It was midday and Hermione was still in bed. She knew she was being pathetic, but she couldn't find a reason to get up. Harry and the other aurors had left a few hours ago. Harry wasn't happy about leaving her by herself, but she desperately needed time alone. Besides, with Lucius gone, was she in danger anymore? She laughed bitterly. When wasn't she in danger?

Grumbling in frustration, she threw the covers off and stood up to go look out the magical window. She had to pull herself together. What was the point of reuniting with her parents if she wasn't going to be the daughter they once knew and loved?

Lucious Malfoy tried to lure her in and kill her. He failed. At least they had the other two Death Eaters in custody. Hopefully they'd give more information on how Lucius managed to escape from Azkaban. Somehow he knew that she was looking for her parents, and used that to bait her. It wasn't a huge secret that she was looking for her parents, but she couldn't imagine how Lucius Malfoy would find out, being in prison, when his own family didn't even visit him.

Hermione jumped when she heard the door shut. She hadn't even heard it open. Draco was standing in front of the couch he had been sitting on hours ago, with an unreadable expression. It almost looked apologetic.

Hermione was confused by this. Why was he feeling guilty? She was the one who made him kill his own father!

After a few seconds, she blinked. "I didn't know you were still here."

Draco smirked halfheartedly, tossed some papers on the coffee table and went to the bar to make a drink. A full minute went by and after taking his first sip, his only response was "likewise." He downed the rest of his drink and started making another.

"Mind making two?"

Smiling to himself a bit, he filled another glass and walked slowly over to Hermione. She tried to read any emotion in his eyes, but they were distant, darker than she remembered. He handed her the drink and sat down on the couch, resting his feet on the table.

"So why are you still here, Granger?" The upbeat tone of his voice alarmed her, and she at once became defensive.

"Why are you, Malfoy?"

"Didn't really want to be around anyone," he said without looking at her.

Surprised by his honesty, she let her walls come down and sat next to him. Taking a sip of her drink, she coughed. It was stronger than she expected. His eyes slid to hers with a flash of amusement. She frowned and looked away.

"Same for me."

Draco stared into his glass. "I'd have thought you'd be jumping for joy. Now you're parents are back to just missing. Not captured. Not dead."

She absently wiped her lip. He was right. She was too busy feeling sorry for herself to even think about how he must have been feeling.

Shakily, she said, "Look, Draco. I'm truly sorry for what happened…what you had to do. I can't imagine… It feels wrong to say thank you, but you did save my life."

Draco felt his body stiffen as soon as she had started her speech and relax when she had stopped. He set his glass down on the table and turned toward her. "The only thing I regret is that I wasn't able to tell him everything I wanted to before he died."

"Like what?"

Draco stood up and began pacing. "Like how put his family in danger for years for purely selfish reasons. How he raised a son to hate people he didn't even know because of something that's determined before you're even born. How relieved I was when Voldemort was defeated. How I'm glad he went to Azkaban when he did, because that's the only way I had a chance of turning out at least a little normal. How getting the opportunity to kill him was the greatest gift he ever gave me."

Tears ran down Hermione's cheeks as she listened to Draco's voice catch. She felt helpless. Doing the only thing she could think of, she stood up and grabbed his arm, turning him toward her. He seemed to snap out of his anger, and his face softened. Hermione didn't think she could stand it if he were to cry, so she leaned in and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest.

Draco was frozen. He just confessed he was glad he killed his father, ranted like a lunatic, and she was hugging him? No wonder she was always in so much trouble.

He slowly raised his arms around her. She was warm and soft, and he could feel wetness on the front of his shirt. She must be crying. He wasn't sure what to do, so he just stood there until she let go and took a few steps back.

Wiping her eyes, she said, "I think I'm ready to be done with this day. How about you?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "You read my mind."

"Well," Hermione said as she walked to the bathroom, "at least you get your own bed tonight!"

For some reason Draco found himself wishing there was only one bed. Pulling his pants and shirt off, he walked over to the bed Blaise slept in the night before and laid down on top of the covers on his side.

Hermione came out in her pajamas and crawled into her bed. Draco noticed her face was still red and blotchy. Soon, the lights were out and the silence was deafening. He tossed and turned trying to get comfortable but couldn't. He thought about his outburst earlier. Was he really glad he killed his father? Or was he just angry? He felt a twinge of regret before he remembered that it was his own father that tried to kill Hermione. No, he was glad.

A small hand slipped its way up his arm and to his hand, pulling it down off the edge of the bed. He looked down, and in the moonlight from the magic window saw that Hermione had gathered all of her blankets and pillows and now lay in between their beds. She was holding his hand with both of hers.

It wasn't until he heard deep rhythmic breathing that he dared move. Slowly, without pulling his hand out of hers, he slid down off the bed and lay next to her. She was facing him, and she looked completely at ease in her sleep; beautiful, even. He hadn't seen her without a wrinkle between her eyebrows since he found her that night on the street. That seemed like ages ago.

She let out a soft sigh, and something inside Draco warmed. He had no idea what this meant, but he felt comfort in being with her. Maybe there was someone out there who could understand him. Granted, it was the last person in the world he thought it would be, but that didn't make it a bad thing. And maybe he could be the one person who understood her, and gave her comfort.

His thoughts went back to when he found her roaming the streets alone, drunk and lost. Broken. She had told him about her parents, and he went home and wrote to someone who might be able to help. She told him the only night she had gotten peaceful sleep was the night after the mooncalves, and it was his first peaceful night as well. He volunteered to risk his life to rescue her parents from Death Eaters. He should have noticed how deeply he was falling.

"Hermione," he whispered to himself.

The perfect, goodie-two-shoes Gryffindor he knew in school was gone for good. Maybe the selfish, cowardly Slytherin was, too.

Wow, I hope everyone is still there! I recently bought a house AND found out that we're expecting a baby next Spring! So it's been pretty crazy around here. I really missed writing this story, though. I hope you like it! More to come soon :)