(copy and paste disclaimer here). Hey y'all! Not dead. 3

CHAPTER EIGHT

Not surprisingly, Hermione's cat naps become a regular occurrence. Draco began to think that it was because of the nightmares. It seems the world needed to prepare for the generation with nightmares. There were times when she slept fitfully even when he was there. He kept telling himself that he went back to her because she needed someone and he was the only one volunteering. But ever since that night when he discovered his father had died, he had started needing her too. This concept didn't enter his mind until she skipped several of the nights they spent together.

Draco had a theory about this. He was getting pretty good at reading her moods. It had been around two months that he had been closely observing her. Her secrets were beginning to unveil themselves to him and she was starting to realize it. Thankfully, they had the dumb therapy sessions today and she had to be there. Especially because they had skipped the last one together and both receive a gentle earful about it. He had a feeling that the next time would not be as gentle. He probably wasn't being further punished for it because of Lucius Malfoy's recent death and the favorite Gryffindor also was absent that day. McGonagall never would have guessed that they had skipped together, no one would have known. Him and Hermione were the ignored step kids in the family that was Hogwarts. Everyone knew they had issues but didn't care enough to help. Well, people cared more about Hermione than him however, she had successfully pushed away everyone but him recently.

He arrived on time, quietly excited to see Hermione. She soothed him. Whatever, he didn't want to talk about it. He felt like he could stare at her for hours but when she walked in he purposefully did not look in her direction. Maybe she would get the message that he felt a little abandoned over the past few days. It wasn't very long into the session that he realized what her problem was.

The usual suspects were overly participating which distracted Daisy enough so she didn't pick on anyone else. Hermione's telltale sign was how much she fidgeted her hands. When her hands sat very still on top of her knees, he knew she was cutting again. Of course he was right. This time satisfaction didn't taste sweet at all. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Just anything to let her know that he was there for her and that she didn't have to bear this burden alone.

"I feel the expressing that happened today has certainly set our souls on the right path to peace. I want to keep this good chakra flowing through our interactions. Lets split up into groups of four." Daisy split up the students. Angrily looking at the other two students that were assigned to their group was enough to discourage them from sitting close. As soon as he deemed it safe, he turned to Hermione.

"Why are you still cutting yourself?" She was only mildly shocked.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Read me so well." His mouth twitched in a half smile as a warm feeling of satisfaction flourished. He quickly wiped his face back to the blank slate he normally kept it at in an attempt to cover the fact that they were communicating without fighting; this still being an unknown occurrence with the other classmates.

"Don't distract me." He said with the slightest twinkle of flirtatiousness in his eyes. Turning to the defensive, she spate back. "Why would you care?"

"Come on Granger, aren't we past this?" He stuck out an emotional olive branch, hoping that she would return it in kind.

"I don't want to talk about it. Especially here." She glanced about at the people group up, excluding their partners who were probably just bad-mouthing them. Daisy was sitting in a corner quietly writing notes.

"Fine. Stop avoiding me and come to the room." Come on, Granger. I just need a little something.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione's POV

He started caring. There wasn't any way around it. She was a smart girl, at least she used to be, and couldn't miss the signs of attachment. On one hand, this was exactly what she wanted and on the other it wasn't what she wanted at all. Step by step, she ambled to their room while trying to formulate what she was going to say.

She once was told that communication was the linch-pin that held a relationship, of any kind, together. It was the peanut butter and jelly that held the sandwich together. Well this sandwich sucked. It was shortly into their conversation that it evolved to a fight.

"I know that I hurt you in the past but that doesn't give you the right to treat me like crap, alright?!" His chest heaved as he was consumed with his fury. Eyes blazing, cheeks flushed, stance rigid, he was the picture of life. In complete contrast, she was disgusting. Another muggleborn has asked her earlier if it was already Halloween; it being mid-February, it was clearly a jab. Her brain felt fuzzy and stirring up enough energy to be as passionate as him was such a struggle. Hermione had half a bagel at breakfast, a slice of turkey at lunch, and half a bowl of soup at supper with black coffee to wash everything down at every meal. A small part of her knew that it wasn't enough fuel to keep her going. She knew that after her body realized that she wasn't eating enough, it would turn onto itself. First was the thighs and butt, then went the stomach and chest, a little from her arms… not enough. Then from her cheeks, around her spinal cord and even from her eye sockets. Soon her body would start on the muscle until her heart was too weak to flutter any longer.

"God, it's like you are not even a human anymore. Is anyone in there? Am I reaching Hermione in that shell of a body? Your eyes glaze over when I talk to you, of course that should not be surprising considering that your eyes are always glazed. Why, one might ask." He asked to the pretend audience. Snarky. "Because she doesn't eat ANYTHING." With that he collapsed on the couch and glared into the fireplace. He cared. He actually cared. Then, without warning, tears started slipping down her faces. At the first sniffle, he turned to look at her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco's POV

There she stood. Tears, ones she probably didn't have the nutrients to restock, slipped from her beautiful and sad eyes. Under her large robe, her shoulders shook as her thin arms went up to cover her face.
"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry." She cried hysterically. In the privacy of the room, he could follow whatever whim he wanted, and he did just that. Jumping up, he went to where she was stuck in the middle of the room and enveloped her small frame into a hug. The strongest feeling of protectiveness washed over him as he felt the trust emanating from her. Once, her coming to him in a moments of grief was impossible and now it was the sweetest drug he had ever tried. He stroked her hair, not as soft has it had looked in the past, trying to calm the girl. She slipped away from his embrace after a few minutes, tears and snot running down her face. Ever the gentleman, he conjured a handkerchief for her use.

"Why are you trying to help me?" Her attacks of defensiveness had been broken down, now she just asked; showcasing her brokenness.

"Because it seems like a waste of a women. Especially to lose to suicide." He knew there was much more to answer that question but neither one of them were ready for that yet.

"I don't think I can ever be more than this."

"I don't believe that." As if a hidden timer went off, her vulnerability snapped shut and a spark of angry flickered in her eyes. He wasn't sure if he was pleased to see an actual emotion or disappointed that the anger was directed at him.

"Don't have hope for a girl like me, Draco Malfoy. You'll only get your heart and faith broken." Humans are fickle things and emotions are like unlabeled chemicals. Mix two together and you could have a cure, mix three and you could have an explosion. Maybe if I just make her mad enough but don't push her over the edge…

"Who said I have hope for you?"

"Don't play coy, I can see it in your eyes. But maybe you don't care, maybe you are just playing with me because you're bored. Who knows?" She was grasping at straws, anything to make him seethe with anger.

"Are you really trying to bring up the dead father to distract me from the mess that is you?" She worked on a response for a minute before continuing.

"Maybe you're just investing in me so that you don't have to deal with your own grief. If you want to talk to someone about that, I'm sure Daisy would help."

"Why don't you take your own advice?" He snapped back. Her final wall snapped back up, he could almost feel her pulling away from him emotionally.

"There's nothing wrong with me. It's all in your head. Stop being so obsessed with me and deal with your own issues." With that she stormed out of the room. As soon as she was gone, it was like the room dimmed. If he moved, it would mean he had to process what she just said and do something about it. Instead, he took a moment to let his world be very still, only the crackling of the once calming fireplace to soothe his battered heart.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione's POV

Stupid stupid boy. Stupid stupid girl. Why did she think that she could have made whatever that was work? She was losing it. The desire to forget her life suppressed all other thoughts. She was in luck, it was Friday night. She purposefully walked down to snake territory and slipped into a room famous for it's bashes. The booming music overpowered her as she beelined for a corner where he always was. Girls in short dresses and heavily primped faces gyrated on the dance floor with boys that knew no hand boundaries. A few couples had graduated to the hidden spots where they snogged shamelessly. Some sat in select spots around the room, carelessly gawking at those dancing while others placed bets on a exploding snaps game.

"I'll take your special of the night." The Slytherin boy reached into his robe and pulled out a baggie filled with three pills.

"Of course, love." He replied in a weaselly voice. "I call this The Galaxy Trip because it'll make you high enough to reach space."
"Great. I'll take five." Shocking a drug dealer was pretty hard to do but she definitely got a look. "I'm having a party." She explained in a deadpan voice. He tossed them at her, "I expect payment in a week." Nodding, she swallowed the first bag with a shot from the bar. The Slytherins had transformed this room into a magical club. Because of her back corner business, she was allowed in along with a few of the other non-Slytherin students. While Slytherins loved their elitism, other houses generated more business and continued their reputation for the best and nastiest of parties. Slytherin pride was not to be underestimated.

Around bag three, she remembered the feeling of someone's hands on her bum. After shaking off this faceless man, she stumbled out to the nearest bathroom. It was full of other girls vomiting from their night activities. The lack of privacy bothered even high Hermione so she left to find a dark corner, something that was abundant in the dungeon dominion. Her ears were ringing from the loud music and her stomach churned from a mixture of pills and alcohol on an empty stomach. Still feeling sadness and anger bubble up through the haze, she pushed herself to take the next two bags. Everything after that was incomprehensible. Sensory information was in a different language and her body couldn't tell what was happening. Vomiting, pain, talking, pain, was she dying? Liquid, pain, headache, pain, blackness.