I don't own Harry Potter©. Harry Potter© is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only and to sate my love of the characters.

Searching for Acceptance.

The morning sunshine filtered through the ornate window warming Hermione's face as she stretched and yawned.

Where the Hell was she? There was only one bed in the beautiful bedroom that seemed to be decorated with a wide collection of her belongings both from the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. Belongings Hermione had known to be still safely packed in the trunk she simply hadn't had time to unpack. Things such as her collection of Bront sister novels that she had read so much, the pages has become worn out on their edges, or the photographs she had taken at the Quidditch World Cup three years ago. Unable to stop the overwhelming sense of melancholy that crept over me as she thought back to that incredible time spent with the Harry, Ron, the Weasley twins and Cedric Diggory.

Ah, here was the tears that would spill as Hermione thought of Cedric and Fred. The furrow at her brow deepens as she lets the sorrow and grief wash over her when memories of the two boys come back in flashes of happier times and then the memory of seeing them both lying so very still on the ground. Pulling her legs up into her arms, she rocks back and forth in the comfortable bed letting the pain hit her over and over again; they would be twenty now, making their own marks in the Wizarding world away from Hogwarts; neither should have died so young. Nor should so many on the battlefield that had been the school grounds because of Voldemort and his fanatical Death Eaters and loyal followers. It had been months since she had cried like that, as much as she hated it she knew she had no choice but to let out the pain so she could focus on the day ahead.

So much death, so many gone and somehow? She had been seen as a hero; no, that had been those who gave up their lives to do the right thing. Or poor Cedric whose death had been the one to truly begin to make people see that Dumbledore's warnings when trying to shield the boy's body from spectators at the World Cup. Warnings that had indeed been justified and more importantly true. She couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like if Cedric hadn't held onto the damn port-key with Harry and ended up in that awful graveyard. Would he still be alive would Harry?

Frozen beneath the covers, Hermione found herself wondering if someone was going to help the person who was screaming? Whoever they are they sound truly terrified.

In his own room, Draco was trying to remember where he had put his Quidditch jersey he knew that the night before it had been thrown across the desk chair across from his bed. Merlin! He was late for training as it is! The terrifying scream from the room above him had him discard his new Nimbus 2009 broomstick and retrieve his wand from below his pillow. Granger was in trouble, that was the only explanation for the screams that had startled him. Though how anyone had got past that damn painting and the charmed suit of armour that also watched over them was beyond Draco. Not that it mattered now.

Only protecting the Head Girl from harm mattered to him now.

Running up the stairs he called out the Bombarda incantation or at least a bastardised version of it that caused the door to blow off its hinges and lie in smithereens across the carpet. Ready to perform anything from the full body bind upwards to the Unforgivable Curses in an attempt to protect Granger from whomever the intruder was, Draco stopped in the doorway and caught his breath. Except Hermione's room only had one intruder in it himself.

Casting leaden coloured eyes around the room, wand raised constantly if confronted with the unknown assailant, Draco wondered for a moment if there was someone here wearing an invisibility cloak like Potters, it would be a simple explanation as to why he couldn't see anyone and why Granger looked so frightened. Quietly noting to himself that he felt relieved that she had finally stopped screaming at least, he allowed himself a moment to truly look at the Head Girl, it was quite peculiar in truth Granger seemed to not have a clue as to where she was or indeed who he was. He had at least expected her to scream at him for damaging the door and repeated expletives intermingled with calling him a ferret a nickname he still despised Mad Eye and the damn Weasel to cause him to be called. After establishing that there was indeed no one but himself and Granger in her room, Draco dropped his wand to her bed, moving slowly he crept closer towards Hermione, aware that she could easily perform several painful spells on him in seconds especially as she still didn't seem to realise that he was here, or indeed, who he was. Then the deafening screams started again, making him fall back and flinch as the sound made his ears feel as if they were bleeding.

"Granger? Come on Granger you need to stop this bloody screaming before the paintings have half the Professors traipsing up here. You know they're just waiting for me to slip up once and I'm off to the train and on my way home.."

Catching hold of her small hands within his, he guided them away from her face. She looked so frail, so painfully broken was his initial thought. From the tear-framed brown eyes, to the scars that she had refused magical healing, to the quiver of her lips as the screams slowly became whimpers that made it even worse for him to witness.

Draco Malfoy truly saw just how fragile the normally strong Hermione Granger was. Brushing the damp curls from her heated skin, he wondered just where her mind had taken her somewhere dark and clearly given the harrowing screams and vacant look in her eyes. For the first time since he'd had to face the fact his Mother had been damaged by the abuse Lucius and the Dark Lord inflicted on her.

Time at 12 Grimmauld Place during the War when Severus Snape had come to inform the Order of what he knew, Draco had been left to his own devices. Which had normally led to him watching the dynamic that was the Golden Trio. Namely the one who according to everything Lucius Malfoy had taught his son, was akin to wild, mindless beasts. Draco had had doubts for sometime about the teachings of his Father, (the word inducing nausea throughout him) for sometime, but as he watched the aftermath of Hermione's decision to perform the memory charm; Obliviate on her Muggle parents.

Even now, as he sat on her bed, praying she come back from where her mind had dragged her. Draco could still remember how utterly lost and young she had looked. It had been then, as he had watched the 'Greatest Witch of their generation' fall apart and just be a girl who desperately alone. A loneliness that Draco could understand even in part, that he had realised all blood was the same really, both the Pure- blooded, and the Muggle born were truly alone when everyone left them.

They were still alone. Draco's parents were locked up; Granger's were out there unaware of the incredible daughter they had forgotten. His fingers moved carefully through her curls, his eyes never faltering in their steady gaze. He hated to admit it, but he really had no idea how to help Granger..no, Hermione her name was Hermione. Torn between lifting the stricken girl into his arms and finding Madam Pomfrey, Draco felt afraid.

"Come on Granger, come back to me.

Salazar! I need you to come back to me and then curse my ass for even coming into your room."

Knowing that he was without the option of a Patronus, (something he hated not being able to conjure) Draco felt completely frustrated. Whispering to Hermione to come back to him was one of the strangest things he had done but the sentiment was true, he needed her to snap out of wherever she had gone. He saw something in her vacant eyes that seemed familiar; something that the little boy within Draco Malfoy had hoped to never bear witness to again for the rest of his life.

The dark void in Hermione's eyes was something he had seen in her Mother's after Lucius had told her Draco would indeed be like them and become a Death Eater as soon as it was possible for him to. Running his hand through his damp hair; Draco took a ragged breath as he found himself weighing up the pros and cons of his decision; he felt alone if he were able to admit it. Afraid of what had happened to Hermione in the moments before he had burst in. Draco's biggest concern he concluded was that clarity could return to the outstandingly intellectual witch at the most inopportune moment i.e. When he lifted her into his arms.

If someone had told Draco a year ago that not only would he; the poster boy for pure blood heritage would be Head Boy of Hogwarts? He would have laughed. Further still, if his younger self had been told not only would he be living with Hermione Granger, but also care about her? He would have said he needed a stint in St. Mungo's private wands for the mentally disturbed.

Yet, here Draco was; carefully lifting the fragile girl up into his arms, Hermione's natural fragrance surrounding him in a warm and comforting manner that surprised him. He attempted not to notice how soft her skin was beneath his touch. He refused to notice the way she seemed to fit perfectly against him as Draco moved them both to rest against the ornate headboard, the soft (emerald green and silver Draco couldn't help but notice) blanket that had been strewn across Hermione's long legs now lay over them both.

Draco Malfoy certainly hadn't noticed that Hermione Granger, the belle of the Golden Trio had changed somewhat and was now quite possibly the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. No, he told himself he had definitely not noticed that at all. Though he would be asking the fiercely loyal member of the Gryffindor house just why she had a Slytherin blanket adorning her bed. There was an interesting story there just waiting to be discovered. However, none of that would matter if Draco couldn't get her to come back to him..no just back to the home and now not him. Definitely not to him because she was Hermione Granger and even if the war had brought about an end to the old ways? He was a Slytherin and a Slytherin could not be friends with a Gryffindor...

Just look at Lily Potter née Evans and his Godfather, Severus Snape.

Though of course, that had been a case of unrequited love, and Draco Malfoy simply didn't believe in love. Love according to Lucius, was something that made you weak and compromised what you regarded as important.

"Malfoy?"

Hearing Granger's confused tone as she queried her presence no doubt, in her room. Maintaining his usual calm demeanour, Draco adjusted his hold on the witch offering her a pensive smile. He wanted to offer her some reassurance, and perhaps even make her smile because Merlin help them both; Hermione needed to smile more. Opting to tease Miss Hermione Jean Granger, just a little in the hope of causing such a reaction.

"Oh! How do I put this Granger? Let's see, I was getting ready for Quidditch, practise when you started screaming for me and when a woman's that loud? Well a man knows better than to argue. I came running and found myself pinned under your half-dressed self.

I never knew how you had it in you Granger, but I'm glad to see you're over your crush on the Weasel!"

Any second now, Draco was going to find himself either being sent across the room when she cursed him, or she would slap his arrogant smirk right off his face. Unable to resist looking at the young witch, his amused smile never faltering as he awaited the full force of Hermione Granger's wrath.

"You're not wearing a shirt Malfoy!"

Hermione Jean Granger had, in her short life experienced far too much including of course; surviving the War. Yet, finding herself in pyjamas with a partially dressed Draco Malfoy? Well, that was certainly a new and unexpected thing for her to experience. For all the teasing from the boy (or rather man now) whose arm was still around her waist? Hermione could tell that Draco acting calm when he wasn't - not that she would push it because he when pushed, was a truly awful person to be around. There was something he was keeping from her, and if she did risk poking him; would insist he was trying to protect her. Secretly, she was relieved that he was keeping it from her, but she was also concerned. What had led to Draco being here in her bed? Unlike Harry or Ron, Hermione had watched Draco closely over the last two years in particular; seeing the boy she had hated become someone facing Demons alone. She had seen the formerly arrogant, self-righteous and highly opinionated Draco Malfoy do something Hermione would never have expected to happen; she watched him falter and become vulnerable even if he managed to hide it reasonably well from people like Pansy or Crabbe and Goyle.

As the weeks became months and then a couple of years, went by, Hermione had seen the cracks in his perfect mask of arrogant indifference grow. As Hermione internally processed what Draco was saying versus the look in his arrogant eyes.

Moving carefully in Draco's embrace, Hermione wondered just what had led to her bedroom door lying in smithereens. Trying to recall what had happened prior to finding Draco with her, Hermione had flashes of the battlefield, of the vast Hogwarts Great Hall lined with the bodies of friends and loved ones that she missed every day. Tracing her fingers through her hair, Hermione couldn't shake the chill that ran throughout her body. Would he taunt her if she just gave into the memories before the one boy who despite his cruel barbs; hadn't made Hermione cry. No, she recalled... that had been Ron, and he had done it several times in their years at school.

"You..you really need to put a shirt of Malfoy, because if someone was to come in here? I think we would be expelled and I really just want to get through this year and be able to get good OWLs and NEWTs. Please Malfoy, its not like you want anyone knowing you were in bed with me?"

Stuttering her words, Hermione realised she had a really simple question that she figured Draco could answer. Without thinking, her petite hand slid into the cool, pale one of the Slytherin to stop him moving. Despite her request only minutes before hand, she didn't want to be alone with the nightmares but came to her every night. She had no recollection of coming to this room, the last thing Hermione remembered was reading in the Gryffindor common room. Then there was a flash of light as Hermione remembered someone talking to her there Draco Malfoy had been in the Gryffindor common room with her; although just how he had got past the Fat Lady was beyond Hermione's thought process about now.

"This..this is the tower given to the Head Boy and Girl isn't it? I told the Headmistress that I didn't want to do the role! I returned my badge to her as soon as it arrived. This isn't fair."

Draco could remember the day Hermione had received her letter notifying her that she had been made Head Girl. Of course, Draco had been notified of his own position of Head Boy. Whilst Draco had graciously accepted it and ensured the green badge was fastened to his new robes, Hermione's response to it all had been to write to Draco asking for his advice on how not to upset McGonagall by declining the position.

The two of them had conversed throughout that day.

The letters that were sent via Draco's Eagle Owl, Saxton, had gradually changed from talking about Hermione's fears to humour as the game of twenty questions Hermione had suggested they continue had them both opening up to one another. It had worked well enough to distract her from the original letter asking for help from Draco to be removed as Head Girl, something that Draco had metaphorically patted himself on the back about. Draco had even confessed he wanted to show the delightful Miss Granger around his home post Dark Lord and Death Eater invasion. Perhaps it could be something he would bring up once he had convinced her this tower was where they both belonged. Here, in the sanctuary of the tower; Draco believed that those whose loyalties to the Dark Lord's memory was unbreakable. Deciding to take her back to that night when they had argued over whether she would be a good Head Girl at the school whose students were still in the early stages of mourning.

"Have you ever thought that, as I seem to recall telling you weeks ago? That you were always going to be given the role as Head Girl after being a brilliant prefect for Gryffindor trust me I heard enough from the students you berated and I thoroughly enjoyed witnessing your hard work when the Weasel neglected his duties after every Quidditch match. You were chosen along with me, because you showed great aptitude when it came to your work, you're kind hearted and you are also insightful when it comes to seeing the right and wrong in a situation, excellent in all classes.."

"..except Divination with Trelawney though I did like the lessons we all had with Firenze.."

Smirking as he winked at the witch in his arms, Draco knew from the way Hermione had dragged her lip over her teeth that he had her curiosity piqued. Congratulating himself on his cunning way of guiding Hermione to exactly where he train of thought was at, he shifted to have her lie at his side, Draco's arm still firmly resting around her waist and hand on her thigh.

"Anyway, what I was going to say before I was rudely interrupted was this.

McGonagall chose you because you're a good student and someone to aspire to be like if you like goody-good Gryffindors. She didn't chose you Hermione, because you repeatedly helped to prevent the Dark Lord succeeding in his schemes against Potter and Dumbledore, and she didn't do it therefore because you're the pretty one in the legendary ,books are going to be written about; Golden Trio.

The Ministry essentially kissing the three of your asses to offer you any position you wanted despite not finished your academia? Well, that is because of several reasons all linking to who you are. They want to distance themselves from Cornelius Fudge and his cronies who were too lost in their own denial to believe Dumbledore and the evidence laid out before them in the form of Diggory's body. The fact that they have given both Potter and the Weasel the chance to become Aurors before finishing school also shows that they are only interested in having all three of you work there and therefore clear them of ever being against the Order and the sacred Boy-Who-Lived.

Anyway, what I mean is this McGonagall wants to help this school and by having you and I as Head Boy and Girl is helping to do that, she loves you Hermione and she has begrudgingly seen I'm not the monster she thought I was to be. So do this for me if not for anyone else because if you step down she will go back to her own views on me and make my already hard life here this year; impossible.

Besides.."

Draco avoided those dark eyes of hers as his confident and jovial demeanour faltered and his true fears resurfaced albeit for a moment before retreating as fast as they had come.

"Besides, I like the idea of having a friend near who doesn't just want to see if the Malfoy name is one to fear any more like Pansy.. She's my oldest friend but I know she only stayed close because it made her look good to be with me.. I don't want that any more Hermione."

Now..

He coughed and gave her a brilliant smile that was actually mirrored in his eyes as his hand squeezed her thigh gently.

"Now just get used to being Head Girl the one who is to be admired and adored for being the model student of Hogwarts."

The gentle nod of Hermione's head ensured that Draco got to gloat for a good couple of hours before reality kicked him in the nuts. The blonde wasn't a pessimist by any means, no; Draco Malfoy was a realist which meant that he never got to have a completely good day every time he had tried in the past, something had royally fucked it all up for him.

Extracting himself from the warmth that was Hermione's bed and away from her warm soft body, he found himself walking to the small kitchen they shared; needing to distract himself from the strange feelings he had felt when being so close to her. Slowly, the feeling of wanting to be near her changed; and instead the cold nauseous sensation washed over him as Draco thought about how empty Hermione's eyes had looked when he had knelt at her bedside. How when he looked at her, Draco had felt like he was looking into the eyes of a stranger.

Retrieving the small metal coffee pot that would create a couple of decent cups, Draco set about grinding the fresh coffee beans and with a wave of his wand murmured 'incendio' to the stove the water in the pot began boiling. Soon enough the heavenly scent of coffee would fill the small space restoring some form of equilibrium to his disrupted world. Making coffee was in truth, the only thing Draco had ever really known he could do in a domestic sense; being the sole heir to the Malfoy title and estate had led to a life of never wanting or needing for anything. Draco had spent his entire life until now being waited on hand and feet by the Malfoy house elves had meant that Draco was unsure as to how he could make both himself and Granger a half-decent brunch but he could at least ensure she got a decent coffee in her when she came down to him. Then maybe he could ask her if she remembered just what had happened to make her scream out like she had done.

Maybe.

Draco knew her though; he could ask Granger to confess what had happened a thousand times, and she would say she was just fine. Draco also knew that the word "fine" meant "I'm far from fine but I really don't know what to do or what to say." A statement that practically was a tag line for the Head Boy and Girl. Draco just planned on making sure that Hermione Granger never found out the secrets he learnt to keep well from others.

No one needed to know the truth about how Lucius Malfoy had regularly beaten his own son.

Certainly someone like Hermione Granger with her na ve belief that even the darkest of souls could find redemption, Draco had experienced her trying to save him a couple of times before the war had broken out and in truth; the look in her eyes as she had pleaded with him had confirmed to him that he would be loyal to Dumbledore and the good there was in the Wizarding world. Yes, it had been Hermione Granger who had been the final thing to confirm just how disillusioned he was in the beliefs of the Dark Lord. Redemption came at a price however, and it was the nightmares that had him waking in a cold sweat screaming out for mercy every day since he had witnessed Bellatrix perform the Cruciatus Curse on Hermione. He had perfected the Silencio charm to stop others finding out and occasionally, Draco managed a night or two where he dreamt for a few hours without his fears surfacing in the form of horrific nightmares.

Settling himself on one of the couches by the blazing fire place, Draco pulled out his worn copy of The Art of Potion Mastery by Ignatius Zegwater. Granger had her copy of Hogwarts: A History that gave her comfort when her world was crumbling for Draco it was this book; a gift from Severus that grounded him when his thoughts were haywire. Since leaving Hermione to do whatever the young witch did to prepare for the day; Draco had endured a Howler of all things from someone he truly hated. The idiot Harper who had substituted for him the year before in the Slytherin Quidditch team as Seeker had believed he had believed he had the right to berate Draco Malfoy for being unable to attend the training... Yes, he had forgotten about it the very second Draco heard Hermione's screams. However; he was Head Boy and had been Slytherin Prefect which meant that Harper should have shown him some respect for that, and he certainly should have done because he was Draco fucking Malfoy and he wasn't above kicking someone's arse for disrespecting him. The fifty points he had stripped from his own house was a just punishment bot had left Draco in a foul mood.

As always, Draco couldn't just have one good day without trouble rearing its ugly head.

Sipping his coffee, Draco tried to focus on how to create the perfect aura for his Potion Making Room, he had no idea why auras bared relevance on such things but Ignatius was a master when it came to potion creations and Draco had admired the man for near on a decade. If Ignatius Zegwater said it was important that so be it, he would ensure his new room at the Manor was perfect for him to work in. Draco became aware that the anger he'd been feeling towards Harper be re-directed towards Hermione bloody Granger who was still upstairs in her room.

It was her fault that Draco had forgotten about the damn training despite being partially dressed for it.

It was also Hermione's fault that his house had lost those fifty valuable House points.

This year, Draco had decided when sitting in his carriage, was the year that Slytherin would take back the House Cup from Gryffindor. There would be no trolls or three-eyed dogs for the damn Golden Trio to destroy and protect the school from. The irony that the Dark Lord's loyal followers such as Quirrell had actually helped Gryffindor hadn't been lost on Draco but this year, things would be different and he would leave Hogwarts being proud to be a Slytherin rather than afraid of the wrath he would experience when confessing the truths of the academic year to his parents.

Yes, 2008 was going to be a far better year for Draco Malfoy it had to be.

"If Granger doesn't ruin it all for me."

Despite his anger and frustration at the morning's events, the truth couldn't be denied. Even as he blamed Hermione Granger, he knew it truth that it was his fault, and his alone that he hadn't made it to the Quidditch pitch. Draco loved the game, it had been his sole distraction through the horrors of his life and had always hoped to play for the Wimborne Warriors and even represent England in the Quidditch World Cup like his heroine Blythe Parkin. Smiling to himself as Draco recalled watching her stand on her broomstick as she celebrated winning the Snitch in a friendly against the Republic of Ireland.

Lucius had ensured his son met his heroine that day. Even now, Draco still had the photograph Lucius had taken of Blythe and Draco standing on her broomstick with the snitch flying just above their outstretched hands as if they were catching the small golden ball. That day, although only being four years ago; seemed a lifetime ago. Yet now, Draco's passion for Quidditch was nearly gone no one would want a Death Eater on their team, it was the main reason he had left the school team the year before. He had initially resigned from his position as Seeker of the Slytherin team because he had been called back to Malfoy Manor to serve the Dark Lord. Yet, when the opportunity to return had been offered to Draco, he had declined stating he didn't want it. All lies of course, but no one could know that Draco was too ashamed of his past and his involvement, albeit something he hated, with the horrendous Death Eaters.

Draco hated it hated how terribly alone to felt at the school. He hated how he had lost the one thing that had made him happy. Malfoy men always cutting off their noses to spite their faces.

"Ruin what Malfoy?"

He hadn't heard her descend the stairs, which only further aggravated him. Draco had been so lost in thought about what could have been that he had left himself open to attack, well theoretically at least. Draco was pretty sure that Hermione wasn't going to kill him for lying out on the couch in just his Quidditch pants, having decided today was a day to forego dressing completely as they had no need to venture into the Great Hall and face anyone. Patrolling the corridors wouldn't start till around nine or ten in the evening depending on when McGonagall let them know they were needed. Merlin, he hoped the prefects were doing it so he could just wallow in the comfort of the tower.

"Nothing Hermione, nothing at all. Are you alright now? There's fresh coffee on the stove, I'll take a second cup when you go through and I'm hungry make me some lunch will you to thank me.."

Dangerous ground Malfoy, dangerous ground asking her to do something like that for him Expecting Hermione to verbally assault him, Draco carefully placed the book between himself and the witch with a short fuse. He hadn't actually been serious when he said it he was happy enough to see if he could get one of the many House Elves to help him stop starving away the till he eventually came down for the evening meal; Draco's one concession to his ' do not mingle with others' policy. If memory served Winky, the former Crouch elf,still worked here; perhaps he could go down to the kitchens and ask her to bring both Hermione and himself a large plate each of cooked breakfast and fresh toast?

Watching her carefully from behind his book, Draco expected to hear Hermione swearing and telling him exactly what she would do to him in graphic detail for suggesting she should cook for him.

Except, none of that happened.

Instead, he heard the softest moan come from the kitchen, followed by an equally soft sigh. Filled with natural curiosity after hearing such sounds being made from Hermione, Draco had to see just what had caused such a reaction from her. All the while telling himself that the sounds Hermione made didn't stir something within Draco that he hadn't wished to feel for Hermione Granger again.

Again. Because there had been that moment during the Yule Ball a couple of years ago when Hermione had unwittingly been stood by him. Both their dates(Pansy and that bastard Viktor Krum)had been off getting drinks or something trivial, and Draco had been wishing the drinks were spiked with Ogden's famous Fire Whiskey so he could at least be drunk when Pansy tried to tear of his new dress robes. Draco recalled how he hadn't meant to stare at the Gryffindor girl in her pink dress with her normally messy curls swept up elegantly from her face. Draco certainly hadn't meant to feel the same rush of desire he was feeling again now when he thought of the Gryffindor Princess. Yet here he was, and he had been..wanting to lose himself in her and feel something for the first time in years that wasn't pain, anger or betrayal.

Telling himself to repeat the thought of 'You're not good enough for her' like a mantra, Draco made his way into the kitchen only to see Hermione leaning back against the pine kitchen table with a cup of coffee in her hands. The blissful look on her face only further adding to the rising desire Draco was trying to deny. No; he told himself, he really didn't fancy Hermione Granger he really, really didn't want to hear those breathy moans be caused because of him.

No, he really didn't..

Salazar, he couldn't even begin to believe it himself. He couldn't convince himself that he didn't want her. Draco knew without doubt that he wanted her to look the way she did now over a damn coffee; at him because of something he did. However, he knew that he also didn't want to totally fuck up the fragile friendship they had built up in the last few months because he had finally seen her with open eyes and liked what he saw.

"You alright there Hermione... Only I thought you were making me lunch; not acting like that's an elixir made by Merlin himself, rather than a coffee I made. Though he was an egotistical Gryffindor like you I bet he would love the praise!"

Hermione's eyes met Draco's over the rim of her cup, widening in shock at the dark, almost stormy grey hue of his eyes. She had spent time watching Draco Malfoy as he faced various experiences with his emotions being expressed either guarded or open for all to see. She had always seen Draco to be an all or nothing kind of person something that Hermione could relate too. Although, it was something she would not or rather,could not; tell him because of Harry and Ron. They were far from willing, even now when they knew the truth about Draco, wouldn't tolerate hearing that he was a good guy after all. Or as good as Draco Malfoy would let himself be at any rate.

"Mmmhmm. Just feeling a bit more alert and with it than I was earlier.."

Her smile faltered for a moment before Draco's hand was being held in her own. At some point, she had stepped forward and into Draco's personal space. The scent of his soap fresh mint and thyme, was strong in the air, lingering and settling it seemed on her own skin. Along with it was the intoxicating scent of coconut which Hermione believed to be his shampoo, that settled too around her and she remembered briefly smelling something like that when she had been practising how to make Amortentia to help the twins prepare for Valentines Day at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes the year before. Hermione hadn't known then who the smells were associated with but now..well now, she knew and wouldn't be saying anything anytime soon as she hadn't smelt the third scent that of old paper commonly smelt when opening the old books in Hogwart's extensive library.

Circe! Draco smelt heavenly though was her first and totally irrelevant thought. Though where that had come from, Hermione insisted to herself, she didn't know. Like she had only just thought she wasn't in the least bit attracted to him and she was certain plenty of men she had encountered used that soap and shampoo. Although, she had to admit to herself, earlier when Draco had been holding her, she had been very aware of just how attractive the former 'Slytherin Prince' was. Managing to drag her thoughts from how damn good he looked without his shirt on to the present situation; Hermione lifted her gaze from his pale muscular chest to find herself caught in his ardent grey gaze. Draco was looking at her expectantly she realised as she became are also, that his thumb was moving slowly across her palm in a soothing manner. Smiling softly, Hermione shook her head to regain some clarity, dragging herself from her musings as she wondered if she was indeed slowly losing her mind.

"I'm sorry Malfoy."

The look on his face, one of pain and inner torment made Hermione falter and start again. Habits though it seemed were hard to break no matter how good the intention to keep promises of new beginnings in their friendship, she had simply just called him Malfoy too long and it was habit to address him so.

Yet, she had promised Draco she would stop using his surname when talking to him.

"Let me try that again. I'm sorry Draco, for screaming earlier and stopping you going out to train; I hope your teammates understood whatever excuse you gave them because I know how important Quidditch is to you.

I was..I was lost in thought after waking from a nightmare, thinking about how Voldemort destroyed so many lives; and continues to do, even though he's dead. I was remembering the Tri-Wizard Tournament final and poor Cedric Diggle I can still see him lying there in Harry's arms. Everything changed that day didn't it Draco?

It was seeing him lying there that made the Ministry panic and people realise that Dumbledore wasn't rambling madness and fairy tales to frighten people and cause trouble. He looked so small Draco, Diggory I mean..and Harry has never forgiven himself from it, he blames himself for allowing Cedric to hold that damn trophy or port-key rather."

Fighting back the onslaught of tears, Hermione couldn't stop what she did next. She needed just for a moment, she told herself; to not be strong, even if Draco thought her to be losing her mind. She settled her head against his chest and cried quietly. Holding onto Draco did indeed give Hermione strength to continue despite how hard it was to recall the nightmarish thoughts she went through day by day.

"When I close my eyes, I see all the bodies lying out in the Great Hall and how everywhere that I used to love being has become shrouded with Death. I miss everyone so much, how the twins could cause utter chaos in an empty room. Fred and George were loved by everyone in this school because of their mischievous ways I even remember you laughing when the tormented Umbridge during her reign of terror. George hasn't been the same since, he's serious and lost as if a part of him is missing which I guess it is in the form of Fred; none of the Weasley family have been the same and the Burrow just doesn't seem right; maybe that's why Ron has changed and become so..so moody and withdrawn. His temper has got worse since his brother died and he frightens me at times, and I feel useless because I can't do anything at all to help them."

All through her heart-broken recollection, she could feel Draco's cool hands run along her back trying to soothe her whilst he whispered softly that she would be fine, that she was safe now..

"Then there's poor Teddy Lupin, he was barely a month old when Remus and Tonks died in the final battle they were laid side by side you know Draco, and they looked like they were just sleeping and I prayed that they would open their eyes and ask for their little boy.. Teddy is five months old now Draco, and he's never going to know his parents. It doesn't matter to him that they were heroes in the worst battle our world has even had to fight, nor does it matter to him that they were honoured on a plaque in this school along with so many others because all he wants is to be cuddled and his parents will never be able to do that for him.

Everybody says everything is better now because Voldemort is dead, and most of his followers are in Azkaban but it's not alright when there are children left without parents from either side of the battle. Nothing is better when there's still so much misery in the world Draco."

Draco felt a pang of guilt at her words about the Weasley twin, it was indeed true that despite the natural reaction to dislike Gryffindor students, many Slytherins were fans of the brothers' work and talent to always find a way to cause havoc and fun. Draco had indeed found himself laughing at their antics especially when they left the school due to Umbridge's totalitarian way of running Hogwarts as per the request of the Ministry. However, it was when she spoke of Teddy Lupin that the pain got worse..

Clearly Hermione didn't know the link that Draco had to the little boy, and his Mother. Sighing softly, his hands came to a stop at the base of her spine as fingers idly moved in the same reassuring way that had when roaming her entire back. Torn between keeping the knowledge to himself and placing some trust in Hermione's hands, he recalled how shocked he had been when his Mother had informed him that he wasn't the only surviving child although he was the sole heir to the Black estate now due to a relative being disowned formally through actions being taken with the Ministry.

"He's my cousin.. Teddy that is, or second cousin, I don't know. His Grand Mother; Andromeda was, well, she still is.. my Aunt. The Black Family didn't approve of her marriage to Ted Tonks because he was like you Hermione; Muggle-born and as you know the Black Family were pure-bloods like the Malfoy Family and marrying a Muggle-born was deemed worse than anything to my Great Grand-parents."

Momentarily stunned by his words, Hermione pulled back just enough to look at him closely, needing to see for herself if Draco was telling her the truth. The guilt that she saw there made her suspicious at first until she heard his mumbled words before he pulled her back in and buried his head into her curls.

"I want to fix everything they broke and destroyed Hermione, starting with my nephew but she won't let me near because of who I am.. I'm tired of being seen as the bad boy, the Death Eater and the Malfoy heir who crushes everyone under his boot to get what he wants.

Hermione, I need you to help me and I promise, I will help you get through these nightmares. Please, will you at least think on it for me, I know it's a lot to ask but I want to do the best I can for Hogwarts as Head Boy, and I want to help those my family hurt by proving I'm not the foolish son of Lucius Malfoy any more."

Nodding slowly, Hermione agreed silently to help him, even if it meant that Harry and Ron thought she was losing her mind after all there was a reason Headmistress McGonagall had put her with Draco this final year, and there was a reason she had slowly opened up to him over the weeks between the war's end and return to the school. Maybe it was to find the redemption they both needed or to heal what was so very broken inside them.

Standing in the quiet kitchen, the two broken students held onto each other as they let the pain of trying to stay strong leave them in the form of tears from Hermione and silent regret from Draco. The blonde was lost for words having opened up once more to Hermione Granger rather than his usual confidante, Pansy Parkinson or Blaise Zabini - he didn't know why, nor did he really want too, but having Hermione near him had made him feel human whereas around his friends, Draco was always waiting for the world to come crashing down around him as had often done so in the past.

Over her shoulder, he saw Winky and another House Elf bring in a basket of food that could have easily been delivered to them on plates, but he didn't question it as the young House Elf smiled and curtseyed to him and Hermione's back. It seemed someone else was well aware that the tower now had two students living in it, and not one judging by the sheer quantity of food there was carefully stored within the wicker basket. An idea came to mind as he slowly turned the witch around in his arms and let her see the delivery.

"Maybe we should just.. make lunch and then we'll try and have a relaxing Saturday together without any more tears or sadness. I reckon we can even escape going to the Great Hall later on and therefore avoid Potty and the Weasel making comments or moon eyes at you Hermione."

His cheeky comment had the desired effect as a sharp swift elbow to the ribs had him buckling over in pain, although exaggerated to make Hermione laugh. Merlin; he loved her laugh, it was like a bright rainbow coming over the clouds on a truly lousy day - you couldn't help but feel blessed and happy to have been witness to such a beautiful thing.

Sliding his arms from around her waist, he made his way to the basket and smiled to himself, maybe today was the day he would work out how not to burn water?

Glancing over his shoulder to watch the Head Girl fix her shirt sleeves and dry her eyes, his gaze fell to the scar left by Bellatrix on her inner arm and he became very confused - the skin around the letters was bright red and looked raw, as if the word had only just been forced into her flesh. Catching her smile as she wiped away the tears that framed her deep brown eyes, he wondered if she had noticed what he himself had seen, and if so? Why wasn't she bothered by it - surely it must hurt if it was that severely swollen and sore?

She seemed unaware, and that worried Draco greatly. There was no way, magic induced scar or not; that it should look like that...

"Stop staring Draco, I'm fine. Now let's get making some lunch I'm starving and I want to get my homework for Slughorn out the way afterwards; you're going to help me aren't you?"

Clearly she wasn't aware of it - and Draco said nothing as they set to work making themselves a hearty brunch; the two of them arguing repeatedly about who was in the way of the other.