.

"Yes," Draco agreed, still staring at the pile.

Hermione sighed and stood in front of his coffee table, crossing her arms. "Harry first learned about Horcruxes in our Sixth Year," she began. "By then, we had already destroyed one. Tom Riddle's diary."

"The one that my father gave the Weasley girl," Draco said, his eyes hard.

Hermione nodded. "Yes." She was glad he had been the one to say it. "Dumbledore destroyed the second. Marvolo Gaunt's ring."

"Ring?" Draco asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "The old bint put it on, didn't he?"

Hermione felt a flutter in her stomach. He was so quick, smart. She nodded. "He did."

"Ron destroyed Slytherin's locket. I destroyed Hufflepuff's cup, and your friend Crabbe inadvertently destroyed Ravenclaw's diadem with that Fiendfyre." Hermione gulped. This was the hardest one. "Harry was one," she said quietly. Her lungs were suddenly devoid of all oxygen. "He destroyed himself."

"Potter?" Draco asked.

She nodded. "It was an accident. His soul was already so broken that it just fractured when he tried to kill Harry as a baby."

"I'm sorry, Hermione— " Draco began.

Hermione held up her hand. She needed to focus. "We were certain Quirrell was one. That we had destroyed one in First Year. But—well, he wasn't. I missed one. I was wrong," she finished, hating the dejection in her voice. Suddenly tears pricked in her eyes. She'd never been able to say that to anyone before.

That she'd been wrong. That she had made a mistake. That it was her fault that everyone was dead. That it was her fault that Harry was dead.

Draco rose with a wince and made his way to her. He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he repeated.

She struggled briefly in his arms, but he would not budge. She didn't want his comfort. She wasn't sure she deserved it.

"Not everything is on your shoulders, you know," Draco continued, his breath ghosting across the shell of her ear. "You can't be responsible for everything."

"If not me, then who?" she asked, feeling a hot tear slip down her cheek.

"Me," Draco said seriously. "I'll help you carry it. I'll help you find the last Horcrux." He brushed her tears away with the pad of his thumb. "That's why you've been hiding away by yourself, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded against him.

"You're not by yourself anymore," he said firmly. "I won't let you be."

She looked up at him, and his eyes were fierce. He was making a promise to her. Hermione nodded again and steeled herself. Nothing would come from her tears. They had work to do. "Okay," she said after taking in a deep breath. "Let's get started."

Draco nodded. "His diary. The ring. Slytherin's locket. Hufflepuff's cup. Ravenclaw's diadem." He appeared to be thinking. "I assume Gryffindor is out?" he asked.

"Gryffindor's sword," Hermione replied. "We used it to destroy more than one Horcrux."

"Figures," he murmured. "I can't imagine He'd store part of His fucking soul in something owned by Godric Gryffindor." He was still stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, even as he appeared deep in thought. "They're all important to him. Quirrell wouldn't have qualified."

"I know. I made a mistake," Hermione replied harshly.

Draco's gaze returned to hers. "No. You didn't."

Hermione looked away from him and stayed silent.

"Let's do something today," Draco said suddenly.

"What?" Hermione asked. She wanted to do something today. She wanted to search for Horcruxes and perhaps feel a bit sorry for herself.

"We both need a break," Draco said as he tucked a curl behind her ear. "And this is the first day I've been able to spend with just you. I'd like to take advantage of that."

Hermione shivered at his touch. He had a point, she supposed. "Okay," she replied. "What do you have in mind?"

"You mentioned a little lake you used to bathe in? Let's go for a swim."

Hermione froze. "I just told you about His Horcruxes and you want to go swimming?"

"No," Draco replied easily. "I was just tortured and you had a bit of a mental breakdown, but yes, I'd like to go for a swim. I need to reset. I suspect you need to as well."

Hermione bit her lip, thinking hard. He had a whole library shoved into his closet and she'd barely touched it. There was so much work to do—

But with relaxing with Draco—

They had the whole day—

A whole day with Draco.

His fingers twitched against her cheek and she remembered—he'd been tortured.

He needed a break.

"You can stuff whatever books you'd like into that purple monstrosity of yours," Draco continued after a moment, his brow quirked. "Don't think I haven't noticed the extension charm you've put on it."

He had her. "Okay," she replied after a moment.

Draco's grin grew and Hermione felt the tension melt from his muscles. She felt guilty for not having noticed it earlier.

He'd been tortured, and she'd dropped something else directly into his lap before he'd even fully recovered.

Hermione kissed him again, hoping it was a good enough apology.

The way he stared down at her said that it was. "Go grab your books," he said with a relaxed grin.

Hurriedly, Hermione grabbed her purple bag from the bedroom before shoving an armful of books into it. She returned to Draco, entwining her fingers with his. "Ready?" she asked.

He gave her a look of surprise. "That was quick," he mused.

Hermione shrugged, not entirely ready to tell him that she just wanted to be with him. Instead, she apparated them to the clearing.

When they arrived, Hermione thought it looked strange. It had been her home for two years, but as Draco squeezed her fingers, she realized it hadn't been a home at all.

It was where she had been hiding.

She looked to Draco.

You're not by yourself anymore. I won't let you be.

He'd been hiding, too.

"It's just a small trek that way," Hermione said, motioning towards a small trail.

Draco nodded and withdrew his wand with practiced ease. His eyes were hyper-focused. "Lead the way."

She didn't drop his hand as she lead him through the forest. The path was overgrown and tedious. She had stopped clearing it months ago, knowing the way as well as she did. Draco followed her easily.

From the trail, they emerged in another clearing. There was a small crystal-surfaced lake, the sunshine warming it from above. There was thee quiet sound of birds chirping. Hermione sucked in a breath and exhaled. It was calm, peaceful.

Draco had been right. She had needed this. She looked over to Draco, who was still holding her hand. His eyes were closed and his expression, she suspected, mirrored her own. When he opened his eyes, he grinned at her. "Let me cast a few wards first," he said squeezing her hand.

"No blood wards," Hermione replied urgently, feeling her eyes widen and her hand tighten around his.

He ducked down to press a soft kiss to her lips. "Not today," he said with a light smirk.

Hermione huffed at him, but let him go. While Draco set to casting wards, Hermione rummaged through her purple bag until she found a large blanket that she spread out at the edge of the lake. As Draco continued to cast wards, she opened the first book she had taken from the closet and began to skim. She was interrupted when Draco stood in front of her, blocking out the sun. He was grinning down at her impishly. "You're in my light, Draco," Hermione said, feigning irritation.

It didn't fool him for a moment. He yanked the book from her hands before pulling her up. "Come on, let's go for a swim," he said, kicking off his dragonhide boots.

Hermione rolled her eyes as he continued to undress, first his trousers, followed by the t-shirt he had been wearing that morning.

Her breath caught in her throat as he stood before her in only his boxer briefs. Her first, immediate thought was that he was unbelievably sexy. Her second thought, as she continued to study his body, was that he had been hurt, over and over. Draco was, quite literally, covered in scars.

Hermione's hand moved on its own accord, and her fingers traced the long white scar that bisected his torso. She didn't quite dare to touch it. "Is this—?"

Draco nodded. "Sectumsempra."

Harry. It had been Harry.

Part of the scar began just below his collar bone and traveled down past his hip, disappearing into his underwear. On the other side, it started lower, on the muscle of his pectoral and stopped just at his hip bone. The scars crossed just above his belly button. "I'm sorry," Hermione said quietly. "I told him not to use that book."

Draco took her fingers and twined them with his. He shrugged. "Not your fault," he said simply.

How many times had she told Harry not to use that bloody book? How many fucking times? And now she was staring at the consequence directly in the face—written out in the scars on Draco's body. She felt very much like it was her fault.

"Hey," Draco murmured, cupping her cheek with his free hand. He rubbed comfortingly at her jaw with the pad of his thumb. He was smiling at her.

Inadvertently, Hermione felt the corners of her mouth twitch. His smile, when he smiled like that, was infectious. She couldn't help but kiss it.

"Come swim with me," he repeated, before kissing her back, letting her go and sprinting directly into the lake, disappearing beneath the surface.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "Draco—!" she began.

His blonde head reappeared, his hair plastered to his head. "Fuck!" Draco swore. "That's cold."

"—It's cold," she finished lamely, now laughing hysterically. Hermione grabbed her wand, gently touching the tip to the surface of the lake and muttering a spell to warm the water.

"My thanks," Draco said, grinning, before his head disappeared once again below the surface.

Another facet of Draco Malfoy she had never been privy to. He was gentle, and forgiving—at least when it came to her. He was playful, and funny, and in spite of everything he'd been through, he could still find pleasure in the simple things.

Currently, he was swimming to the fair side of the lake. While his head was beneath the surface, Hermione stripped down to her own underwear, thankful she was wearing a modest pair of black knickers and a practical bra. She tied her hair back into a messy bun before she gingerly made her way into the lake until the water was just above her shoulders. Draco had disappeared entirely.

Hermione screamed as a pair of arms abruptly wrapped around her waist from behind. Instantly, she began to laugh as Draco pressed kisses from her collarbone and up her neck, before kissing the top of her hair and settling his chin on the top of her head. She leaned back against him, enjoying the warmth of his bare skin against hers.

There was something new every day with Draco, and it was exciting.

Just the touch of his bare chest against her back had her heart thrumming with excitement. Hermione raised her arm and finding purchase at the ends of Draco's hair, she pulled him down for a kiss. "You were right," she said quietly. "We needed this."

We. Her mind fumbled with the word that had just slipped from her mouth. Was there a we?Hermione wondered.

The way one of Draco's hands had slipped up her rib cage as he kissed her suggested there was something at the very least.

"We did," Draco agreed, tightening his hold around her waist.

She noticed that since they had arrived at the lake, Draco hadn't twitched once.

Hermione flipped in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. He was staring down at her, his gaze molten. She kissed him again. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

Draco pressed his forehead to hers. He grinned. "I've got you. I'm okay."

When Hermione's skin began to wrinkle, she returned to the blanket on the edge of the lake. She was content to lounge in the water, but Draco appeared to want to swim laps. He'd always been athletic, so she was happy to let him swim as she watched from the shore. With a quick charm, she dried herself and pulled her jumper back over her head. She watched as Draco reached the far side of the lake with precise strokes before flipping beneath the water. Hermione returned to her books.

Hermione read while Draco swam. The sun was so warm and she was so relaxed she was nearly boneless. A nap. She could do with a nap. She couldn't remember the last time she'd taken one. Hermione closed her book and rested her head against her purple bag, closing her eyes.

When she woke up, Hermione found Draco beside her, reading the book she had abandoned in favor of her nap. He was entirely focused on the page in front him, lightly chewing on his lower lip. He was still in just his underwear, which was both ridiculous and incredibly distracting as far as Hermione was concerned.

While he was focused, Hermione studied his body further. The sectumsempra scars had been the most viscerally shocking, but she began to notice others. His torso was littered with small round scars, as if he had been repeatedly burned with a Muggle cigarette or the tip of a wand. There was also a long, thin scar that ran parallel to the shorter of his sectumsempra scars. Then a jagged, thick scar on his right wrist. Of course, there was also the Dark Mark, branded into his forearm.

"Where did all your scars come from, Draco?" Hermione asked impulsively, her voice scratchy with sleep.

His eyes instantly snapped to hers. Promptly, he closed the book. "I'll tell you if you tell me where you got yours."

"What?" she asked, panicking slightly. There was no way he could have seen it, right—? The Snatchers. Before she got into the water—he couldn't—

Draco shook his head. "I didn't see it. But I know what a scar feels like."

"I got it from Dolohov. He tried to curse me—we don't actually know with what. It was nonverbal."

"Does it hurt?" Draco asked quietly.

"Not anymore. It ached for a long time, though," Hermione replied. "Now it's just—it's ugly."

Draco ran a hand down her bare calf, stopping at her ankle. "Obviously, the worst is Potter's little gift. These," he continued, motioning to a few of the round scars, "are punishments from my dear Aunt Bella."

"This one?" Hermione asked pointing at the thin scar below his sectumsempra scar."

"Oh," Draco said lightly, "just a bit of light stabbing amongst Death Eaters."

He'd been tortured. He'd been stabbed. Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat.

Draco held his wrist up to her. "This one," he said grinning. "I got when I was 7. I was playing with my broom inside, which I knew I wasn't allowed to do. I crashed it into a priceless end table holding a priceless vase. I had pieces of glass and wood sticking out of me everywhere."

That gave her a bit of relief. "Served you right," Hermione murmured, pressing a kiss to his wrist. "Riding your broom inside."

He laughed. "Too true," he agreed.

"You know," Hermione began as Draco started playing with her fingers. "I never actually learned how to ride a broom."

"I'll teach you one day," Draco replied. "If you actually want to learn."

"I don't like heights," she admitted. "But I think I'd like if you taught me."

"Then I will," he said. His eyes had darkened. He moved closer to her on the blanket and kissed her.

She took his face in her hands, deepening the kiss. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and she let him in. Their tongues twined together, and he was fucking delicious. He tasted like salt and sunshine and happiness.

He tasted like hope.

Draco's face had turned a deep shade of pink before Hermione had a chance to realize. "We should go," she said, frowning. "You're sunburned."

He sighed. "Back to real life then?"

Hermione grinned. "No," she said after a moment. "Do a cannonball with me first."

Draco cocked his head. "A cannonball?" he asked.

Hermione stood and pulled him up. She led him to the edge of the lake that was the deepest, and where a fallen tree made for a perfect dock. Heart hammering, she pulled the jumper over her head and tossed it to the shore. The way Draco looked at her made her feel wild. "We're going to run to the end of the log, and jump—legs tucked into your chest," she explained.

Draco nodded. "Count to 3," he said, tightening his hold on her hand.

"1–

"2–

"3–"

She ran, Draco's hand in hers. They jumped simultaneously, and their combined weight took them almost to the bottom of the lake. Beneath the water, Draco kissed her, smirked, then swam to the top.

Hermione was a slower swimmer, but she chased him and surfaced mere moments later, breathing hard.

Beneath the water, Draco pulled her onto his back and carried her out of the water. He gently placed her on the blanket, before lying down next to her. "Let's dry off. Then we can go back to real life."

"Okay," Hermione agreed.

As they laid together, Draco gently ran a finger across the scar Dolohov had given her. She flinched. "It's not ugly, you know," he said quietly.

"No?" Hermione asked, feeling bitter. She hated that stupid scar.

"No," Draco replied soundly. "It's you. How could it possibly be ugly?"

Hermione stared at his scars. She hated them. They were a testament to what Draco had been through. But none of them were ugly. They were on Draco's body. They told a story. They were Draco. "Yours aren't ugly either," she said.

She vowed that one day she'd kiss every inch of them.

He was beyond sunburned by the time they were dry. "I hope you have some suspicious cream for your skin," Hermione said.

Draco winced. "Is it really that bad?" he asked.

"You don't feel it now, but you will soon." Hermione grinned, then snickered to herself.

Draco cocked his head. "Are you laughing at my pain again?"

"Never," Hermione replied. "I was just thinking—you're so pale. I was wondering how'd you look with a bit of a tan."

"Laughing at my pain," he mumbled.

They walked back to Hermione's tent hand-in-hand. Hermione ducked quickly inside to grab some fresh clothes and when she returned, she found Draco studying the clearing with a critical eye. "Draco?" she asked, taking his hand again.

"We should do it here," he announced, unceremoniously.

"Do—what?" Hermione asked.

"Brew the Falsitaserum," he replied. "I usually have to brew it inside and it is—pungent. Here would be better. Open air, already warded."

"Okay," Hermione agreed, remembering how Draco had slit his own wrist to ward the clearing.

He'd slit his wrist for her. He'd hurt himself for her—she wondered briefly if the cut had resulted in another scar. The thought of another scar on Draco made her heart hurt. She couldn't let his blood or pain go to waste, especially when this place no longer felt like her home.

Draco squeezed her hand and gave her a smile. "Come on, let's go home."

Draco studied his face in the washroom mirror. "I look like a lobster," he complained.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder, which was also burned. "You wanted to go swimming," Hermione replied.

"You're not burned," Draco whined, sounding very much like the Malfoy of the past.

"I knew when to get out of the sun. And you're much paler than me to begin with."

He huffed.

"You'll look so handsome once all your skin's peeled off," Hermione joked. "How very Slytherin of you."

"You're cruel," Draco replied. His eyes met hers in the mirror before his gaze suddenly narrowed.

He was silent for several moments, and Hermione could tell he was thinking. "Draco?" she asked, feeling herself growing concerned.

"The snake. The fucking snake."

"What?" she asked, somewhat distracted by his bare skin, as burned as it was.

"It's the fucking snake, Hermione. That's the Horcrux."

"What?" Hermione repeated.

Draco turned to face her. "He loves that snake more than he loves anything—"

"He doesn't love anything—"

"—Exactly! But he loves that fucking snake. She's always with him, warded. And she's—she's wrong, Hermione," Draco said quietly.

"Wrong?" Hermione asked, confused.

"I'm good with animals. The fact that she tolerates Him at all, is surprising—" he trailed off. "Most animals would avoid Him at any cost. She's not a regular animal. She always makes me feel sick."

Her heart was beating fiercely in her chest. Nagini made sense. It made perfect sense. How could she have missed that?

Hermione had been acquainted with Nagini when she'd been tortured on Draco's drawing room floor. She remembered the acute feeling of nausea, but she had attributed it to the torture. Maybe she'd been wrong.

"I know it's her," Draco repeated, pulling on a shirt. "She's it. How do we destroy it?"

Hermione winced. That was the other thing. "Do you have any Basilisk venom? Or the sword of Gryffindor?"

"I'm assuming that's a rhetorical question?"

"The only other way I know of is Fiendfyre," Hermione said with a shrug.

Draco's gaze darkened. "That's a suicide mission."

She touched his burned face. "I wasn't suggesting it," she said softly. "I know he was your friend."

Draco looked away from her. "He was," he said, nodding. His jaw clicked. "But at the end, he wasn't. By then I didn't have any friends."

Of course he didn't. And he didn't have any now. She wrapped her arms around him. "I won't let you be alone either."

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched. "I know," he replied. "So what do we do now?"

"Well, we have to try and figure out how to destroy a Horcrux on our own."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad it's something simple," Draco said mirthlessly.

Hermione pulled Draco's book closet open. Several tomes spilled out from where she had knocked them over. "Well, I guess we better get started." Hermione picked up the book nearest to her and shoved it into Draco's hand.

It felt like she was starting all over again. They had figured out the last Horcrux, but now she had to figure out how to destroy it.

Hermione had been so consumed with finding the damnable thing, she hadn't put any thought into how she would go about destroying it.

When she had been with Harry and Ron, a method had always just produced itself. They had, idiotically, relied on pure Gryffindor luck.

But Hermione didn't have the same luck as Harry—not even close. It was just Hermione and Draco now and between them, they seemed to have very little luck.

Hermione dropped herself down on Draco's couch with a sigh, opening the book. She wasn't surprised when Draco joined her, laying his head in her lap and opening his own book. Hermione didn't even have to look away from her book to push his hair away from his eyes—she knew precisely how it fell.

Briefly, she wondered how she'd memorized him so quickly.

But then, Hermione remembered that she always studied things that interested her—and Draco more than interested her. He fascinated her.

Of course she'd memorized him like he was her favorite book.

Hermione couldn't help it—she ran her fingers through his hair again. On her third attempt, Draco briefly grabbed her fingers, pressing a kiss to her wrist before allowing her to stroke his hair again.

She read until her eyes began to blur. She fought for nearly half an hour before she closed her book and laid back against the couch with a groan.

Draco laid his own book down across his chest. He gently tugged at one of her curls, asking for her attention. Hermione looked down at him.

"Tired?" he asked softly.

Hermione nodded. "Beyond."

Draco marked his spot in the book with a spare piece of parchment before placing it on the coffee table and standing before her, offering her his hands. Hermione instantly took them and Draco pulled her up and into his arms, soundly pressing a kiss to her temple. "Bed?" he asked.

"Yes," Hermione agreed.

They felt into bed together and Draco pulled the green silk comforter up over them before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into him, kissing her hair. "Today was a good day," he murmured, his breath ghosting across her ear.

"A very good day," Hermione replied, turning her head to catch his lips in a lazy kiss.

Draco grinned against her lips, kissing her back. His fingers skimmed up her side, very reminiscent of the way they had when they were in the lake. He made it to her middle of her ribcage before his fingers began their descent. He toyed with the hem of her shirt as he kissed her, but he did not touch her.

Hermione knew exactly what he was doing—he was resisting the urge to touch her. She could feel the tension in his fingers, the careful way he was holding himself back from putting his fingers on her bare skin, and she knew that he was holding himself back in the fear that he would hurt her in some way.

The thing was, she wanted him to touch her.

Hermione kissed him harder, placing her palm on the hand that was still playing with the hem of her shirt and guiding his hand to the bare skin of her abdomen.

Instantly, Draco tensed and pulled his mouth away from hers. "Is this okay?" he asked even as the pad of thumb gently stroked her skin.

She kissed him lightly on the lips. "Yes," Hermione murmured.

He kissed her again, his fingers warm and comforting on her skin. It was intoxicating, and she felt the exhaustion begin to set back in. Draco seemed to sense this, his kisses growing softer and slower before he pulled away and settled himself against the pillow next to her. "A very good day indeed," Draco said.

Hermione didn't have to see him to know that he was smiling. She fell asleep with her own smile on her face.

a/n: Hello (: We have figured out the last Horcrux. Thoughts?