RATED T

A/N: So, this story is going to consist of two different chapters, each in which Draco or Hermione comforts the other. The first is when Hermione comforts Draco, written in Hermione's first person point-of-view. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. Or any of the characters. Or Hogwarts, Hedwig, or Fred and George Weasley. I need to work on that.

I am walking down the corridor when I hear the quiet sobs. I balk in my path but then take the few steps necessary to reach the end of the hall. I carefully peek around the corner. My curiosity reveals Draco Malfoy on the floor. His head is in between his knees which are curled into his stomach. His hair is falling in his face, and I can see him shaking with visible sobs. Interestingly, he is making very little noise. Only every once in a while can I hear him sniff.

I whip my head back around to where I am standing and prepare to dart across the open corridor. I need to get to the other side, but I can't let him see me. He can't know that I saw him. He can't know I was here.

I take a deep breath and take one step. As casually as possible, I saunter across the open area, keeping my gaze from Malfoy. Halfway across, I hear a voice.

"Who's there?" he calls. I freeze. My logical side knows I shouldn't, but I do. I go to take another step. "I know someone's there."

I stop halfway through the movement and turn to face him, my face illuminated by the low light provided via the candles.

At the sight of me, Malfoy snarls, "Oh, joy, the mudblood. What are you doing –"

Realizing the stupidity of his question, he halts. Being Head Girl, I have to patrol nearly every night. He, on the other hand, being Head Boy, is also supposed to patrol, but tonight, he was nowhere to be found as I left our dormitory. I had searched for him, but when I came to the conclusion that, well, I didn't really care, I let it go. Now I know where he is, at least.

"I'll – uh – I'll just be going now," I stutter. We may have become a bit more civil with each other during these past couple months (after all, we have been stuck in the same dormitories this school year), but that does not mean I wish to stick around while he cries.

Oh Merlin, while he cries. Never before have I witnessed anything as shocking as this.

"Are you deaf?" His voice shocks me. I had been so enthralled with my own thoughts that I had missed what he said.

"No, Malfoy," I reply, attempting to cover up my own hesitancy. "I just don't care."

I feel guilty even saying this.

What am I thinking? Feeling remorse at insulting Draco Malfoy. I have officially gone insane.

"Well then, Granger, you better get going. I can't stand the sight of you any longer," he snarls. His voice is acid, dripping from his mouth. It sounds so harsh, so malicious, but I know that he has to put more effort into it now than usual.

I go to finish my race to the other side of the hallway, but as I am leaving, I hear a small sob escape him. Going rigid again, I fight myself on turning around or not. Finally, I discern that to me, it doesn't matter who it is in pain. All it matters is that they are in pain. After all, that was our philosophy through the Dark War. It's the reason Harry, Ron, and I were able to save so many people: compassion.

I sigh and spin around on my feet. I approach him cautiously and sit down on the ground next to him. The cool wall presses against my back, and the cool scent of Malfoy pushes into my nose.

Malfoy raises his head and glares at me. "I thought I told you to get out of here, Granger. Actually, I'm 100% sure I said that."

"You did. But I came back." I shouldn't have, but I did. Merlin, Hermione, you're such an idiot.

"Well I'd rather you leave again," Malfoy concludes. His voice is cold and rough, slicing through the cool air of the Hogwarts castle.

"And I'd rather not go until I know why you're crying in the dark."

"What the hell are you on about, Granger?" he asks. "I'm not bloody crying."

"I'm not stupid, Malfoy," I assure him, ignoring the way he raises his eyebrows at my statement. I recoil at the question of my intelligence. "I'm not."

"Either way," Malfoy scoffs, "it's really none of your damn business, now is it, mudblood?"

"I suppose not," I agree. I really want to leave. Sweet Merlin, what was I thinking? Nonetheless, I don't move. Not one inch. He does, though. He shifts his body to lean away from me, openly disgusted with my presence.

"Then what the hell are you still doing here?"

"I may not like you, Malfoy, but I'm not leaving you alone right now."

Malfoy peers at me like he is more interested in my being here now than he was before. He is probably just surprised I have stuck around and not shrunk away from his fierce glare. Is he forgetting the time in third year when I slapped him? It may have been about five years ago, but that doesn't mean I'm afraid to do it again. He didn't fight back the first time; he likely won't now.

"You find me intolerable," Malfoy says. "Remember?"

"You're not mistaken," I say, cocking my head to the side, showing my agreement, "but when someone is in a state such as this, I find it best to put hard feelings aside and help them."

"Hard feelings?" Malfoy inquires, smirking. His speech suddenly becomes much more precise and proper. "Whatever do you mean?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "I don't find this amusing," I tell him. "I'll stay longer."

"Ha," Malfoy barks. "Please don't."

"I wouldn't like that either."

"Bloody hell, I can't believe I'm even sitting here having a civil conversation with you."

"Well, I wouldn't go as far as to call this civil," I tell him. "You're insulting me with every sentence that comes out of your mouth. But are you going to tell me why you're here?"

"Will it make you go away?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether or not I think it'll make you do something stupid."

"I'm not an idiot, Granger. I'm not going to hurt myself."

"Possibly not, but you would have no problem with hurting someone else, now, would you?"

Malfoy glares at me and says, "I wouldn't have a problem hurting you right now, Granger."

I only stare at him, my features blank.

"Fine. I'll tell you," he concedes, "but you have to promise that, no matter what, you'll leave."

"Absolutely not."

"I could just hex you."

"Quite honestly, I'm surprised you haven't already. I'm beginning to wonder why."

Malfoy doesn't answer.

"You don't have your wand, do you?"

"Of course I do. I never leave without it."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Where is it?"

Malfoy groans. "Ok. But promise or I won't tell you."

"I hope you are aware that I don't want to know just so that I know. I want to know so I can help you."

"You? The mudblood? Help me, Draco Malfoy?" He puts a hand to his heart, feigning shock. "I'm absolutely flattered."

"If you don't want help, then . . ."

"Then what?"

"I'll just go."

"Please do."

Damn. "No."

"Merlin, I just can't get rid of you."

"Malfoy, I want to help."

"Oh Merlin, alright, alright."

"You see, I've already helped. You're no longer crying."

"Because I'm preoccupied yelling at you!"

"No matter. Now spill, Malfoy."

Malfoy looks down. "It's my mother."

He stops. I nudge his arm and he shrinks away from my touch. He shuffles over some so he is farther from me.

"What about her?" I prompt him.

"She's dead."

My breath catches in my throat. Not what I was expecting. "When?"

"This morning. I got an owl about an hour ago telling me. I had no idea she was sick. They didn't even send me home. I didn't even get to say goodbye."

"I'm so sorry."

"No you're not."

"I am, Malfoy. I may not be your biggest fan, but I know how it feels to lose someone."

By now, Malfoy is crying again. I tell him, "You should get back to your room."

"I'd rather sneak into the kitchen and find the whiskey. Then I'll get drunk and make this go away."

"Sleep is better." I stand up, and when Malfoy doesn't make a move to do the same, I offer him my hand. He looks up at me curiously and pushes himself off the ground, ignoring my outstretched limb. He brushes his robes off and swipes a hand across his face.

"Whatever," he says. He begins to walk ahead of me, and I don't make a move to catch up to him. He reaches the Head Boy and Girl room first, gives the password, and enters, letting the door slam shut on me.

"Prat," I mutter, and then give the password also. I enter the room and Malfoy is nowhere to be found. However, I hear sniffling and the slam of a door. I walk up the stairs that lead to his room and knock on the door. Malfoy calls out to me, his voice muffled through the wood. "Go away, Granger."

I try to open the door. It's locked. Being the intellectual witch Malfoy doesn't believe me to be, I use charms to open it. I walk in to find Malfoy face down on his bed. He is fully clothed yet, meaning flopping down onto the mattress must have been the first thing he did when he got into the room. His face is stuffed in his pillow, the casing on it scrunched around his face.

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy, you're going to suffocate yourself."

"That's kind of the point."

I walk over to the bed and shove him over.

"Don't touch me," he spits at me.

"Let it go, Malfoy, I'm not dirty I've just got normal parents."

"The equivalent of dirty."

"I'll sit on your bed if you're not careful."

"Don't you dare."

"I do."

I plop down unceremoniously onto his bed. Malfoy gasps and moves as far over as he can.

"Oh, it's actually quite comfy," I say dramatically. "I think I'll spread out some more."

"Granger, stop. Stop right now or I'll scream."

"No you won't. You wouldn't want to be seen with me." I smirk. "I told you I wasn't unintelligent, Malfoy."

He groans as I lie down and spread my arms and legs out. "Mmmmm," I sigh contentedly. "Quite the comfortable bed, is it not?"

"Not anymore," Malfoy mutters.

I laugh, sit up and scoot to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm only messing with you, Malfoy."

"We're not friends, Granger. It's not funny." Malfoy sniffs.

I peer at him. "Would it be so bad?"

"What?" He has tears in his eyes again.

"To be my friend? Would it really be so terrible? Am I that disgusting to you?" He doesn't answer. "I mean, if you weren't so stiff and concerned about blood status, I think it would work."

"You're hilarious, Granger," Malfoy drawls.

"I am, aren't I?"

Malfoy grunts, but then he is silent. I sigh and stand up. "Nonetheless, Malfoy, I really do hope you're alright."

"I'm not," Malfoy says. "But I will be."

"That's all I needed to hear. I'll get out of your hair now."

As I walk by Malfoy to leave, I feel a hand on my arm. I look down, shocked, and when I look to Malfoy, he appears just as shocked as I am. "I - I don't - We -" he stutters.

I peel his hand off my arm. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

I turn the doorknob just as I hear Malfoy say, "Don't go," in a voice smaller than any I have ever heard.

I whirl around. I feel as though I am a rag doll, spinning and flipping to the command of whoever is holding me. Right now, Malfoy has full control.

"I don't want to be alone right now."

I reward him a small smile. He really is brave. "I have to go, Malfoy. I need sleep, too."

He hesitates. "Sleep here."

"There's no place."

"You've already contaminated my bed."

I gasp. "You're not joking."

Malfoy shakes his head.

"I can't even get changed?"

"You know what, this was a stupid idea. Forget it." Malfoy sighs and lays back on the pillow he had earlier been trying to kill himself with.

I go and change into my pajamas. As I am getting into bed, I hear Malfoy's quiet sobs reverberating through the common room. I try to ignore it. As I am lying there in bed, the blankets tucked around my chin, I think of Malfoy (against my own wishes) and of everyone he must have lost. He knew many of the Death Eaters killed in the war. He knew Voldemort himself. Many of the students in Slytherin had parents on Voldemort's side. Many of the Slytherins were Death Eaters themselves. I realize for the first time just how many friends were killed and he will never get to see again. I remember how he lost Crabbe that day in the Room of Requirement and how it was the first time I had really seen Draco Malfoy show an emotion other than hate or disgust.

Then, definitely not for the first time, I think of everyone I lost. How when I believed Harry was dead for those few minutes, I could feel the ache in my soul, how, even though Ron was there beside me, I knew that no one could ever make the pain go away. Hagrid's heartbroken face appears in my mind, the look of defeat he held in his posture when he carried Harry's still body back for all to see. I imagine how he must have felt, holding the dead body of one of his best friends, not feeling breaths or heartbeats or any sign of life. The looks of terror on the faces of the Weasleys when Fred was hit pop into my mind. How George fell to his knees and cried out for his twin who would never hear him. His twin who had died smiling. His twin who had died protecting his family and forgiving his brother. His twin who was the best part of George's life and the best part of a lot of peoples' lives. I try not to remember the blank faces of my parents when I removed their memories. I try not to remember when Malfoy had stepped forward and grudgingly accepted Voldemort's stance.

I try not to, but I do.

"Damn him," I say.

I get out of bed and go to his room. I walk in without knocking and he whispers, "Granger?"

"It's me," I sigh. "I found I didn't want to be alone tonight either."

I hear the rustle of sheets and I walk to stand beside the bed. "This is insane," I muse.

"Indeed."

I slip into the bed and pull the blankets around myself. "No funny business."

"With you? Not in one million years."

I turn so my back is to Malfoy. As I drift off to sleep, I think about how Malfoy could have easily made another chair for me to sleep on. Then I think about how I'm glad he didn't.

Please review!