"Do it Draco, that's an order!!", screamed Lucius Malfoy, as his son stared blankly back at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

"But Father…"

"You must learn to discipline your house-elves!! Are you a Malfoy or not?", Lucius sneered cruelly.

"Draco", said a soft voice quietly. "Do as your father says." Draco looked at his Mother, feeling slightly sick. He raised his wand towards the trembling house-elf, struggling to keep his hand steady.

"Cruc…cru…"

"See Lucius, I told you he couldn't do it. Your son is a weakling. He doesn't deserve the name of Malfoy." Bellatrix cut in triumphantly, smiling widely.

Bellatrix's remark seemed to throw Lucius over the edge. Grabbing the house-elf around the neck, he glared at Draco.

"You have really let me down tonight, Draco."

Almost as an afterthought he pointed his wand at the house-elf and enunciated slowly the word "crucio", relishing each syllable. The house-elf collapsed to the ground, screaming horribly.

Draco stood very still. His ears were filled with the sound of the elf's screams, if it went on much longer he thought his head might explode.

Draco woke up suddenly, covered in a cold sweat. His heart was beating uncomfortably fast, his breathing ragged. A glance at his watch told him it was just after 6.

"Too early for anyone to be up", he thought to himself. It was times like these he regretted shutting out his friends, he wished he had someone to talk to. Someone to tell him he wasn't a monster, someone who could offer him a way out.

He wished he would stop dreaming about the horrible events he was trying to pretend never happened, but his brain didn't seem to be co-operating. He hadn't slept properly in months and he knew people were talking about his appearance.

Not wanting to stay still, Malfoy decided to walk. No destination, no real purpose, but it would give him something to do. It would distract him from the endless stream of thoughts floating around in his head.

As he passed the library, Malfoy heard the rustle of a sheet of parchment. Curious as to who could be up at such an hour, he poked his head in the door and couldn't help but chuckle at what he saw.

It was Hermione, ankle-deep in parchment and library books and taking notes with a long quill.

"Granger, what are you up to?", Malfoy asked, smirking. Picking up a book at random he read "Death Eaters Gone Good, by Sienna Bopkins".

On seeing the book Malfoy had picked up, Hermione blushed a deep red. She was sure her skin must match the scarlet stripes on her Gryffindor scarf!

"Oh great, now he's going to ask why I'm helping him! How can I answer him when I don't even know myself?!", she thought furiously.

Malfoy opened his mouth and Hermione prepared to say "Defence Against the Dark Arts project".

"Granger, why were your eyes red the other day in the hall?", Malfoy asked, without a trace of a smirk.

Hermione couldn't have been more surprised if he had come in wearing nothing but one of Dobby's hats.

Swallowing before she answered, Hermione said "My aunt died."

"Oh. That's too bad, I'm sorry. How did she die?" Malfoy asked, before adding "Or would you rather not talk about it?"

Pleasantly surprised by Draco's reaction (she felt ashamed to think she would have thought it more likely that he rejoice in the death of a muggle), Hermione hesitated before replying.

"Um, she died of cancer. You probably don't know what that-"

"No, I've heard of it. It's a muggle disease, right? It's pretty nasty."

"Yeah…it's just strange to think that people can die of natural causes too, you know?"

"As well as…?"

"Well, unnatural causes. Murder. Voldemort." Hermione finished simply.

Wincing slightly at the mention of Voldemort, Malfoy studied Hermione's face.

"I guess." He was pleased Hermione was opening up to him, he hadn't talked like this with anyone for a long time. He sensed she wanted to say more, but was holding back. He nodded encouragingly at her to let her know he was listening.

Hermione had a guilty look on her face, as if she was revealing a secret.

"Do you ever wonder what the point is? What's the point of killing Voldemort? I know he's done terrible things but people think that getting rid of him will get rid of all our problems at the same time. It won't! Wizards are still going to kill each other, people are still going to get sick. It won't stop wars, we won't all magically love each other and sit next to each other by bonfires singing "Kumbaya"."

Horrified at her tirade of sorts, Hermione searched Malfoy's face, trying to gauge his reaction. How could she have revealed her innermost thoughts to him? It's Malfoy!

Malfoy wondered how to respond to Hermione's outburst. He was more than a little surprised at how pessimistic she was.

Inexplicably, it saddened him to think that she had such a negative view of things.

Hermione saw in his eyes that Malfoy was about to ask her something important, something about her personal feelings. She braced herself as he spoke.

"What the hell are you on about Granger? Come buy a what…?"he smirked, laughing.

Hermione tried her utmost to look disapproving, but failed. She allowed herself to laugh, something she hadn't been doing enough of.

"Kumbaya, you moron!"

Smiling at her gently, Malfoy said "There's always a point, Hermione."

Hermione shocked herself by how quickly she conceded that maybe, just maybe, there was.

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Hey, hope you like it. Please review!

A big thank you to all my reviewers, you guys rock!

I would just like to add that this took me ages to write as the idea of Draco wearing nothing but a hat had me quite…distracted! Haha, so I hope you appreciate the mammoth effort involved in moving on from that. )