A/N - I KNOW I SHOULDN'T HAVE ANOTHER STORY GOING WHEN MY OTHER TWO AREN'T EVEN FINISHED, BUT I JUST COULDN'T HELP IT!

I'll update as often as I can with two other unfinished stories...

Enjoy x

The street lamps flickered on an empty street in London. Snow had been falling heavily all day, and large snow banks made it hard for anyone to make it even to their car, never mind actually driving onto the main road. However, although it was in the early hours in the morning, way below 0oC and dangerously quiet (save for the fighting cats yowling in the alleyways), one impeccably dressed man made his way towards a block of flats. He had to hold down his hat with one hand as the wind tried to blow it off his head, while the other was gripping his coat tightly, trying to keep it closed, as he waded with the determination of a madman, wiggling his numb toes in his shoes, through the snow.

By the time he reached the entrance door to the block, he was thoroughly exhausted and painfully frozen, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. There were bigger things at stake than the current case of his well-being. He staggered towards the elevator at the end of the room and pressed the down-facing arrow, calling the machine to his floor. It came quickly, since there was no one else at this time wanting it, and once the doors opened, he quickly went in and, angrily, jabbed the button for the fourth floor. The ride up was agonizingly long for him, but the shelter from the outside gave him time to warm up and he welcomed it for now, but in less than a minute he had reached his destination and was ready to start moving again.

After rummaging in his pocket for a screwed up piece of paper, he pulled it out, unfolded it and checked the information one more time to make sure that he was in the right building.

Cheshire Street

Fourth Floor

Room 20

He nodded to himself and tucked it back in his pocket as he headed towards the end of the hall, checking all the numbers on the way there. Finally, he stood outside the correct door and, with great difficulty; he tried to curl his fingers into a fist to bang on the door. Eventually, his hand obeyed his brains command and he pounded on the door, trying to ignore the shooting pains that it caused.

He heard noise coming from in inside and lots of shuffling, and he breathed a sigh of relief when it opened, but as he saw who had answered his panicked call at around 3am, it caught in his throat.

"Who the hell are you?" He said angrily, though his voice was shaking from the chill of wandering outside for more than an hour.

"Excuse me? Who are you? Knocking on my bloody door at half three on New Year's Day!" She said through gritted teeth, being as careful as possible not to cause a commotion that would wake up everyone on her floor, the floor below and the floor above.

He was just about to launch into a tirade about what he was indeed doing at her door so early in the morning, when a voice called out from somewhere in the room, asking who it was, that immediately caught his attention. Instead of shouting under his breath with his voice getting louder and louder with all his stress, anger and worry, until it cracked and he'd broken down crying at some stranger's front door, he pushed her out of the way and walked in.

"Granger," he gasped, stumbling in, leaving the girl who answered to close the door as quietly as she could despite being irritated. "Granger," he said again, a bit louder this time, looking around the open room with his eyes until he saw her.

When she heard his voice, she suddenly froze while making the pot of coffee for her and her friend and stood completely rigid, back facing him, as she heard him clumsily make his way over to her. She was shocked, truth be told, that he had managed to find her. Only a select few of her friends knew that she lived there and even then, they visit a few times a month. How Malfoy knew that she lived there, was the number one question on her mind. Obviously, none of her friends had told him, but he must've of acquired the information somehow and recently too, otherwise he would've shown up earlier. Moreover, it must be urgent if he had shown up now, of all times, but what could he possibly want her for?

"Granger you've got to help me," he said desperately.

She jumped as his hand touched her pajama sleeve, and the cold quickly seeped through the thick fabric and then to her skin. "Bloody hell," she muttered, quickly turning around, her Healer side coming out over the shock. "Malfoy you – Merlin, you walked here, didn't you? We've got to get you warm right now before you catch the pneumonia or something."

As Hermione was fussing around and muttering about how stupid he was, and ignoring his feeble, tired attempts at trying to tell her something, her flatmate was grumbling to herself about how early it was and how Hermione was too nice for her own good, though no one took any notice. She walked into her room and slammed the door, before calling out not to be too loud; otherwise, they'd be skinned before the morning light.

It was when Hermione had started pushing Draco towards the sofa and ordering him to take off his shoes, socks, coat, scarf and any other items that were wet, that he finally snapped at not being able to grab her attention. He gripped her by the shoulders tightly, and roughly shook her so she'd stop talking for one second and growled, "For fucks sake! Listen to me!"

Grabbing hold of his arms, she stopped his shaking and looked him dead in the eye, speaking deathly low in a no nonsense voice. "Whatever it is, it can wait. Right now, you need to get warm and have some rest. You're going to get sick." She then started to push him by his upper arms towards the sofa once again, but though he was feeling weak, he was bigger than she was and made sure that he stood as strong as possible so that she couldn't move him.

"It can't wait! If you would just take one moment to listen to me then you would understand!"

Hermione glared at him and released her hold on him, moving her arms to fold against her chest. She lifted her chin up higher and said, "Fine. Just take your wet clothing off, sit down-"

"Scorpius has been kidnapped!" Draco yelled as loud as his lungs would let him at that moment, not caring about anyone else in the building. As long as Granger heard him, he didn't care.

Hermione froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth. She felt as if someone had struck her in the gut and just stared numbly back at Malfoy not fully hearing him as he said it again, quieter, sounding more broken. Her insides even felt cold, though she hadn't left the building since she had come home from the Weasley's New Year's Eve party that night, and even then she had just Apparated right into the flat. He had been trying to tell her that someone had stolen his son, and she just brushed him off for wanting to tell her something that wasn't important, something that could've waited until morning.

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