It was cold. It was dark, it was wet, and it was dreadful. Draco Malfoy was perfectly content with this. It was his favorite kind of weather. Of course, he wasn't outside in this weather; he was nestled snugly underneath his dark blue comforters that we're pulled up to his chin. He was dreaming peacefully of how perfect his life was right now.

He had a date with Pansy Saturday night, he was seeing a wizard Sunday to see about getting his Dark Mark removed, and he was having Belgian Waffles for breakfast tomorrow. Perfect.

It was a dreadful evening, and Draco could hear the wind howling against his window. He nestled further beneath the covers and was dreaming about a Pansy-sized waffle, when there was a sudden knock on the door.

It was an urgent rapping, like someone was trying to get his attention desperately. Like someone had been traveling for a long time. In the pouring rain and violent winds...

Draco suddenly remembered the weather. And Pansy. And his mother distinctly telling him that she would visit him on Thursday evenings...

He threw the covers off him, threw some long pants on and shuffled quickly down the stairs. He ran to the door and stopped just before he opened it to turn around and look in the mirror hanging on the wall by the door. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, making it look worse, to depict his rough slumber, and forcefully opened the door to neither his mother nor Pansy.

It was Hermione Granger.

Draco had not seen her since their seventh year at Hogwarts. He had gotten a job working to sell unique items in Diagon Alley, so as to avoid taking over his late father's business, or a job with the Ministry and Minister of Magic, who only thought of him as his father. The entire world saw Draco as a miniature version of his no-good father, Lucius, who would have traded his only son to please the Dark Lord and actually did.

Hermione was different, though. She had loyal, loving parents that had died during all the commotion with the reviving Voldemort. She was the brightest witch of their year, and At this point, Draco thought, probably has a job at the Ministry.

Hermione looked up at him feebly. "Ca-can I come in?" She looked up at him with big brown doe eyes. They were red and puffy. Draco suspected that she had been crying.

She was soaking wet, and her hair was a mess. She dragged a purple suitcase behind her, and shuddered, but then cocked her head sideways, wincing, as if willing her body to stop.

Draco saw this and put an arm around her and led her inside. He closed the door gently behind him and Hermione looked up at Draco's home. He brushed past her and started the fireplace.

It was a nice, large apartment, though Hermione expected nothing less for a Malfoy... The walls were a brown color, with olive green vines as decoration. The vines (as Hermione would soon learn) covered every wall in the house, as a symbol of Draco's favorite part of the Slytherin common room. The wall colors were brown, white, and light blue, depending on the room. The favorites of Draco (His bedroom, the study, and the family room) were all light blue, the almost unnecessary rooms were brown (the guest room, the storage room, and the living room), and the rooms that served a specific purpose (the bathrooms, and the kitchen), were white.

After the fireplace was lit and burning brightly, Draco walked back over to Hermione. She was peering around the room through her hair, which seemed to stick out in all directions. He laughed gently and brushed some out of her way, so he could see her face.

He cupped her cheek gently, and smiled looking into her eyes. She smiled meekly before her face fell again and she sank to her knees. Draco's eyes widened and he suddenly registered that she had fallen to the floor and frantically tried to catch her before she fell, but failed.

Hermione fell to her knees and brought her hands to her face and began to cry. She couldn't help it. Her week had been awful.

She had a difficult, positively awful case she had been working on at the Ministry, and returned home to her "loving husband" who was, at the exact moment she walked in, loving someone else. And the memory of that was enough to start the tears flowing down her cheeks, for the fourth time today.

She cried when she remembered the scowling face of Pansy Parkinson turning around to say "Bet I bloody shag better than the mudblood too!" and cackling before returning her attention to Ron's growing member, licking her lips.

She cried when the people who she was working with on her case began to argue about where to start planning their client's wedding to the Minister's only son.

She cried when she was in the cab on her way to central England, not having the faintest idea as to where she was going to spend the night.

And then she remembered Draco.

She remembered she had the invitation to his flat warming party in her suitcase from the last time she travelled. She couldn't attend because she was leaving town on Ministry business, but when she remembered the card she handed it to the cabbie and wiped the tears from her cheeks, thinking at least she'd have somewhere to stay the night.

And she cried now, realizing that at some point, she'd have to tell Draco what she was doing here, and she'd have to explain all of her personal problems to the man who had spent 6 and 1/2 years making her life a living hell.

And that was too much for even her. She broke down crying and didn't stop until she felt a large, muscular arm wrap around her shoulders.

She looked up into the worried eyes of Draco Malfoy and melted a little bit. Her tears didn't stop, but she smiled softly when he wipes them from her cheeks.

She looked at the floor, blushing and smiling a little, as he planted a kiss delicately on her forehead.

When she looked back up at him he was staring at the spot on her forehead where his lips had been a second ago. His face was expressionless, but cool. As her smile faded and she looked up at him, he smiled down at her and wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her into a careful hug.

She smiled as the tears started flowing again. He squeezed her for just a moment, and then released her, cupping her cheek once again, and wiping her tears away with his thumb. They just stared into each others eyes for just a second before Draco broke the silence.

"It's late. We should probably get some sleep..." He tilted his head slightly, and gave her a sympathetic smile.

She nodded in response, and laughed away her tears, with the help of Draco's thumb as well.

He helped her up and took her coat off her, and then gently took her hand and began leading her up the stairs, a sudden thought hitting him.

"Umm... Hermione?" He began, giving her a sheepish, yet adorable smile, to which she smiled back.

"Yes, Draaaaaaco?" Hermione responded in a singsongy sarcastic tone of voice, squeezing his hand tighter.

"I just thought of something..,"

"What's that, Darling?" Hermione was still being very sarcastic in this situation.

"Um. Well, you see, the thing is..." Draco ran a nervous hand through his hair.

"Yeeeeees?"

"I don't really have the guest bed made up, and the storage room is really messy, and all the other places to sleep are sort of uncomfortable..." He rattled on quickly before Hermione cut him off.

She was perplexed by his beating around the bush. "Draco, just come right it and say it." She took another step so she was standing upstairs, and he was a step below.

"The only place that's available to sleep in is my bed." He stepped into the hallway and looked sheepishly at Hermione who was gawking at him.

"You-you you can't be serious!" She was now wide-eyed, and slightly (extremely) angry with him.

"I'm afraid I am, darling." Draco teased as Hermione shook her head in disbelief.

"But I'm not-"

"Oh shut up and get in my bed."

Draco grabbed her wrist and forcefully pulled her down the hall to his bedroom, with a sneaky glint in his eye. He pushed her in, and ran after her, slamming the door behind him.