Okay friends, I'm all caught up with uploading the finished chapters, so you'll have to wait for my next update. I don't have a set day for when I update, but it always seems to fall on the weekend. Please leave me your thoughts!

He was in the hospital for another six days.

In that time, Granger scarcely left his room. Conversation was kept to a minimum, and not only due to Dracos wavering consciousness. So much had happened in less than a week and he knew that she was processing it all, just as he was. But that didn't stop him from watching her as she read, or gazed out the window, or even as she slept in the pale green armchair by the door.

Sometimes she would catch him staring, and he would quickly look away… Most of the time. On occasion, Draco would hold her gaze until she was the one forced to look away, usually with a bright blush staining her cheeks. In those moments, he found himself too exhausted to care what she might think, too tired of fighting the longing that was making it hard to breathe. In those moments, he pushed the thoughts of Weasel and his mother out of his head and allowed himself to drink her in, unabashed, unashamed, uncaring.

After he had gone on his little adventure and re-opened his wound, the healer in charge refused to give him any strong pain medications unless he consented to be restrained. Draco flat out refused, much to the chagrin of Hermione. She tried to reason with him but even as stubborn as she was, he just wouldn't relent. He was already all but incarcerated, and he didn't need further reminder. So he endured with minimal pain potions, putting forth a brave front.

The first few days were the hardest. The gash on his torso felt like a white-hot brand, searing his insides. Sometimes the pain was so unequivocally raw, that Draco was certain that the curse had a flesh-eating component to it. Apparently, the curse that Weasley had used on him was unidentified and therefore, had to be healed without the aid of magic. They had to bring in a muggle doctor who was the parent of a young wizard in Beauxbatons to see to his wounds.

As the magical healer could be of no help, a junior healer, Luna Lovegood as it turned out, was assigned to monitor his condition. When Granger had to leave the hospital, which was usually once a day, Luna was the one who would sit by Draco's side. Sometimes, she would be on duty, in her mediwitch robes, but on this particular day, she wore a strange assortment of muggle clothing that made Draco's head spin.

She wore a pair of tights that had little green daisies all over them, a bright yellow tutu, pink platform boots that had blue laces and a charcoal men's vest. Her hair had been styled into a dozen or so braids, wrapped haphazardly into a bumpy bun on the top of her head.

"Good Morning, Draco." Luna said as she plopped into the armchair. "Would you like some tea?"

Draco wanted to groan, this had become somewhat of a ritual. Loony would always come with a new exotic flavoured tea to sample along with curious pastries and biscuits. At first, Draco turned his nose up at the notion. He was a proper English boy, and afternoon tea was not supposed to consist of fruity teas or doughnuts.

But his Pureblood manners kicked in and he reluctantly accepted the offers. Now, however, he looked forward to the strange witch's visits - much to his complete horror. She still seemed to be floating off somewhere in her own world, rambling on about some non-existent creature or another, but she was kind and didn't force him to talk. Begrudgingly, he admitted that her presence was calming and a welcome distraction from his current woes. He would never tell her, but the teas and treats she brought were delectable. He was particularly fond of the Chai tea and the Rice Crosbies... Rice Cronchies? The one with marshmallows.

"Yes, thank you, Lovegood." He straightened his blankets and accepted a cup when she offered it to him.

"That's green tea, a very popular drink in Asia, it originated from China, however." She sat on the edge of his bed and plopped a plate onto the side table by his bed. "These are called Mochi, I think they look quite similar to an acromantula egg, don't you?"

Draco furrowed his brow at the unassuming little blobs. There was an assortment of colours and Draco had the urge to poke one. So he did.

"What is it made of?" He recoiled slightly at the gooey texture.

"It's a Japanese sticky rice cake. Mochi is usually made from sweet rice, cooked and pounded until it becomes a paste that is very sticky and smooth, then formed into cakes." She pinched a red mochi and bit into it. "They come in many flavours, I brought some sweet ones but they can also be savoury. It is traditionally eaten in New Year's Ozoni soup or baked with soy sauce."

Draco tried not to roll his eyes and award Ravenclaw 10 points for her very Granger-like response. At the thought of her, his eyes unwittingly flicked to her normal spot. For the first time, she had left before he woke up, and he found that he didn't like that at all. He never asked where she went when she left, and she didn't offer up any information. Draco had assumed that she'd be visiting the Weasel, considering she'd returned with a puffy, tear-stained face on several occasions.

Where are you, Granger?

"Furniture Shopping."

Draco stiffened. Did I say that out loud?

"Nope."

He propped himself up on his elbows and narrowed his eyes at the eccentric witch beside him.

Are you reading my mind?

Luna either ignored his mental query, or he truly was going insane. It was easy to feel that way around Loony. She was harmless enough, but Draco often felt flustered in situations like this. He'd learned that changing the topic of conversation was often the best way to shake it off.

"So, did you say Granger was furniture shopping?" His voice cracked slightly, but Luna just gave a small nod and kept her attention on her tea.

She bought a new bed. Draco's heart dropped at the prospect of having a wall divide him from Hermione once again. That is until he remembered the whispered conversation from several nights ago.

"I'm a terrible person, Ginny." Granger sniffed.

"You are absolutely not! Do you hear me, Hermione Granger? He has been horrible to you for years. Maybe getting yourself into this situation in the first place was a mistake, but I don't think anyone can blame you for the fallout. As much as I hate to say it, the only thing you can do now is get him out of your life."

"You're right, Ginny. It's over now, I'll tell him when he wakes up."

But she hadn't told him any such thing, and that kept Draco in a painful state of hopefulness. Would she wait until the last moment to tell him? Had she changed her mind? He shook the thoughts from his head.

He looked over at the treats, trying to hide his curiosity. "What flavour is this?" He pinched up a purple ball and sniffed it.

"That's Taro. It's a root, like ginger. It's naturally vibrant purple like that. Nargles are particularly fond of them on Valentine's Day." She gave him a lazy smile and propped her boots up on the table.

The rest of tea was had in silence. Draco didn't care for the green tea, but he had to stop himself from inhaling every one of the sticky little sweets.

Lovegood stayed for several more hours, checking on Draco's wound and knitting some sort of convoluted, multi-coloured poncho. Apparently, the weaved pattern was proven to cleanse the wearer's aura. Draco passed the time reading about the fire mages of Singapore, hoping to find a connection between them and his own brand of magic. He found none and, as far as he knew, Granger hadn't found anything in her research either.

He knew it was important to find answers to his condition, but he couldn't help feeling like he should be focusing on finding his mother, even though realistically he was useless in his current bedridden state. Potter and one of the lead Aurors stopped by to ask questions but didn't have any leads. The ministry was still sifting through charred evidence at the manor but so far, it seemed to be dead end after dead end.

Granger had returned shortly after dinner looking exhausted, but Draco could detect an underlying excitement as well. She waved goodbye to Luna with a bright smile before she parked herself, cross-legged, at the end of his bed. Draco crossed his legs to one side to accommodate her and gave her a quick glare. What was it with everyone sitting on his bed?

"Did Luna tell you?" Hermione asked, ignoring his sour expression. She grasped both of her ankles and rocked forward, looking like she was about to burst.

"Lovegood told me plenty of things, Granger, but I dare say the effects of suntulip relish on flea bites is not what has you this excited." He smirked at her momentary befuddlement that his reply caused.

"What relish?" She waved her hands in the air dismissively. "Not important." She smiled and let out a nervous breath. "You get to come home tomorrow!"

Draco didn't know how to react, so he just kept his mouth shut and blinked at her. He knew that he should be thrilled at the prospect of remaining with Granger but he couldn't make the pieces fit. Did he hear her wrong that night when she said it was over? Did she change her mind? His confusion over this whole situation was threatening to make his anger and frustration surface but he worked hard to suppress it.

Hermione's face started to fall and now she looked at him with concern, then disappointment. She hung her head and started picking at a loose thread on her jeans. It snapped Draco out of his thoughts immediately. He hated that her mood had deflated so quickly, so easily, he sat up carefully and grabbed her hand.

"I don't understand, Granger," He dipped his head to catch her gaze. "You're letting me stay?"

She let her eyes lock with his but still kept her face pointed down, making her look startlingly young and innocent.

"Of course," she said, sounding a little confused. "I mean.. Unless you don't want to…"

"No, that's not it, Granger. Of course I want to... It's just..." She perked up a bit at his words and unconsciously inched towards him.

"What you said…" Draco paused to find the right words. "I overheard the conversation you had with Weaslette. I heard you say that this was a mistake and you were going to tell me it was over when I woke up."

Her face flashed with realization and she covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh god, Draco… I'm sorry, I didn't mean you. Did you think I was going to send you back all this time?" She looked horrified.

It was his turn to look away and he answered her with a shrug.

"God, Draco, I wasn't talking about you."

"Then who…?" Draco didn't have to study her face long to put the pieces together, and once he did, he couldn't decide whether to jump for joy or smack himself in the face for being such an imbecile. She was talking about the Weasel.

"Yes, Ron and I broke up. Well, I guess it's more accurate to say that I left him. He wasn't very happy." She didn't seem very bothered by this information. In fact, she seemed almost proud of herself. Merlin knows that Draco was.

"So, I can come home?" He asked hesitantly.

She beamed and nodded vigorously.

The hopefulness that he had tried to keep at bay was now overflowing into an elation that he couldn't keep from spreading across his face. Not only was he going to be allowed to stay with her, but the stupid fucking ginger prick was out of the picture too.

Draco grabbed Hermione by her hips and hauled her to sit sideways in his lap and wrapped her in a tight embrace. She yelped and immediately started trying to pry herself away.

"Draco, you're still recovering! I might hurt you!"

He chuckled and squeezed her tighter. "Oh come now Granger, you weigh about as much as a bowtruckle."

She snorted. "You've been spending too much time with Luna."

If Draco wasn't so happy he would have been mortified by that comment but as it was, he could only laugh along with her.

As their laughter died down, Granger relaxed into his embrace and she started lightly running her fingers over his forearm. He bent his neck and rested his forehead against her temple, basking in the warmth that was Hermione. They stayed like this for a while before Draco's pain returned full force. He tried to fight through it, but the smarty pants witch didn't miss the sudden tension in him or the fact that he had been holding his breath. Reluctantly he let her go, and they spent the rest of the evening in a new kind of silence.

—-

The next evening, after a final check-up and discharge, Draco and Hermione stepped through the floo and into the living room of her flat. He barely had time to take in the scene before him before a certain orange-haired woman bounded forward and yelled "SURPRISE!"

He flinched away from the witch and instinctively drew Granger behind him.

"I thought we said we weren't going to do that." Neville said from the other side of the room. He was setting forks and knives down on the presumably new dining room table. When he turned around, his eyes immediately narrowed on the protective stance Draco had assumed.

"Yes, well I couldn't resist. What's a surprise party without yelling 'surprise'?" Ginny shrugged and plopped down into one of the chairs set around the table.

"Just a plain old party, Gin." Of course, the boy who lived was here too. He was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables on the bartop. The muggle way, obviously, it's not like he was a wizard or anything.

Granger huffed and made her way out from behind Draco, leading him by the hand towards the table. "This isn't a party, it's dinner." She sat Draco down at the head of the table and retreated to the kitchen, where he could smell something savory cooking. He smelled familiar hints of oregano and garlic, Italian if he wasn't mistaken.

"Erm," he started. "Why are you having a… not-a-party?"

Everyone turned to face him, looking a bit incredulous. It was Ginny that broke the silence, albeit a tad too sarcastic for Draco's liking. "Well sometimes, Malfoy, people like to do fun activities on their birthdays."

He rolled his eyes and unfolded his napkin. "So who's birthday is it then?"

Another silence.

Oh, right.

"Draco Malfoy, the most spoiled, little rich kid Hogwarts has ever seen, has forgotten his own birthday." A familiar voice called from the hallway and, just as Draco was about to reply, Theo came into view. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Wincing as he rose, he headed over towards the wizard and pulled him into a brief hug. "Where have you been, you tosser?"

Theo chuckled, pulled back, and adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses. "Working, believe it or not. Some of us peasants are required to work for our rations."

Draco scoffed. "You're hardly in the peasant category, Nott. I seem to recall a little business called Nott Inc. that made your family a fair amount of scratch."

"Well I suppose that's fair but next to you, we're all peasants. You're richer than Merlin."

The rest of the evening was pleasant enough, if not a little jilted in the conversation department. Theo sat on Draco's left side and Hermione on his right, with the rest of the Gryffindors at the other end of the table. He couldn't help resenting them after all that time they abandoned her. Why do they now all of a sudden care about her again? Was the Weasel keeping them away? In all the time Draco had been living here, not one of them had come to visit her.

He looked over at Hermione, who was quietly pushing her salad around on her plate. She looked like she had lost weight, and the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that he hadn't seen her eat once in the time they were in the hospital. Draco kicked himself for not noticing earlier. He looked around at her friends, noticing that Ginny was also fixated on Hermione's plate with a frown on her face. No one else at the table clued in though, so Draco made a note to talk to her later.

Clearing his throat quietly, he turned to Hermione and made idle conversation just to hold her attention. He made a point to take bites of his chicken parmesan as she spoke, and when it was his turn to reply, he cast his gaze to her plate, forcing her to take small reluctant bites so as not to arouse suspicion. She was probably so used to no one noticing her eating habits that she didn't notice the sly manipulation he was enacting, but one glance down the table told him Ginny saw right through it.

Hermione turned down the offer of cake but Draco wasn't going to push her. She may not have eaten much at dinner but it was more than he'd seen her eat in a while. It was best not to expect too much too soon. She did, however, indulge in the wine and, with her mostly empty stomach, he could tell that it was affecting her immediately. He thought to say something, until he remembered that the Weasel had controlled her alcohol consumption previously. She deserved a night of indulgence, after all.

The night wore on, and Longbottom was the first to leave. Potter followed shortly after, with Ginny staying behind to tuck Granger into bed. She had three glasses of wine, but that was apparently enough to reduce her to a giggling school girl and sway where she stood. He watched as her friend helped her stumble down the hall, arm wrapped around her middle.

"Wassit a good night?" Granger shout-whispered halfway to her room.

"You threw a very nice party, 'Mione." Ginny said in teasing tone, trying to suppress her laughter.

"S'not a party, Ginerva."

Draco chuckled to himself.

"You're right, I apologize." The Weaselette had a smile in her voice, obviously just as amused as Draco was by her state.

He caught a glimpse of Hermione's face as she turned into her room. Her expression was somewhat more serious than before. He strained to hear her quiet voice. "D'ya think he liked it?"

Ginny threw a quick look over her shoulder and took in the warm expression he wore. She smiled and turned back to her friend. "You know what? I think he did."

The bedroom door closed and Draco tried to push down the feeling of disappointment at the prospect of sleeping in his room alone. Just because she had left Weaselbee didn't mean she would want to start anything with him. Now that her friends were seemingly back in the picture, she wouldn't need his comfort anymore.

He was such a fool for thinking she could ever be his. If he pursued her now, it would be nothing short of manipulation in her current vulnerable state. She was still so innocent, a bloody virgin even, and it made Draco feel like he would taint her with a single touch. His hands had blood on them, after all. The way the war had changed her was heartbreaking, and all Draco wanted to do was fix everything for her, even though he had no idea where he would even start.

He cursed out loud, forgetting he wasn't alone in the room.

"Granger, huh?"

Draco swore again and flinched away from Theo as he stepped up beside him.

"Salazar's sack, did you have to sneak up on me like that, Nott?" Draco pressed a hand to his chest as hot pain bloomed from the still healing wound. He straightened and wiped his face of emotion, hiding his physical reaction from his mate.

Theo smirked and flicked his eyes to Draco's chest briefly before strolling into the kitchen, drawing out a shrunken bottle from his pocket. He enlarged it and summoned two tumblers from the cupboard.

"What would your father say if he found out his son was in love with a Mudblood?" Theo said without preamble. He looked seriously at Draco, holding his hand up in supplication when he saw the shocked and enraged look that flashed across his face. "You know I really never held the same beliefs as my father, and I mean no offence."

"How the fuck am I supposed to take that as inoffensive?" Draco growled, drinking his generous portion of Firewhisky in one pull.

"It's a bad idea, Drake, and you know it. I know you may not care what your father thinks, but there are people out there that want to see her dead. I wouldn't be surprised if Lucius was one of them. Being with her will just put her in more danger. Hell, living here with her is putting you both in danger." Theo poured them both another drink.

"Well it's not like I have a bloody choice is it? It's either this or Azkaban." He threw back his drink and screwed up his face in frustration.

"You could just run." Theo suggested.

"Where would you have me go?" He barked out a sarcastic laugh.

"You know as well as I do that there are places for people like us to… Be with our own."

"What do you know, Theo?" Draco took a step back and gazed suspiciously at his friend.

"I've gotten summons too, Draco. We all have, the whole of the next generation of Slytherin's." He sighed and leaned up against the counter. "They have your mother, and I don't think you're going to get her back unless you do as they say. The Dark Lord isn't around anymore to brand new followers, and that mark on your arm makes you a desirable recruit."

Draco took another step back. "How do you know all this? Have you joined them?"

Theo was quick to shake his head. "No, Merlin. I don't want to, but if they get any stronger, it would be suicide not to join. I spoke with Goyle, He joined up with them a few months back, and has been trying to recruit me. I think the only reason they aren't pushing me yet is because I have no family, no one they can take hostage to threaten me with."

Draco looked at him in horror. Who was this man standing in front of him? Had Theo changed that much? Was he so complacent that he would consider turning back into the very thing he loathed? How could he consider going back, when all they wanted during the war was to get out. He slowly shook his head at his friend, feeling a different kind of hurt in his chest.

"How can you even consider this, Theo? Those are the same men that tortured us half to death. The same fuckers that forced us to torture innocent people, innocent children." He ran a hand through his hair and pulled it until his scalp stung.

"I haven't forgotten. But which would you rather be? The one that's doing the torturing, or the one who is being tortured?" Theo's expression became stony.

"Why does it have to be either? You could go to the DMLE and feed them information, get the fuckers off the street, then no one has to join! No one has to be tortured! No one has to die!"

"It's not that simple, Drake. There's too many, and it's too late. There isn't even going to be another battle. With their numbers, it will be an easy takeover." Theo removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He drained his glass and sighed again. "Just think about it, Drake. They already have your mother, think of what they'll take next." He casted a pointed look at Grangers door then walked over to the Floo without another word, disappearing a second later.

Draco looked down at Theos tumbler and grimaced.

That spineless bastard.

He picked up the glass and hurled it into the wall, letting out a feral yell as he did. A few seconds later, Ginny came out of Granger's room to stand next to him in an understanding silence while Draco panted in anger.

He could feel the telltale rush of magic rise inside of him, and it took everything Draco had to suppress it from bursting forth. He thought about how Hermione had been the one to tamp his magic every time he lost control. With his thoughts on the witch, it became easier to quell his rage and, by extension, his eruption of power. He filed this information away, now knowing that his suspicions were correct. Whatever this was, Granger was intrinsically linked somehow. She seemed to be his lightning rod, but something told Draco that it was more than that.

After a few moments, Ginny swished her wand to clear away the broken glass and summoned a new tumbler from the cupboard. She poured them each a glass, and waited until Draco seemed calm enough before she spoke.

Song recommendation: Home We'll Go - Walk of the Earth

"Malfoy, we need to talk."