Though there's a warning in the first chapter, I want to repeat trigger warnings for attempted rape and Hermione talking about it. While it's not a huge part of this chapter, I wanted to repeat it just in case. Last time I'll take up an author's note to point it out again, I just worried someone would be blindsided, but the warning goes for the entire story.

WE ARE IN DOUBLE DIGITS FOR CHAPTERS. YAY!

"You're late." she muttered, slamming the window shut against the white frame after he'd crawled through.

Draco shrugged out of his jacket, shaking his wet hair. He'd barely dried off after his shower twenty minutes earlier. "You shouldn't have waited up." he faltered, regretting the words the moment he said them. "Granger, I'm sorry, I just had something to do."

She spun on him, glaring and poking him in the chest, her finger pressed against his sternum. He moved her hand away as he laid the garment on her dresser.

"Someone, you mean." she replied angrily. "It's too bloody hot in here. Aren't you burning up?" he shook his head, his eyes widening as she grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt and ripping it over her head. "I know it's not my business who you shag in your free time," Hermione continued, storming to her closet, sliding it open and stretching to grab a tank top from a hanger.

"Are you jealous of Pansy?" he laughed. She glared at him, completely missing how he wasn't looking her in the eye, as she moved to slip the tank top over her head.

But then she looked away, as if it hurt to look at him, so she didn't notice how his eyes lingered on the swell of her breasts, or how he committed the modest black, lacy bra she wore to memory. An out of character moment for him. It was a cycle, them being so comfortable with one another, a cycle that was surely going to be the death of him.

"Am I jealous?" she echoed. "Are you jealous of Ron? You say you're not, so I suppose that answer will suffice."

"How are you applying the cream to your back, Granger?" she glared at him, pulling the tanktop down to the hem of her pajamas. "I know you don't let Frank do it for you."

"You're changing the subject." Hermione told him, sitting next to him in the floor and crossing her legs. "I've been putting it on a towel, and trying to put it on there that way." She folded her arms over her chest. "It's not working too well if you're curious. It'll scar." His legs stretched across the carpet.

Draco's head rolled to the side, dark gray eyes narrowing on her. "Idiot." he snapped. "Go get it."

"Draco." he only shook his head. "I'm sure putting scar cream on my wounds is the last thing you want to do. It's fine. It will just scar. I won't be the one who sees it anyways. Just..others." Her bottom lip trembled while he rose to his feet. "It's not,"

"We don't have to admit it happened, just like how I sleep here every night. It's a secret between us." While there was no hope in concealing the bitterness in his tone, she wouldn't look any deeper into it. She might not see that for the moment. "Caring about a scar doesn't make you superficial."

"I don't care about a bloody scar." she insisted. "In the future, it might freak someone else out."

"Do you really need me to tell you that if a scar makes a man like you less,"

"Save the relationship advice. You're fucking Pansy Parkinson, so you're not someone I need advice from."

"Okay, I know you're pissed with me for whatever reason, but that's not an excuse to refuse my help."

"She turned off your phone the night I was nearly raped." Hermione said quietly. "I know it's not your fault, and I know you came to the hospital even when she wanted you to stay. Just like I know how irrational it is to be jealous of seeing you around her. If it wasn't her, I wouldn't care. So if you want to be with her, I'm hardly going to demand you choose me or the other."

"Is there a point to this?"

"If she is going to be a permanent fixture if your life, I'll leave you alone. Her and I, we're like oil and water. I'd hate to stand in the way of anything you want."

He sighed, offering his hand and pulling her to her feet. "Hey," he murmured, tilting her chin up as she tried to stare at the floor. "I'm sorry." Her eyes were watering. "I needed a distraction, and she was willing. I didn't think that it would upset you."

"A distraction?"

A distraction that had utterly failed in his bedroom. The meaningless sex he'd been able to find satisfaction in before the world was tilted was just that, meaningless. There would be hell to pay come Monday, when the little witch cornered him, and demanded answers. Of why he'd shoved her off of him when she was in her knickers and willing. Of why exactly he hadn't gotten an erection at all, and how could he put that explanation nicely?

"I can't tell you." he forced the words out. Expecting her crestfallen expression didn't make it any easier as he watched her eyes water. After a lifetime spent telling her every secret he had, a tear rolled down her cheek. "It's nothing you need to worry about, I haven't figured it out yet."

"It's not like you to be so vague." Hermione caught his wrist as he reached to wipe the salty tears from her cheeks. "You could tell me, but you won't."

"Like I said, I don't know what's going on myself." She'd always seemed so small to him, being so much shorter. He'd never thought of her as fragile until recently, and he'd always felt the need to protect her, but looking down on her now made it clear those feelings had changed.

The pajama bottoms she wore - the Star Wars ones that he always teased her over - were too long for her. She nearly always tripped on the hems as she walked. But it was so strictly Hermione, and her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. She looked the same as she always had.

He felt uneasy as it felt like he'd never seen her before at the same time. That he hadn't actually noticed the little white scar above her right eyebrow, where Theo had shoved her off those damn swings. There were golden flecks in her eyes, a gorgeous contrast against the brown, and he wondered how that had gone unnoticed by him. It wasn't as if he'd never stood so closely to her.

Granger wasn't fragile, she'd smack him if she knew he'd even thought it, but looking at her with her arms wrapped around her waist and her eyes welling with tears, it's exactly what he thought. It would be so easy to pull her into him, to hold her until the sun rose because she would let him. The last nights he'd waited for her to fall asleep first. Her soft breathing put him at ease, helped him sleep when he seemed to burn everywhere her skin touched his.

It would be easy. The nights could be easy, she could be his in some way then, but it would make the days harder. He would have to see Ron wrap an arm around her shoulder and pretend he didn't know how soft she felt against him. He'd have to write off his jealousy, something he needed to do regardless if he wanted to keep her as his closest friend.

"Draco, you can tell me anything. Is something wrong?"

He shook his head slowly, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. "No, I think something is right, and it's already too late."

She looked at him quizzically. "Like that's any less vague?"

"I told you I wouldn't tell you. Come on," he led her by her hand, lacing his fingers through hers and kept facing away from her. "Will this make you uncomfortable?"

The bathroom was white, pristine and spotless. It smelled like a hospital room, like she'd santitized it, and that was something he certainly hadn't taken notice of. He wasn't without a brain. He understood how post traumatic stress could display. Hermione had told him how she scrubbed her skin until it hurt, had told him, in great difficulty, that she woke in the mornings and could still feel his hands on her.

He hadn't thought about if everything else had to be scrubbed, wiped down. Draco didn't say anything about it, watching her move as if she'd never been attacked. It felt more like a privilege to be trusted by her, to be trusted to have her back to him.

Hermione shook her head and opened the cabinet to pull the tube from the shelf. "Of course not. You've already seen me at my worst, and you stayed. I don't have to worry about losing you."

It was simple statement, something that had lurked behind her words as she spoke of never losing him over a boyfriend, but it felt like a dull knife twisting in his chest. He couldn't leave her, he couldn't have her, although he was still trying to convince himself that he didn't want to kiss her.

That he didn't want to lift her onto the counter by her hips, or brush his lips against her when she managed to roll on top of him in the middle of the nights. Nothing worked, not even fucking an ex girlfriend, who would be a problem.

Nothing forced it away. Hermione Granger assaulted nearly all of his senses, how Pansy's perfume smelled of citrus instead of Hermione's strawberry body wash. She never used perfume. Or how Pansy's skin hadn't felt as smooth as it had the last time he'd been with her.

"You'll never have to worry about losing me." he scoffed. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were worried." Draco chuckled, watching her shoulders drop as she waved him off. He couldn't help but wonder if his own words were a lie. How could he continue being as close as he was, and watching her with someone else?

"You just like to think you're the center of attention is all," she replied, pulling her tanktop up to expose her back. She was able to still keep it over her breasts as she handed him the tube. "Hurry, I'm exhausted."

"We can sleep in on Saturday's you know. We don't have to get up and study the lessons we haven't had yet." She glared at him in the mirror in front of them. He hardly thought about the fact she might have wanted him to apply the cream under her bra, instead of unsnapping the clasp, but given the way she jerked. He undid the clasp in one movement, with his left hand. "Did you say something?"

"I said I guess Pansy wasn't lying about that. She boasted of your skills. Apparently taking her bra off quickly impressed her."

He laughed at the blush on her cheeks as his fingers moved along her spine. "I can do it with my teeth too."

She flushed, looking at him in the mirror for a moment before looking away. "That's," she paused. "That's actually sort of impressive. Does it not hurt your teeth?"

He placed the tube back on the counter, wiping his hand off on a towel before clasping her bra once more. "In the moment I'm not worried about my teeth, Granger."

"That didn't answer my question."

He tugged her tank top down, before the crass words of, 'I could show you,' left his mouth. "No, it doesn't hurt. And really, you shouldn't wear your bra over the cream anyways. It will cause it to smear."

"It's okay, I'd rather not."

"I know, but for when I stop sleeping over, that's what you should do. I can still rub it on your back, but that's when you need to start sleeping in a loose shirt."

"What do you mean when you stop sleeping over?" she asked him, closing the bathroom door quietly as he made his way to his side of her bed. "Forgive me, I was under the impression you'd continue sleeping here." Hermione stared at the floor, wiggling her toes.

"I don't think Ron would appreciate it if he found out is all, and he'd accuse you of lying."

"Logical, but you just told me how it was a secret between us. Do you not want to sleep here anymore? Does it make you uncomfortable?" she paused, her eyes lighting up and then dimming once more. "It makes her uncomfortable, for you to be here. You probably left her because I needed you here."

"Pansy has nothing to do with this," he told her, grabbing her hand from where he sat at the foot of his side. "Just take her out of your mind. I promise she doesn't mean anything. I can keep it a secret, but wouldn't you feel guilty?"

He hoped she said yes. It would be an easy out, and it would not taint the friendship they had. Back home, in his own bed he wouldn't sleep well, he already knew. It hadn't taken long to crave her presence near him.

"I don't feel guilty." she sat beside him, dropping his hand. "I do feel guilty." she corrected. "Harry brought it up today, and told me sleeping medication might be better for me, but I'll tell you the truth" Hermione took a deep breath that made him anxious, as if she were trying to work herself up to something. "I don't want to take pills to sleep when you're so close. I would rather have you."

Hermione didn't mention how her boyfriend - or would be soon - would never understand. Or how her words were alarming when she spoke them. Nor did he.

"If you're unable to tell Weasley that, doesn't that prove this would hurt him? Wouldn't that hurt you in return?" he said lowly, brushing caramel coloured hair out of her eyes. "If you want me here, I'm here."

It was a lie, he felt it in his gut. The closer she became with Ron Weasley, the harder it would be to him. They would drift apart, and she would feel horrible when she finally noticed. Draco would have hurt her, and it would have only push her to Weasley. The last thing he wanted, but he was too much of a coward to confront what he had realized.

"I can't sleep without you." she looked up to him, misty eyed as she did so. "So, for as long as you're willing to be here, I would prefer that. The second you're not, I'll ask Dad to make another appointment with my doctor."

"We can deal with as we go, it will be fine." Draco told her, watching her lace her fingers in her lap, fidgeting uneasily. "What is it?"

"Do you think about your mum?" Her voice was a whisper, one wind could have carried away had they been outside. "Do you ever think of how you never knew Narcissa, but I knew my mum and I was horrible to her?"

"No, I don't compare us." he replied, seeing a tear fall onto her wrist. "My mother died in childbirth. If anything, I've always felt it was my fault. If I hadn't been born, she would have lived, and perhaps she would have survived a different pregnancy."

"I'm not going to tell you it's not your fault, I know you hate that." He smirked at that. "But I will remind you that she loved you so much, that she chose to carry you to full term, and that means something."

"It does." he agreed. "I wish I could have grown up with her, to have her attend my matches, or to have met you, but I stopped dwelling on it a long time ago. I've had seventeen years to let go. It's only been a few months for you, Granger."

Hermione shook her head. "It's been years since I started treating her horribly, as if she was the devil."

"It was a nasty divorce, you can't blame yourself for reacting. She had an affair. You were angry for your father. It hurt you to see him hurting."

"I never understood why she didn't tell him she wanted to see someone else. Why rip him apart by cheating on him, instead of divorcing?"

"People do stupid things. Maybe she thought divorcing him would hurt him more, maybe she couldn't decide. Your mum is the only one who could have told you the reasoning."

She crossed her legs beneath her, leaning forward with her elbows on her legs. "And I told her I hated her, and that I wished she were dead. Well, that came true, didn't it?" she spat bitterly. "She was murdered in a car park, and I didn't tell her I loved her, despite everything."

"You didn't have to tell her. She knew."

Her body jerked as soft sobs came from her chest. "That doesn't mean she wouldn't have wanted to hear it from me. She died scared, holding onto to this stupid necklace that I bought her for mother's day." Her hand rose to the small cross, her index finger and thumb squeezing it. "The man she had an affair with, why would he sleep with a woman who was married? That couldn't have been what he wanted."

"I imagine he loved her," Hermione's eyes landed on him, narrowing as he spoke. "As much as you don't want to hear that, it's likely true. And if it were me in that position, I can imagine wanting the woman I loved even if it was only in secret."

She wouldn't know it was an admission, as close to a confession as he could possibly come to. Or that it was the moment he knew it he did what a nameless man did with her mother, it would destroy everything.

But he was a selfish person when it came down to her, and he allowed himself to stare at her, while moonlight was trickling in through the window. She was stunning beneath it, even as she broke down and told him all the things she couldn't tell anyone else.

He was lying when he told himself it was enough.

"I'm here to see Lucius Malfoy," Hermione told the blonde haired woman who sat behind a mahogany desk in front of his office. She tapped her pen against the wood, glancing over Hermione, who had her hands in front of her.

In a ceramic coffee cup that sat on her desk, it said blood type: coffee in gold calligraphy, there were at least a dozen pens. Some of them had bite marks on the caps. "Do you have an appointment, Miss," she trailed off, waiting for Hermione to reply while she rifled through her calendar for the barrister.

"Granger." Hermione supplied. "I'm his goddaughter, but if he's busy today, could you deliver a message for me?"

The woman froze, in the middle of flipping to the next page. "No, he's always given me instructions to send you right in. I barely recognized you. Off you go," she told her politely, raising from her seat and brushing down her plum coloured pencil skirt. She opened the door for Hermione. "Miss Granger is here to see you, Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione imagined this was exactly what Draco would look like when he reached his father's age, and she wanted to roll her eyes at his ridiculously good genes. Lucius mouthed for her to wait as he returned to his phone call.

His hair was neatly combed and set, though his office gave the appearance of how he wasn't organized at all. She stifled a laugh as he glared at her while she began to organize his office. Case files were strewn about in front of him, as if he'd been trying to look over four at once. Ignoring the photos of the crimes inside, she categorized them by the case number in the right hand corner, placing them in their folders neatly.

His office had always felt like a sanctuary to her, an odd thought as she knew the types of stories to travel through here. Hermione noted the wig and the black robe on the rack by the door, placed in front of the glass paneling. It had been a strategic placement, Lucius loathed the garb he had to wear in court. He said the robe was too itchy, and he should really buy nicer robes, but he never had.

On the wall to the right of his desk, it was a bookcase that had been built into the wall, filled with texts on law and procedure. Though there were some of his most cherished books as well. It had been on the advice of Jean Granger.

Hermione's chest hurt at the memory of her voice.

Her mother, as smart as she was, realized there were parts of them they would never take home to their families, but that didn't mean they were meant to suffer at work. Hermione pulled a heavy book from the highest shelf, stretching on her tiptoes. It was a collection of Shakespeare, a love of her mother's not his.

She smiled. Hermione slid the book back into its place, deciding not to read the note her mother had scrawled inside. On the middle shelf, towards the door, there was a selection of Hermione's favorite books, novels from young adult to romance, to several titles that Lucius Malfoy would have never allowed in this place.

However, she was his goddaughter, and she'd been coming here for years when it came to advice that she chose not to ask of her own parents. She'd spent several quiet Sundays in this office, lounging on the couch after the funeral. It was been a perfect spot, with someone who didn't try to force her to talk about it, someone who was suffering in their own silence as well.

She was halfway through the collection she knew by heart when his phone call ended. "If you're going to organize my office, you could at least take an internship for it." he told her, motioning for her to take a seat across from him.

"I bet I could be a fantastic secretary." she laughed.

"I'm sure, but that would be a waste of your potential." Lucius moved the stack of manilla folders to the corner of his desk cursing when they slipped right into the floor. "Anyway," he spoke loudly over her laughter. "Why are you here on a Saturday?"

"Why are you? You're supposed to be home today." she countered. "I went by there first, but you obviously had snuck off to work."

"Look at you, answering a question with a question." he laughed, leaning back in the leather chair.

"I'm sick of dreaming about Cormac McLaggen." she told him, her voice quiet, but strong. "I'm sick of almost flinching when my friends touch me over the smallest things. I pass Harry a pencil and his fingers brush mine, and I suddenly can't breathe. Or when Ron," her face softened. "Decides to hug me, I want to fight him off because now that someone has assaulted me, I've forgotten what it means for someone to want to care about me."

Hermione leaned forward, taking a fountain pen in her hand and twirling it between her fingers. Though she wanted to snap it in half. "I'm sick of seeing McLaggen pawing other girls in the hallway as if he never tried to choke me and rape me, and tell me I'd like it if I let him."

"What are you telling me, Hermione?" he asked her carefully. Not one tear had rolled down her cheeks, but he wanted to tread lightly.

"I am telling you he is a horrible person, a monster that made me afraid of the dark and I want you to tell me exactly how I make sure he pays for that. He does not get to walk away." she hissed. "He would do it to another woman, and I want to be the last."

"That," he clicked his tongue, reaching into a drawer in his desk. "I can do. We will have to file a police report, you understand?" she nodded. "I'll get started, and I will tell you when you need to come in. Hermione, you will have to make a statement. You'll have to describe all the things you told Draco that night, in front of a police officer."

"Can Draco be there for emotional support? Is that allowed?"

"I'll make sure of it." Lucius nodded.

"I'll tell him then, when I see him next." Hermione dropped the fountain pen back into the cup on his desk. "Could you drive me home? The bus ride here was horrible."

"Too many people?" she nodded. "Yes, I can take you home." Lucius stood, piling the cases that had fallen into the floor and sliding them into his briefcase.

"Those are all mixed up." she pointed out.

He snorted. "You're far too much like your mother."

Can I just tell you how much I love Lucius in this story? Cause I really do love him. Also I love writing angsty Draco, and I can't wait to move forward several chapters and for Hermione to start to realize. GAH.

I'm on time off from work until Saturday, so hopefully I'll be able to work in some more updates! I have a plot bunny for student/teacher tomione, so, see you on the next update!