He was pale, his eyes rimmed with dark circles and his jaw tight.

"Marcus Flint won't be bothering us again."

She felt a chill crest over her skin. "Why? What happened?"

He rolled his shoulders, and she listened to his bones pop.

"He enjoys being alive." He took a deep breath, looking at a point over her ear. "I told him the next time he so much looks at me the wrong way, I'll go straight to the Dark Lord and inform him that he and Rabastan are still dealing the potion at Edinburgh."

Hermione gasped. "They've—?"

"Yes. Since the beginning. The idiot thought I didn't know. Then he tried to insist I wouldn't betray my uncle's brother." He sneered. "He is banned from Edinburgh for the next month."

"Banned? On whose orders?"

Draco looked at her, his eyes a deep, swirling grey. "Mine. Marcus has forgotten his place since the fall of Potter. I'll endeavor to remind him of it."

He stood tall, arrogant and cold. It reminded her of Hogwarts.

She shook away her memories and wrung her hands together. "I take it your temperature is normal this morning? Did you run any diagnostics?"

The look he gave her told her that asking about his health was futile.

His eye twitched, and he took a deep breath. "We need to end our 'practicing.'"

She heard her heartbeat in the silence. She'd suspected things would go this way.

"I understand how you feel," she said slowly, "but I don't think returning to stiffness and visible discomfort is a good idea."

"The practice sessions are a distraction. For both of us." He cleared his throat. "I let my guard down around Marcus last night. I could have seriously harmed you—"

"Last night wasn't your fault," she rushed out, stepping closer to him. "You did everything within your power—"

"Granger—"

"—and you stopped yourself! You had remarkable control over your mind, despite what it cost you, and—and I just want you to know that you don't have to avoid me, or stop the progress that we made, because I trust you, Draco. I truly do. And even if—"

"Granger." She paused her frantic pacing and met his eyes. He said quietly, voice raw with exhaustion, "This is me tugging my ear."

She blinked at him. Tug your ear, or something. If he felt uncomfortable, or if she was asking too much. And she'd promised she would stop.

"I see." She turned her gaze on her shoes, feeling her ribs contract in towards her heart. "No, of course. That's your right." Her eyes slid up to him again. "But you should know that I'm not tugging mine. My ear, that is."

He swallowed, and his jaw tightened. His eyes drifted over her jaw and lips before dragging away. Nodding at her in goodbye, he turned on his heel.

Her stomach twisted. If he left… if he walked away now, free to avoid her and wallow in self-loathing, she'd have to work twice as hard to win him back. And a partnership with him was what the Order needed.