Draco tripped as a blunt object was thumped into his spine. His bare feet scuffed the cold floor, and the impact of his knees hitting the concrete shot up through this bones. He scrunched up his face to stop himself calling out, accidentally biting his tongue as a boot kicked him in the back of his thigh.

"Get the hell up, Death Eater"

He kept quiet, getting once again to his feet and tumbling forward as the guard roughly pushed him from behind.

He'd learnt to hold his tongue. Witty remarks didn't earn you much respect in this place, not that he had expected they would, but he'd found that any noise seemed to make the wrong impression. Any whimper of pain would encourage them to continue, and any mention of injustice would infuriate them; keeping quiet was the best choice.

He'd been here seven months, or so he estimated. With no contact with the outside world, and no guards who would humour him enough to respond, his best guesses were only that – guesses. But it had been roughly seven months since his conviction, and therefore eight since the end of the battle. It was currently mid February and Azkaban was freezing. The guards wore thick jackets and hard leather boots, their necks warmed by scarves and their hands by gloves. But the prisoners stayed in the same clothes, the same ones they were given when they first entered. Draco's clothes had once been a light grey colour, the rough industrial material had been stiff and the whole outfit had been itchy, but as time had passed they had changed a lot. The grey had darkened to a murky brown as he spent most of his time sitting on the floor of his cell, and due to his habit of sleeping on his left side, the fabric there had softened against the rough concrete, but he didn't really notice. His mind and body felt so numb after so long that he noticed little of anything anymore.

The loneliness of the prison was what drove the prisoners mad, but it was so much more than simply being alone. They were isolated with only their own thoughts to comfort them, but even these disappeared as dementors roamed the halls. The happy memories that one might cherish, the ones that define you and remind you who you are, the ones which could drive you to action, they were slowly taken by the darkness until the prisoners don't even have themselves for company.

It was the complete emptiness of intension as well as emotion which drove them insane.

Draco had learnt not to think. It was better, he reasoned, to have the memories and never recall them, than to not have them at all. But there were certain times, those in the late evenings as the guards would walk the corridors to check that everything was in its place, that there were no dementors. To protect the guards as they walked, the dementors were kept away temporarily, and this is when Draco's mind would wonder.

It was these brief moments with his memories that kept him going for all those months.

The guard pushed Draco back into his cell, slamming the door shut as he left. He fell heavily against the wall of his cell, leaning his head back against the concrete, and closed his eyes. He brought up his occulmency walls, and pictured a glass, a simple one, one with no memory attached, focusing his mind only on that until all other thoughts stopped.

He stayed like that for what could have been a single minute or sixty, but he was finally disturbed when he could hear the familiar footsteps of a guard passing his cell. He couldn't see far through the door, but he recognised the curly grey head of the evening guard, and Draco sighed, smiling a little as he relaxed into nostalgia. He thought back to a time when the consequences of the war seemed so much further away.

He made his way through the library, towards the back corner where he knew she'd be. The library was quiet, as it generally was, but instead of it feeling empty Draco found it more comforting – peaceful. Dust particles floated through the air, highlighted by the beams of golden light which fell between the shelves of books. He absently bushed them away with his hand as he walked passed, his thoughts focused on where he was going.

It took him barely a minute to get to the back of the library. He headed down a narrow path, walking with the transfiguration section to his left, and the small muggle studies shelf to his right. Ignoring them both he reached the end and slipped through the small gap between one of the shelves and the wall. He kept walking until the library opened up into a larger section. The shelves here were taller, but there was more open space. A group of old leather chairs were gathered around a small table in the centre, all littered with a large selection of recently used books and scrolls. There was less natural light in this part of the library as it was further inside the castle with no windows to the outside, but the candles which hung from the ceiling lit it adequately.

This part of the library wasn't well known, but it kept many books; usually those which weren't directly studied in class and not dangerous enough to be stored in the restricted section. The main library wasn't ever very busy, but this section was even less so. Very few people knew of its existence, but Draco prided himself on having found it during his first year.

But he wasn't the only one. Another student like him was currently making her way through the shelves with a large scroll in her hand. She seemed to have read a lot of it, so most of the paper was unwound, loose from the scroll. The folds of paper were falling out of her grip as she tried to carry it and read at the same time, some of them were slightly crumpled as she attempted to keep it all in her grasp. Her hair was falling messily around her head, and as he watched she ran a hand back through it, to keep it out of her face. Unfortunately, that movement meant that more of the paper in her other hand fell to the floor and she lost her place.

"Crap" She muttered, reaching down to pick the mess up.

Draco walked closer towards her quietly before saying, "What a foul mouth you have"

"Ah!" Hermione spun quickly towards his voice from her spot on the floor, raising her wand in a defensive position.

He chuckled at her expense.

"Malfoy! What do you want?"

He grinned, walking over to her, holding out a hand to help her up with. She sighed, taking it and standing up, ignoring the mess of paper she left on the floor.

"What? I can't come see my girlfriend?"

A smile slipped through her irritated features, but noticing it she deliberately cleared her face, forming a frustrated pout. Draco thought it was adorable. His face must have shown this because she looked to get even more irritated.

He lifted his arms around her shoulders, and she leant into him, if a little reluctantly. He kissed the top of her head, and moved a stray bit of hair which had managed to fall towards her face.

"Is it Malfoy now, then?"

"Oh shut up, I can practically hear your smirk."

He laughed openly, coaxing a small chuckle from Hermione.

"There we go. That's better. What's got you so irritated, anyway?"

She sighed against his chest, leaning into him as if to hide from the world.

"It's nothing new, war stress, school stress" She muttered, "Ron's being a prat and I'm keeping secrets from my best friends." He said nothing, just held her tighter, knowing there was little he could do it make it easier. They stood there for some minutes, Hermione calming down in his presence.

A few years prior he would never have imagined this situation. He wouldn't have thought that Hermione could become as important to him as she had, but he wouldn't change it even if he could.

After a minute he spoke up, "You fancy lunch?"

She nodded against his chest, and he let go of her, picking up the scroll from the floor and putting it carelessly on the nearby table.

He raised his hands defensively as Hermione scowled at the new creases that he'd made. "We'll sort it later, and you made just as many creases while you were walking"

She scowled but took his hand as they made their way out of library.

Thinking back on that time Draco smiled. It had been stressful, but it was the quiet before the storm, peaceful in comparison to what was to come. Despite the house prejudices he and Hermione had gotten to know each other through the years, and though they didn't advertise it, they'd started dating. It gave them both a little relief from what was happening in the world around them, and that was something which could never be overvalued.

"Where are we going?"

Hermione ran ahead of him, holding his wrist as they ran through the castle.

"Patience!" She called to him, the sound of their feet and her laughter bouncing off the walls of the corridor. Her curly hair flowed down her back and her long robes fluttered around her legs as she ran.

It was just after dinner on one of the last days of school for that year, and they'd both left early because Hermione had something she wanted to show him. He'd asked what her plans were, but ever the stubborn witch, Hermione hadn't let anything slip.

He let free a laugh of his own, and Hermione looked back at him, her smile beaming. They kept running, up the stairs and down yet another corridor. Draco was a little out of breath at this point, though he tried his upmost to hide it.

After a few minutes, they finally stopped.

"Okay! We're here."

Hermione had dropped his hand and stood facing an empty wall on the seventh floor. The walls around them were mostly bare; the only painting in their immediate surroundings was one of Barnabas the Barmy which hung on the wall behind them.

"Okay" he said slowly, "What is it?"

Instead of telling him anything she began pacing from side to side, and he just watched her, confused.

"Hermione-"

She put up a hand to stop him, and kept walking, ignoring him completely. He leant on the wall as he waited, but jumped with a less than subtle "Ah!" as the wall moved against his back.

Hermione laughed and indicated to the door which had formed from the brick.

"This" she said through a smile, "Is what I wanted to show you."

The door which had formed was fairly small and simple, which was oddly out of place in such a grand castle.

"Don't get me wrong, the magic was impressive but I don't see-"

With a grin Hermione leaned past him and placed her hand on the door handle, opening it to reveal a sight Draco would have never expected. A forest stood before them, tall trees reaching high above the height of the ceiling in the hallway, a thick canopy hiding whatever ceiling there might be above it. He gaped at the sight.

Hermione took his hand and led him through the door.

On the floor at their feet a dirt path led them from the door through the trees and Hermione immediately began to follow it, a proud expression on her face.

"This is incredible" He muttered.

"Well, I thought we needed a break," she paused as a smirk appeared on her face, "and I wanted to prove a point."

He laughed, "That's not entirely unexpected. Which point are you proving?"

She looked him straight in the eyes, as if emphasising the importance of what she would say.

"One about muggle culture"

"Hermione-" he began to say but was interrupted.

"No, I think you'll like it, it'll at least take your mind off other things, right?"

He sighed, but at her hopeful expression he thought he'd just let her keep going.

Having grown up in Malfoy manor, his knowledge of muggle culture was not impressive. But despite what he was taught and what Hermione apparently thought of him, he had very little against their world anymore; it's just that he had very little interest.

They continued up the path through the forest. There were sounds of birds chirping in the trees and a small breeze blew past them creating the ideal temperature. It was perfect, Draco thought, just him and his witch.

As they walked he began to be able to see a raised platform in the distance. He looked at Hermione for an explanation, and she looked so excited it made him grin.

"Well, I thought that I would take you to the 1950s in Muggle England..."

He raised an eyebrow and smirked at the magically formed forest around them.

"... with a little twist, of course." She amended.

They'd reached the platform by then and Hermione led him up the stairs at the side. It was made of wood and was varnished; leaving it a rich dark brown colour. Around the edge there was a simple fence, with candles in glass cases at each corner. The platform, or stage as he was beginning to see it as, was fairly large, and as he looked over the edge he could see that there was a stunning view of the forest around him. He could vaguely see the sun in the distance, shining through the trees, it was close to the horizon, and he assumed that it would set within the next hour or so. He stood admiring the view for a minute, before he looked back at Hermione to see her undoing her robes.

He smirked, "I didn't know that was exclusive to the 1950s"

She tried to frown at him but the small smile that tried to escape made that quite difficult.

"No" She said pushing her robes over her shoulders to reveal her dress underneath. "I'd something else planned." Her dress had a white top, with sleeves that just passed her shoulders and buttons down the front. It came in at the waist and fanned out with a long, patterned, brown skirt. Despite the fact that muggle fashion had always seemed ridiculous to him, he had to admit the strange clothes suited her. She waved a wand at her hair so that it moved away from her face, falling down her back in large curls.

Despite her earlier confidence, she looked a little self-conscious, though she appeared to be trying to hide it. He walked over to her taking her hand.

"Muggles are nutters." He said simply.

She looked hurt for a second, her eyebrows lowering towards her eyes.

"But" he continued, "You look stunning in that"

Her smile returned. In the glow of the sun her hair sparkled with gold which threaded through the usual brown; her skin was freckled a little over her nose and out onto her cheeks which were currently blushing. He thought she was beautiful.

She briefly made a face like she was concentrating, and a sound began playing in the air. A rich female voice blew through the trees, with soft piano, trumpet and quiet drums accompanying her, the rhythm swinging pleasantly. It wasn't like any wizard music Draco had ever heard, and he was surprised to find that he didn't dislike it.

Hermione kept looking at him at he listened, as if to watch for any kind of reaction for him. He gave her an approving expression and her face lit up.

"It's alright" he said, not really wanting to show just how much he liked it.

She laughed, "I think so too, though there is still one thing missing..."

She concentrated once more and Draco assumed that this must be the way she communicated her wishes to the room. He wondered how she must have discovered this place, it really was quite remarkable.

Hermione dropped his hand for a second, going over to the corner of the stage where a strange muggle hat sat on the fence.

"This..." she said as she walked back over to him, "...is a fedora."

The hat was made of woven straw with a piece of dark red fabric wrapped around the main body. The body was pinched, and had a brim which was turned down at the front, but got turned progressively higher as the rim went round to be back of the hat.

"They were very popular during the 1950s"she explained, passing him the hat which he took and began twirling in his fingers.

"Really Hermione... You chose red?"

"Fine" she said chuckling, taking it back and touching the ribbon to change it to green.

Draco placed in on his head, looking at Hermione as her eyes lit up with joy and he fell for her all over again.

She'd told him that night how she had always danced with her parents as a child. She'd grown up with her heart beating along to jazz, with Fats Waller and Peggy Lee being regularly heard around her house. She'd shown him 1950s dance and he'd refused to even try, but in the end with the sounds of Frank Sinatra playing through the forest air, they'd slow danced until three in the morning.

In a time when the fears of war were so close at hand, they'd found a moments peace, something Draco had cherished a lot more than he'd let on.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as his cell grew colder, the dementors were returning so he cleared his mind and forced the memories back once again.

Draco's method of hiding his memories usually worked. He'd stayed here for months, only losing a handful of memories at the beginning of his sentence, but unfortunately dementors don't like to be tricked.

Each day he was there he felt himself weaken, his mind and his body, and soon distancing himself from his thoughts became more and more difficult. One day in March, as Draco fell asleep, his memories of Hermione refused to be ignored.

Draco awoke to the view of a leafy canopy, the rising sun trickling through the branches. The birds had begun singing, their joyful chirping drawing him out of his sleepy haze. He thought back to the night before. He was in the room of requirement, in a woodland that Hermione had built through Magic. As they had danced they'd spoken about many things, like how Muggle England was so different to what Hermione had experienced since she found out she was a witch.

It had been early morning by the time Hermione asked if Wizards had beanbags. To her absolute horror he revealed that he didn't know what she was talking about, which had, of course, been the precursor to his current situation.

He lay on a large fabric bag filled with small squishy spheres, though why muggle compared them to beans, Draco had no idea. He and Hermione had just been lying down on it briefly but as time had passed they had ended up falling asleep. He was still in his clothes from the night before, but while it was uncomfortable, it didn't dull is mood.

He could hear the sound of soft breathing to his right and he turned his head to see Hermione lying sound asleep. Her hair had been released from the magic she used last night, so its full recklessness fell about her face, covering up the majority of her features. A small section would float up each time she exhaled, making Draco chuckle. He reached out to move it out of her face and tuck it behind her ear.

"Hermione, love?" He said gently

The sound seemed to wake her, her nose scrunched up as she closed her eyes against the light, turning into the pillow.

"Draco?" She mumbled against it.

He placed his hand on her shoulder, running his thumb in patterns over her skin.

"Where..."

"The room of requirement, we fell asleep" He said, "We should probably get moving."

She turned away from the beanbag, sitting up and rubbing her eyes to rid them of sleep. Then suddenly, as if she had only just got her thoughts together, she looked at him worriedly.

"Lavender and Pavarti, they'll have noticed I didn't come back" She groaned, "All the questions they're going to ask..."

He chuckled, "Come on then, the sooner it'll be over." He stood up, holding a hand out to her and helping her to her feet.

"You know, I don't always need help getting up, I do have my own legs."

He said nothing but walked closer to her, suddenly lifting her over his shoulder and walking down the stairs and down the path towards the door.

"Draco!"

He grinned, "Yes, love?"

She hit his back in rebellion, "Stop sounding quite so smug and let me down!"

He laughed, "No".

He'd walked her like that the whole way to Gryffindor tower, though she had given up trying to stop him by that point. When he got to the portrait he gently let her down onto her own feet, watching as she run her hands down the front of her legs to rid her long skirt of the creases.

"Well," She huffed, "Thank you for the unrequested and completely unnecessary lift."

"You loved it"

She didn't say anything and that was all the conformation he needed.

They could hear the vague noises of students getting ready for school from inside the common room, students that would probably be leaving now to go for breakfast. They both knew they should probably get ready for school, hide from everyone that could see them together like this, but neither moved. Hermione looked up into his eyes and smiled gently, having given up on her irritation.

He stepped closer to her and laid his hand on her cheek, which promptly blushed under his touch. She looked a little nervous at his proximity, but he smiled encouragingly. They had never kissed before, not properly anyway, only chaste ones on the cheek or the top of her head. But there is always a first time for everything. He leant forwards, closed his eyes and placed a slow kiss on her lips.

Time seemed to slow to a stop and the noises from around them faded. He felt hyper-aware of just how close they were, of how they were standing and how her lips were so soft beneath his. One of her hands had tangled itself in the hair at the base of his neck and he moved his hands down to her waist, holding her to him as they kissed. It was euphoric, all other thoughts fell from his mind and all he could think about was the beautiful witch in front of him.

When they pulled away after only a moment, they remained close enough for Draco to lean his forehead against hers, relishing in the intimacy. He kept his hands on her waist, never wanting to end this moment.

He wasn't that lucky, of course.

The sound of the portrait opening disrupted their thoughts, they turned to see a small first year girl climbing through the hole and looking up at them with a shocked expression. Draco's presence must have scared her, because he eyes were wide with fear, as if she was hoping not to be yelled at.

Hermione took her hands from his neck, Draco huffed under his breath and she smirked slightly before smiling opening down at the girl, "It's okay, Florence, don't mind us."

The girl, Florence, walked past them both swiftly and headed off to the main staircase, skipping a little as she went to get away faster. Once she had left, they were alone once more, but before he could reach out for her again, Hermione stepped further back from him, chuckling at his disappointed expression.

"I'm going to get ready, see you later, okay?" She said, walking over to the Fat Lady's portrait, muttering the password under her breath.

"Yeah" he breathed out as she climbed through the portrait and was gone.

Draco woke the next morning, memories of Hermione fresh in his mind, and he felt too weak. He yearned for her comfort and an end to this hell in Azkaban. The months seemed to go on endlessly, and his capacity for emotional strength seemed to be finished. Silent tears fell from the corners of his eyes, and his mind wondered, unbidden, back on his life.

He was at the breakfast table for only ten minutes before Hermione arrived. Her morning dishevelment had been cleaned away, and she wore her robes over a regular school uniform.

As she walked towards the Gryffindor table her eyes sought him out, a blush blooming across her face as she saw him. She licked her lips subconsciously and a grin almost broke through Draco's usual slytherin facade.

He turned away to make sure he didn't do anything embarrassing, focusing on his food in front of him or on the conversation his housemates were having beside him. At least, he tried to focus on them. The voice of Blaise Zanbini vaguely registered, he was speaking about Defence, Draco thought, though he couldn't be sure. He tried to pay attention to them for a few minutes before giving up entirely, looking back at Hermione across the room. She was sitting with Harry and Ron, as she usually did, with a book open next to her plate, as there usually was. She was looking at the lines of text on the page, but even from across the hall Draco could see how her eyes were glazed over, not paying the words any attention at all.

Draco internally grinned.

She picked up a piece of toast from the rack in front of her and began buttering it, giving up on her attempts at reading. But feeling his eyes on her she looked up at him, automatically forming a questioning expression. But he must have been giving her a heated look, because her cheeks quickly become flushed and she fumbled with her knife, dropping it with a loud clatter onto her plate.

Draco could hear Harry asking if she was okay, and stifled a laugh at her embarrassed expression.

"I'm fine, Harry" She said as she finished buttering her toast with as much dignity and she could reclaim.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, "You look a bit ... flustered" He made a weird face and Draco couldn't restrain the chuckle which burst in his mouth.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by a swift kick to his stomach which left him winded.

"Didn't you hear me? Get the hell up!"

He felt a pair of strong hands grabbing at the fabric of his shirt, and vaguely heard a small tear as the weak fabric gave way under the force. He dragged his eyes open to see an irate guard all but growling at him.

Draco pushed himself off the floor, and stumbled obediently where he was being pushed, forcing back any remaining sentimentality, trying to retreat once more within the slowly breaking shell he'd been hiding in.

He was led down the usual corridor, but as he came to the end he was forced right instead of left. The unfamiliar walls were illuminated with more light than he'd seen in months, the concrete having a slightly smarter finish and the floor being more even. It was a path he had never been down before, and he had to restrain himself from giving the guard a confused expression.

As far as he knew, he had done nothing wrong, or out of the ordinary, except for his inability to wake quickly just a few minutes ago.

Anxious bubbles grew in his stomach and he tried his best to ignore them.

They reached the end of the corridor and stopped by a thick, evidently very secure, metal door. It took Draco a few seconds to recognise what it was that looked so odd about this door, but it was as the guard reached his arm up and knocked a quick pattern on its surface that he realised, the door didn't have a handle.

The door opened away from them and the bright light beyond it shone into the dimly lit hallway. Draco squinted his eyes to protect them from it. The guard behind him pushed him into the new room and he collided with a smaller frame.

Arms were wrapping around him, hair was in front of his face and he couldn't see properly. The air around him felt too warm, pressing down hard on his skin. After having little contact with anyone for almost a year, everything felt claustrophobic. His heart was thumping in his chest and shallow, wheezing imitations of breaths were escaping his chest. He pushed frantically against the body in front of him until he was holding them away at an arms reach.

"Hey, hey! Draco!" He could vaguely here someone calling, "it's me, Draco, it's okay!"

He was still holding hard onto the shoulders of the person in front of them, but they didn't struggle against him. He blinked his eyes, letting them become accustom to the light around him, before focusing on the girl he was holding.

Wide, weary eyes were focused on him, tears streaming down her face, and a huge compilation of emotions flashing across her expression.

"Hermione" he breathed.

Her face formed a huge smile and he moved back towards her so fast that he practically fell into a hug.

"I'm here" She was murmuring to him, stroking his hair flat against the back of his head, "You'll be okay, you're free now"

He let himself go, tears of fear, joy and pure emotion falling from his eyes, finally letting the tension go from his shoulders.

He could finally go home again.

He was free.

This was a rather sad interpretation of They Can't Take That Away From Me by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong (brilliant song by the way!)

I'm still very new to all this so I'd love some feedback,

Thanks!