Disclaimer: If we're all going to die eventually, who is to say who really owns a story?

I can tell you one thing.

It's not me.


Thankfully, the rest of Hermione's day went far more smoothly than the beginning, and she was able to force herself to concentrate. She went through Arithmancy and Charms in a fog, but by the time Herbology came around she was back to her studious self. To her utmost relief, Malfoy let her be, and by the end of the day she was back to being as sunny as usual.

As promised, Hermione sat with the Gryffindors at dinner, although she and Ginny decided that it would be better to sit together at lunch when everyone usually jumped tables. They chattered about their classes, some of which they shared, the people they had met, and the new teachers that they had seen. Ginny seemed to be avoiding the subject she had alluded to on the train, but Hermione didn't press. It was Ginny's business, after all.

Hogwarts was slowly rebuilding itself into the palace it had been, but the work was still in progress. Several of Hermione's classes had been held in the Great Hall or in usually empty classrooms, and she discovered from Ginny that they had yet to find a Potions teacher. Even the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was more of a long-term substitute, and Hermione found that Flitwick was actually teaching the two oldest grades in his preparatory hour. Apparently, all the teachers had their hours filled with extra classes that they helped to teach; even Professor McGonagall continued as a Transfiguration instructor, despite her job as headmistress.

Despite the clearly strained situation, it was good to be back. The classes were familiar and the people were friendly. Aside from her encounter with a certain Slytherin male, the day went by without a hitch. Hermione headed up to her common room at the end of the day, tired and more than a little punch-happy.

The feeling intensified when she reached the comfortable room. Many of her dorm mates were already there, chattering amiably in the cozy atmosphere. Most of the boys had gathered to play a heated game of wizarding poker and were making quite a bit of noise about it. Every time one of their faces would reveal anything, the chips they had out would start exploding and smoking, leaving the other players to fall in fits of raucous laughter.

The only other girls in the room were Mandy and Sally-Anne, who appeared to have made friends and were chatting amiably. Hermione almost went over until she saw the bottle of nail polish between them and decided against it. The color in the bottle was a rather obnoxious shade of chartreuse that she would prefer never made it to her fingers or toes.

It appeared that Malfoy had stolen the desk, Hermione noted with distaste. He had his books stacked neatly on top of it, along with a few small desk ornaments she was sure were part of his personal collection, due to their dragon-y nature. She fought the urge to roll her eyes and turned away from the man, who was clearly writing a letter and had his eagle owl settled patiently on the edge of the desk.

Theodore called her over, "Come and play, love!"

She rolled her eyes at the innuendo, but moved to join him anyway.

He grinned at her as she settled onto the couch closest to where he sat on the floor, and then deliberately set his face into a neutral mask.

"I mustn't let them know how badly I'm winning," he hissed in her ear, and she laughed at the expressions of distaste on his comrade's faces. They were clearly miffed by the lack of exploding occurring after the last comment, but Nott played his turn stoically, and they soon forgot to hate him as half of his chips started crackling and emitting blue smoke.

He sighed in defeat and settled against Hermione's legs to watch the others take their turns, narrowing his eyes in sport. She rolled her eyes at him and patted his head like a dog before pulling out one of her new books and flipping through it absentmindedly. It was nice to have someone leaning against her, even if it didn't mean anything. She found herself missing Ron with an intensity that astonished her, and she pulled her attention back to the game in hopes that it would distract her.

Malfoy had finished his letter and dispatched his owl. He settled into a high-backed leather chair across the fire from her, and Hermione looked up when she felt his eyes burning a hole somewhere near her knee. His glare wasn't focused on her, though. Both steel eyes were firing daggers at Nott, who seemed to find the whole situation very amusing.

The boy at her feet rolled his head back to look at her and winked before focusing back on his surly friend. She looked over at Malfoy too and found that his glares had intensified. Confused, she watched him until he looked over to her. For some reason, his anger was instantly replaced with a look close to sheepishness, and his ears got slightly pinker than normal.

Hermione shrugged off his gaze and focused again on her book. Boys were so very strange.

None of the others seemed to have noticed their interaction, and the game continued as before. To the others' great chagrin, Nott won that game as well as two others. Dean was able to scrape the last round, but that was probably due to the fact that Theo had grown bored and was stretching his face in different ways, trying to figure out how the chips were triggered.

By the time the fourth game finished, the others had filtered through the door, and soon everyone was gathered around the fire. They all cheered when Dean gathered his chips in victory, and Hannah even went so far as to give him a quick hug. It appeared that the group was adapting to one another, and Hermione smiled at the knowledge that they would all soon be friends.

Well…most of them anyway.

The next day followed in a similar way, although Hermione did find Madam Hooch's lesson plan a bit more trying than the others. To the poor girl's horror, she found that they would start flying again in another two weeks, and there was no way out of it this year. Apparently, Professor McGonagall had decided that everyone needed to learn how to fly, no matter their athletic tendencies. Hermione, who hadn't flown much since first year, now found herself stuck with a miserable broom again.

It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been all the eighth years in one class. Now to Hermione's utter humiliation, she would be forced to take to the skies with a bunch of quidditch fanatics. Not to mention Malfoy, who was a bloody seeker!

Speaking of Malfoy, he had been strangely quiet today. She snuck a glance at him over the textbook currently in her lap. He was in that same high-backed chair with a book settled on his knees. Hermione frowned; he obviously wasn't reading, as his eyes stayed motionless and the book was clearly upside-down. She wondered what was wrong. Or what he was up to. Or both.

She glanced around to the others in the room, but no one else appeared interested in Malfoy and his troubles. In fact, the only other people in the common room were a disgruntled Justin who was ferociously scribbling herbology notes as Sally-Anne patiently explained what they actually meant. Everyone seemed to be elsewhere, and Hermione had heard mumblings of a pick-up quidditch game after classes from snips of Seamus and Dean's conversation. It appeared that more people were involved than she could have foreseen.

That did beg the question, what was Malfoy doing here? He loved quidditch, didn't he? Why wasn't he at the pitch with the rest of them?

Hermione's curiosity got the best of her and she closed her book with a sigh, settling it onto the table next to her and stretching. She cautiously glanced over at Malfoy. He was in the same position he had been before, except now his eyes had drifted to his hands, gripping the textbook so hard that veins showed on his pale skin.

So something really was wrong. She debated her options silently, biting her lip in worry. Should she say something, or just leave him alone?

It was probably best to let him be; she didn't want a repeat of their first night here. And yet…her memories shifted to yesterday, his hand on her cheek, his eyes whirling with a pain that she couldn't imagine. Or, rather, she could imagine, but on someone else's face…

It was surprising to say the least. Heart-aching to watch. And intriguing. Ginny's words popped into her head once again.

Giving in to curiosity, Hermione stood and made her way over to him, ready to run at a moment's notice. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice her until she was in front of him. Nervously, she sat on a footstool, curling her feet under her as he pulled himself out of his thoughts.

His eyes snapped up to hers, cold and unyielding, "What do you want, Granger?"

Fighting the urge to pick up and run, she squared her shoulders, "I just thought you might want to know that books are a bit more informative when they're right side up".

Malfoy snapped the cover closed, his ears tingeing red, but made no comment.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, but when he made no move to speak, she sighed, "Look, Malfoy. Are you alright? You seem a bit…erm…out of sorts."

"I'm fine," he snapped, but his eyes didn't look so convinced.

"Are you sure?" she ventured, "Because if you need to…"

"I'm fine," he snarled tossing his book to the ground and making to leave.

Hermione would have responded if the rest of her classmates had not come bursting through the door, jabbering raucously.

Nott was the first one in and he cried, "Well, what do we have here? Another lover's spat? Really, Hermione, you could do so much better than him. And by that, I mean me!" He dodged Lisa Turpin's smack on the shoulder and came up to Hermione, lazily draping his arm around her and smirking at her expression.

She sighed at him, "Really, Nott…"

"Would you just mind your own bloody business for once?" interrupted Malfoy, glaring daggers at his friend. Before Nott could comment, he spun on his heel and stalked out of the room.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with him?" Nott frowned.

Hermione sighed, "I have no idea."

"Oh…' Nott smiled lecherously, realization dawning in his eyes, "so that really was a lover's spat, then?"

Hermione blushed, "No! Of course not! We are in no way…no!"

"Well, good then. I was beginning to worry about your position as Keeper of My Heart," Nott smirked.

She just rolled her eyes and ducked out from under her arm, "Lay off, Nott."

He shook his head at her, "Hey! My name is Theo, Miss. Granger, and don't you forget it." He ruffled her hair and then turned back his teammates to relive their glorious victory.

Hermione sighed and patted her hair. Theo was nice and all, and (even she could admit) plenty attractive, but sometimes he was just too much trouble for his own good.

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It was difficult to get to sleep that night, but when Draco finally managed to, he wished that he hadn't. The dreams ascended every time that he closed his eyes, yanking him back into memories he kept so carefully boxed up by day. There were more than usual tonight, flooding his sleep with memories.

Eyes. So many terrified eyes. Trapped and tortured while he watched, unable to help and unwilling to try.

He watched silently as they screamed for him. Eyes begging for rescue. Eyes begging for peace.

Blue eyes that pierced him with their emptiness. Cold oceans stilled with their own receding tides of hope.

Silver eyes that melted in sorrow, clinging to his heart like the hands that grasped feebly at his arms.

Brown eyes that he had almost forgotten. Chocolate that boiled in pain and anger, hurling hatred his way just as she hurled her screams into the cold night.

He could not take it. He woke in a sweat, voice hoarse from the cries that his former self refused to utter. But just as quickly as he awoke, he fell again into sleep, and new dreams accosted him.

He was almost relieved when the blue and brown eyes faded, leaving nothing but silver to torment him. This dream was more vivid, more real. His body shook with the effort to hide the grief as those eyes accosted him, accused him, begged him.

It should be he that felt these emotions, he that begged and blamed. Instead he stood, cold and unmoving. Her hands clawed harder into his shoulders, her sobs grew louder and yet he watched impassively. He stood as she screamed, struggled, was torn away. Just as her hands left him, he reached out suddenly, terrified all at once.

It was too late. She had been pulled far from him, and so he stood silently again as new hands clenched around his shoulders, far less forgiving hands.

He would wake soon. He could feel himself slowly pulling into consciousness, hear his own screams as he relived the memory.

Why wasn't he awake? He thrashed against the sheets.

Then new eyes were upon him. Hard eyes. Gray eyes. They looked into his and the disappointment in them crushed his last resolve.

Draco woke up then, weeping instead of screaming.

He had never felt more alone.

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Hermione stared at the canopy above her, wishing that day would just come already. It had already been several hours, and her brain hurt from the mental struggle it was giving itself.

First came the whole trouble with Malfoy. What exactly was his deal anyways? He acted so sure of himself in one moment, and in the next he was nothing but apparent worry. She had seen firsthand his mood swings; one minute he was swearing in rage and the next he was sitting dejectedly alone. She had felt the power of his anger, and yet…she had also felt the power of his kindness, both in words and in body. She blushed at the remembrance of his hand on her cheek and wondered at herself. How could someone she hated so much leave her feeling…so…cared for? It made no logical sense, but Hermione couldn't help but think of the look in his eyes that day. They had been go gentle, open in a way she had never seen, as if he were sharing all of his weaknesses and inviting her to do the same. She had felt so protected in that one moment, as though, for the first time in a long while, she could actual lean on someone else.

But the next time they had spoken, he had been so harsh, so angry. What was his problem? Couldn't he just be the kind Draco she had seen, instead of the moody dragon waiting for a fight? Stupid ferret boy, always ruining a perfectly good moment.

And what the bloody hell was with his wardrobe this year? His staff and flapping robes reminded her of his father, and yet there was something so regal about his style that was nothing like the slimy man who carried half his genetics. Hermione wished Malfoy would just go back to the usual school robe and lack of staff. It would be so much easier to argue with him when he wasn't dressed like he owned the school. She already had enough of a disadvantage with her lack of stature and his obnoxiously unexpected growth spurt (he was no Ron, but still…), and now she had to compete with his polished look? Although, honestly, Hermione could probably afford some nice new robes, but what was the point? She just couldn't understand the purpose for such expense, even if it would boost her self-confidence.

Although at this point, she had to admit, she could use the boost.

And then there was the whole deal with Nott…or, Theo, rather. He was awfully nice, and it did Hermione good to be flirted with (it was about time, right?), but she couldn't help but feel like she was betraying…someone. Perhaps it was Ron, but the tug that her heart felt at the thought of him was different than this. She missed him, yes, but the aching was more for a time gone by than a time she wanted to go back to. Hermione wondered exactly how mush she actually missed him. What kind of love was that? How could she be thinking these things? Theo was just an obnoxious flirt anyways, she was in no harm of falling for him. He was, however, a great deal of fun, and Hermione hadn't felt valued in quite a while. Even if he was just a harmless flirtation, Theo did a fantastic job of helping her escape reality for a few minutes.

It did irk her that whenever she thought of Theo, Draco's black anger at their flirting was quick to pop into her head. It was probably because she hated to see anyone angry with her. Hermione loathed dislike.

These thoughts were better than the ones that usually paraded around her head at night, and she welcomed them, even as they picked at her decisions. Unfortunately, it was too soon before the thoughts she had been avoiding fluttered in, and she sat up briskly.

It was time to clear her head.

Moving out of bed as silently as she could, Hermione tiptoed to the bathroom and splashed water lightly on her face. Feeling far more awake than she had in a while, she tiptoed out into the sun room.

The stars were bright tonight, lighting up the world with their gentle twinkle. Hermione settled into a loveseat and watched the moon's thin crescent slide slowly across the sky. She had never been interested by astronomy, but the gentle light of the stars always made her feel more at home than a house ever could. She sighed, and settled closer into the soft cushions around her.

Waking suddenly, stiff with cold, Hermione rubbed her eyes in confusion. As memories of her night unfolded, she groaned and glanced down at her watch. The small hands seemed to shift in the weak light, but her eyes finally adjusted and read the hands.

It was almost 3:00.

Groaning, she pulled herself off of the flattened cushions and padded into the warmth of the hall. Now too awake to go back to bed, she slipped into the common room to warm up by the fire.

A startling sight met Hermione as her eyes adjusted to the light of the fire. In front of her, slumped on the floor, was a very much awake Draco Malfoy, cowered low in the light of the flames. His wand had been thrown on a sedan and his staff had been unceremoniously dropped on the floor a few feet away. His shoulders shook, and her eyes widened at the sound of weeping.

Not exactly sure how to react, Hermione edged closer, thumping her feet on the floor to alert him of her presence. When he did not respond, she crept closer, watching his chest heave from the force of his sobs.

This had never been what she expected from Draco Malfoy. Sure, she had thought that something was irking him, but now this?

Hermione knelt gently beside the boy, sighing to herself, "You are so not 'fine'"

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Draco stiffened at the voice next to him and whirled towards it, ready to grapple with whoever dared intrude upon him.

He was met by a pair of very sympathetic chocolate eyes.

Relaxing slightly, he felt his ears tinge at the sight of Granger kneeling next to him. Of course she's the one who would find me like this.

She was talking at him now, probably asking what was wrong or some nonsense, but all he heard were the echoes of her screams in his head, images of her writhing in pain as his Aunt slashed into her throat. He held his head in his hands, trying to push the thoughts away.

Her words were louder now, pulling him back into reality. What was she saying? Was that his name?

"Draco!" her words finally cut through his head. His name, his first name, on her lips as she shook him, trying to get him to hear.

He pulled his head up, focusing on her eyes, those eyes that promised peace if he could only convince her to forgive him, help him to forget. He clung to the thought staring at her with a desperation he never would have dared before.

He was making her uncomfortable, staring at her with tears still dripping down his face, skin red and blotchy. She must think I'm completely insane.

And then she did the unthinkable.

She hugged him.

She wrapped her soft arms around his torso and held her to him, gently pulling him into a sitting position, leaning him back to rest against the couch cushions. She yanked a pillow down and propped it behind his back, letting him rest against the welcoming softness.

Hermione pulled away then, pulling a handkerchief from her pajama pocket and handing it to him, curling her other hand firmly against his own.

She was cold. She had been in the sunroom for certain; it was the only place that didn't have heating. He dabbed at his still streaming eyes, focusing on her cold hands, her pink cheeks, her soft eyes. Usually, they were so full of hatred, but now the emotions that flickered through them were nothing but caring.

Slowly his tears stopped, his breathing returned to normal. They sat there, holding hands until he took a shaky breath and looked away.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she whispered.

Before, her question had been absurd. He had not wanted to talk to her, of all people, about his problems, and he had cut her off in anger. Now, though…

"My father's being given the Dementor's Kiss next month," it was a partial truth, accurate in its facts but wholly un-responsible for his mood.

Her hand stiffened in his but she turned it into a squeeze before it could be detected, "Oh, Malfoy."

Her voice was so sympathetic that he went on. "My mother wants me to go…say goodbye," Draco laughed bitterly.

Hermione's free hand started rubbing his back gently and he breathed in shakily before continuing.

"What has my father ever done to deserve a goodbye? What has he ever done to deserve our love?"

"And yet," Hermione whispered, "He's your father."

"And yet," Draco choked out, "he is."

The tears were back now, silent and weary. Hermione rubbed his back gently, humming lightly, some tune he didn't know. He relaxed against her, letting his head drop onto her shoulder, soaking in her warmth.

She was so quiet, he almost missed it, "What else?"

It was too much, the weight of carrying this for so long, "Mother."

"Sentenced?"

"Trial. Six months."

His tears dropped onto her shoulder, and she held him closer, letting him sink into the soft protection of her arms.

He had relaxed now, and just as she moved to shift him back onto the cushions, he mumbled in her hair, "They said I killed someone."

She stiffened, and the sobs wracked his body silently as he struggled to speak, "They said…I…tortured her…tortured her to…death. But I didn't! I didn't."

He muttered against her, feeling her rub his back again in slow circles, her breath on his ear, whispering, "Of course you didn't...you wouldn't, now would you?"

The tears subsided, and he pulled back slightly, blinking up into her warm eyes.

"I…I think you ought to let go now, Hermione," he whispered.

"Why?" she asked, brows furrowed as she watched more tears fall down his cheeks.

"Because if you don't now, I might not let go at all," he whispered into her shoulder, wrapping his arms securely around her and shuddering with the weight of new sobs.

She didn't let go. She didn't pull away. She just held him until his sobs ceased, and his breathing slowed.

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They had stayed like that, holding each other, until Hermione had felt his head slide lower on her arm. He had actually fallen asleep against her. She made to move away, but he shifted and she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Those had not been there yesterday, and she wondered if he had been covering them with a glamour charm. When was the last time he'd actually had a good night's sleep?

Carefully, Hermione shifted Draco enough to remove her wand before gently levitating him to the couch. He barely stirred, but when she moved to slip her hand from his, he just pulled her wrist until she had fallen next to him. The next thing she knew, his arms had wrapped around her waist, and her head was cradled against his chest. She felt herself blushing, and would have retreated, if not for the sigh he released followed by a quiet 'thank you' before he nestled her even closer.

Draco Malfoy had just said thank you, albeit a half-asleep 'thank you'. Draco Malfoy had just, was just, hugging her. Draco Malfoy had told her that he wouldn't let her go (what was that supposed to mean?).

Hermione was very much confused, but she was also very much tired. The fire was warm, Draco was warm, and she found herself floating in a little bubble of contentment.

Surely it couldn't hurt to worry about all this some other day?

She hadn't had a good night's sleep in so long…

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Draco woke up to the smell of cinnamon. He blinked and opened his eyes to a face full of hair. It was then that he realized that his arms were wrapped around a soft something…no…someone. A someone who was melted against his chest, breathing gently.

The memories of last night came rushing back to him and he couldn't hold back to groan of aggravation.

This wasn't just any soft someone. This was Granger.

Damn.

Well…now what? He was probably supposed to panic at this point, push her off him, start some argument about minding her own business, but Draco just stayed where he was.

She looked so happy, curled up against him. It was really very comforting to have someone so close. When was the last time someone had wanted to hold him, just hold him? Pansy didn't really count; she always had an ulterior motive.

Mother must have, at some point. Or had she? These feelings weren't new, he was almost positive. Perhaps when he was little?

And what was the point in getting up, anyways? It wasn't too late; no one would be awake at this point, surely.

It was just so bloody comfortable here, nestled into the cushions, listening to Granger breathe softly. He felt safe, warm, cared for.

She had stayed with him, listened to him. She hadn't run away or laughed at his pain. She had just held him, comforted him.

And then she had managed to give him the best night of sleep he had experienced in months, years maybe. Draco didn't bother lying to himself. It was all her doing, the sleep, the peace.

Maybe I can convince her to sleep with me again. I mean sleep next to her…not with her. I mean…hell what do I mean?

For the first time in a long while, Draco relaxed against the cushions, feeling nothing but peace. For the first time in months, he smiled.

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"Well, well…what do we have here?" Hermione jerked awake to the sound of sniggers.

She blinked sleepily, pulling her head away from the warm something she was resting on, and stifled the gasp that jumped to her throat.

Draco Malfoy smiled down at her, his arms curled protectively around her frame.

She was on top of Draco Malfoy.

Who was smiling.

At her.

In the morning.

While wrapped around her.

What the bloody hell?

That wasn't the worst of it. For all of the mortification of waking up to a smiling Draco Malfoy (even if she did remember what had happened last night, she was still incredibly embarrassed by the whole thing), nothing compared to the look the person behind the couch was giving her. Well, people behind the couch, to be more exact.

"Is there something you youngsters would like to inform the class?" Theo continued, smirking wickedly. Dean and Seamus just stood there, jaws hanging open. Mandy smiled at her, raising her eyebrows.

"Not really," rumbled a deep voice from under her, and she groaned, unthinkingly burying her head back into his chest and squeezing her eyes tight. This was a dream, really it was. She was going to wake up now, to her own soft, completely male-free bed.

"This doesn't look like nothing to me," Theo's voice cut through her thoughts.

The others seemed to have found their voices.

"Hermione, what in Merlin's name are you doing?" cried Seamus.

Dean's voice was strained, "You might at least warn us in advance!"

Draco stroked her hair gently, carefully shifting her off of his chest while keeping an arm firmly around her waist. She wasn't sure if this was bad or good, and she felt her stomach knot in confusion.

"Why don't you all let them explain themselves," chided Mandy gently, "Hermione? Draco?"

Hermione couldn't bear the eyes on her. She leapt to her feet, cheeks flaming, "I…I have to go shower. If you'll excuse me."

And then she bolted.