A/N: Here's the next chapter, hope you like it. :)

Chapter 8 - Chocolate

Nearly two years had passed since Draco had spoken to Hermione. He had seen her with her friends, laughing. Jealousy – or something similar had burnt in his stomach when he had seen Dumbledore congratulate her at the end of their first year, and rage had bubbled in him when the green banners of Slytherin had transformed into red of Slytherin. It was a mockery; why put them up in the first place? Last year, thankfully they had been spared the praises of the Trio by the Headmaster but he had heard the rumours; everyone had heard the rumours. Everyone always talked about Harry Potter. And Draco wasn't jealous exactly, but it was somewhat exasperatingly repetitive. How could he even have friends when others around him somehow always ended up getting hurt? He had remembered Hermione's frozen look, her outstretched hand in the hospital last year. The blank, emptiness of her eyes was the worst thing. Despite his parentage, Draco had never been subjected to too much dark magic; just a little. It had scared him to see the effect on a power curse on someone even if he was supposed to hate that someone.

This year, he had hoped would be different. This year, he had hoped would be quieter. This year he had hoped that perhaps he would be able to shine and perhaps this year the entire school will applaud for his house. But he knew when the train stopped midway for Death Eaters that this year wasn't going to be any different.

He heard about Harry's fainting spell in the train; he mocked and ridiculed it with his friends but he knew that everyone sympathised with him. Poor Harry, it must be awful to suddenly remember your parent's murder. Yes, it was awful. It was awful that Draco had to hear these things everywhere. So he tried to draw some pleasure out of the ridiculous scene that he imagined must have occurred: Harry shuddering and shivering like a damsel in distress and then fainting like a feeble hearted woman.

It was getting dark outside; the sky was overcast with a thick cover of rain clouds. A storm brewed. Draco hurried towards the Great Hall. He was late for dinner; he was very late in fact. There was no one about except the echoing ring of his footfalls. He stopped suddenly when he noticed that the lamps were flickering and the flames dancing as if a soft breeze were blowing. Draco felt it too - a sudden coldness rising in the air that beat the general warmth of the castle. He didn't like it, and he wanted to escape but his feet for some inexplicable reason were stuck to the floor, unmoving. He heard a voice. He turned around, looking for its source, but found none. He was alone. The voice continued; it grew louder. His vision started to sway. He realised that the voice was in his head. It was a familiar one: His father's. It grew louder, so much so that his head hurt by the sheer force of the sound.

"Where were you? Answer me!" his father's anger boomed across the entire manor and even Draco could hear him. Scared but intrigued he walked towards the landing, careful to hide himself. He saw his mother, whimpering at his father's feet, crying. He could hear her sobs, loud and quivering with fear.

"Lucius," she whispered, pleading. Draco began to feel cold. He had dropped to the ground now, his insides feeling hollow as if the cold was feeding on him. He struggled to keep his eyes open but what was the point? "Is it someone I know? Is it a friend?" his father's voice was followed by a deafening silence. Draco heard it ring in his ears carrying a dangerous and ominous response that his little five year old self couldn't understand but the thirteen year old teenager who heard his nightmare echoing inside his brain felt sick with the meaning. "Crucio!" there were screams, terrible and unbreable screams that tore his brains apart. Draco, now lying on the floor, pressed his hands on the ears hoping to quieten the screams but they only grew louder. They reached such a volume that they became a physical pain. His entire body hurt as his mother's screams and pleas for forgiveness invaded every corner of his mind.

"Malfoy?" Draco stirred but he didn't open his eyes. "Draco?" the voice said again. He felt a hand, rubbing his arm. It was nice. Draco felt the warmth travel from his arm to his body but it wasn't enough to alleviate the coldness. "Draco?" the voice repeated, a hint of desperation and worry in it. He uttered a moan. "Draco, wake up." He moaned again. He tried to open his mouth to say something but it took too much effort. Another incomprehensible groan escaped his lips instead. He opened his eyes and though it hurt him to tear them open but he managed it. The vision was blurry though. He could barely see. He wondered what had happened but thinking hurt too. The remnants of the screams lingered in his minds and the sound of his mother's cries still echoed in his ears.

"Draco?" he couldn't see the person clearly but he could make out their thin silhouette and the wild, blurred brown head of hair. "Do you think you can try and get up?" the person asked. Her voice was soft, gentle, full of care. He wondered if it was Madame Pomfrey. But then as his vision cleared that it was actually Hermione.

"Granger?" he asked, his voice dry and hoarse.

"Yeah, here, drink some water." He felt her hands move behind his back and hold his arms. He felt her pull him up. He budged slightly but not by much. Draco put his palms down and pushed himself up. Until he was half sitting down and half leaning on Hermione. It was then that he realised that he'd been lying down in Hermione's lap. The thought both repulsed and comforted him. He grabbed the goblet that she gave him, savouring the taste of the cool refreshing liquid as it travelled down his throat. "You should have some chocolate as well." She handed him three small round chocolates, wrapped in red and white paper. He took them, his fingers fumbling with the wrapper. He couldn't move them properly and his head still hurt. He tried to remember what had happened but thinking about it only made him feel colder. "Let me," she said, taking the chocolate from him, and swiftly retrieving the brown, chocolaty ball. She looked at his pallid face, almost blue with coldness and pressed the chocolate to his mouth. 'Open' her lips mouthed and as Draco opened his mouth she pushed the chocolate in.

Draco felt her fingers as they brushed past his cheeks and lips. He couldn't see her anymore for she was behind him, holding him steady, but he saw her hand in front of his mouth asking him to open his mouth. He felt slightly better as soon as he engulfed the chocolate. It was warm, soothing and as soft as silk. It melted in his mouth, overwhelming him with the warmth and the sweetness. He opened another one and ate that and soon after the third one as well. He had never tasted any chocolate like this before. He wondered if Hermione had put a spell on them. A few minutes passed as he slowly savoured the chocolate, relishing the taste as it swirled around in his mouth. Hermione sat patiently. She watched him eat. His eyes were closed and a look of such bliss took over that for a second that she had stop to remind herself of the evil, mocking sneer that Draco usually wore. It was hard to even imagine that he had been screaming and crying just a few minutes ago.

Draco relaxed slightly, allowing the warmth of the chocolate to run through his body. He didn't even care that it was Hermione who was there behind him. He didn't like to admit it but a part of him liked the warmth of another body behind him, holding him, supporting him. But at the same time, he was humiliated that Hermione, a muggle born and a Gryffindor had to see him at his weakest.

"What happened?" he asked her.

"You…" she began, wondering what to say. "There were Death Eaters."

"And?" Hermione began to grow nervous, wondering how to explain to him what had happened.

"I was coming back from the great hall and I heard your screams. There was one Death Eater around. I remembered the spell that Professor Lupin had used in the train and well, I don't think it worked but it went away."

"Where are we?"

"The Divination Tower," she said, the memory of her last encounter of Draco replaying in her mind, "I didn't know where else to bring you. And I couldn't go get someone in case it returned."

"What chocolate did you give me?"

"Did you like it?" A small smile appeared on Hermione's face but Draco couldn't see it.

"Yes, it was amazing."

"Do you want more?"

"Alright." Hermione procured a few more from her robes and gave them to Draco. "Lindt?" he read aloud from the wrapper. "I've never heard of it before."

This time when Hermione chuckled, Draco heard it. "It's muggle isn't it."

"Yeah," Hermione replied, thinking that he would return them or throw them away. But instead, he ate them.

"Draco?" she began, "when I found you, you were screaming." She was curious. She remembered his face, how it was contorted and disfigured. His normally handsome features were shattered and the shards of his former beauty had jutted out sharply giving him the appearance of a much cracked glass.

Draco didn't say anything.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione probed him further.

"It was a nightmare that I used to have as a little kid. My mother," he wondered why he was telling her this but didn't pause to consider his actions, "she was being tortured. The cruciatus curse." He heard Hermione gasp in his ear. The air tickled his ear but he took no notice of it. "The worst thing was that it was my father. I didn't realise then why he did that. But I think… she had had an affair with someone." He felt Hermione's grip on his side tighten as she moved her arm to wrap it around his stomach. It felt nice. Having told her his worst nightmare comforted him as well.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. Hermione could hardly believe the words. She had imagined his life to be perfect. She thought of her parents; they had their arguments but they always made up in the end. They loved each other. Hermione had never thought about it but she was glad; she couldn't imagine what she would have been like if she'd had to grow up in a violent and hostile family. She felt sorry for Draco and her heart went out for him. Despite being enemies, she tried to envelope him in her arms. She didn't know the words but she hoped that the gesture would convey her feelings to him.

"Why did you help me?" he asked. His previous repulsion at his proximity with Hermione had disappeared and he forgot that she was a muggle-born; he forgot about his father; a part of him wanted to do it just because his father would have hated it but a large part of him liked it.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, I'm a Slytherin and I," the next words came with difficulty, "Well, I'm an arse, aren't I?" Surprisingly, Hermione laughed. It made Draco uncomfortable, and confused. Why was she laughing? He wondered if he'd said something stupid. He remembered how she'd punched him just last week, anger pulsing through her. And here she was, laughing! It was unbelievable!

"Draco, you're so silly. Yes, you can be a bit vile," Draco smiled at Hermione's inability to use the swear word, "but I don't think that that makes you a bad person."

"So, you're saying that vileness is good?"

"No, just that there's more to a person than what he shows to the world." Draco nodded, smiling. He was…happy.

"Are you going to go?"

"Why?"

"I'd like you to stay here for a bit longer."

"Ok," she said. Draco, scared and his heart beating furiously in his chest, moved his hand to place it over Hermione's that lay on his stomach. Hermione was shocked but she didn't say anything. She looked at him. Draco was half sitting and half lying down so she couldn't see his face clearly but there was no mistaking the pleasure and the peace that sat on his face. It changed his features, altered them. 'Just like an angel' Hermione thought. The next two hours were spent in silence, gazing at the sky and the clouds that were beginning to part to reveal the bright, silver moon.