Important A/n: So guys, this is how updates are probably going to work. It will be every week to two weeks between updates. Life is getting really full and I cannot guarantee an update every week, but I can certainly get one every two weeks. If I have the time to do an update in a week, it will certainly be done, but not always anymore. Hope you keep reading anyways :D

I have a blog now; it's not centered around fanfictions, more my own work. There's nothing up there yet but it will have my own work soon you guys. If you are at all interested, just go ahead and check it out.

The facebook link is at the top of my profile! Thanks to my beta, JDeppIsMyLovely, and enjoy!

My Once Pleasant Dreams

"Funny," the Italian mused, looking as far from amused as possible, "because we ran into him yesterday, and he tried to kill us."

Hermione blinked several times, processing what Blaise had said. That made no sense, considering the only person who had posed as Welsh would not be doing so again, not with his death already having been announced. Why would this person parade around Diagon Alley if he knew that it was under a bad disguise; Rodolphus had been acting cautious lately, and would not throw away so much planning on a horrible idea like this? Besides, they were arranging a time to meet and she doubted he would risk being arrested beforehand.

"That's ridiculous," Draco muttered, tossing the blankets off his lower body so he could stand. The git was clad in only boxers, and he turned his back on the two people in his room, walking towards his wardrobe. Hermione bunched the blankets closer to her frame, not afraid of Blaise hurting her but conscious of how cold it had been last night and the affect it had on her body.

"We all know that Welsh is dead," the blond continued, throwing miscellaneous pieces of clothing around the room. Hermione assumed he was aggravated and his clothing was receiving the rough treatment in response; in her opinion, there were too many fine silks and linens scattered around the floor to be throwing them like he was. It looked like a lot of money getting quite wrinkled. "We all also know that Lestrange is not going to chance getting caught by posing as someone. So what are you telling us Zabini? A Welsh look-alike tried to murder you and Pansy, and you escaped unscratched?"

The Italian's lip twitched, an action that was not caught by Draco but didn't pass his brunette companion. She narrowed her eyes at his odd reaction. "You would think so wouldn't you?"

The blond finally turned around, having found a dark green shirt that he hastily buttoned. "What are you going on about?"

He didn't respond, just grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled it to the side, revealing a wicked looking mark. Hermione, interested, dropped the sheets back down to the bed and sat up on her knees, peering at the blemish.

"Is that the Dark Mark," she asked in a hoarse voice, looking alarmed as she took in the blunt symbol. He didn't respond here either, just cringed. "How did you get that?"

He scowled, a look that was so close to the expression Draco often wore that it was startling. "You would be amazed what one will take when faced with few options."

She frowned, and opened her mouth to ask just what that meant, when Draco walked up, trousers draped over an arm and interrupted her. "I see," he said critically, studying the mark for a moment before his friend hid it again. "You've already recovered from it?"

"It's not deep," the Italian responded, eyes dancing towards the Gryffindor for a moment. "I don't believe it was intended to be everlasting. The attacker didn't ask much and didn't stay for long once he was finished carving it."

"And you didn't think to hex him or something before he escaped?"

Blaise glared at his blond haired friend. "You don't think I attempted that? The only reason I even fucking allowed him to carve anything into my flesh because it was either that or I could let him kill Pansy." He shrugged. "It's not like I expect you to understand though."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

Blaise said something, but the girl who was still on her knees on the bed tuned him out. She could sense and argument coming between the two, and didn't think she wanted to be around when it became a full fledge mess. Scooting across the bed she slid off the side, blocking the conversation out. She was passing the window when she noted there was an owl there, looking perturbed. She could only imagine it had shown up sometime in the night and been ignored. How had they both slept through the incisive noise a beak makes on glass? Opening the window quietly, she allowed the owl to fly in before shutting the window, and hurrying out. She would simply have to bug Malfoy for details about the important bits of this conversation later, but it was just too early to deal with this nonsense.

She didn't even check to see who the letter was from.

Shutting the door between the rooms, she slid down it. Just last night she had slept in the bed of Malfoy and survived. If her friends didn't already hate her, they would if they ever found out.

"Pansy's fine though," Draco inquired for perhaps the third time. He had heard Blaise's story twice now, and although it was interesting to a degree, he couldn't figure anything out. If Hermione was Lestrange's initial target, then why target two Slytherin's who were not even close to her? It made no sense.

He nodded grimly. "She's with Daphne right now; I wouldn't leave her alone. He didn't really hurt her, just kicked her a few times. I still don't know what he wanted." The Italian ran a hand over his face. "I reported it, so someone will be around to question yes and hopefully do something about it later."

The blond nodded slowly. "Why do you think this person posed as Lestrange?"

Zabini shrugged. "I'm not sure. If Nott wasn't in the custody of the Ministry, then I would say he was behind this. Considering though that this person knew who to be to throw me off, just says that they must have assumed that at least I, if not Pansy as well, know more than the newspapers."

"Know about Rodolphus and what he did to Granger," Draco muttered, running a hand through his hair, now fully dressed. "That girl has caused me so much bloody trouble."

His friend couldn't help it, so Blaise openly laughed at the blonds comment. He received a scowl in return, but all the Italian could do was shake his head. "When are you going to drop the act?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "What act?"

Blaise sighed, exasperated. "The 'I hate Granger and cannot tolerate all the problems she has put me through, even though at any given time I have had the full opportunity to leave her in the dust like the prick I am but I haven't because I am suppressing deeper emotions for her' act."

The blond scoffed. "That's insane; I don't feel anything for Granger other then irritation."

"Then why was she in your bed when I arrived?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "That is none of your concern."

Zabini cocked an eyebrow of his own. "So something did happen."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Shut it, Zabini," he hissed, turning away to grab his wand. Merlin, his friend could sometimes be exceptionally bothersome. Besides, why would he divulge information onto his 'dear' friend when he hardly understood what happened himself? The only reason she was even there in his bed was because she fell asleep!

"We're off topic," he continued, running his fingers through his hair. "Why is someone impersonating a dead man?"

Blaise pressed his lips together. This was obviously Draco's way of avoiding saying anything, and he didn't like it. Skipping around topics wasn't good, and this buildup of tension between the pair had been going on for months. He was sick of watching it, but unfortunately, the git was right and they had more pressing matters at hand. He would just have to pop the question again with the blond was relaxed.

"I wonder whatever happened to Rodolphus anyways," Blaise mused, joining in the conversation. The mark still hurt, but it was nothing big. Whatever the motive for carving the mark into his skin had been, it was lost to everyone else; no one understood it. Not him, not Granger and not Malfoy.

They had a lot of things to discuss indeed. If there was still a motive to kill the brunette then this had to be some sort of warning, right?

It took a lot of effort, but he made it. Bound by a distant relation, the wards of Malfoy Manor had allowed him entrance without alerting anyone of his presence. He had Bella to thank for that and Narcissa for marrying the blond bastard.

It was frigid, and he used the wand to cast a heating charm. Who's was it? He had no idea. All he knew was that it worked well enough for him and would assist him in dangerous tasks, very, very soon. Wandering further down the dark path he had once used as a Death Eater, he eventually stopped, able to see what he wanted to.

Malfoy Manor. The girl had mentioned this place, and he was pretty sure she would be residing there for the holidays. Now that he was through the wards, it would be simple to find her room and kill her quickly. But he didn't want that. The Mudblood had been responsible for the death of Martha and Andrew, and for that she would pay. It wasn't that he ever loved the woman who bore his halfblood child, or the child for that matter, but simply that he had been in need a of a special type of companionship once he got out of that fucking prison.

Oh, and he had so many plans when he first left. Meeting Theodore Nott that summer near the outskirts of his own Manor had been by sheer chance. The boy, blinded by a jealousy that he could not embody the same aloof manner, the same arrogance that his blond nephew could, had been quick to side with him on a plan. Years of being in Draco Malfoy's shadow had made him bitter. The once dark, proud Pureblood had fallen out of Theo's favor the day he did not kill Dumbledore, and had since not been as admired. In fact, that day Nott had told him just why a hate for his once dear friend had begun.

"He doesn't deserve what he has," the teen had spat, still standing on the safe side of his wards. In fact, they had never spoke on the same side of that boundary when they met at his home. It was only just before school started that they met face to face, without barriers.

Rodolphus had been running from what he expected was either an Auror trainee or a well trained businessman, when he ended up on the Nott property outskirts. Whoever owned the property next door did not take kindly to visitors. He had happened upon the boy, practicing Quidditch and Nott had been the first to speak. When asked how he escaped Azkaban a second time, Lestrange had refused to answer, and he had seen admiration in the young boys eyes that he at least kept some things to himself, unlike Draco who constantly gloated or bullied.

And Draco had quickly become the topic. Nott had a very strong opinion on his distant nephew, and it was a fact that had sparked the man's interest. He had lost track of Hermione Granger only four days prior, and had since fallen off the Wizarding world's map, but it wouldn't be a long departure from the worlds prying eyes. Although Rodolphus never mentioned the thigns htat had transpired between him, the Mudblood, and her family, he could already see a plan forming. His nephew may not have been close to the girl by any means, but if the curses he had thrown at her had any affect, then Draco would at least be involved. How could his nephew resist taunting the girl then?

"You have quite a bit of hate for my nephew," the man said, whipping back greasy hair. If his dark, dangerous appearance at all worried the boy, he did not show it.

"I didn't used to, but now I certainly do. I hate him nearly as much as Potter's Mudblood."

Now that was interesting. "And why do you hate her so much?"

The brown haired boy had laughed harshly. "Do you even have to ask? An entire fucking war ensues to kill her kind and she survives? She was in Malfoy Manor and those idiots let her escape! The bitch should've been killed in a moment, yet they allowed her the opportunity to escape. Now she's still alive. If I wasn't in school, if there was someone I could blame it on, I would strangle the girl in the hallways. She simply does not belong."

The boy's firey hatred towards someone that Rodolphus had many problems with was truly interesting. Intruiged by the boy's hate, he took a chance. "Do you fly out here often boy?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes. Why do you ask?"

Smiling a crooked smile, the dark wizard bore his ugly, discolored teeth. "I have a proposition for you. If you help me with a problem I'm currently in, I'll help you one- up my nephew."

Suspicion had been evident across the boys features, but Rodolphus had seen the gears turning in his head. He was considering the deal, if only because it offered the chance to get something over Draco, who seemed to embody nearly all of Nott's hate.

"How do you suppose we go about that?" he had asked suspiciously.

Laughing, the escapee had given his head a good shake. "You will see. Come out here tomorrow and we will discuss things."

And the following day, Theodore Nott had been outside, waiting for his arrival, and they had talked.

The boy had served his purpose. He had impersonated people, caused Granger pain, and set his nephew on edge. Draco Malfoy may not have been a key target when he first got out of prison, but now he had become one, simply for getting too involved with the Mudblood.

But Nott had been too cocky. He had believed every single word fed to him, and then taken it upon himself to take the bullying further. He had tried to push Granger too far, tried to get in her face too much, and Rodolphus was nearly certain that had been his downfall. Had he stepped back in line and not constantly of gone up to the dorm room, he would not be in Ministry Custody. And Rodolphus would not be on his own.

He smirked. Of course, Nott's friends were useless when it came to recruiting help, with Zabini ignoring the request and Malfoy getting too cozy with the enemy, but his own friends were not too bad. He still knew a few Death Eater's that escaped imprisonment in Azkaban, and had recently met with one.

Amycus Carrow was still as vile as ever, a fact about his old friend that he loved.

But that was a different topic entirely. Crouching in the familiar bushes that he had often stood behind when watching trainee Death Eater's duel, he studied the Manor. It looked the same, so remarkably similar, that he would not be surprised if he went inside and found everything in the same manner as the last time he was there. But he knew that would not happen. There was a monster living on the third floor of that place now; a monster that had once been the collected mind of Lucius Malfoy. Things had changed in Malfoy Manor, despite its appearance, and he would need to play things safe.

And playing things safe met not waiting around in the bushes until he had the ideal plan. Stepping back, he checked to make sure he could see no one outside and then turned on his heel, walking back the way he had come.

He would see her again soon enough. Reaching into his pocket, he stared down at the crumbled invitation to Narcissa's Ball, a trinket he had picked up just the other day. Yes, this would come in handy indeed.

Hermione was bored. She had left Malfoy's room sometime ago, and after replaying the strange sleeping situation in her mind a couple of times she had concluded that nothing had happened. Still though, it would make things severely awkward between the two of them, and knowing that Blaise Zabini had caught them in bed together only made things worse.

She sighed, playing with the curls in her hair. She had finished yet another book, and was no closer to seeing Lucius than her first day. Granted, she had been there a total of four so far, but she still felt like she was getting nothing done. Of course, she could always go upstairs under a cloaking charm and study him herself. Maybe she could even stupefy him and examine him. That would make Malfoy happy, right? She would've forfilled the requirements, and then she could go home.

It's not a bad idea I suppose. Donning her slippers- for she may have changed into regular clothes, but shoes seemed unnecessary at the time- she turned and made to leave the room when several raps on her window caught her attention. Spinning around, she was revealed to see it was an owl, not a person, and lowered her wand she had whipped out.

Stop being so jumpy! You have not even fully set a time with Rodolphus yet! If he plans to avoid this place, he will wait. Exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, she walked to the window and allowed the bird in, realizing it was Ginny's owl once again. Thankfully this time though, the letter tied to the birds leg was not red like a Howler, and she exhaled yet another breath as she reached over and gave the animal some seed, something that had been in the room to begin with.

She reached out and took the letter, untying it, only to find that the contents was exceptionally short.

Hermione~

Floo us. We need to talk. All of us- Harry, Ron and myself- are worried about you. What's happened? We couldn't even locate you. Harry got this idea in his head that we could find you and confront you about those marks he saw on your arms- and yes, both I and Ronald know, so don't even try and deny it- but his idea did not work out so well. We have no idea where you are, except that wherever it is, it's heavily warded. Please floo us! I really want to know what has happened! I'm worried Hermione, I am. You should see Harry and Ron; they have been pulling their hair out for days.

I'm not going to go into any long explanations because there is simply too much to say. Please, floo us. You don't have to come over if you don't want to, but at least talk. We want to help you. I'm not sure where you are or what you are doing, but be safe.

~Ginny

She felt her heart sink. They were worried, stressed-out, and trying to find her, when in reality she was probably in one of the safest- ironically- places she could be right now. The wards were specific and no one could enter the grounds without being permitted. That made her sigh just a bit, because that also met none of her friends could storm through the fireplace and demand answers.

The brunette sat down slowly. What was she going to do? She could always floo them, but what would she say? How could she begin? And would they even believe her? She had been delaying this as long as possible, and now, staring down at her newest letter, she wondered if ignoring this cry to help would make her friends begin to distance themselves from her because she kept such big, terrible things private. That was certainly not something she wanted to happen, but she couldn't figure it out. How did you tell your three best friends that you let the enemy in on the secret beforehand? They would flip, especially Ron.

Lying down on her bed, she ran her hands over her temples. It appeared she had nothing else to do, and the time had come to come clean. Gulping, she wondered if Malfoy would accidently walk in and find her gone.

Perhaps I should let him know.

That was a simply ridiculous thought, considering that she owed nothing to him. Moreover, why would she care if he came in and found her gone? Knowing the git, he would take up residence in one of her comfortable chairs and wait for her return, just to bitch at her. That was certainly a reason not to alert him.

But the reality of it was, was that she wanted him to come with. She wanted to have somebody on her side who already knew the story and wouldn't call her a liar, and wouldn't get mad at her for not telling them ages ago. She wanted someone to lean on, and someone who would stick with her- even if it had to be Malfoy. But most of all, she wanted someone's hand to hold, and Malfoy had already done that for her on more then one occasion.

By the time Hermione opened the door to Malfoy's room again, Blaise was gone and he was sitting by the large window in a chair, gazing out. She could see his profile, and from the look on his face he was quite stressed.

"I wondered if you ran upstairs again," he drawled, not turning to look at her. "Usually you stomp around that room like a horse, but today you have been rather silent."

She could tell that was his attempt to insult her, but any snide undertones were absent. He had not insulted her fully in a long time. "How was your talk with Blaise," she asked, stepping into the room, completely ignoring his comment. She took a seat on the floor beside him, relaxing back against the bed. It wasn't until she was comfortable that she realized he was giving her an odd look.

"There are chairs you know," he said, indicating with his head towards the other few chairs in his room, promptly ignoring the fact that she could sit on his bed. "And it went fine."

She nodded, but didn't move to grab a chair as he had offered. It wasn't the gentlemanly thing to do, to make her retrieve her own, but she was still stunned on the fact that he offered. He offered her to sit on a chair, to sit on level ground with him, and that in itself could be considered amazing. His racism towards her had been rapidly dwindling down recently, but this was very different. Offering her to sit on his bed the previous night- which had later turned into sleeping there- could be considered cheap in some instances, but this was completely different. She didn't even see the racism anymore.

"Good," she said, turning to look out the window once more.

There was a silence between them, and it was a comfortable silence, despite everything that had happened the last few days that should've made it awkward, but it just wasn't. Draco however, eventually broke that calm piece.

"Was there something you wanted?"

She pursed her lips, having forgotten the reason why she came in there in the first place. There went the tranquil moment. "I received a letter from Ginny."

"Another howler?"

"Not exactly," she said, shifting a bit. "She wants me to floo her."

He cocked an eyebrow and shifted his gaze down to her, "And do you really think that's a good idea."

She shrugged. "They need to know."

He rolled his eyes. "Then good luck Granger, because your friends maybe the soft-hearted Gryffindor type, but I doubt they will take too kindly to this."

"I know," she said, standing again. Any ideas of using Malfoy to help her was obviously not going to work. He hardly wanted to discuss the topic. She may be strong enough to do it on her own, but that didn't mean she wouldn't mind the help. "Guess I better start then."

He didn't respond, so she headed away and went back towards her room. The shifting of a chair and the sound of footsteps caused her to look back. Malfoy had gotten up and followed, and was now just behind her. She narrowed her eyes.

"What are you doing?"

He smirked, but it wasn't the malicious smile it had once been; there was tenderness beneath the surface. "You think I'm going to miss this? Don't even think about going through the fire Granger; I want to listen."

Hermione rolled her eyes, suppressing a small smile. "Just don't say anything," she remarked, turning to continue on her way. Malfoy may be following her, which was what she had wanted, but she wanted to ease all of her friends into the conversation, not have the git mutter some snarky comment and alert the others of his presence before she even got to that part.

This could prove to still be a very difficult conversation after all.

After connecting to the Weasley Floo channel, talking with Mrs. Weasley for twenty minutes, and Fred and George for six, Hermione had finally gotten through to the three people she had been attempting to contact in the first place. Seeing their faces in the fire though really didn't feel personal enough though, and the notion to come through to the Burrow and rejoin Malfoy in this cold place later was getting bigger and bigger; Merlin, she wanted to be there, she wanted to see them. And above all else, she wanted to return to a place where she felt like she belonged, with a family that loved her.

Family. They were not her blood, and Harry and the Weasley's could never replace her mother and father, but knowing they were there in a home where everyone loved one another hurt her. They had the luxury of warmth and caring people while she had Malfoy in a cold, bitter place.

Then again, Malfoy hadn't been so bad lately.

"Hermione," Ginny said brightly, although the emotion behind her voice seemed a bit forced. "We were hoping you would Floo!"

"I could tell you wanted to talk," she replied, smiling back. It was forced as well, but more from nerves than anything.

"How are you," Harry asked, and she ignored the fact that Ginny had mentioned that he had tried to track her without her consent.

"I'm doing alright," she said, glancing back for half a moment at the blond who had reclined on her bed, his shoulders resting against her pillows. He looked far too comfortable and it was unsettling to think that he could be comfortable lying on her bed when not so long ago she had been overly comfortable in his.

"Can we come through," Ron inquired, seemingly the least happy of the three. "We need to talk, all of us."

"No," Draco muttered, and she shot him a sharp look. It had obviously not gone unnoticed by her friends, however.

"Is someone there," Harry inquired. "Hermione, where are you?"

"I'm dealing with some… business matters," she replied, knowing that if they found out she was at Malfoy's and she had said she was 'with a friend' that it would only cause more issues. There were enough issues to deal with at the prior.

"Are you at home," Ginny asked, sounding suspicious. "This Floo connection seems differnent. Are you at a friend's?"

"I told you I'm taking care of some business," she replied, eyes dancing over the three faces in front of her. Yes, this was going to go very bad indeed.

"Can we come visit you at home later? We really should talk in person," Ron continued, narrowing his eyes.

"I actually won't be returning home for the holidays," she muttered, looking down at her feet. "This task will take up until the start of school again."

"Just what kind of business are you doing Hermione," Ron asked, cocking his head just a bit. "It's the holidays. Nothing should be keeping you away from your family."

She cringed, looking down. This was it, the end of the line, and now faced with that comment she knew she would have to say something now or completely lose her nerve to admit to anything.

"My parents are dead," she muttered quietly, and she heard Malfoy move on the bed.

"What? Speak up Hermione, we can't hear you," Ginny said, puzzled.

"I said my parents are dead."

There was a moment's pause and she could feel the intense stares of her three closest friends, even with the distance separating them. She shuffled her feet, and a moment later she felt Malfoy's presence behind her. He didn't touch her, but the fact that someone was there who was done judging her was comforting.

Harry spoke first. "We're coming through. Open the Floo up and allow us in."

Oh good, another complication. "Actually, Harry about that-"

"Potter if you think you are getting into my home you are quite mistaken," Draco snapped, entering the conversation. He stepped into their lines of vision and the conversation, scowling once more.

The looks on their faces were ones of pure and utter horror. "You're at Malfoy's house," Ginny said at length, looking somewhere between mystified and horrified. "Why exactly?"

"Business," she said, shrugging sheepishly.

"You have business with Malfoy," Ron repeated, alarmed. "When did this happen?!"

"Well Weasley," Draco drawled, making the brunette severely regret her choice to want support, "when your friends are to blind to notice things, the enemy always ends up taking your place."

"That's a lie!"

"Yes well, you can debate that at school because it is out of the question for you to think I would ever open my Floo network to the three of you."

"Open the Network right now Malfoy," Ginny seethed, looking rather angry. "She's our friend and now we have multiple things to discuss."

He waved his hand. "Forget it."

Hermione turned to him and grabbed his arm. "Let them through."

"You said I couldn't go through," she said, eyes large. If he was going to be a bother, lounge on her bed, stand behind her like an eternal shadow, and then he could do this for her. As her friends had been pointing out, her holiday was going to be spent here and not with her parents- even though that was impossible, but her friends didn't know that. "Let me talk to them. I'm here helping you. Let me talk to them; I need to fix this."

For a moment, she thought that he was going to shoot her down, tell her he would never allow her friends here, but he simply sighed. "Don't start screaming at each other, and don't leave the room. The last thing I need is to have my mother- or my father- to see one of them. And don't make them think this is an offer to come here; my Floo network is not open to them outside today." He turned on his heel and left.

Hermione smiled after his retreating form. He was stubborn, but he was the only one who could permit access to the Manor. He didn't have to, and any other time he wouldn't have but this time he has, and she felt good about that.

"I thought you wanted to listen."

He glanced over his shoulder at the door, pulling out his wand to change the wards for a moment. "Yes, well that was before I had to stay in the same room as them. I think I can handle not being here for that."

She smiled again. "Thank you Malfoy."

In return, he simply scoffed. "Don't thank me; I just wish you luck. I don't know how you plan to go about this, but good luck to you."

Hermione nodded, and then he walked through the door and left, left her to deal with her friends and whatever they had to say to her. Taking a breath, she turned back to the three faces in the fireplace, all of whom looked exceptionally irritated.

"You can come through," she said, nodding to them. Now she had to tell them, and hopefully no one would end up screaming loudly and causing an uproar in the house.

It had taken over an hour alone to explain why Hermione was staying at Malfoy Manor before she could even begin to tell the rest of her story; what had happened with Rodolphus, her parents, and everything else. She told them what she knew, but excluded Blaise, Pansy and Theo if only because she didn't fully understand their involvement. For the most part they didn't speak, didn't ask her questions, and this time she didn't break down and cry. She looked around the room, but not at their faces. She couldn't. Explaining it to Malfoy as one thing, where her emotional connections to him in the past had been brutal and uncaring. Her friends, the people she had carried and who had carried her over the years, were far harder to face. They knew too many things about her and the emotional ties ran deep. It was harder to tell them.

When she finished her story, it was silent. She didn't look up, and instead looked out the window. The silence was suffocating, and she was waiting for the moment when her friends would get up and leave her in the dark.

It wasn't until she felt a hand grasping her own that she looked up and met Ginny's eyes. She wore a soft smile, and an expression that could only be read as sad. Sitting beside Hermione on the bed, instead of the chair she had been occupying, she wrapped her arms around the brunette and rested her head on her shoulder.

The two boys joined in hugging their friend, never saying a word. And for a long time there was silence, and she couldn't completely read what they were thinking. But it didn't matter. She would take the silence; take the support, so long as they didn't have to shun her for her secrets again.

She felt connected to her friends again.

Hermione was staring at a blank piece of paper later that night when her door opened. Peering over her shoulder, she spotted Malfoy, wearing his pajama bottoms and a ruffled shirt. It took her a moment to realize that it was the shirt he had been wearing last night before she had fallen asleep and ended up waking to his naked chest.

"There was no screaming," he commented, not leaving the doorway.

She nodded. "They didn't speak a lot. I told them everything, they asked a few questions, and then they left together, saying they would owl. I don't think they know how to respond."

"I don't think anyone would know how to respond," he replied, running his fingers through his hair.

The brunette nodded, pulling her knees up to rest her chin upon. "Was there something you wanted?"

He glanced around. "I was wondering if the Gryffindor party was still overtaking my home."

She shook her head. "They left a while ago."

"Alright," he said, glancing around once more. "Get some sleep Granger; we will go and see my father tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," she asked, raising an eyebrow. "The day before your mother's Ball?"

"Don't get the wrong idea Granger, my mother is probably gone to drag me away to do meaningless tasks for something I'm not attending, but we will go see him. We need to get this over with."

The girl nodded. "So tomorrow when?"

He shrugged, "We'll see. Blaise and Pansy will be arriving tomorrow as well; they are staying over until the twenty-seventh."

Hermione nodded. "Okay."

"Goodnight Granger," he said, inclining his head towards her as he grabbed the door handle again.

"Night Malfoy," she said smiling softly. It wasn't until the door was shut that she pulled the letter out from beneath the blank piece of paper.

Tick tock, you're time is nearly up.

I'm watching you Mudblood; count down your days.

She took a shaky breath. The letter had arrived during the talk with her friends, and she had only read it minutes before Malfoy opened the door. He was counting the days; this would happen soon, her confrontation with Rodolphus, and her examination of Lucius. Life was going to be complicated, more than it had been before.

Shoving the letter back beneath the blank paper, she turned towards her bed. A good night's sleep was what she really needed.

But that night, both teens found it exceptionally hard to sleep. Rolling around on mattresses that had too much space, they both unconsciously noted that there was a side of the bed that was uncomfortably cold.