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This is Draco's P.O.V of their bond.

Chapter 2

An Unspoken Bond. That was what they had he decided. That was the only reason she knew instinctivly how to calm him as him woke from yet another nightmare. Shuddering he buried his face deeper into her neck, seeking the solace only she could provide. He snickered scathingly to himself. Here he was, one of the most glorified Death Eaters in Voldemort's inner circle, clinging to a Mudblood like a frightened child. Maybe he was. Maybe the repressed side of him that was still, in a sense, innocent could only emerge with her. Maybe that was why he came running to her whenever he knew where she was. Seeking her protection from the nightmares that damn near drove him mad. "People only have nightmares when they do things they are ashamed of" she had said to him once. Well he had done a hell of a lot of things that would make lesser people shy away, things so horrible and wicked he had never told even her; she who he told everything.

He should have her killed. Should take her back to his master who would no doubt reward him beyond any other of his followers. He would be uplifted to the highest status of power if he brought in Potter's best friend. But he couldn't, he just couldn't and he knew he never would. Just as she would never turn him over to the Order. Who then would he go to for sanctuary when night terrors kept him awake for weeks on end. Who would help him when he lived on extremely strong Pepper-Up potions because he was too scared to sleep. If Voldemort ever found out where he had been disappearing to all these years he would have him tortured and killed. What a tangled web we have woven Hermione, he thought. Then he allowed sleep to claim him as he dreamt of how it had begun.

Pain, terrible excurciating pain was all he could feel. That Zambini bastard had done a fine job of reminding him what happened to those who failed the Dark Lord. He had collapsed in the corner of an abandoned classroom, simply unable to go any furthur. He was disgusted with himself as he felt tears well up in his eyes. Malfoys never cry, that was what his father had told him. No matter what Malfoys never cry, it is a sign of weakness and Malfoys are not weak. However even he, the infamous Ice Prince, couldn't stop harsh sobs escaping him. He rested his face on his arms and curled up as small as he could. He felt the blood seeping through his robes but didn't have the strength to do anything about it. So he just wept out all his pain and sorrow as his body wept the precious blood from his veins. Maybe it would be better if he just died here tonight. Then he wouldn't have to worry about fixing that cabinet or killing Dumbeldore or any of the other things that were making his life hell. So wrapped up in his misery he never heard anyone approach until they laid their hand on his arm.

He snapped his head up and tried to ignore the pain this caused. He was looking into the eyes of none other than Granger; Harry Potter's sidekick and bane of his grades at school. Her deep brown eyes were looking at him with something akin to compassion. Wait a minute, compassion, for him. The last thing he needed was for her to pretend to be all nice then go running to the other two parts of the trio and tell them how she found the Ice Prince sobbing in a classroom. "Leave" he whispered, unable to bite back a low moan of pain.

"No, not unless you let me help you," she replied moving her hands over the the rents in his uniform. Even her light touch was making his wounds flame up in agony.

"You can't help me," hesaid harshly, biting back painful moans. He closed his eyes but he could still feel the tears that leaked from under them, and he knew see could see them too. Why wouldn't she just leave him to his misery?

"Mal...," she cut herself off mid-sentence as though considering something, "Draco, I'll help you" she said softly as she stroked his bloodied hair from his face. His eyes snapped open. He had never in my life heard his name spoken like that. He had heard it yelled in anger, spat out in distaste and whispered in awe; but never spoken so gently and with such caring in it. Her hands moved softly, careful to not aggravate any of the cuts on his body as she checked them. He wanted to hear it again, he nodded his head.

Somehow she managed to help him to a room that he had never seen before, which he later found out was hers for studying. He sat on the bed as she began to strip his robes from his bloodied body. As she reached his shirt he grasped her wrist with his hand. No-one should have to see the mess that lay beneath.

"Draco please, I need to treat these quickly or you'll lose too much blood for me to help." she pleaded with him. Again there was his name, it was the thing he came to need most from her; the way his name never seemed a curse from her lips as it did from everyone elses. He could only force out another nod, talking was far beyond him at this point. She looked in horror at the mass of blood and skin below his shirt. "Oh Draco, what have they done to you?" she whispered sadly. Even though she was being gentle it still hurt badly. He grit his teeth and let her tend to him before she cast a sleeping spell on him and he was plunged into darkness.

He was in hell, everywhere he turned people were dying and screaming. He could hear all the mocking voices of the Death Eaters as he was tortured. Felt every sting as the whip came down again and again and he tried not to beg. He screamed as they began to cast Crucio on him, screamed and begged them to stop but their laughter only increased as the pain worsened. Please. let me die, he thought, let me die. Then he was aware of another voice in the darkness. Calling for him. Jerking upright he woke up with a scream of terror.

He was pulled into soft warm arms and he drew the only source of comfort he had closer to him. He never wanted those arms to leave him. "Please don't leave me, please I'll do anything, just don't leave, don't leave me alone, please," he begged. He was desperate as he sobbed into her shoulder. If she left him now he would just lay down and die, he could not go on like this.

She murmered,"Shh, it's alright, I wont leave, shhh" as she softly rubbed circles on his back trying to calm him. He had found solace in her arms then and he still found it there now, just as he had through all the troubles.

For the rest of sixth year she had let him sleep with her most nights. The nights she was away or unable to hold him he couldn't sleep. He was too terrified of what he might see. She had been his saviour. She had listened to him as he poured out tales of his loveless childhood, she had held him through the long nights. And he had betrayed her. He had ran with Snape after he failed in his mission. He was sure she would hate him forever now.

A stroke of luck had given him the address of her house six months later. He agonised over whether to go to her. He was a Death Eater in training, what if she turned him in? In the end he had to go. The Dark Lord was not pleased with his progress, which mainly stemmed from lack of sleep. He went on a night he knew she would been on leave from training. She had simply opened her arms and he had walked into them and held her close. Even when he recieved the Dark Mark, when he thought this must surely be the end of their strange relationship she had not turned him away. He owed her his sanity.

During the war he made sure to stay as far away from her as possible. He knew he would never kill her, it would be like killing himself. He had risen through the ranks, as had she, so they were able to choose their own battles. He always posted himself somewhere he knew she was not. Until the day where he had found her lying as if dead on the ground.

It had been a major battle that day, many from both side were lost. He was searching through the dead to see if there were any that could be taken to a field hospital and patched up ready to fight. It was routine, find as many of your own before the other side did. He swore his heart stopped when he saw her lying there. She couldn't be dead, she wasn't allowed to die before him. His heart started beating again when he heard a gurgled laugh from her. She was expecting to die. Walking as swiftly as he could to her he bent beside her to look at the damage. A bone-breaker curse. He would have to cast some healing spells or she wouldn't last long enough for any of her people to find her. He saw the surprise in her eyes as he picked her up as gently as he could and began to walk towards her side of the lines. After he reached a spot he knew was frequented by the soldiers of the opposite camp he set her down and began to tend to her as she had tended to him. She would not die. Not if he had anything to do with it.

"Draco?" came the whispered question. He lowered his hood and saw her body relax as she made out his features. After he finished healing her as best he could he let her rest against his chest. An hour passed by in easy silence as she attempted to recover her strength, then he heard the sounds of feet on the path ahead. "You will be safe now," he said to her. He held her close for a second, trying to imprint the feel of her onto his body, before laying her on the ground and dissapparating back to his camp. That was the last he had seen of her until now.

Waking from a surprisingly pleasant dream, he heard her whisper in his ear, "Go back to sleep, Draco."

Pulling her down so their foreheads touched on the pillow, he mused again at the impossibility of his situation. One day they would be caught, of that he was sure, and whoever found them would make sure the other suffered dearly. If the Death Eaters found them they would both be killed. If the Order found them he would be killed and Hermione most likely imprisoned. Either way they were damned. But he didn't care, because it was moments like these, when he could lie peacefully in her arms and she in his, that he truly understood what they had. An Unspoken Bond.