A/N: Hullo guys, Nora here! I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who has been reading this story. This is my first fanfiction and I have enjoyed the kind words some of you have shared with me. I really appreciate reviews and messages, and I am especially open to constructive criticism.

Please note, this story has been rated M for a reason ;) More to come soon!

Gray eyes, clouded like a storm, brewed as they watched her. The gaze was warm, almost tender. A hand was offered before her. She studied the long fingers, the smooth, pale skin.

"Shake it, Granger." His voice was deep, velvety and smooth.

She looked at him. Regal, aristocratic looks could not have been wasted on a more undeserving person. He had grown into the angular lines of his face, making him so handsome that it was almost a sin to look at him. There was a quietness about him now, like the calm before a storm.

When she took his hand he looked humbled, relieved. His hand closed around hers and she felt a tightness in her chest. She could hear the frantic thrum of her heartbeat in her ears.

His grip was firm, but there was a subtle gentleness there. Stupid as it was, she didn't want him to let go. She was drawn to him, drawn to the familiar sadness in his eyes — the sadness that resided in her chest, thick and agonizing. When she looked into his eyes she saw herself. Broken, flittering on one wing, twisting and seizing. Who was Draco Malfoy these days? Who was Hermione Granger?

She knew it deep in her soul that it didn't matter anymore. They may as well be one and the same.

Hermione's eyes flashed open. She sat up in her bed, clutching her hand to her heart. A panic attack jolted in her veins, coursing through her like lightening. She tried to take deep breaths but they only made her gag. She saw the bodies, so many bodies. Bodies of people she knew, of people she loved. When she closed her eyes she saw flashes of green, heard the screams so deep that they rattled her bones.

Stop, please stop, she begged through her tears. Please no!

She heard a cackle, heard the crack in the air as a deadly curse came straight for her. She screamed. The shrieks were enough to wake the school, enough to draw everyone out of their beds, but she had charmed the room with her old pal Muffliato.

After what seemed like hours, the pain subsided. There was only a light tingling left in her veins, an aftereffect from the burn of a curse that still haunted her. The strange dream she had had of Draco Malfoy was long forgotten. Exhausted, she fell into a deep, fitful sleep.

"You look horrible," Ginny told her the next morning over breakfast.

"Thanks," Hermione said as she buttered her toast.

Ginny leaned close, lowering her voice. "Are you still having those attacks?"

Hermione shrugged. She had spent her summer at The Burrow bunking with Ginny. There wasn't a spell in the world that could've hid her screams from the person who had slept less than five feet away from her. After much pleading, Ginny had agreed to keep Hermione's secret. The attacks were her burden to bear, her shame to live with.

"Don't you think you should tell somebody? Get some help?" Ginny pressed.

Hermione shot her a deathly glare. "Will you drop it already?"

"Fine," Ginny said angrily. She rose from the table and stormed off.

Hermione reached for another piece of toast, her eyes wandering as she thought about a paper she had to write for her Advanced Potions class. She should have paid attention to what she was doing. Before she could even think to stop herself she was looking at the Slytherin table, right into a pair of peculiar gray eyes.

Crap.

Draco Malfoy held her gaze, his face emotionless. He lifted a hand in greeting.

Crap, crap, crap. She sat there and stared stupidly.

He perched his chin on his hand and watched her from across the crowded room. He looked bored and uninterested, but his eyes stayed glued to her, almost as if he was challenging her. In an effort to retain her dignity, Hermione stared back. The leftover annoyance with Ginny intensified as she stared into his cold eyes.

"Hermione!"

She tore her gaze away, turning to see Luna jumping and waving from the entrance.

"Herbology! We're going to be late for Herbology!" she yelled.

Hermione jumped to her feet, shoved the rest of her toast into her mouth and slung her bag over her shoulder. When she looked back at the Slytherin table she was disappointed to see that Malfoy had already left. What the fuck is wrong with me? She shook her head to chase the thought away and ran to catch up with Luna.

After almost a month of being back at Hogwarts, Hermione was slowly getting back into the swing of things. Her classes were hard, preparing her for NEWTs that were likely going to kick her ass at the end of the year, but she found peace in all her coursework. It kept her mind busy. It was nice to have something to do after a summer of doing nothing, nothing and more nothing. The panic attacks truly were not as bad as they had been before. She was no longer crippled with multiple attacks throughout the day, and thankfully she slept without incident most nights. They just bothered her sometimes.

I am not a victim.

She still didn't entirely believe her mantra, but she was getting better at hiding her sadness now. Ginny saw right through her, but otherwise everyone else was fooled. Hermione handed out smiles like candy these days, beaming at almost everyone who crossed her path. She took her position as Head Girl very seriously. After her first successful meeting with the House Prefects her confidence had soared to new heights. She had led a heated discussion on school events, budgets for the year's Quidditch uniforms, and improvements on day-to-day operations. As Head Boy, Malfoy was obligated to attend these meetings, but he was so quiet that she often didn't even notice him. She did, however, lose her train of thought whenever she glanced at him because he was always staring at her with that same tired look in his eyes. She told herself that she wouldn't even breathe in his direction at the next meeting.

If McGonagall had been right about one thing, it was that the state of Slytherin's position was nearly irreparable. Slytherins were absolutely loathed by the other Houses. Damage control had become Malfoy and Hermione's number one priority. They each found their own way to handle the rising number of altercations. While Hermione was a firm scolder, Malfoy resorted to deducting House points. He showed no restraint, docking as much as fifty points at a time. All hell broke loose when he surprised everyone (especially Hermione) by deducting points from members of his own House. He was so unpopular that other than Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass and his professors, hardly anyone even spoke to him.

McGonagall was very displeased.

"Unite the Houses," she said, reminding them of their task in their last meeting with her. "You two must work together. The rest of the Houses will follow your lead, Miss Granger. And you," she had said, turning to Malfoy, "You must make an effort to lead your House. They cannot respect you if they dislike you."

Work together.

Determined to excel at everything, especially in her duties as Head Girl, Hermione elected to treat the problem like a difficult homework assignment. She spent the afternoon in a quiet corner of the library with books piled around her. She wrote a detailed report that was a quarter of an inch thick. She had researched current magical law, medieval disputes, politically charged uprisings, and had sourced a particularly good book detailing school spirit in magical schools. Armed with facts, Hermione had written down a carefully composed six week plan. All that was left was the hardest part — getting Malfoy on board.

She had three classes that day with Malfoy, giving her three opportunities to approach him. Getting him alone was no easy task. His friends followed him everywhere. Hermione toyed with the idea of walking up to him to request a word, but of course she couldn't do that with Daphne and Blaise watching. Just because he didn't insult her now didn't mean he wouldn't hesitate to do so in front of his friends. His friends had always egged him on in the past, and though his new friends had not been part of that group, Hermione still felt wary. She didn't know them, didn't know what they were capable of.

So Hermione let the day slip away from her, slowly getting more and more frustrated with herself for being such a coward. By the end of their last class she was desperate and knew that she must resort to desperate measures. She decided to borrow a page out of Harry's book.

"Diffindo," she muttered quietly under her breath, concentrating on the corner of his bag. She had never been so thankful for her learned ability in performing wand-less magic.

Everyone began dispersing when class was dismissed. As Malfoy rose to leave, the contents of his bag came spilling out through the rip that Hermione had made. He bent and began to collect his things.

"I'll catch up with you at dinner," he said to his friends.

"Are you sure? We can wait," Daphne said, hovering by the door with Blaise.

"I'm sure," he said. "Go on."

Hermione pretended to organize the contents of her bag while the class slowly emptied. Ginny still wasn't speaking to her and huffed off without a word. Luna and Neville were busily talking about a Hogsmeade visit and trailed out the door without a second thought. Other classmates left for dinner at the Great Hall. Finally, it was just her and Malfoy. Hermione got up, tried to swallow down the worst of her nerves, and walked towards him.

Sensing her presence, he looked up over his shoulder and rewarded her with a rare smirk.

"So Granger, you want to tell me why you ripped my bag?"