Rowan was so acutely aware of his presence next to her. It had been so long since they’d been in the same space. She’d been nervous to touch him, she had just realized. Nervous that when they did eventually make contact, that it wouldn’t feel the same, and that she wouldn’t be able to feel the hum of anticipation just below the surface. But he caught her chin and she watched his eyes track his own movements. She’d missed his eyes. She’d missed his touch. She leaned into it, wanting to bottle this feeling and take it with her. How was she supposed to fall asleep tonight knowing what she was missing?

Just a few moments ago she had been rigid, ready to run in the opposite direction, but now it seemed like a light had turned on bringing with it a warmth that Rowan wanted to curl up against like a cat in a sunbeam. How fast things changed. Or perhaps things hadn’t changed all that quickly; perhaps she’d just been resisting for that long.

She savored his question, not because he was asking for her forgiveness, but because she could sense the vulnerability behind it. She knew what it took from him to say it. For as long as she could remember, Malfoy had always been about maintaining control, never revealing his cards and keeping them close; even in small arguments they’d had. But Rowan had also seen glances of vulnerability here and there. She wanted to see more of this, but she doubted he would make it a regular habit.

She gave a soft laugh. “Yes, Raphael.” She said quietly. “For what it’s worth, I don’t know if you need it. After all, I thought such horrid things about you when I thought you’d left…I should have given you more credit than that.” It shamed her to think about them now, and she bowed her head apologetically. “But if my forgiveness is what you need, then you shall have it. All of it.”

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