A/N: Soooooo….it's literally been years since I've updated this fic. And I feel bad about it. I'm still getting notifications every couple of weeks alerting me to knew followers of this story. I want to thank you all for holding onto hope that someday I may come back to this. Today is that day.

I'm going to warn you, it's been over four years. My writing style has changed, my voice has changed, and my path for this story has changed. I apologize if I don't live up to your expectations as I move foreword with this. I'm going to do my best. So here goes nothing. :)

Chapter 14

"Draco Malfoy, where the bloody hell are my pants?"

This is what a certain blonde haired head boy awoke to the next morning.

Hermione had awoken to complete confusion. After groggily sitting up to find herself wrapped in the softest fur comforter she'd ever felt, she noticed that her room was no longer decorated in red and gold, but in green and silver. Her pounding head only allowed for a slight panic. Looking around she realized that this was not in fact her room, but the room of her arch-nemesis-turned-temporary-friend. Only, she couldn't find him. Or, she realized when she was about to get up, her pants.

"Malfoy!" she shouted.

A ruffled mess of blonde hair popped up suddenly from the floor beside the large bed. There was a green and silver stripped tie wrapped around his head and he was wearing a towel tied around his neck like a cape.

"What's going on?" he mumbled.

"We have to get ready for classes," Hermione said, flopping back down onto the bed. "Where are my pants?"

"I believe they are hanging from the landing above the common room," he said as he rubbed his eyes. "You said they were, and this is a direct quote, your "freedom flag," and ran around with them above your head."

"Oh my goodness," she groaned. "Where is that hangover cure you promised me?"

"The night stand," he replied, pointing to two vials of blue liquid.

Hermione grabbed one from her and tossed it back quickly before handing the other to Malfoy. She sighed as the pounding in her head immediately ceased. Her stomach still felt queasy, but not as bad as it had when she first woke up. No longer caring that she had no pants, Hermione got up from the bed and tiptoed around Malfoy, who was still lying on the floor, and made her way to the bathroom. She was shocked at what she saw.

Her hair was a mess. It looked as if someone had taken a blow dryer to her head with no direction in mind. On top of that, there were silver strands of tinsel tied onto random strands that sparkled when she turned side to side. The shirt she was wearing was not hers, she was sure of it, which only meant that it belonged to Malfoy. She laughed to herself when she noticed that it was a muggle band tee.

After bathing and dressing in her own clothing, she made her way back to Malfoy's room, only to find him still laying on the floor where she left him, one arm draped over his eyes.

"Why aren't you dressed?" she asked, nudging his bare foot with his shoe.

"I don't feel well," he grumbled without looking at her.

"I don't understand," she said, flopping onto his bed. She hung her head over the edge to look at him. "I feel great, your hangover potion worked wonders. You have quite a way with potions, Malfoy."

"Yes, yes, I'm a genius. I've only been second to your first our entire academic careers, Granger."

"I don't think I ever realized that," Hermione mused. "Anyway, get up. We have to get to astronomy."

"I'm not going," he said. He still hadn't moved from his position on the floor. "Don't worry, I've already sent word to Potter, he should be downstairs."

"Oh," she said, slightly disappointed. "Okay then."

She made her way out of his room and stopped at the top of the stairs to look down into the common room. Sure enough, Harry was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, reading that morning's edition of the daily profit. Luckily, he hadn't noticed her pants hanging from the railing. She grabbed them quickly and made her way back to her room. Making her way to her dresser, she picked up a small green box wrapped in silver ribbon.

On her way out, she poked her head into Malfoy's room to see he still hadn't moved.

"Feel better, Malfoy," she said quietly. "I'll come by to check on you at lunch."

"Mmhmm," he mumbled.

"Hey Hermione," Harry greeted her as she descended the stairs. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Did you do your astronomy essay?"

"Yes. And don't look so shocked," he laughed. "What's that you have there?"

"It's just a birthday present I had sent for Malfoy," she said as she softly set it on the coffee table. "He's just been so great the past couple of weeks, I thought I'd get him something to say thank you."

"That's good of you, Hermione," Harry said. But his friend could tell he was holding something back.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

"Nothing," he said. He took her hand in his and was pleased to notice that she didn't flinch away from him.

Hermione was right, Malfoy had been great lately. One would even call him a good friend if they didn't know any better. He came up with a great plan and seemed to genuinely want to help her get better. It was almost too good to be true. She could sense that this was probably what her friend was keeping quiet about.

"Harry, I've been your best friend since we were first years, I can tell when there is something on your mind," she said.

"I'm just waiting," he told her.

"Waiting for what?"

"For whatever flipped has switched inside Malfoy's head to switch back."

Hermione was right, and it was a topic she had been trying not to think about herself. She had been pushing it to the back of her mind. But even in her drunken stupor of the night before she couldn't avoid it for very long.

"Malfoooooy," Hermione called out in a singsongy voice. She was propped up against his trunk at the foot of his bed with one of the half empty bottles of fire whisky in her hand and no pants on her legs.

"Yesss," he slurred as he came into the room, holding the other, equally half empty bottle.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked as she took a long swig from her bottle. "You hate me."

"That's not true," he said. "Even when I hated you I didn't hate you."

"That makes no sense," she shouted.

"Yes it doesn't," he said, and then paused as if to reconsider what he said. "Anyway, I was taught to hate you. I was just being a perfect pureblood son."

They were both silent for a minute and Hermione decided now was a good time to lie down on the floor. She was surprised when Malfoy's head appeared next to hers. She turned her head and realized he was lying opposite of her. She wiggled way up so that her head was resting on his shoulder and smiled when he lifted his head and mirrored her motion. They stayed like for a while in confortable silence, connected to one another.

"Do you really hate your father?" she asked after another swig.

"I didn't always," he said. "I used to worship him."

"And Voldemort?"

"My father worships him, I worshipped my father, so naturally I worshipped Voldemort." He paused before holding his fingers up as if he were counting. "How many times did I just say worship?"

"Seven," Hermione mumbled. "Yeah….seven."

"I hate them all," he continued. "I thought it was just about power, but it's more than that. The things they do, it's twisted and demented and I don't want to be a part of it anymore."

He was quiet for a moment before continuing. "Do you remember when we were in the hospital wing, when I was suffering hallucinations?"

"Yes," she said, and then shuddered.

"In every one I saw my father. And every time he was killing you in some way or another."

"Thank you," she said, turning so that she was facing him.

"For telling you about my nightmares?" he laughed.

"For saving me that day."

With that he turned towards her. She could feel his breath on her lips, which were nearly touching his.

"You're welcome," he said and moved just enough so that his nose brushed against hers. He turned away and took another swig of fire whiskey.

"You could get out," Hermione said quietly. "Tell Dumbledore, he could protect you."

"I don't deserve his protection," he whispered.

Hermione went silent, thinking about those exact words as she had said them not too long ago to him.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, shaking herself from the memory of the night before. With one last glance up at Malfoy's closed door she followed Harry out of the room. But not before whispering a quietly "happy birthday, Draco."

So there's that chapter. Thank you for reading. Whether you're a first timer or you have had this story tucked away in your favorites for the past four years. I will do my best to continue to update regularly. I have a renewed passion for this story.

Sincerely,

Wolfie