House: Gryffindor

Position: Prefect 2

Category: Themed

Prompt: Pairing - former enemies

Word Count: 4117 – excludes header, title, and A/N

Beta: Fruits and Tigger

A/N: Not epilogue compliant. This was written for The Houses Competition, Y2R10.

Red Eyes

Draco jolted awake. He was panting and his ears were ringing with the sound of his heart beating against his chest.

He tried to close his eyes to calm his breathing, but those red eyes were already ingrained in his mind; there was no use trying to fall back asleep. He quickly got to his feet and tried to immerse himself in getting ready for the day so his mind couldn't dwell on the images that haunted him.

It had been like this every night since the middle of his sixth year. He had been home on holiday and instead of his parents welcoming him with open arms, Voldemort had greeted him with disappointment and pain. For the first night and much of his break, the only thing he saw were those red eyes, the only thing he heard was the Dark Lord's laughter, and the only thing he had felt was pain.

Most nights he woke up in a cold sweat, screaming. He thought once he arrived back at school the nightmares would go away, but they only worsened over the course of the year. The nightmares didn't just haunt him during his dreams, they followed him around all day. He saw those red eyes everywhere; he couldn't escape them.

He avoided people and stopped going to class. His focus was solely on fixing the cabinet to avoid Voldemort's wrath again, but still he would forever be haunted by those red eyes. Anytime he looked into someone's eyes he didn't see their eyes looking back at him; he only saw Voldemort's red angry eyes. He had scars that would never heal and a mind that would never work properly again.

Draco made his way down the marble stairs to the breakfast parlor, where his mother was already sipping on a hot tea and nibbling at some toast.

Mother wasn't sleeping well either. Every little noise, no matter how tiny, sent her into a panic. She would only sleep when Draco watched over her and even then, it was only for a few hours at a time. She refused to leave the house and wouldn't even tend to her once beloved gardens. She preferred to stay in small enclosed spaces, preferably with no windows and her back facing a corner.

She rose when Draco entered but continued her constant sweeping gaze over the room.

Draco looked at the plate in front of him and his stomach turned. Bacon and sausage towered his plate, their aroma wafting through the air; it had once been his favorite breakfast meal but now it tasted like ash in his mouth.

He sighed softly and pushed the tray away, opting for some toast instead. He grabbed at the burnt crust and quickly rose from the table, exiting the room.

Normally, his mother would have protested about taking a meal away from the table and how undignified it was to eat while on the go. However, she was not about to yell at him for the crumb trail he was leaving behind him. She wasn't going to make him seat back down. The time in their lives for reprimanding and caring was far behind them now, and the constant state of vigilance she was always in was just another painful reminder to Draco that he had failed.

Draco was cradling a glass bottle of brandy and staring at the fire intently. This was where he was most evenings. Sometimes the drinking helped, sometimes it made everything worse. Sometimes he could forget everything, other times the flames flickering in the fireplace just reminded him of those red eyes and those horrible nights. But he didn't know what else to do, so he drank and hoped that his would be a good night.

It was funny really, the war was over and he had been found not guilty of his crimes, yet he was a prisoner in his own home. He didn't do well in the 'outside world' anymore; no, it was much better to stay in here. To not face the judgements of others or to see his mistakes flaunted on everyone's faces. True, this prison may be one of his own making, but it still left him empty and alone.

After that night, Draco had started pulling himself away from his friends. He couldn't bear to look anyone in the face anymore. After the war, he just shut himself out from the outside world. His friends had all but disappeared except for a select few that refused to let him push them away.

Pansy walked through the doors to the parlor and saw Draco in his normal spot, perched on a chair by the fire with a drink to his lips.

She quickly called out a greeting to him letting him know of her presence. She had found out the hard way that startling him was not a good idea. She watched as his whole demeanor changed in front of her eyes. He cast his eyes to the carpet and his hands began to worry the sleeves of his robe. It was sad to see the once proud and bold Draco Malfoy turn into the anxious and scared mess that he was now.

"Draco," Pansy repeated, making her way to the front of his chair. "Look at me."

She checked in on Draco almost every night and tried to get him to look at her, hoping that his condition had changed. She hoped that knowing it was her he was looking at might change the red eyes that he usually saw staring back at him, but each night he refused to do so. She was trying to help him, but knew she wasn't providing the help that he needed and they both needed to swallow their pure-blood pride and ask for some professional help.

She sighed when he predictably shook his head 'no.'

"Draco, I can't keep doing this anymore. It pains me to see you like this."

"Then go!" he spat at her. "I didn't ask you to come here."

"Draco," she said, hurt lacing her words, "I would never abandon you; you are one of my best friends. We just need to work through this, and I think I've found someone that can help."

She saw as Draco fought the urge to raise his head in surprise and meet her eyes, but his fear had won out and his eyes remained fixated on the carpet.

Pansy could only guess as to what Draco was truly going through. She had, luckily, never been in Lord Voldemort's presence, but Draco had been, in the worst way. Once when Draco was drunk, he had admitted to her the reason that he couldn't look anyone in the eyes anymore; when looking at someone's eyes, even someone's as familiar as hers or his mother's, he only saw the Dark Lord's red eyes, and he would begin to panic. The memories of his torture would begin to surface and he would be lost to the present moment and instead would be transported back to that time.

The first time that Pansy had come over, she had forced him to look at her. She had gotten in front of him and physically pushed his face up to meet her gaze; she would never forget the look of torture and pain that played across his face. He fell to the ground and began flailing around and crying out. That was the moment that she knew she would do anything in her power to help one of her best friend's beat the past that still haunted him. She couldn't imagine how awful and terrifying it must be for Draco to gaze at someone he loved only to be greeted by a reminder of someone he hated.

"She will be coming over tomorrow."

"Why would you think that they would be able to help? No one can help me," Draco said bitterly.

"Well," Pansy said quietly. "She has helped me a great ton and comes with an astounding amount of recommendations with specialization in PTSD."

She watched as Draco tried to fight his surprise again and smiled smugly. Even in his depressed state, it still felt good to be able to catch Draco Malfoy off guard like this.

Draco chose to only scoff at her admission. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"I know it is going to be hard Draco, but you are going to beat this and then you can go back to being the annoying prat everyone knows."

She gave his shoulder one final squeeze and walked out of the room.

Draco was sitting in the same chair when he began to hear high heels clicking on the tiles of the hallway outside. He could hear his house elf leading this 'person who could help' to the parlor.

He heard the door click and quickly cast his eyes down once again.

"Hello, Draco," said a familiar voice, and he froze.

What the hell did Pansy think she was doing? His friends barely knew about his condition; he certainly didn't want his enemies to know.

"Get out!" He snarled at her.

She ignored him, and Draco could hear as she began to settle herself in the chair next to him.

"I said get out!" he repeated.

"Yes, I heard you," Hermione huffed, "but that doesn't mean I am going to listen to you."

"I could throw you out. You should leave before you get hurt."

She laughed. "Thank you for the warning, but I think I can handle myself. I think we should begin. Tell me Draco, what is going on with you? What is troubling you?"

He just sat quietly and ignored her questions; he wasn't going to tell her. After a few silent minutes, Hermione began to speak again.

"Okay, that's fine, I will tell you what is going on with me then. I currently work as a therapist, as you now know. I, myself, have struggled with coping after the war and wanted to help others who were having a difficult time. I have formed several different war and loss coping groups and do some occasional one on one sessions like I will be doing with you. I still wake up with nightmares about once a week but they are getting better. I have visions about the Hogwarts battle, you know, Hagrid carrying Harry's limp form. Sometimes I have dreams about what would have happened to me if Voldemort had won the war, what would have happened to the Wizarding world."

Draco could feel her body shudder at the thought but he was stunned into silence by her admissions.

"There are many things I regret doing during the war and sometimes those things come back and haunt me. I may have done them for 'the greater good' but they were still terrible things. Sometimes, I doubt that I made the right decisions at all. I doubt if I am a good person at all some days." She laughed bitterly.

"Why are you telling me this?" Draco asked. "Your list of issues is only making your own inadequacies at being able to help me clearer."

"Because," Hermione answered. "everyone has problems, Malfoy, not just you. Everyone has things that they regret during the war. You don't have to suffer alone, and there is no shame in asking for help."

"I didn't ask for your help, Pansy did."

Hermione sighed loudly and shifted in the plush chair next to him.

"Okay," Hermione said. "You don't want my help, that's fine. Let's just talk then."

When he continued to stare into the fire and ignore her, she began to launch into a story. Draco didn't recognize it so he assumed it was one of her Muggle stories.

Draco quickly found his ears perking up as she told the story of a girl with cursed red shoes. He could hear Hermione's voice rise and fall in animation with the story. He could hear how wistful her voice sounded and knew that she was as immersed in the story as he was. He found his eyes beginning to be drawn towards her and settled for staring at the carpet by her feet.

She finished with a great flourish and Draco could feel her eyes on him.

"That was…" Draco started, "interesting. What is it?"

"It's a Muggle fairytale. Sometimes I like to read them; it gives me some time to think about my problems and instead focus on the stories. I will bring a book tomorrow and we will read some."

"You're coming back?" His voice was almost hopeful.

"Yes, why wouldn't I?" she asked as she rose from the seat.

"We didn't really do anything."

"Sometimes you don't have to. I have another appointment tonight still, so I do need to get going, but here is my number; please call me or owl me if you need to."

She placed a card on the table and quickly left the room.

The whole next day Draco had been replaying his time spent with Hermione in his head. He couldn't fathom how storytelling was supposed to help him or why Hermione had told him all of those personal details about herself. Did she tell everyone that information?

He was eagerly waiting for her in his usual green plush chair by the fire, with his nightly glass of brandy in hand, when she walked in.

He could tell that she was in a bad mood by her angry footsteps. Her heels clacked on the floor and he could hear her throw herself in the armchair beside him and sigh heavily.

He waited until she said something, but soon grew antsy.

"Hermione?"

"What?" She snapped before quickly apologizing, "I'm sorry, it has been a rough day for me. The Ministry is fighting my legislations and well… it's just been rough. Let me just take a moment to get settled. I brought the book so we can read some stories tonight. How was your day today Draco?" she asked as she rummaged through her purse.

He ignored her question and instead asked one of his own. "The Ministry? I thought that you were a therapist?"

"Ah, well I am, but I only do this in my free time. I work in the Department of Magical Creatures during the day."

"What is this legislation you are trying to pass?"

"Oh, it's about Wolfsbane. I am trying to make it more easily accessible for werewolves. They are humans too and they deserve the chance to live like normal humans. Honestly, we make it impossible for them to get the ingredients to make the potion and then condemn them when they turn at the full moon. There is a reason why we don't know the full extent of the werewolf population, because they are all in hiding to afraid to admit their condition. It isn't their fault."

Draco felt his eyes drift towards her again. He could only imagine the look on her face, the same know-it-all look she had worn in school. Her eyebrows would be drown, her chin set, and her mouth drawn in a straight line. He had the sudden urge to look at her face and see if he was right but didn't dare look. He couldn't afford for her to see him at his weakest point, thrashing on the ground and crying. They may not completely be enemies anymore, mostly because he just didn't have the energy to fight or care, but they certainly weren't friends.

Instead of looking at her face, he did something that surprised both of them.

"I can look at your legislation and help you if you want?" he asked.

She gave a sharp intake of breath and immediately regretted it. He never offered to help anyone, she was probably wondering why was he doing so now.

"That would be wonderful, Draco!"

She immediately pulled out the document and shoved it into his hands.

They continued to work on the legislation for the next several weeks. The fairytales and his own problems were quickly forgotten and replaced with hers.

He found that he enjoyed helping her, especially when they were not focusing on him. He had found himself wishing more and more that he could look at her face and see the same excitement in her eyes that he could hear in her voice.

Hermione was getting ready to leave one night and was stuffing her papers in her bag when she gasped in surprise. She pulled out the book of fairytales and stared at the cover.

"Oh Draco, I am so sorry, we never read any more stories. I have been so caught up in trying to get this passed." She slid the book across the table to him. "Take it, as a thank you."

She left quickly promising to come back the next day so they could work on the legislation proposal for one more night.

Draco didn't move from the table for a long time after she left. He was smiling and fingering the worn pages of the book. The book itself was insignificant and with his family's fortune, he probably could have bought more than a million copies, but it felt good to have received it as a thank you.

Hermione came over the next night and they worked well into the early morning. Draco was reading over an article about werewolf populations when his ears began to register the deep breaths that Hermione was making. He listened for a few more minutes before cautiously raising his eyes to look at her face. He was taken aback by how beautiful he found her. Her hair was still unruly and messy from her running her hands through it. Her nose was scattered with freckles and her pink lips were slightly parted as her chest rose and fell rhythmically. Her eyes were closed in sleep and Draco was thankful that they were. He didn't see red eyes staring back at him and instead got to take in the beauty of Hermione Granger. He never really allowed himself to look at her before, but he was looking now and thought she was beautiful.

He quietly gathered her in his arms and carried her to a bedroom down the hall so she should sleep. He wrote her a note explaining what happened and set an alarm early in the morning, hoping she would have enough time to make it to work. He then had to force himself to stop staring at her and leave the bedroom. It had been so long since he had been able to look at anyone's face without those red eyes haunting him that he wanted to make it last for as long as possible, but he quickly decided that it would be creepy to continue to stare at her while she was asleep.

Instead, he left the room and went up to his bedroom. He read over the book of fairytales again and for the first time in a long time, he fell asleep without memories of red eyes greeting him in the darkness.

Hermione had sent and owl that she would not be able to make their normal appointment that night because her support group appointment had gotten moved.

So he was very surprised when she showed up earlier that night.

"Draco?"

He had to force his eyes to look at the floors and not stray to her face.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I… er… " She struggled to get the words out.

He thought she was biting her lip but without looking at her he couldn't be sure. He turned away from her to avoid his treacherous thoughts.

"I would like you to come with me to my group tonight."

He scowled at the carpet. "No."

"Draco, I really think it would be good for you."

"How would that be good for me?" he asked. "I wouldn't even be able to look at where I was going or who was there. I can't look at people, remember?"

She reached out to his side and grabbed one of his hands. "I do remember, Draco. That is why I think this would be a good idea." She squeezed his hand. "I will be right here with you the whole time."

Draco looked down at their locked hands and already felt the fight leaving his body. He nodded reluctantly and let her lead the way, his eyes never leaving the sight of her small, delicate hand gripped around his much larger one.

They had arrived at the group a little earlier than the rest of the members and Draco heard everyone's surprise as they walked in. He heard their steps falter or their sharp intakes of breath, but kept his head down.

Hermione greeted everyone as they came in and reassured them about his presence. He recognized some voices that spoke in the group; others were slightly familiar and some he could not recognize at all.

One vaguely familiar male voice was talking about the struggles of growing enough plants for much needed potions for St. Mungo's; not only was there a shortage in plants for ingredients but there was also a shortage in competent potion masters to brew the potions. He was explaining about the devastation the war had had on farming lands when Draco began to tune him out.

He heard Hermione sympathize with the man but the whole conversation had made his mind begin to reel.

Hermione brought him home that night, her hand still clutched in his, when he asked her about his plan.

"Oh Draco! That would be wonderful, think of all the good that would do!"

Draco began work on his project immediately and consulted Hermione every step of the way.

His hands were dirty and his shirt and hair were clinging to him from sweat. He heard Hermione greet him as she stepped out into the backyard, and for the first time, he actually worried about what he looked like to her. He hadn't looked at himself in a mirror since his sixth year once the Dark Lord's red eyes began to haunt him everywhere, he was too afraid to look into his own reflection, worried that those red eyes would marr his own reflection. He silently cursed himself for the state that she found him in.

He continued to silently work as Hermione made her way towards him.

"Draco this looks amazing! You are really going to make a difference and help St. Mungo's! You can grow twice as many plants here as they can at Hogwarts!"

Draco glanced at the grounds around him; his mother's abandoned gardens had been replaced with special medicinal plants. Flowers no longer lined the pathways and instead Chinese Chomping Cabbage greeted the eyes. It wasn't as beautiful as the magnificent garden that had once grown there but Draco could see the beauty in it.

He worked in the garden during the day—his mother had even begun to venture outside with him a little at a time—and spent his evenings with Hermione brewing whatever potions they could to help St. Mungo's.

One night Hermione threw open the door and he heard her hurried steps as she ran towards him. She threw her arms around him and he was so surprised that he glanced up at her.

Time stopped as his grey eyes met her golden-brown ones. His eyes widened and he began to drink in the sight of her golden-speckled eyes which were alight with happiness.

She jumped into his arms, closed her eyes, and gave him a quick peck on the lips. When she opened them again her cheeks were rosey but she didn't turn away from his imploring gaze. His eyebrows were scrunched and his lips were caught between emotions; he was half smiling and half confused.

"The legislation passed!" She cheered, her eyes dancing. "So many lives are going to be changed for the better because of you, Draco Malfoy."

"I don't understand… "

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Why… why… can I look at you in the eyes?" His eyebrows arched.

Hermione smiled. "My guess would be because you have moved past that night and are no longer dwelling on what happened. Look around you, Draco. Look at everything you are doing and accomplishing now; you are moving forward and are no longer letting it hold you back!"

He leaned forward and captured her lips gently with another kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers and stared deeply into her eyes.

"Thank you, Hermione, for everything."

And that was the first time that Draco Malfoy had ever thanked anyone in his life.