Through the fog of exhaustion that was slowly seeping into her bones, Rowan thought she caught a glimmer of exertion on his behalf before his expression settled into the familiar mask of indifference she would always recognize. She couldn’t help the laugh that came from her lips, fluttering the various strands of hair that had escaped from her updo. In the oddest way it was comforting to see. She wouldn’t, even in this untidy, grimy, exhausted state of hers, dare to tell him any of this though.

“Malfoy,” Her voice was soft, only conveying how close to breaking she was for the second time that night. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever be alright after this.” She wondered if it would do to apologize to him again, but she held her tongue, scared that if she did ask, he would have changed his mind and the seed of resentment had been planted. Instead, she reached up and swiped at her cheek, leaving a dark stain of dirt across it.

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