Vonne: Okay, let's get right to it, then! :)

HermioneMalfoyFan: Let me start off first by saying that I definitely loved the critiques in your reviews. They're quite helpful and they caused me to go back over everything I'd written so far so-- at least you helped me brush up on things! However, I'm going to have to point out that I am not in dire need of a beta, and yes, I know exactly what such a thing is. I'd have to disagree with you on everything else. I've never confused 'no' with 'know', neither 'we're' with 'were'. If I have it has been, I can assure you, a mistake that was made while rushed. I could provide you examples, which I actually took the time to collect, but it would only further make this response exceedingly long. HA! As for my spelling-- when writing this, I'm doing so without spellchecker, so you'll have to excuse me there, however, I'm still under the impression that I've hardly made any spelling mistakes, if not for the every so often misplacing of letters. Oh! And for the example of Draco knowing that Goyle liked Pansy-- not true. ;) Draco was always under the impression that Goyle fancied Pansy, but merely as much as every schoolboy fancies any crush. Which is why he drops the subject quite quickly. Furthermore, the only reason Draco wanted to keep Pansy's affliction for him a secret was only due to the fact that it would give Goyle more to scold him about. ANYWAY, I still appreciate your review and did take it all into consideration. Please know that I pride myself on my writing and even though I know it was only the spelling and 'grammar' that you were talking about, I'm still unsure of what you're talking about. However, I'm sure I've made spelling mistakes-- that's inevitable due to the fact that I've got no spell check and I don't proofread. Thanks again! :)

Lumiere du Soeil: AH, so great to hear from you again! I'm glad that you're enjoying this story so much! Thanks so much! I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much, too!

Dramione1996: HA! Even while intoxicated Draco Malfoy is under the impression that he's a bit too much of a proper and perfect gentlemen.

Metarisenja: YES! Thank you. Serendipity was what I was trying to go for in the first place, with the chances of the radio, and everything. :)

Shining Bright Eyes: I love getting these constant reviews from you all the time-- thanks so much! Anyway, I wanted that chapter to be a surprise and not end the previous one with a hint as to where it was going. :)

Anavell: Thanks! I'm so glad you enjoyed reading it, because I had erased some of the stuff I'd written kind of spontaneously in hopes to try and get it right. :)

Jade2099: Thank you! HA, Hermione would have figured it out sooner or later-- she is brilliant and everything. I think you'll find out the answer to your question in this chapter. :)

Chapter Twenty Three:
Enabler

"Would you stop doing that?" The voice of Hermione Granger was rather far away, but still subconsciously close, with all things considered. Behind his fog of blurred vision, he could just barely make out the vision of her back standing opposite him, wherever it was that he was, only moving in minimal quick motions.

Feeling slightly more up to par, he raised his palm to his throbbing head, winced even at the candle light that flickered up ahead of him. This wasn't the gravel, this wasn't the grounds anywhere near the bridge. A rush of feverish nausea swept over him and, groaning sloppily to himself, he slid his clammy hand down the front of his sweating face. The orangish glow of the candle light only slightly hit the side of him, and yet still it burned his eyes. "Stop passing out!" Hermione continued to instruct, "I can't handle moving you from place to place constantly. You're lucky it's two in the morning or people would start to get more than suspicious if they'd seen me walking next to your unconscious hovering body. I mean, honestly," she cried as she turned on her heels, her curly hair falling over her own wet forehead. She seemed, however, a bit more gentle when she added with a solemn smile, "give me a break here, okay?"

Despite Hermione's scolding voice, she was up and bustling. Her hands felt anxiously across the counter top until finally they found the handle of the steaming tea kettle. Hastily she lifted the thing off of the surface of the marble, poured the scolding tea into one single cup, and approached him with it, holding it out like an offering. Though Draco was sure it wasn't peace that she was coming towards him with. If it hadn't been for the gentleness that she'd stepped towards him with, he'd have been more than positive that she'd planned to douse him bitterly with it. "Now, drink this. Tea has got plenty of caffeine."

"My head hurts," Draco informed her, sloppily and slurred, for it was the most he could think to say at the moment.

"That's to be expected." Hermione told him, placing the cup of tea down on the coffee table. "Can you sit up?"

Malfoy's head spun. For a moment he considered trying, though he knew that such an action was foolish on its own. Instead he stayed pitched on his back, keeping rather still. His vision was still significantly blurred and uneasy, though he blinked impatiently. A rush of embarrassment swelled through him when he realized he was crying. "I dunno," he groaned with a mumble, wiping his entire face with the whole of his palm.

Hermione grinned sadly, her face red with her own bit of humiliation. "Just relax," she advised, bent down slightly near his head.

So this is what Hermione's home looked like; slightly cozy with in-home furniture that could have belonged to a group of men, as well. A bit more analyzing told Draco that he was on the cushions of her living room couch. The thing was rather long and a bit too worn-in, however, despite himself, he found that he was comfortable. He was sprawled out with his legs up on the arm rest. His head was rested simply into the fluff of a simple white pillow. But still, hazily, he opened his eyes slightly and looked up timidly back at her. "Why..." he asked with a moan, "are you being so nice to me?"

Sighing, Hermione's face fell. "Why not?" she seemed to ask the ceiling, fiddling with her own cup of tea, "I mean, what do you expect me to do, huh? Hex you? Clearly, you're in no state for such a thing and, quite frankly, I'm a bit angered-out, to tell you the truth."

"You were so... angry with me a moment ago," Draco reminded her.

Once again, Hermione leaned forward. She put on a slightly more sheepish expression, but despite herself she was smiling. "And you will be angry with me once you snap out of your little... err.. hangover."

However, Malfoy shook his head back and forth. Realization was not, as it so seemed, something that seemed to rest well with Draco Malfoy. The fuzzy feeling of numbness crept in at once. He had never felt more utterly useless. Though there was something aching and bitter that seemed to stay sincerely with him, however being unable to shake himself free of it. It was true-- he'd had far too much to drink, but he still was unwilling to stop himself from his desperate ramblings. "I'm pathetic," he told her limply and when Hermione didn't answer him back, he let out a laugh that was unbelievably sour and far too dry. "Ah," he said waving a finger around in the air, "I told you."

Breathing out, Hermione tilted her head to the side, shifted slightly in her spot. A aching feeling in the pit of her stomach twisted around her person tirelessly. She could feel more than an abrupt ping of sorrow flood through her. But it was Draco Malfoy who was in complete hysterics. His face was red with the rush of things, his eyes glazed over with the haziness of drink. Lying on his back, he managed to reach up the the back of the couch, pull himself up from his submissive spot, and sit in a sloppy position across from her. And all Hermione could manage to do was sit there in silence, a bit too uneasy to do anything more. This wasn't the Draco Malfoy she'd known as of five years ago. This wasn't the same person at all.

But perhaps maybe there was more to be known about the Draco Malfoy that she'd only thought she'd known. From her time hearing his stories over the toy radio she'd been given more than enough insight. And she couldn't quite help it, couldn't quite help wanting to quiet him and tell him that it was okay. Though she didn't do anything of the sort, couldn't bare too. And perhaps, it was her own pride that needed a bit of an adjustment. "And... and," Draco was groaning, his head in the palms of his hands, "I was going to kill myself! I was actually... going to kill myself!" He shook his head anxiously back and forth, "oh, shit. Shit!"

"Here," Hermione offered the distraught boy across from her, offering the tea back towards him.

For a moment Draco looked down at it. His eyes scanned the steaming cup with a bit of disbelief and then he glanced back up at her, swelling up fully with more than an overwhelming bit of intensity. The two held their gazes there for a moment that lasted much longer than it should have and then, Draco Malfoy tore himself away, yanking himself up off the couch completely. "I-I should go home, I think," he told the front of his shoes, "I should..."

"It's raining out," Hermione said simply cocking her head towards the windows. And the rain was more than obvious; the windows seemed to be drenched with the dripping water. The roof of Hermione's tiny house seemed to pound down with the sound of the heavy downpour. "Come on," she said, standing behind him, shoulders sinking slightly, "you know as well as I you can't go out there." Then, shifting her posture anxiously, Hermione added with a meek tone of voice, "besides, I can't let you go out there... you might kill yourself."

Malfoy laughed sorely, at first angrily amused, then only instantly even more embarrassed. He huffed, looking as if he were about to cry, but remained standing there, limp.

But Hermione took several steps closer to him, having completely discarded her tea cup. "I'm not mad at you," she told him, as if she were speaking to a hostile being, "I'm too tired to keep being mad at everything. Being angry all the time... it just takes too much out of a person."

Draco's eyes scanned the floor, looked for someplace other than to look but at her. However, despite himself he had to sincerely try to keep from glancing up. She was almost divine in the way she kept stepping towards him, slow and careful as if walking on egg shells. She was lovely, though Draco had always found her attractive, even when he did want to hex her silly. But now was different. Now he was trying to be someone new, someone different than the person that he was all those years ago. And maybe this was a start, even if it was perhaps a blessing in disguise.

Hermione's hair fell slightly over her pretty face. She blinked out the tiny bits of brunette strands that slid in front of her round eyes. "You're okay to just stay on the couch, okay?" she offered, still talking to him with slow apprehension, "Harry and Ron aren't home tonight--"

"Potter and Weasley? They...live here..." Draco huffed, swallowing hard and looking back at Hermione as if she'd just slapped him across the front of his face. "Oh... oh, brilliant!"

Suddenly, Hermione grew slightly cross, "well, what do you expect?" she glowered, rolling her eyes a little.

She was right, though. What had he expected? Finally, a little bit defeated, Draco slumped down, looked back at the kitchen, and asked croakily, "do you have anything to drink?"

"Yeah," Hermione said sternly, "milk."

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh," Hermione said, sarcastically, "pumpkin juice, then?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. Sourly, he responded back, "hardly."

Laughing heatedly, Hermione pressed both of her hands on her slender hips. She tilted her head to one side and gave him a look that was all too demeaning. Roughly, she seemed to stand between him and the liquor cabinet. The brick wall that was only the slightly short figure of Hermione Granger was all the more daunting when Draco had all that alcohol swimming through his veins. Then again, the intoxicated majority that flowed through his bloodstream was beginning to wear thin and Draco eyed her up and down, only half sure that he could take her. "You're not drinking anymore," she said hastily, watching him eye her suspiciously, "you've already had enough already."

Thus was Malfoy's turn to roll his eyes. Bitterly, he said with a heart full of misery, "I think, considering the circumstances, a drink is just what I need."

"What circumstances?" Hermione tried, her voice raising up a little bit.

"I tried to kill myself," Malfoy reminded her, "remember?" However, there was no joking tone in the depth of his voice. In fact, he seemed a bit too desperate for something to drink and Hermione didn't truly have the heart to deny it to him. Sighing, she sunk lower, stepped back into the kitchen, and brought out a bottle of red wine, smiling to him with angry sarcasm. "I'm an adult," he told her, "I can fend out for myself." Sure, he'd won this round, but she'd be there to keep watch. Besides, it was either allow him to drink, or allow him to walk back out in the rain all by himself. Surely, since circumstances were being so heavily considered as of the moment, that wasn't the most brilliant idea. However, when Hermione brought the bottle to the coffee table and sat on the couch forcefully, Draco's hostile attitude seemed to fade within him. Deflated, he said rather sheepishly, "thank you."

Hermione scrunched up her nose. "Ah," she said testily, "don't mention it." Still, she managed to pour him a glass that was only half full and shove it bitterly in his direction.

"Come on, Granger," Draco said, eyeing the glass, "you're going to have to be a bit more generous than that." So Hermione leaned forwards, groaning to herself, and obliged unwillingly.

"You're a right git," she said, but still she poured herself a glass, feeling that she too quite needed one.

And Draco looked almost more than miserable when he looked back at her, raising his glass expecting a cheers, saying dully, "I know."

Hermione Granger was staring unblinking at Draco Malfoy, her legs crossed at the thigh, watching him with a bit too much enthusiasm. The first bottle of wine they'd down within a half an hour and they were currently working on devouring their second one. But Hermione, however, was not even slightly feeling the effects-- perhaps it was because she had been slyly tossing the contents of her glass over her shoulder into the plant bowl when Draco found himself looking away. And she thought, "so this is what it is like. This is what it is like to be in Draco Malfoy's world." Pre-war, pre-battle, post-trauma.

And she'd come to the utter conclusion that he'd completely lost it. Swaying and hammered and utterly out of it, she pried the glass out of his spidery-long fingers and watched him giggle as she carried the bottle away. "Draco Malfoy," she told him as he ran his hand through his hair for the millionth time that night, "you are absolutely out of your mind."

"'S what they all say, Granger," he told her, once again waving a finger in her direction. "'S what they all say."

"Perhaps they have a point, then?" she asked him simply, raising an eyebrow as she cleared out the sink. But Malfoy was up and pacing, standing near her by the sink with his hands behind his back and his hair still an outright mess on top of his head.

However he took to ignoring her. Instead his eyes scanned the place, heaving in a sigh anxiously. "Let me tell you," he began, "this is the one place that I'd never thought I'd be in. That's for sure." He leaned back against the marble counter top, looked utterly infatuated with the place as a whole. "How ironic. You lot have your own place and I'm still living with Mummy and Daddy." His eyes flooded over slightly. Still giggling and physically care-free in his actions, he tilted his head back, said with a slightly disappointed whimper, "go figure!"

"I think," Hermione said, still focusing on the dishes in the sink, "you need to stop focusing on the bad things in your life. I mean, I'm not saying that the memories of them will just... go away. But I believe that in time you will find a way to let them go. Harry, Ron, and I have. Everyone heals at their own pace."

Malfoy brought himself away from the counter top, looked longingly back at the couch, and said child-like, "the room's spinning."

"Great!" Hermione told him stiffly, "now go sit down."

But Malfoy did not do anything of the sort. Instead he shook his head, said insightfully, "how odd it is talking to you not over the radio."

"How odd it is speaking to you when you're not calling me 'Mudblood'," Hermione retaliated ruthlessly.

"You called me a ferret!" he said, a bit hurt.

"Ah, but only because you started it," Hermione teased, feeling slightly embarrassed afterwards. What was she doing? This was Draco Malfoy that she was talking to and, furthermore, he was intoxicated beyond belief. However she couldn't help but feel a bit pleased that he'd decided to stay. She was, after all, a bit glad that she didn't have to worry-- something she'd known she'd have been doing if he had actually stepped outside the house in the rain after all.

But Malfoy reeled back. His face fell and in a whisper he said, "yes, and I am sorry about that."

A flush swept through Hermione at the impact of his apology. "Oh," she said, a bit shocked. "Oh, well... erm-- thank you, uh, Draco."

"And about the time... the time that you were at my house with my aunt and the Death Eaters." Draco Malfoy seemed to be on a roll. He was talking as if there was no use in stopping him and Hermione turned away from the unwashed dishes in the sink. "I'm... uh... sorry about that too."

Hermione scanned Draco for the third time in the night. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and on the forearm of his pale hand, she could see the Dark Mark, still obvious despite all the years that had passed. But he'd seen her spot it and, hastily, he pulled his shirt sleeve back down over it. He tilted his head to one side, examined her this time and said tearfully, "it's permanent."

She took to grabbing him by the shoulders, leaving the sink a bit messy, and directed him back to the couch. "You know what I think?" she asked him and to her surprise he looked genuinely interested. "I think you need to stop drinking so much. It's not very becoming," she scolded, pushing him back down on the cushion and taking her seat across from him. But Malfoy leaned forward, resting his head in the palms of his hands, still not convinced of himself.

"I feel better when I talk to you," he admitted to the ground. "I thought it was the radio, at first. But I don't think that the radio has anything to do with it at all." Then he leaned back, rested his head on the couch and breathed out, "what's wrong with me?"

"You're drunk," Hermione told him, "for one. And two; you're absolutely miserable."

Draco squared his jaw, positioned himself straight and wondered to her out loud, "and what do you suppose I do about that?"

"I suppose," Hermione counteracted, "that you get some help."

Malfoy shrugged, "I already tried that. Didn't work out too well, did it?"

"Well don't look at me!" Hermione said again defensively, "how should I know what you need? I mean, clearly, you're in dire need of something. A person cannot just go around trying to kill themselves. It's not healthy."

"Well," Malfoy said, "I wasn't miserable when I was talking on that damned radio."

Hermione's face once again flushed. She pushed back a strand of hair from her face and scanned the living room. "It's almost three thirty in the morning," she told him with a yawn. "I don't know about you, but I don't think you want Harry and Ron walking in to find you passed out on their couch." Malfoy's face drained of any possible color it had left. Instead Hermione pulled herself up from the couch, strode over to him, and stared down at him for several passing moments. For a long while, Draco thought that she'd just stand there above him forever, watching him tirelessly without any sort of planned action next. However, her arm moved instantly at her side and then, carefully, she thrust out her hand.

And for a moment Draco was unsure as to whether he should take it but perhaps it was the only possible way he could think of being able to lift himself. Wobbling behind her, he followed her down a short little hall and watched her pull open the door to her bedroom. "Here," she said, glancing up at the bed, "Ron and Harry won't come in my room without knocking."

"I couldn't take the bed," Draco insisted, falling back onto the wall. "I actually prefer the floor." And then, limply, he flopped down on to it with a short little giggle.

Hermione bent down, her face so close to his that he could feel her breath on his chilled face. "Remind me," she said slowly, "never, ever to give you alcohol."

She was so lovely there, bent down to his level, her hands on her knees, the slight smile on her face. It was as if she couldn't help herself, still surely angry but all the while more than utterly amused. The slight twinkle behind her eyes was captivating, and the way her fluffy hair fell down rebelliously in front of her face was all the more intriguing. And there she was, the woman on the other end of the radio, more beautiful and more admirable than he could have ever imagined. He didn't care that she just so turned out to be Hermione Granger, not anymore, not now with all he'd had to drink. But still, it wasn't the liquor that made him want to embrace her so badly. It wasn't the alcohol that had anything to do with his burning desire to never stop talking to her.

Because she was bright and intelligent and funny, he'd never felt more at ease with someone in his entire life. Bent down only several centimeters from him, she leaned forward, sighed slightly as she pulled away the strand of blond hair that was stuck to one side of his sweaty face. He watched her curiously, still and wide-eyed, still not quite sure if he was able to move a single muscle. And then, before he could manage to stop himself, Draco pulled himself forward, pressed his face up against hers and was kissing her much more fast than he'd expected.

At once Hermione pulled away, looking back at him with a visage so shocked that he might as well have keeled over in front of her.

Malfoy's chest dropped. Quickly, he told her, "I'm sorry."

But he didn't have much time to finish his sentence. Hermione grabbed the side of his face, touched the scar that rested just slightly at his hairline, and then left her fingers to trail down the entire edge of his jaw. Still bent over, she remained positioned away from him, swayed slightly, and then, still watching his eyes with an unbreakable gaze, she pulled back. "You need to get some rest," she told him and then she eyed her stray hand, pulling it away fiercely. "You're going to be absolutely miserable in the morning."

Malfoy slunk lower to the floor, watching her retreat to the bed, pull off a hefty amount of blankets, and arrange them into what looked like an oddly comfortable cot on the floor in the corner. "Ah," Draco said back to her, "any more miserable than I am now?"

"A whole lot more," Hermione replied, reaching down and pulling him up once more. She was surprisingly much more strong than he'd expected and she'd lagged him to the corner rather quickly. Malfoy pressed his back against the wall, slid down it dopily to meet the blankets on the floor.

"I doubt that's even possible," he told her, seated atop the pile, "I doubt that's even slightly possible."

Hermione yanked the covers out from under him, taking off his soaking wet shoes and setting them aside neatly near the skirt of her bed. She placed the sheets over him and then pushed a pillow back between him and the wall. Sighing, she then took to slipping the jacket off of his shoulders. "You'd be surprised," he advised him wearily.

And then she crawled back up to her mattress, laying on top of the thing on her back, staring at the top of the ceiling until she heard Malfoy's body slump to the side, knocked out completely. For a moment she took to holding her breath, until then, she turned on her side and watched his shadow in the darkness.

Vonne: REVIEW! :)