Part XIX Severus was not in the tent when Hermione woke up. She sat up slowly, ignoring the dull ache of her muscles. Her trousers, knickers, bra and shirt were at the edge of the tent where Severus had thrown them the night before. She scooted down the sleeping bag and reached for them. The cold air attacked her warm skin as she pulled her clothes on. She pushed a shaky hand through her hair, knowing it wasn’t going to do much good as she debated whether to sit in the tent a bit longer or head outside. He was sitting on one of the rocks near the fire pit when she finally emerged from the tent. “Do you regret it?” she asked before she could stop herself. His head jerked up at the sound of her voice, and he turned towards her. “No.” Hermione bit her lip, worrying the bottom portion with her teeth. Indecision was etched all over her face. She felt odd. The night before she had felt more alive than she had in years, yet this morning, waking up alone had caused nothing but doubt...
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