Isolation

30. Taboo

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Hermione blinked away the blurry fog of sleep and tried to focus. She felt it before she saw it, something in her hand that didn't belong, and her brow wrinkled with a puzzled frown when she noticed the extra set of fingers tangled with hers. The light in the tent was faint - a small teal flame withering in a lantern in the corner - but she instantly knew whose hand was holding hers, and she followed the arm up to Ron's sleeping face.

She snatched back her hand so quickly, her elbow collided with her hip. The temptation to shake Ron awake and lecture him about the decency of keeping his hands to himself came to mind, but the thought passed and she was suddenly very alert and fidgety. She abandoned the idea of trying to fall back to sleep and eased herself out of her camping cot, tip-toeing out of the tent and deciding to find Harry, who she knew was on watch tonight.

She spotted him several metres from their camp, leaning against the crumbling trunk of a lifeless oak tree, and when the moon glinted in his glasses, she knew he'd seen her. He'd been determinedly avoiding her since her confession about Draco and she thought he might stand and leave, but his shoulders sagged and he huffed out a breath that turned to cold mist as she neared him. There were things that needed to be said; a cracked friendship that needed to be mended.

"Hi," she offered meekly, sinking to the ground opposite him.

"Hi," he echoed, and the awkwardness between them made her cringe. "Hermione-

"I want to ask you-

"I have some questions too," he interrupted, looking almost nervous. "I, um, I want to apologise first for being distant with you for the last week. "

Relief warmed her. "It's okay."

"I just...it was just a big shock...well, it's still a big shock, and I-

"I know," she nodded. "I understand-

"Well, that's my problem," said Harry. "I have been thinking about it, and I still don't understand, and I think I need you...yes, I need you to explain it to me."

"You want me to tell you what happened? Between Draco and I?"

"I want to hear your reasoning," he muttered. "You're the smartest person I know, so maybe if you explain, it might make some sense to me."

She chewed her lip. "I...I'm not sure how to-

"How long?" he prompted. "How long have you...had feelings for him?"

She cast her memory back to the first kiss she had shared with Draco; that odd day with the bee sting when he had saved her life, and she had touched his face so unabashedly, and then it had happened. That had been the catalyst that had sucked her into Draco's life. That insane moment of impulse had changed everything.

"November," she mumbled distantly, remembering the winds. "It started in November."

"Okay," he said. "And how?"

She went back in time again, thinking of all the little events that had built up to that fateful moment; from their lingering stares, to late nights on the sofas with hot chocolate. From him reading her Muggle books, to her cooking him meals. From him panicking when she didn't return, to her stabbing their hands and mixing their blood. From every prolonged glance to every inquisitive touch.

From tolerance, to curiosity, to lust, and then love.

Life is nothing more than a series of flimsy incidents that build up to something beautiful or tragic. Sometimes both.

"You know, it's true what they say," she whispered before she even realised the words had left her. "You never really know someone until you live with them. In a way, we were both lost and out of our comfort zones. I didn't have you and Ron, and he didn't have his friends or family...we didn't really have anything, and when all that was stripped away, there was nothing to hide behind."