This chapter is especially for all those who have been so kind and reviewed This chapter has a bit of everything thrown in to it: sadness, the beginning of love, humour, so please enjoy. It's written purely from Draco's perspective.

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August 25th, 2008

Lucius Malfoy was reading The Prophet at the table, Narcissa was cooking breakfast – scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages – and Draco was writing a letter to his girlfriend of the time (Astoria Winter). Narcissa flicked her wand, and the food dished itself onto three plates and the plates zoomed over to the table.

"Draco," she called.

"Coming, Mother," Draco yelled from the lounge, finishing off his letter. He got up, attaching the letter to his owl's leg. The owl took off through the window, and Draco thought he saw something else in the far distance. He hurried to the kitchen. His father was folding up the newspaper.

"Anything tragic, Father?" Draco teased. After the war, his family hadn't cared much for the newspaper, and took whatever chance they had to tarnish it.

"Uh, no, son," Lucius muttered distractedly. Draco paused in the act of lifting the forkful of food to his mouth. His father hadn't replied with his usual witty comment. Was he sick, perhaps? Draco asked aloud his question.

Lucius laughed, but to Draco it sounded forced. "Of course not, Draco. Narcissa, aren't you joining us?"

Draco brushed off his father's strange behaviour. His mother joined them at the table and looked fondly at Draco. "I'm glad you chose to go back to school this year, Draco," she said warmly, a soft smile on her face.

Draco returned the smile. "I have a future to live, don't I?"

Narcissa ran a hand through Draco's hair. "A future," she repeated. "You want to go into the field of Magical Medicine, right?"

Draco nodded, not being able to reply verbally due to the food in his mouth.

Narcissa nodded as well, picking up her knife and fork. "Good," she said.

Draco felt happy. It was a Sunday morning, and even though the sky wasn't blue and there weren't exactly many signs of life outside, the atmosphere felt wonderful. His family was close-knit now, warm, as if they were all made from the same wool. He hadn't realized how much he really depended upon his parents, for their protection and love.

They were a family.

His smile was still on his lips when a loud rap on the door caused him to jump slightly. He looked enquiringly at his mother. "Are we expecting anybody?" His mother shook her head, surprise colouring her blue eyes.

"I'll get it, then," Draco said, getting up from his chair.

He was stopped as his father placed a hand on his shoulder. Draco looked up at his father. Something in his father's eyes – fear, perhaps? – stopped Draco short, and he sat down slowly. His father brushed his clothes and walked hesitantly towards the door. Before he got to the door, he looked back at his family, and the emotion on his face was naked.

Grief.

Narcissa's sharp intake of breath caught Draco off guard. What was happening?

"It's time then," Narcissa said softly, a tear leaked from her eye, as understanding filled her mind. Lucius said nothing. And another loud rap was heard.

Draco placed his hand on his mother's. "Mother, what's happening?"

More tears from Narcissa's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Draco." Draco wasn't too sure what his mother was apologizing for.

Lucius opened the door and Draco whipped his head around to face the door. Two tall men in black cloaks – one with glasses – stood at the door. Without Lucius's consent, they entered the house, their wands raised, one pointed at Lucius, the other at Narcissa. Lucius and Narcissa raised their hands in surrender.

Draco, completely shocked, looked at his mother. He wished he had his wand with him. His was in his room. He stood up, standing in front of his mother so that she was blocked from the men's view. He glared angrily at them. "What the hell is happening here?" he said quietly.

The man with the glasses said sternly, "Mr Malfoy, please move."

"No," Draco growled.

"Mr Malfoy, please do not be difficult. We do not wish to harm you."

Draco was about to argue again, when Lucius said calmly. "Draco, son, do as the man says, please."

Draco looked at his father. His father looked defeated. Draco shook his head, but after a moment, he stood to the side, so that the wand was pointed back at his mother. The sight tore at his heart.

The man with the glasses announced, "Mr and Mrs Malfoy, you are both under arrest – "

"What? No!" Draco yelled, making a move towards the man.

"Draco," Narcissa said, her voice cracking.

Draco looked at his mother beseechingly, and then after that, he couldn't hear anything. He watched as his parents were being led out by the man in the glasses, and each one of his parents' steps out the door embedded a shard of ice deep into Draco's body. His mother took one last glance at him, and weakly lifted a hand in farewell. Draco numbly returned the gesture. Then, the man tugged at his mother's wrist, and she was gone.

The tears poured down from Draco's eyes, and he didn't know that he was capable of crying that much. He didn't feel it was fair, his parents getting taken away from him like that. They had just gotten to understand the meaning of familial love...

The other man remained behind, speaking to Draco. Telling him things that Draco couldn't make sense of; things that Draco didn't care about. He wanted to rip the heart out of this man before him. Did he not have a family at home? Did he not understand the meaning of the word family? Would he not care if his family had been taken away from him? Draco clenched his fists at his side, focusing solely on not punching this man. He caught only a few words, "—ten to fifteen years in Azkaban—" "—one visit per month—" "—associated with You-Know-Who—"

And then darkness, the breakfast on the table ice-cold.

March 19th, 2009

Draco woke up suddenly. He'd had the dream again – not dream, nightmare – and it had felt so unbelievably real. His face was wet – sweat or tears? He climbed out of his bed in a rush and threw his window open, welcoming the biting cold air. It cracked at his face, piercing it, yet Draco felt relieved – he'd gotten out of the nightmare. He held up his wrist to look at his watch. Two o'clock, in the bloody morning.

Draco hated having that nightmare. It released so many memories that he had fought to bury, and the rawness of it tore at his vulnerability. He didn't have the nightmare often since the...arrest. The last time he had it was the night before the first day of seventh year.

Draco had his head half bowed out of the window. He had half-forgotten about Astoria Winter, and he wondered how she was doing now. He raised his head to look at the gleaming white sphere hanging above in the sky. What time was it in Australia? Would she be awake now? He hadn't loved her, but he had been incredibly fond of her. However, once his parents were ... once his parents left, he'd cut off his ties from everyone. He hoped he hadn't hurt Astoria too much.

He sighed into the early morning air, running a hand threw his hair. His hair felt coarse, unhealthy. He turned to face the wall-length mirror, and stopped himself from taking a step back. He took a few steps forward, staring at the stranger looking back at him with disbelief etched into his eyes. How long had it been since he'd looked into a mirror? Eons. His eyes were red-rimmed, and there were dark circles beneath them. And did he not have silver eyes? They looked like a dull grey, or perhaps it was just lack of light in his room. And his skin ... it looked almost transparent. His lips were chapped.

That Granger was right. His life was falling apart right before him.

He turned around and plopped himself on his bed. The sharp breeze had cooled his sheets to quite a comfortable state. He leaned against his headboard, refusing to close his eyes. He didn't want to return to the nightmare. His head lolled to one side, and his gaze rested upon one of the many frames of his family he kept in his room. It was sitting on his pedestal. Draco reached out a hand to grab it.

The photo bordered by the cool, metal frame was one that Draco couldn't remember taking. It was of both his parents and his three-year-old self. Lucius had the typical aristocratic look about him, yet a gentle warmness coloured his silver eyes. It was after Voldemort had supposedly died, so there wasn't a need to seem weary or fearful. Draco's eyes followed his father's arm to where it rested around Narcissa's waist. His mother, too, was smiling – with teeth – a brilliant, shining smile. Her blue eyes sparkled. Draco, a disciplined boy, was sitting on his mother's lap, sometimes looking at his father, sometimes looking at his mother.

His family hadn't taken many pictures.

Draco placed the picture back on his pedestal with a sigh. He really did miss them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something shiny. Swivelling his head around, he found that it was the thin hardcover book that Granger had given him. The shiny cover of the book had caught the moon's light. He glanced at his watch again. Seven minutes past two. He got up from his bed, and walked to his desk and sat on the chair.

He had only been humouring Granger. He wasn't planning on reading the book, really. He picked up the book loosely, and stared at it, unsure. Should he?

He was being ridiculous.

He dropped the book back onto his desk.

He stood up and changed into jeans and a loose shirt. He grabbed his wand off his desk and clutched it in his hands. He crossed his room, and closed his window. He didn't want any bizarre creatures coming into his room. He exited his room.

Granger was sitting on one of the couches scribbling away on her parchment, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth. Draco didn't think she could see him, and he was grateful for that. He hadn't realized how awful and sickly he had been looking like – was still looking like. He held fast to the knowledge that he was indeed a good-looking man, and he would try to return to that. What must have Granger thought of him? Not only Granger, the other girls in the school as well?

He tried to tiptoe alongside the wall, hoping that Granger wouldn't hear him. He dearly didn't want her to see him looking the way he did, and also, it seemed that whenever he and Granger muttered even a word to each other, it turned into a complicated discussion. He didn't want that either. Especially not at two o'clock in the morning.

But, as luck would have it, Granger – still scribbling away on her parchment – without looking up, said, "I know you're there, Malfoy, so you don't have to worry about startling me like last time."

Draco wanted to correct her – that really it was for other reasons he was tiptoeing about their Common Room as if the floor was made from twigs, but he didn't. Instead he said in a non-committal tone, not bothering to glance her way, "Right." He made his way towards the portrait door. He opened it, and stepped outside, not bothering to dignify Hermione's "Where do you think you're going?" with a response.

The corridors were dark – Draco couldn't even see his hand. He held out his wand in front of him and whispered, "Lumos," and suddenly there was light. He strolled down the corridors and staircases until he finally came to his destination. He lowered his wand, and quickly looked to his left and right, before tickling the pear on the painting in front of him.

A door swung open, and he stepped through the doorway. The well-lit kitchen was surprisingly quiet, and Draco briefly wondered, Did the elves even sleep? And if so, where? His footsteps echoed loudly and the sound bounced off the walls. He spotted one or two elves, and he nodded his head at them in acknowledgement. He whispered, "Nox," and his wandlight went out.

"Twixy?" he called out.

A little elf with a pink bow on her head came scurrying over to where Draco was standing. She curtseyed before him. "Draco Malfoy," she squeaked, still in her curtsey position.

"Enough of that, Twixy," Draco insisted. The elf immediately stood up pin straight.

"What can Twixy get for Draco Malfoy?" she asked in her high voice, her brown eyes shining brightly.

Where did she get her enthusiasm from? "Whatever snacks you have, Twixy – not all of them though," he added as an afterthought.

"Why not, sir? You're looking so pale and thin as it is..." Twixy said in what she thought was a whisper.

Could everybody see it except him? Draco shook his head at his obliviousness. "No, no, Twixy. Just a few. And could you get me some water please? My throat's parched."

Twixy curtseyed once more, and after more persisting from Draco she straightened up again, and hurried off to get his 'snacks'. She returned a few moments later, a small box in her hand. "Twixy put them all in a box for you, Draco Malfoy, sir," she squeaked, a wide smile sporting her face.

As much as he wanted to do it, Draco found it immensely difficult to return her smile. How long had it been since he had smiled? "Thank you, Twixy," he said kindly. He looked around the kitchen once again. "Twixy, why is it that the kitchen is so empty now? Usually when I come – "

"That's because it's early in the morning, sir!" Twixy said loudly. "Most of the house elves are asleep now."

Draco felt stupid. "Right," he said. Before he turned to go, another elf walked passed them, and said in a low tone, "Hello, Twixy."

If Draco hadn't been watching Twixy, he wouldn't have believed it. Twixy actually blushed, and mumbled, yes, mumbled, "Hello, Doppy."

When the elf – Doppy – had left, Draco cocked an eyebrow and looked down at Twixy.

Twixy looked at him nervously. "What?"

Draco leaned down and whispered into one of her big ears, "You like him, don't you?" He leaned back to look at her response. For once in her life, Twixy didn't say anything. Draco tried to smile, but seeing as that was hopeless, he tried to inflict as much warmth into the hug he offered Twixy. "Good luck," he said quietly, standing up, "and thank you," he added, motioning towards the bag in his hand.

Twixy curtseyed, and mumbled, "It's always a pleasure to serve Draco Malfoy."

When Draco was back outside walking down the corridors and up the staircases, he thought about Twixy and Doppy. Never once did he even care to think about elf relationships. Of course, how else did elves originate? Such simple love.

Before he knew it, he was outside the portrait. "Albus," he muttered, and the portrait door swung open. "Nox," he whispered. The Common Room was so warmly lit anyway. Granger was still sitting on the couch, quill in hand. She was using the end of the quill to scratch her head. At the sound of his entrance she dropped the quill, and said loudly, "Where've you been? We're not allowed to roam the school afterhours!"

"Calm down, Granger," Draco muttered, walking towards the couch he usually sat on. He sat down on it, and took out his bottle of water. "I went down to the kitchen. Nobody saw me," he said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes like she so frequently did. He sipped his water, and almost sighed. Ah, that felt good.

"I don't care if nobody saw you! Point is you're not supposed to be out there now. It's – " she looked at her watch, "—almost half-past two – in the morning! It's against the school rules, Malfoy."

This time Draco did roll his eyes. "And you're telling me that throughout your first six years at this school you didn't break any rules? You're telling me that you didn't cost Gryffindor plenty house points."

Granger's witty retort (or so Draco assumed) was cut off as she let out a loud yawn. "That's not the point, Malfoy," she said, sleep creeping slowly into her voice.

Draco raised his eyebrows, "Then what is?"

"Point is that you're Head Boy now, and you need to take rules and ethics seriously. As do I, seeing that I'm Head Girl."

Malfoy pulled out a cupcake from the box and was about to take a bite from it, when he looked at Granger. "Do you want some?" He really hoped she'd say no, he wasn't sure his stomach would be satisfied if he didn't have enough food.

"Were you even listening to me?" the Granger girl was obviously annoyed. Draco took that for a 'no', and bit deep into his cupcake. He leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes, munching on his cupcake. He swallowed. Within minutes it was gone. He pulled out other foodstuffs from the box, munching on them. Twixy hadn't packed too much. Just enough for a midnight snack. Well, a two-hours-past-midnight snack.

The scent had obviously wafted over to Granger, who looked at the box curiously and asked, "What do you have there?"

Draco shrugged. "See for yourself." He pushed the box over to her, and she peered inside. She looked up at him. "Can I have something?"

"I asked, didn't I?" Draco grumbled. Granger took out a cupcake. This one had pink icing on it with a red cherry on top.

She bit into it. "Mm, this is good," she murmured. She pushed her parchment aside – probably so that she wouldn't get any crumbs on it.

"What's on that parchment there, Granger?" he asked. "Not that I care," he added.

She ignored his last comment and replied, "It's my essay for Ancient Runes."

Draco nodded. "It's due tomorrow," he stated. Perhaps that was why she was working until so late.

To his surprise, Granger shook her head. "No, next week."

Draco was surprised. Very surprised. He chose not to say anything, and finished off the last remains off his water in a few sips. His snacks were all finished, but he was rather content. Granger doing her homework reminded Draco of how he used to be. Not staying up until the early of the morning finishing tasks that were due only the following week, no, but doing homework everyday. All he ever did now was read the textbooks. His essays were done half-heartedly, his projects lacked zest. His grades were falling. He doubted he placed second in their year anymore.

There were one too many things in his life that needed changing. His academic life, his appearance, his personality – it all needed to be brushed up. Draco wondered what he was missing out, and after a few moments he had his answer: a social life. But seconds later, he discarded the thought like a used tissue. He didn't really need a social life, did he? Pansy Parkinson was really a foul, conniving girl, and she didn't think that Draco was worthy of her company anymore – after the war, that is. Not that that mattered. The feeling was completely mutual.

And then there was Blaise. He was a good person, unlike Crabbe – Merlin rest his soul – or Goyle. Blaise used to have time for Draco. Blaise had tried for such a long period of time, and Draco had barely registered his efforts. After a while, Blaise gave up.

So who did that leave?

Twixy?

No, de didn't really need a social life. He could do perfectly fine without one. Although, there are times –

A soft snore cut off his thoughts, and Draco blinked open his eyes. He hadn't realized that he'd closed them. Granger had fallen off to sleep, her half-eaten cupcake lying on her chest. The icing had unfortunately smeared her chin and her pyjama top, but really, who asked her to fall off to sleep?

Draco realized that he, too, should be heading off to bed now. He glanced at his watch. Three o'clock. He stood up from the couch and stretched. He turned and walked towards his room. Something stopped him though. Did he forget something? A book, perhaps?

He turned around. No, it wasn't a book. It was a gnawing sense of guilt as he subconsciously realized that Granger was twisted into an awfully uncomfortable position, and when she woke up, she'd be sore all over. Did he care? Probably not. Perhaps it was the fact that he didn't want to face a torrent of angry, accusing words falling from her mouth when they both got up, telling him that he should have done something. Yes, perhaps that was it.

He sighed, and walked toward where she was sleeping. He removed the cupcake from her chest, trying desperately not to touch any part of her. He saw the icing on her pyjama top and her chin and wondered whether he should do something about it. Did he really have to? No, not really. But there was that guilt again! He looked for a tissue or something to wipe the icing off her face, and when he couldn't find anything, he sighed again. Now what?

He didn't want to use her pyjama top, because that would lead to her exposing skin. Draco shuddered at the thought. He didn't want to use his hands either, because that would mean touching her. He suppressed another shudder. He looked down at his own clothes. He was wearing an Ed Hardy shirt! He grimaced as he lifted the corner of his shirt and gingerly wiped Granger's chin. He winced.

He decided not to wipe off the icing on her top. That would be too...intrusive . He flicked his wand, and Granger's parchment, reference books, textbooks and quills got deposited onto the centre table. Let her think that she put it there, Draco thought. Now, for Granger herself. Using his wand, he levitated Granger's unconscious body so that it rose above the couch. Draco tried to direct it with his wand so that Granger would end up in a sleeping position, but it wouldn't work.

He had hoped it wouldn't come to this.

"Liberacorpus," he whispered again, and her body fell down onto the couch into the same position it was previously, only this time, slumped forward. Draco winced. Did he wake her up?

Granger continued to snore softly.

Evidently not.

Draco rubbed his hands together absent-mindedly. He leaned forwards and grabbed her sleeves, trying to direct her arms. He tugged at the sides of the pyjama top, then at the pants, careful not to touch her, until finally she was in a sleeping position. He let out a long breath. He hadn't realized he'd been holding it.

"Accio spare blanket," he whispered again, and he heard a cupboard door open and close somewhere, and saw the blanket zooming towards him. He caught it, and covered Granger.

He straightened, and walked towards his bedroom. He looked back once, proud of his handiwork. He hadn't touched her once.

After he had settled himself into his bed, and punched the pillow a few times to make it seem more comfortable, he rested his head on his pillow, and withing moments, his snores joined the other girl's snores.

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LOL, you thought the "beginning of love" part meant Dramione, right? Sorry! No, it was really the elves, Tipsy and Doppy.

If you think this chapter deserves a review, please do!