Wildflowers

Good Girl

As they walked back from the lake, the path shaded by the trees, Severus's expression was thoughtful, his steps steady but slower than usual. Kat walked beside him, her energy still light from their time together, but she sensed the shift in his mood. After a long pause, Severus finally spoke.

"May I ask you something personal?" he said quietly, his voice careful.

Kat raised an eyebrow, glancing at him with a teasing smile. "You've already seen me half-naked, Severus. I think we're past the formalities."

He gave her a small, almost reluctant smile before continuing. "How many people have you... been with?"

Kat's playful expression faded slightly as she considered his question. She didn't seem offended, just thoughtful. She stopped walking for a moment, looking down at the ground as she gathered her thoughts before turning her gaze back to him.

"To be honest," she began, her tone calm but serious, "I couldn't tell you. The idea of counting partners and then telling that number to another person, as if it could be held against them later... I don't know." She shrugged lightly, her eyes soft but open. "Less than a hundred, most likely. But does it really matter?"

Severus's jaw tensed slightly, his dark eyes unreadable. "It makes me uneasy," he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. "That the answer could be five, or it could be ninety-five."

Kat studied him for a moment, her expression softening as she took in his discomfort. She reached out, gently brushing her fingers against his arm, not defensive but wanting him to understand. "I get it, Severus. I do. But I've never really seen my past partners as something to be counted. Each person... it was a moment, an experience, but none of them are here now. You are."

Severus glanced at her, the tension in his expression easing just slightly as he processed her words.

"I've never asked anyone to define themselves by the number of people they've slept with," Kat continued softly. "And I wouldn't ask you to either. What matters to me is what we are building right now, not what came before. But I understand if it's hard for you to hear. I just... I'm not someone who regrets living."

Severus took a deep breath, his brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded. "It's not that I judge you, Kat," he said slowly, "but the idea of so many... others, it's difficult for me to grasp."

Kat walked in silence for a moment, processing his words before turning to him with a calm but direct gaze. "So," she began, her tone soft but steady, "is our time together less valuable now that you think the answer could be ninety-five? It isn't—but I'm just asking."

Severus shook his head almost immediately, his brow still furrowed in thought. "No," he said quietly, his voice measured, "it's not about the number, not really. But I prefer... exclusivity. I've always been someone who carefully chooses the people I let in, whether in friendship or more. It's just... different for me."

Kat nodded, understanding. "I get that, Severus. You've lived a very different life from mine. You've been careful with who you let close, and maybe I haven't been as careful in the same way." She paused, her voice softening. "But just because I've been with other people doesn't make what we have any less valuable. I'm with you now."

Severus sighed, his gaze still clouded with the complexity of his thoughts, but there was no judgment in his tone. "It's not something I can change about myself," he admitted. "I've always viewed intimacy as something... sacred, I suppose. Choosing to share that with someone means a great deal to me."

Kat stepped closer to him, her hand brushing against his as they walked. "I understand. And I respect that. I know I may have lived more freely in that sense, but it doesn't mean I don't value what we're building together. I want this to be different, too."