Title: Empty
Word Count: 1,281 words
Summary: The not-so-drabble-y drabble about Draco and his emptiness. Pre-Hg/DM.
A/N: This is dedicated to 2Padfoot00Moony8
Disclaimer: *sighs* How many times must I admit that I don't own it!! I'm already jealous enough of J.K. as it is!

Draco looked up at a huge, wooden door, a little fuzzy about how he'd gotten there, but confident about why he was there. He pounded on it a couple times until it was answered by a rather short and angry brunette woman.

"Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? What in the nine, bleeding hells are you doing here?" she hissed.

"I need tuh talk to yuh. Jus' 'ear me out, 'Ermioneeee. I needed tuh tell yuh shorry. I mean, sorry," he slurred.

"I don't believe you, Malfoy! It's 3 a.m. on a Saturday morning and you're banging at my door to tell me sorry. You completely smashed too!"

"Oh. I see. Yer distiminating – no, diiiscriimiinating against me because I'm drunk. That doeshn't seem very fair at all."

Hermione sighed. "Malfoy, I spent the day being excruciatingly polite to people I don't really care for, and sometimes, in fact, loathe. I don't really feel that it's fair that I should also have to deal with you. So shoo. Find someone else to bug."

Malfoy slumped pathetically and stepped back. 'Kay. Um, shorry – uh, sorry fer disturbing you," he said and began shuffling away.

He'd only gotten two steps when Hermione sighed again, loudly, and said, "Get in here. Hurry. I don't need anyone around here seeing me let a man into my house at this time of day. Come on, get inside," she said, ushering him in with one hand on his lower back. She turned and shut the door and when she turned back around Malfoy was still just standing there. She resisted the urge to sigh again. This wasn't the first time he'd come here drunk, but it was the first time she'd decided to let him in. It was very cold outside and she knew from experience that he usually just ended up sleeping on the street. He had a perfectly good house, but he never seemed to be at it. His face was splashed all over the pages of the Prophet, reporting that he went out every night and was squaundering away his trustfund. Usually when he came he was boisterous and loud. Tonight he just looked pathetic. She wasn't even sure how he got the address in the first place or why in this inebriated state he came here, but he did and he still never acknowledged her during the day.

"Here, give your coat," she commanded him. He turned to face her and began struggleing with the buttons down the front of his black, cashmere coat. He'd barely gotten one button undone when she swatted his hands away and quicky took care of the buttons herself. She helped him pull it off and then hung it up on her coat rack. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked him. "I have some tea or coffee. I'm pretty sure I still have some cocoa and maybe some grape juice in the fridge."

He shook his head. "I'm jus' a bit tired. Can I lay down somewhere?" he asked.

Hermione helped him over to her couch and then helped him get horizontal. He turned on his side, back facing the couch, and smiled dazedly at her. "You're so pretty," he said. "Like an angel." Then he drifted off and Hermione went to get him a blanket, an amused expression on her face. She just might use that against him in the morning if he tried to cause her any trouble. Grabbing a soft, warm blanket from the closet, she went back into the living room. Draco'd tucked his hands under his head and his hair was wild and all over the place. He'd curled his legs up and was snoring quietly. Giggling, she removed his boots and placed the blanket over his body. "Goodnight, Malfoy," she said, turning to go back to her room.

"G'night, 'Ermione," he barely whispered, eyes still closed.

She smiled as she got into bed, thinking about how nice it would be if Malfoy was like that all the time. She drifted off to sleep thinking about it.

When Hermione woke up in the morning she wondered if he'd even still be there. She padded out into the living room, and sure enough, the couch was empty, blanket folded up and set on one of the cushions. She was about to go back to her room when she heard cursing and banging from the kitchen. She entered in trepadition to find Draco with a pan in his hand, two more on the stove. He looked up as she entered and blushed.

"I thought I'd make you breakfast. In thanks. I'm really sorry I came here. I don't even know how I got here." He looked so lost.

"You've been here before," she told him.

"What? When?"

Other times when you've been drunk. This is the first time I've ever let you in. It was too cold for me to let you sleep outside somewhere. Merlin knows why you don't just go back to your own mansion." She yawned and sat on a chair at her table.

Draco's blush now covered his face and he looked down at his feet as if they were the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. "I'm sorry. I don't remember any of that." He was silent for a few beats. "I don't like to be there by myself. At my mansion, I mean. That's why I go out so much."

Hermione nodded and bit her lip. "You're welcome to visit anytime you like." She hoped she wouldn't regret this.

Draco laughed. "Are you sure? You can still rescend the offer," he said with a grin.

Hermione couldn't help but grin back. "It's fine. I don't have a lot of company. Ever since Harry moved out to the states with Ginny, it's just so lonely now. I mostly do free-lance journalist work and make potions for St. Mungos, so my time is spent alone."

Draco's face had closed off. "I don't do as well as you. I'm-I'm a drunk." Draco snorted. "My mother would slap me if I ever came to her like I came to you. If she was alive and knew what I was doing, I wouldn't have been doing it this long."

"You're mother must have really loved you then."

Draco looked up at her and nodded. "Yeah. Even though she never knew what to do with me, she always wanted what was best for me. She tried to give me everything. I had toys and books and candy. You know the saying: It takes a village to raise a child? Well my mother took that at face value apparently. I had seven tutors, a maid, three nannies, two music instructors, and four house-elves. I was spoiled." Draco looked back down at his feet. "Am spoiled. I spend my days nursing hang overs and feeling sorry for my self, and my nights drinking and feeling sorry for myself. I'm pathetic."

Hermione could see he was in pain and having a hard time confessing these things to her. "You don't have to, you know."

"I don't have to what?" he asked.

"Live like that. Hating yourself."

He scowled. "I didn't say I hated myself." She gave him a knowing look and he relented. "I don't know how to stop. My life has become and meaningless drudgery. Some days I just wish I wasn't here at all. I wish I was with my mother, wherever she is."

Hermione sighed. "I can help you. You just have to ask."

Draco continued to stare at his shoes for another few seconds before looking up into Hermione's eyes. "Help me?"

Hermione smiled a dazzling smile at him and suddenly Draco didn't feel so empty.