A/N: The paragraphs might seem odd, they're there mostly to break up the big block of text the story would otherwise be. Also, this story doesn't follow everything in the books down to the letter. Just little things will be different. The biggest change would be people who might have died in the final battle are alive and well in my story. Example, Lavender - which was actually a mistake on my part initially but I decided to keep her there.

OoOoOo

Hermione walked towards the Forbidden Forest. She knew she shouldn't go there but since the war had ended she felt she needed alone time. Complete Alone Time.

She didn't walk far until she came to the spot she wanted to be in. She was standing across the lake from where Sirius and Harry had been attacked by the Dementors in third year. It wasn't exactly a happy memory but it reminded her of times that seemed simpler. The corners of her mouth quirked up briefly in the attempt at a smile but it wasn't quite accomplished.

It wasn't surprising; there hadn't been anything to smile about for quite some time. Yes, the war was over but it seemed a lot of people still carried a battle within themselves. So many lives and possessions had been lost but so much pain remained for those who had managed to live that it was hard to remember who had been luckier in the end.

The Ministry touted the usual lines of 'Live your lives in honour of the fallen!' and 'Rebuild, remarry and prosper!'.

Hermione knew the Ministry was desperate to remake their world and fill it with witches and wizards once more but she thought the mention of marriage was a bit insensitive. The fact that a marriage law hadn't been imposed yet was interesting. Perhaps the Ministry was going for subtle for a change though Hermione was sure it was on the cards if the population didn't increase significantly in the next couple of years.

The night was quiet around her. Even the bats seemed to have silenced their usual chatter. In an odd way the still darkness made her feel safe and helped calm her frayed nerves until she felt she could breathe again, both physically and mentally.

The confines of the great castle of Hogwarts felt almost unbearable at times which was why she escaped into the night on occasion.

Hogwarts had been rebuilt and nothing much seemed changed about the structure except maybe a new painting hung in the place of one destroyed in the battle and new statues and benches were scattered around the grounds.

The students were the same for the most part. The excitement of entering Hogwarts for the first time distracted the first years from any losses they had experienced.

For the rest of them, especially the eighth years, it had been hard to return to normal life. Or at least what was considered 'normal' for a witch or wizard.

Hermione sighed and sank down to sit against one of the many trees of the forest. Her thoughts drifted to Buckbeak. Where was he now? Harry had officially given him his freedom after the war. As far as she knew he had continued to live with Hagrid but since she had returned to Hogwarts she hadn't seen him.

She had expected to see him during her nocturnal visits to the forest but had instead been met with another.

"Out of bed so late Granger?"

Hermione almost smiled as Draco sat down nearby, legs neatly crossed at the ankles in front of him. He always sat to the side and just in front of her so she couldn't get a clear view of his face. She supposed that was a good thing; he couldn't see hers either.

It was on her third visit to the forest that she had been joined by none other than Draco Malfoy. He had sat down silently quite a way away from her and her first instinct had been to tell him to shove off and move to another spot. But she hadn't and now it had become a sort of ritual. He seemed to always know when she was out here, unless of course he came out every night but he always turned up after she had been outside for a little while like he kept watch to see if she was going to go out. She shook her head slightly at that thought.

Slowly, very slowly, he had sat a little bit closer to her each time he joined her and they had begun a dialogue of sorts. It usually didn't amount to more than a couple of words each but it seemed to help settle her enough to find the strength to return to her bed.

"Oh you know me Malfoy; always breaking the rules."

A barely audible snort drifted over to her and she really did smile this time. It was odd. Her brief exchanges with Malfoy managed to make her smile at least once whereas any interactions during the day with her actual friends failed to elicit the same response. She brushed that thought aside too. She wasn't ready to analyse the time spent with her former enemy. And really, they had only shared these night time visits a couple of times so there wasn't anything to analyse. Or so she thought.

The cool night-time air drifted over Draco's skin, helping to soothe his over worked mind. He had woken from a nightmare, again. They were always about the same sort of thing. Death, torture, pain. His aunt Bella featured most nights. She was either trying to compel him into hurting someone else by hurting him, or worse, she had succeeded in making him do it. And then he would wake up.

On some of these nights he would wake up and as he was staring at the ceiling above his bed he would feel something beckon him from his rest (if you could call it that). Those were the nights he would wander down to the Forbidden Forest and find Granger casually reclining against a tree. So he would join her. They would sit and bask in the quiet darkness until one, then the other, left to go back to bed. He would never admit it, out loud at least, but her presence helped him feel calm again. His swirling thoughts and shaking body would quiet once he saw her and could smell her feminine scent in the air. Vanilla and cinnamon, just like she'd been baking something.

He liked the thought of her wearing an apron and bustling around a kitchen. One that looked rather similar to the one at the manor. The image in his head changed slightly when a pair of very male arms wrapped around her from behind. Draco shifted uncomfortably against the tree when he saw this male turned out to be himself.

Whoa. Where had that come from?

Of course he'd noticed Granger when they'd all come back for their eighth year. She had changed like they all had and grown up, physically and mentally. What he hadn't expected was for her to become so lovely to look at. He'd done away with his prejudices a while ago, quite possibly the exact moment his aunt had begun torturing Granger right in front of him. No pureblood ideals had been worth holding onto if that was the outcome.

His face grew hot as he resisted turning his head to look at her. She would be sitting there serenely, having no idea what thoughts were chasing themselves around in his head. Just as well, he thought. She'd never consider looking at me twice anyhow.

He sighed in his head and stood up, brushing dirt from his trousers. Before he could really think about it he covered the ground between them in a couple of strides and held his hand out to her.

She looked up at him and he could plainly see her hesitation before he felt her warm hand grasp his own. He felt the contact throughout his body; it had been some time since he had been the recipient of skin to skin contact, innocent or not. He was thankful for the lack of light in that moment, otherwise the sudden flush to his skin was sure to be noticed by the ever observant witch. Without thinking he blurted out,"Can you bake Granger?"

The immediate desire to smack himself on the forehead was so strong he would have if Hermione wasn't still holding onto his hand. Which she promptly dropped at the sound of his voice.

Draco expected her to walk away without answering his idiotic, somewhat random question but when he looked at her she appeared to be considering his words. The faint light from the half moon allowed him to see just enough of her expression to know she wasn't going to call him an idiot and he found his thoughts wandering toward admiration for the way the silver light seemed to make her glow slightly.

Maybe she has Veela blood in her family line from way back, he thought.

Apparently tonight was the night for random thoughts.

"Yes Malfoy, I can bake. I rather enjoy it actually. The whole process of measuring ingredients and making sure to follow the different processes for things makes me…...happy and content I guess. Baking is a very homey type thing to do."

She paused before adding,"And it reminds me of my mum and the time we spent together during the holidays."

Her face fell slightly as she said the last part and Draco knew it was because she had been unable to undo the memory charm she had cast on her parents before she went off to hunt Horcruxes with Potter and the Weasel. There had been a sentence or two about it in The Daily Prophet when the paper had published a lengthy article about the Golden Trio.

He didn't think he would mind at all if he managed to 'lose' his parents but he was aware that Hermione's upbringing and relationship with her parents was so vastly different to his family relations that it might as well have happened on another planet.

The silence drew out and began to get awkward, prompting Draco to continue his downward spiral into foot in mouth syndrome; at least for a Malfoy. It was a major faux pas to appear as anything but eloquent and sophisticated -but never friendly- in public. His father would have subtly reprimanded him by now.

"Well, anytime you want to bake I'll be there. I can cook a little myself; maybe you could teach me a thing or two sometime."

That earned a small smile from her.

"I might just do that Malfoy."

She began to walk back up to the castle and Draco trailed after her, musing over her words. He couldn't help it but a small flame seemed to flicker to life inside him, making him feel warm and almost happy.

In no time at all they made it to the bottom of the stairs that would take Hermione up to her room in a private part of the Gryffindor tower. Draco would be making his way up another staircase to his room in a newly built tower that roughly sat above the dungeons that accommodated the Slytherin dormitories and common room.

As so few had returned to redo their seventh year of study it had been deemed necessary to provide private rooms for the 'eighth' years. For some it was because they needed the option of total solitude in order to cope with damages from the war. For others it was a sign of respect and thanks for the part they played before, during and after the final battle.

So private rooms had been created in the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor towers and two entirely new towers had been constructed for the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. They could still access their old common rooms but they also had the use of an eighth year common room which was located on the formerly forbidden third floor.

Draco's gaze travelled up the staircase that Hermione would take, forcing them to go in different directions, and he sighed. He was reluctant to go back to bed on his own; he was sure the nightmare would pick up from where it left off.

His focus was brought back to Hermione when she moved to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. Her eyes held an emotion he couldn't quite understand but the expression on her face made him think her thoughts were similar to his own.

"I'll say goodnight then Malfoy. Sleep well."

Without waiting for a reply she ascended the stairs and quickly disappeared from his view. He continued to stand there as if he was stuck to the stone floor for a few moments before his feet began to move automatically, taking him back to his room and bed.

Draco flopped down on the mattress and closed his eyes. His mind was pleasantly blank except for the image of Hermione as she had stared at him before bidding him goodnight. He still couldn't work out why she had looked at him like that but he didn't care.

That small flame flickered on inside him and he was lulled to sleep by the feeling of being almost-happy.