DISCLAIMER: I still don't own anything. Although I would like to own Tom Felton…

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Draco opened his eyes, and looked around frantically. The walls around this strange place were light green, and art covered them. Photographs that stayed completely still were framed, and he recognized Hermione in many of them. She was with people he didn't recognize in the least, except for in one posted right above the bed's headboard of her, Harry, and Ron. The down comforter that he was under was a dark purple with red trimming. A relic of Gryffindor, no doubt.

The memories slowly came back to him of the night before. Him falling asleep leaning against the doorway, watching Hermione try and communicate with her parents. Her helping him into her bed before returning to their bedside. He laid his head back on his pillow and groaned. His friendship was established with the girl who he had hated for so long, and he knew that there was no denying it any longer.

He heard faint voices and clattering in the kitchen below him, and slowly climbed out of bed. He was fully clothed, but changed anyway into clothes that were neatly folded in his trunk (which had been Minimized and stored in his robes). The prospect of a Malfoy presenting himself in wrinkled clothing was laughable.

As he made his way downstairs, he heard the voices become more distinct. He clearly recognized Hermione's, but the obviously older woman's was harder to place. He had heard it before, that much he knew. He stopped by the door and listened.

"I came to make sure you are doing well, dear. It's a horrible thing, what that Lucius did. How are they coming along?"

Hermione's voice sounded tired, as if she hadn't gotten any sleep. "They can understand me…my mum…she tried to talk, but it sounded so painful…they mostly sleep. I stayed up with them last night…I don't want to leave them like this.

"I understand dear. Well, don't you worry. The Mediwitches and I will be there when you can't be."

"Thank you so much."

"Of course, only too glad to help. Those Malfoys, they are trouble aren't they?"

Draco sneered. He had finally placed the voice, and decided that there would be no better time to walk in. When he did, he found Molly Weasley's suddenly blazing eyes staring at him.

"What are you doing here? Come to finish off what your father started, have you?" She advanced toward him, her wand at the ready. "I'll kill you first, you evil boy!"

"Molly, no!" Hermione stepped in front of Malfoy, which caused the older woman to halt and lower her wand in confusion. "Malfoy is the Head Boy. Dumbledore sent him to help protect me."

Draco's sneer broadened when the plump lady began to stutter in protest, muttering about how he was probably going to turn Hermione over, how he was just like his father, a Death Eater in the making, and just an "evil" person all together.

"Actually, Mrs. Weasley, I would worry more about your own son hurting Hermione more than me." Hermione spun around and gave Draco a dangerous glare at these words, causing him almost to regret letting them out in the first place. However, the woman's reaction was just too wonderful to regret it for too long. Her face flushed red, and she began spitting questions out like gunfire.

"Whatdidhedothistime?Thatboyisgoingtobethedeathofme!Areyoustilldating?Whatacutecouple…are you?Pleasejustletmeknowwhatisgoingon,Hermione!Didhehurtyou?"

Draco's sides hurt from trying to contain his laughter at Ron's mother's grasp on the stunned Hermione's shoulders and her questions rasped out in the girl's ear.

"No!" Hermione interrupted Molly, blatantly frustrated. "No, Mrs. Weasley. Ron and I are not dating anymore. There were…there were some difficulties." When the younger girl saw the woman's paling face, she hastened to add, "We're still friends though! Don't worry!" She forced a smile, and reassured, "Everything will be fine."

Draco wasn't fooled; he saw the tears in Hermione's eyes. The Golden Trio isn't quite a trio anymore…the thought made him inexplicably happy, even though he wished Hermione wasn't hurting so much over it.

The rest of breakfast went without serious disagreement, although Draco didn't buy for a moment that Mrs. Weasly had "accidentally" spilt his water on his lap, or that she had "mistakenly" burned his entire meal. He decided to grit his teeth and take the abuse, if only for Hermione's sake. She already had enough on her plate without her pseudo-mom being hexed into oblivion. Going back to that crummy little shack they called a home should be enough punishment. That thought brightened his mood, and he found himself gently guiding Hermione back to her parent's room a few minutes later, after Molly Weasley had left.

"Listen…thank you for loaning me your room last night, Granger."

"Great job repaying me, getting Mrs. Weasley all worked up like that…" Draco felt the sting of her words, but looked at her and saw the small smile on her face. "Not to say Ron isn't going to fully deserve the Howler he'll be receiving tomorrow. Only wish I was there to see it."

Draco laughed, relieved that Hermione hadn't taken breakfast too seriously. "Well, where do you want me to sleep tonight?"

"You can keep the bedroom. I'm going to stay up again with my parents."

"No, Granger. You need to get some sleep. You look awful."

"Oh, thank you Ferret. That's so sweet of you." Her face was annoyed, but accepting. He took the insulting nickname in stride, knowing that she only said it to get back at him for his comment.

"Just get some sleep, Granger."

Her face lost any playfulness, and slipped back into depression. "I can't. The Mediwitches have so much to do that they are either running out or sleeping, and Mrs. Weasley left."

Draco took a deep breath, regretting already the solution he was about to offer. "I'll do it."

"You'll stay awake with two Muggles? I doubt it…"

"Hey, I'm not saying it will be pleasant. But you need sleep, even a few hours."

The gratefulness apparent in the girl's face warmed Draco, and he held her arm a little tighter. He wanted to ask her, see how she was feeling about their unorthodox friendship. See if she was having dreams…dreams like his. Where they were together, with no barriers. But he couldn't.

They walked into the older Grangers' room, and looked in silence at the couple. A Mediwitch peered at them on her way out the door, and pointed out in a soft voice, "Look, the veins on the sores…they're fading. I think these two may have a chance yet." With a final nod, she left the room, oblivious to the tentative joy Draco saw in Hermione's face. The girl walked over to her parents' bedside, and gingerly touched her mother's hair.

"You're going to pull through, mum. I know it. This is Draco," Hermione pulled him forward; "He'll be with you tonight. He's the boy I was telling you about, the Head Boy. I am going to get some rest. I love you." Hermione pulled away, biting her lip, and with a final squeeze of Draco's arm, left the room.

The spot she had touched burned with want for more.

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