I don't know why I slept so peacefully. Maybe I had gained some security in the knowledge that I once again had a wand under my pillow. Maybe my peace was due to the lists I had made with Severus and Malfoy. Or maybe I was just exhausted.

It didn't matter, though. For whatever reason, I slept for a time and awoke refreshed; I felt more like myself, and I thought I might be ready to face the future now.

Quietly, I went downstairs. I figured that either I would find Malfoy or Snape there, or that Malfoy would be asleep upstairs and so by going to the lower floor, I would be less likely to disturb him.

I was therefore shocked to walk into the kitchen and find Malfoy cooking on a Muggle stove. He seemed surprised to see me up, but he smiled at me.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"A bit."

"I'm not much of a cook," Malfoy said.

"Honestly, I'm shocked you know how to cook at all." I couldn't help but remember his reaction to chores at Hogwarts that he considered beneath him, calling them 'servant stuff.'

Malfoy's response to my amazement was a smirk, though.

Within moments, I was sitting at the table with a plate in front of me containing the fruits of Malfoy's labors. While the food wasn't up to the standards of Molly Weasley, I thought Malfoy had become a surprisingly good cook.

Hungry, I polished off my food in short order, getting up to take my plate to the sink where it began washing itself.

I resumed my seat at the table and turned my attention to my roommate.

"So…" I started.

"So…" Malfoy echoed.

I sighed. "You know, I feel like my whole world has been turned upside down."

"That might be because it has been."

I smiled at that, since I thought he was probably right. "You know, I feel like I don't know you at all. I mean, these last couple of days, well, you don't seem much like the boy I knew at school…" I trailed off.

"That might be because I don't much feel like that boy."

I looked closely at Malfoy, something I had always avoided as it had often set him off on a rant about my lineage fouling the very air around him. He looked pale… well… paler than usual, and he had dark circles under his eyes. I got the impression he hadn't been sleeping much, and for a moment I felt guilty for evicting him from his bedroom.

"Malfoy, how are you holding up?"

"What kind of question is that, Granger?"

"Well, you don't look like you've been getting your required amount of beauty sleep."

For a moment, he stared at me. I realized that had probably sounded pretty offensive and opened my mouth to apologize, but he cut me off.

"I haven't been sleeping well," he admitted quietly.

Immediately, I was concerned. It seemed so unlikely that he would confide in my like that.

"Why not?"

"Dreams… bad dreams."

My concern changed to shock. Bad dreams? Malfoy was capable of suffering over bad dreams? I quickly reined in my uncharitable thoughts. Of course Malfoy could have bad dreams. That shouldn't surprise me. After all, he'd been unable to kill Dumbledore. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that if anyone had experienced enough horror to have bad dreams, Malfoy was as likely a candidate as any of us Gryffindors in the Order.

"Did you want to talk about them?" I asked him. I didn't really want to hear about his nightmares; I had enough of my own. But it was impossible for me to not offer to hear him out. It went against everything I was to not try and help someone in need, and this was someone who had done so much for me, even if I tried to forget it most of the time.

"No."

I nodded in acquiescence. "The offer stands, if you ever change you mind."

"Thanks, Granger. But somehow, I don't think they're something I should discuss with you."

I tried to not take offense at that statement. I really did. Unfortunately, my already distraught state didn't allow me to ignore it. "No, of course not. I couldn't possibly understand the horrors of your life, since mine has been so charmed," I said sarcastically.

Draco bristled at my response. "I'm just trying to protect you, you stupid Mu—" he stopped himself. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to regain his composure. "I'm sorry. I'm short on sleep and not as in control as I usually am."

"Meaning you still think that about me, but usually manage to censor what you say?" I asked, righteous anger flaring in me for the first time since… it had happened.

"No! Meaning that—Gods, I don't even know what I mean anymore. You're not the only one whose world has been turned upside down, you know. I was still adjusting to my new life when Severus showed up with you and Gods, everything changed again! I have gone from being the heir of the oldest, wealthiest wizarding family in Britain to being a refugee, hiding in this old shack. I went from being the youngest Death Eater, a position of honor, to a failure, asked by my godfather to brew potions for the enemy! And you're the enemy! But you're here and hiding, too! And if that's not enough, I feel sick knowing what happened to you… happened at the hand of my own father!" He paused for breath, but I cut him off.

"Draco," I said softly. It was the first time I'd used his given name, and it seemed to work at stopping him in his tracks. "I'm not sorry that all this has happened to you. If it hadn't… if it weren't for you and Severus, I'd be dead now. I'm sorry that everything that has happened has caused problems for you, but… well… I'm starting to come to think of you as a friend, and that wouldn't have been possible before."

At that moment, a throat cleared, startling both Draco and myself. We whipped around, drawing our wands to see Severus leaning against the doorway to the kitchen.

"We need to talk," he said.