A/N: This is the 2nd - and final - chapter of this story. In this one, Draco comforts Hermione.

Disclaimer: No I have not acquired ownership of Harry Potter since the last time. I promise I will pick up the pace.

Slam

The door to the Head Boy and Girl quarters sends a shudder through the entire dormitory. Draco does not even bother to look up from writing his essay until he hears the sobs. He allows his eyes to drift up from the parchment as Granger storms in the room. "Past your curfew, isn't it, Granger?"

He has long since stopped calling her mudblood. He had always known she could do it, but when Granger had become Head Girl alongside his position as Head Boy, he accepted the fact that her status didn't change that. She was still inferior to him, though. She always would be.

"Shut up, Malfoy," she growls. She tears her robe off and throws it at him.

"Geez, Granger, what's got your knickers in a bunch?" he drawls. He may be past calling her the terrible names, but he could still have a bit of fun, now, couldn't he? "Weasel finally break up with you? I knew it wouldn't last."

"No, Malfoy. If you really need to know, I broke up with him." She swipes her hands across her face, flicking away her tears. "I need to shower."

She jogs upstairs, already beginning to shed her clothing. Draco throws his arms over his face, shielding his eyes. "Merlin, Granger, spare me!"

"Sod off!" she yells. Her voice sounds nasally. Heavy.

Draco shakes his head and returns to his essay. He very easily removes Granger from his mind. That is, until he hears the scream. It pierces the air, sending shivers down Draco's spine. He freezes up, thinking of Voldemort.

He's gone, Draco, he assures himself. He can't hurt anyone anymore.

Another scream cuts through the air, stealing all of the oxygen from Draco's lungs. "Granger?" he yells.

When he receives no answer, Draco jumps up from the chair he was sitting in and darts up the stairs. "Granger!" He keeps screaming for her. The shower is still running, so he knows she is in there. Frantic, he knocks on the door. "Granger?"

No answer. Only stifled whimpers and the running of the shower water.

Draco groans. He can't believe what he is about to do. "I'm coming in."

"No!" she finally answers. "No, you can't come in."

"I don't bloody care, Granger. Cover up." Draco shudders at the thought of seeing Granger bare in any way. Despite this, he barges into the bathroom. It's a good thing Granger is still in the shower, but she is crying, and Draco knows he has to do something.

Why do I even care? he thinks. It's not about me right now.

"What the hell was that, Granger?" he questions.

At first, he gets no reply, but then he hears her whimper, "I can't get it off."

Suspicious of where the situation is headed, Draco asks, "Get what off, exactly, Granger?"

"I can't get it off!" She sounds so desperate. "I can't get it off, Malfoy! I can't get it off!"

She continues shouting the same thing, getting quieter gradually. Eventually, she stops saying anything at all and Draco hears a loud thump. Hesitantly, he asks, "Granger?"

He only hears her mumble, "I can't get it off."

Draco knows she is still sobbing; he can hear her sniffs and heaves. He sighs but knows what he has to do. "Granger, I'm going to hand you a towel and you need to cover yourself. I don't need to be seeing anything pertaining to your body."

Draco grabs the towel off the counter and throws it over the curtain. He hears Granger sniff. He knows she is soaking wet and that so is the towel, because no, she has not yet turned the showerhead off, but when he has given her enough time, Draco peels back the curtain to find Granger lying on the shower floor, curled up in a ball, the towel wrapped around her.

"Hang on to it," Draco sighs. He reaches in to offer Hermione a hand, but she doesn't take it, just continues shuddering, so he resorts to picking her up, getting himself wet also. For the moment, all foolish prejudices are set aside. At first, she protests, but then she goes limp in his arms. He sets her down on the toilet and takes in her appearance. Her tear-stained face is still running with tears, her hair matted around her face. Her arms look as though they have been scrubbed raw. She is still rubbing at her arms and face, the towel barely holding on. Her pale legs stick out from underneath the plain brown towel, also red. Draco turns around to switch the shower off and then kneels in front of Hermione, keeping his eyes glued to her face.

"Granger, you have to tell me what's wrong so I can help you."

She shakes her head. "I can't get it off. . . ."

"Get what off?"

She explodes. "His touch! I can't get his bloody touch off of me!"

"Who? Weasel?"

She screws her face up and shouts at him. "Yes, Malfoy!"

"What did he do to you, Granger? I thought you broke up."

"I broke up with him because . . ." She shivers. "He . . ."

Draco's voice softens, surprising him and Granger. "What did he do, Hermione?"

Her breath hitches at the sound of her first name coming from Draco's mouth. She lets out another sob. "I – I didn't want him to touch me. . . ."

Realization dawns on Draco. His eyes darken as he thinks about the Weasel touching her like that – touching anyone like that. Draco moves to stand up, to go attack the man, but Granger's sobs stop him. He sits down again. Granger is still scrubbing herself, and Draco grabs her hands to stop her from exposing her bone.

She gasps. Draco moves her hands down to her sides. "You're going to peel them off."

"That's the point!" Granger yells as though her intentions were obvious. "I don't want to feel it anymore!"

"I know, I know, okay? Tell you what, I can wait outside, and you can get dressed, and we'll make sure we get it off of you, alright?"

"Why are you . . . being so nice . . . to me?" she hiccups. She suddenly seems very self-conscious and tightens her grip on the towel. She crosses her arms over her chest, looking at the floor as if it is the most fascinating thing she has ever laid eyes on.

"Because . . ." He doesn't really know. He has never seen her so fragile, so breakable before. She has always been Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, part of the Golden Trio, war hero. She has never been this girl in front of him now. And unbelievably, the fact that she is open enough to him that she is willing to be this person in front of him allows him to be this way also. "It doesn't matter. Let's just get you clean."

Draco leaves without waiting for an answer, just gives her time to dress herself. He shuts the door behind him and leans against the wall.

"What the hell am I doing?" he asks aloud. He hears the shuffling in the bathroom, the opening and closing of drawers, and the continued whines of the Head Girl. After a few minutes, Draco hears the door knob rattle. The door swings open with a creak and out steps Granger. She is dressed in a loose yellow shirt and blue drawstring shorts. She has left her hair down around her face. It has already begun to go curly again. Draco realizes then just how not-exactly-bushy it is. Hermione looks down bashfully.

"All good?" Draco asks carefully. He tries his best to steady his voice, but he can hear the waver of it. He just hopes Granger doesn't. He reaches out – he doesn't know what for. To touch her? To cross his arms? Either way, he lowers them and glues them to his sides.

"I . . ." she sniffs. Granger nods and swallows hard. She looks up at him, her eyes swimming with tears, but there is also a certain resolve in them. "Yeah."

Draco gives her a pathetic smile, but she returns it anyway. This time when Draco reaches for Granger, he doesn't think. He just grabs her hand, ignoring the surprised gasp that escapes her. He drags her to her room, opening the door for her.

"Mal – Malfoy," she stutters. "I'm – I'm ok."

"You're not," Draco assures her. He keeps pulling her into her room. He tries not to pay attention to the pit growing in his chest. He can feel Granger's anxious fidgeting through his arms. Suddenly her free hand grasps his arm also, halting his movement. She turns him to look at her. She appears so shy when she glances up at him.

"Thank you," she murmurs. She gulps and wipes her face with the back of her hand.

"It's nothing, Granger," Draco says. "Honestly, I just didn't want to listen to your blubbering any longer."

"Stop, Draco," she interrupts. Draco sucks in a breath at the sound of his name. It is the first time she has ever heard it come out of her mouth not followed by his last name. Now he knows how Granger felt when he called her Hermione earlier. "I'm not buying it. Tonight was . . . it was really hard, and I'm really grateful that you were here."

Not knowing how to respond, Draco nods.

"I don't know what I would have done, Draco, without you here."

Hermione moves her hand up to his shoulder, pulling him closer. Draco freezes. He has never been this close to anyone but his parents. Especially not a Muggle born like Granger. Just when Draco regains his mode of movement, Granger pulls him into her arms. Draco loses all his senses again. He goes numb at Granger's touch, goes more limp in her arms than she had earlier in his. He feels her chin rest on his shoulder, inhales her vanilla scent, accepts the tears that fall onto his shirt. He awkwardly reaches his hands up from his sides and rubs her back.

"He's not here now, Granger." Draco will take care of that later. When Granger is asleep. If she can manage to fall asleep.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that, Draco," she says. "I do have a first name."

"Right." He nods. "Hermione."

"Thank you." Draco hears the crack in her voice as she thanks him. "Draco."

She looks up at him again. He brings a hand up to cup her face and wipes the tears off of her cheeks. He leaves his thumb resting next to her eye, astonished with how soft her skin is. Her eyelids flutter closed as she takes a deep breath, her eyelashes tickling the tip of Draco's finger. She looks so small then, so breakable.

Draco leans forward just enough that he can press his lips to the crown of Grang - Hermione's head. He hears her sigh as he kisses her smooth skin and brushes a wisp of hair out of her face. He allows his lips to linger on her face for a few moments before retreating.

"You know," he hears Hermione say, "you're not so bad, Draco."

He chuckles. "I guess you're alright, too, Hermione."

I guess you're alright, too.

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