Oh my loves, I am SO SORRY for the delayed update. Life really kicked my ass (I'll spare you the details and excuses). We are back in it now!

I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Thanks for the patience, love, and support.

Betawork done by sourlimeade/datingstilinski1967, rosenymphadoraweasley5, and crookshankscrew.

peace and love,

sam

Draco wandered into the common room hoping to escape the insufferable sounds of his roommates' slumber. Bastards were just sleeping like infants while he tossed and turned.

He stalled when he saw someone settled on the sofa, book in hand, and an instantly recognizable mane of curls. She sipped her tea and turned a page in her book, completely oblivious to his observation for the moment.

Granger was in a dark green jumper that seemed several sizes too big for her, legs stretched across the cushions covered in black leggings. Slytherin green looked good on her. There were ridiculous fluffy socks on her feet. Her teacup balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa so she could rest her head in her hand while she read.

He felt like he was intruding on her tranquility, but he couldn't make himself leave. Granger glanced up at him at the very moment he considered retreating to his room. The slight upturn of her lips invited him to stay.

"Hi," he said sheepishly. "What are you doing up?"

Her smile faltered, "Nightmares. Can't get back to sleep."

He nodded in understanding as he walked over to the couch and took a seat at the opposite end. Granger curled her legs under her to make room and he almost wished she'd let the accidental brush of contact happen. He didn't push her to talk. If that's what she wanted, he knew she'd unravel without his prompting. "You?"

He hummed in confusion. "Why are you up at this hour?" she asked.

"Can't sleep with Theo's snoring. And I worry about the nightmares that might be waiting when I close my eyes," he said, staring into the fire. "Once a coward, always a coward I guess. I can't seem to stop running away."

They sat in silence for a while. Both staring into the flames as though they could burn away their fears if they tried hard enough.

His thoughts were racing. All of them about her. About what he'd seen and learned since the Quidditch pitch incident two days ago. They'd all given Granger space to breathe and tried to return to their normal banter. She'd occasionally pull one of them to the side to confide some detail or reach out if the panic and shame were spiraling too much.

Draco noticed she often picked him for these moments. The moments when she needed to feel safe.

He wondered if the nightmares were about the war like his or if they were about the smaller battles she'd had with the Weasel King.

Mostly, he wondered if his feelings for her would be reciprocated. If she could ever care for someone who'd done the things he had. He wasn't a saint. Could he offer her anything better than him?

He'd never hurt her. But would the crimes of his past taint her, too? Would she become so bogged down in shame and expectations that she crumbled into nothing?

His eyes ran over her again. She was stunning, but still had some weight to regain from being on the run in the war and likely from the stress of the last few months. He made a note to start making her plate for her at breakfast, too.

"Come here," she spoke suddenly, beckoning him closer. He quirked an eyebrow in question. "Just lay down. I'm not going back to sleep, but…my mum used to do something and it would help me relax. At least one of us should get some rest, right?"

He had to be hallucinating. She was offering to…help him sleep? Her vague request made him slightly uneasy, but he trusted her enough to take what she was offering. To accept this piece of her life that she was willing to show him. He started to lay down with his head next to her hip, when she reached out, urging him to shift higher.

"It works better when your head is…in my lap. At least, that's how I remember it," she nibbled her bottom lip. Just to ease her uncertainty, he shifted to rest his head across her thighs and gave her an encouraging smile, though it probably turned out more like a smirk. Some habits were harder to get rid of.

His hands rested on his abdomen and she brushed his fringe from his forehead. Her fingers were warm and soft.

"Eyes closed," she winked at him and he let his eyelids fall. Suddenly, he felt her fingers gliding across each eyebrow then down the bridge of his nose. She repeated the pattern with deliberate but soft strokes. Her palm would occasionally graze his cheek, his forehead, his lips. He let out a contented sigh as he relaxed into her.

"Good?" she whispered without pausing her ministrations.

"Mhmm," he couldn't be bothered with words. He didn't want to break the fragile moment. He drifted off. In Hermione Granger's lap. The smell of wood burning, lemongrass, and chai tea lulling him further into sleep. He heard her turn the pages of her book while humming something under her breath.

I could fall asleep like this always, he thought as he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Hermione woke up with a weight on her stomach and a painful knot in her neck. As her surroundings cleared, she noticed that she was still on the couch in the common room. With Draco wrapped around her waist and using her as a pillow.

The previous night came back to her slowly.

He'd fallen asleep in her lap and she hadn't wanted to disturb him. She knew how difficult it was to get a restful night of sleep. He'd looked so peaceful. He'd turned on his side at some point and she'd taken the opportunity to shift her legs up onto the couch and recline against the arm. She'd also summoned a footstool to keep her feet from dangling off the couch. Draco had nuzzled into her stomach muttering in his sleep and she ran her fingers through his hair.

It was just as silky soft as she thought it would be. It was sticking up at the back where he'd been laying. Draco Malfoy had bedhead and it was adorable.

Eventually, she'd levitated her book and her empty mug to the coffee table and curled in around him. She didn't expect slumber to find her after the stressful day and subsequent nightmares, but with a softly snoring man in her lap, she fell right to sleep.

"You didn't tell me we were having a slumber party in the common room?" Daphne's lilting voice snapped her back to the present. A present where she was still very much cuddled up with a sleeping blond wizard. She didn't have a mirror on hand, but she imagined that she looked quite rumpled due to the slightly uncomfortable sleeping position.

"It was kind of a spontaneous occurrence," Hermione whispered in response.

"We'll put invites on formal stationery next time," Draco mumbled as he tightened his grip on her waist.

"Embossed ones? With gold leaf?" Daphne teased.

"If I say yes, will you go away and let me sleep?"

"Hmm…" Daphne stroked her chin in thought. "Throw in delivery via fairies and we have a deal."

"Fine. Now… piss off." Draco lifted Hermione's hand and placed it back on his head. A silent demand for her to resume petting his head as she had the previous night.

She chuckled at him but ultimately complied. After Daphne had skipped away—no doubt to inform Pansy of what she'd seen—Hermione broke the silence. "Good morning."

"Morning," Draco replied with a yawn. "It'll be a better one after five more minutes."

"I don't think we have that luxury," she admonished as she lightly tugged on his hair. "We're in the common room. On a school day. In about ten minutes, Slytherins of all ages will be moving through to get breakfast and go to class."

"Ten minutes you say? Great, then my five more minutes is perfectly reasonable," he retorted.

She laughed and gently nudged him off her lap so she could stand. He flopped back onto the couch and opened his eyes to stare at her.

With a heavy sigh and much more groaning than was strictly necessary, he pulled himself into a standing position. "Fine. I'll go be responsible and get ready for class."

"How adult of you," she praised. As she turned to go to her room, he caught her fingers in his. Not her wrist. He was always conscious to not constrict her, even before he knew everything. It was just his way.

He gave her the choice. First and foremost, it was always her choice.

"Walk with me to breakfast?" he asked while he ran his thumb across her knuckles. That was another thing he did. He couldn't be still. He was always tapping his fingers, drawing on her skin, or running his hands through his hair. Constant movement.

She met his gaze and saw the insecurity. The fear that she'd want space after his little display in the early hours.

"So long as you don't mind waiting for me," her words had some extra weight. Hermione had a feeling this was a step toward something and she didn't know if she was ready—yet. "I imagine there will be an inquisition when I get to my room. You know Pansy, she'll torture me with hair products and that nerve-wracking glare of hers until I cave. The one that makes you feel like she can see into your head so you might as well spill your secrets."

"Theo is much the same. Though he prefers to torture me by listing every sexual fantasy he's ever had about me or my parents. Sometimes me and my parents. Those are particularly disturbing." Hermione snorted. A very unladylike sound that immediately had her cheeks red in embarrassment.

Draco cocked his head with a small smile on his face. He finally dropped her hand and walked off toward the stairs.

"I'll wait as long as you need me to." Again, Hermione wondered how much of this was about breakfast.

She shook herself out of her trance and trudged to her dorm. She took a deep breath and swung open the door.

"I know what you think you saw, but nothing happened," she blurted.

Pansy was frozen mid-way through brushing her hair. Daphne stood gaping at Hermione from her wardrobe.

"What did we see?" Pansy inquired. "And why would it be misconstrued?"

Hermione whirled on Daphne. "You didn't tell her?"

"No. I figured you'd tell us if something was going on," Daphne replied flippantly.

"Nothing is going on."

"So that's why he was curled around you like a vine this morning? The man barely fits on that couch alone! I doubt he was entirely comfortable."

"Will you two take a breath and tell me what happened? Whether it was something, nothing, or a vivid hallucination, I would like details before I die of old age," Pansy exclaimed dramatically.

"Hermione and Draco were found snuggled together on the sofa this morning," Daphne announced.

"Traitor," Hermione mumbled under her breath.

"Oh, did he finally grow up and make a move?"

"What?" Daphne and Hermione shouted in unison.

"Neither of you are blind nor stupid," she scoffed "The boy is pining. Theo has concocted this twenty-five-step plan to get you to date him. Apparently, that's just Phase One! Merlin only knows how long Phase Two of the plan is," Pansy sighed. "At this rate, we'll all be well into our hundred by the time he proposes."

"Um… putting that revelation aside for the moment," Hermione said distractedly. "Nothing happened. I couldn't sleep. He couldn't sleep. We talked. We passed out on the sofa. End of story."

"Did you want something to happen?" Daphne prodded.

"Yes— No—" Pansy gave her a disbelieving look and Daphne was suppressing her laughter.

"I don't know!" Hermione slumped onto her bed and stared at the curtains. "We have these moments where it just feels… natural. As cliché as it is, it feels as easy as breathing. He knows when I want to talk and when I don't. He never pushes me. And Circe, his eyes. They just pierce right through me. And sometimes… he gives me a smile that is just so genuine but also like he's trying to solve a puzzle—"

"I'm going to say you definitely wanted something to happen," Daphne teased.

"I'm damaged goods, remember?" she said, tucking her knees up to her chest. "How am I supposed to be in a relationship when—when my head is still fucked up from Ron."

"One, I have banned that prat's name from this room. You may refer to him as the tosser, the scum of the earth, the ex-who-shall-not-be-named, or—my personal favorite—the ginger prat," Pansy declared. "Two, you are not damaged goods. No more than the rest of us. Especially no more than Draco Malfoy."

The girls were silent as they finished their morning routines. Pansy's declarations usually served to end conversations. It was the tone, as though they were all terribly exhausting and she needed a moment's peace.

Hermione pondered everything that had happened over the past few days. She rarely gave herself enough time to think about it. She'd been opening up about her past, but what had happened with Ron still felt very much like her present.

The consequences of her actions hadn't reached her yet. Not when she was constantly surrounded by her friends. Ron hadn't dared to approach her.

The whole morning all she had been thinking was that she didn't deserve to be happy or wanted. Her thoughts were running in circles repeating that she'd pushed the people she loved away for so long that she couldn't truly expect them to come running back. She'd ostracized the one person who'd told her that scars were ugly but he'd love her anyway. His voice had been rattling in her brain from the moment she'd left Draco.

As Hermione pulled her bag onto her shoulder, she felt the tears welling.

"What if he was right?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Who?"

"Ro—the ginger prat."

Pansy and Daphne just stared at her, waiting for her to fill them in on her mental spiral.

"I… I like Draco. I like who I am with him and how he is with me. I don't know if I'm ready when anytime I'm alone I just hear his voice telling me how no one else will ever love me. That I'm not enough of anything." Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and used her fingers to discreetly trace the scar on her arm. The tears had started to slowly trail down her cheeks.

"The voice in my head that tells me I'm not good enough… it doesn't sound like me. It sounds like him." Hermione felt the tears track down her cheeks. "I think it always will and that scares me more than anything. That I'll never be free of this. He'll always be in my head."

Daphne rushed over to pull her into an embrace. She stroked her hair and squeezed her tight.

"Granger, do not let the opinion of a man who needed to feel strong by making others feel small steal any more happiness from you," Pansy insisted. "He does not get to tell you what is enough. He never could. Did he hurt you and break you down so he could feel powerful? Yes. But it was all an act. He is not more than you. He will never be more than you."

Hermione nodded and wiped the tears from her face. Pansy was right, of course. Logically, she knew that Ron didn't hold any power over her. Logically, she knew that the words he'd yelled and the blows he'd dealt hadn't really been about her failures or her at all. It had always been about his own insecurities. His own need to feel like he was in charge and important. It was about control.

All of this information made sense.

But she couldn't stop her heart from racing when he was in a room with her.

She couldn't stop flinching at sudden movements or unexpected loud noises.

She couldn't stop the guilt from rising in her chest when she chose to do something for her instead of for everyone else.

She couldn't stop the doubt that Draco wouldn't want her when he realized how scarred—physically and mentally—she was.

"How do I get him out of my head? How do I make it stop?" she pleaded.

"With the help of good friends who will help remind you of the truth about who you are," Daphne declared.

"And snogging Draco," Pansy muttered as the girls rounded the corner to see the man himself talking to Theo and waiting for them.

After much discussion and debate, Hermione decided that she needed to talk to Ron.

Harry and Ginny had been pushing her to confront the issue head-on like the Gryffindor that she was. Daphne and Pansy were convinced that her budding feelings for Draco were reason enough to get closure and start to move on.

Hermione's biggest concern was that it was too soon. That she wasn't ready. It had only been a few days since the Quidditch match and she knew Ron's pride would still be wounded.

She was also worried about Lavender. Would this confrontation make it worse for her? Would Ron's anger find an outlet in another woman's skin?

Interestingly, it was Blaise who decided it for her. She'd been sitting in the library waiting for the rest of the group when he approached her.

"No one asked for my opinion, but I think you should talk to him," he'd declared. Hermione merely blinked at him in confusion.

"He is a sad, insecure man. He is someone who needs to be put in his place. To be shown that his actions are not enough to break someone who does not wish to be broken," Blaise continued while examining his fingernails. As though this great philosophical conversation was par for the course on a Wednesday afternoon.

"More importantly, you deserve to say the words you've bottled up. You deserve to unleash the anger, the resentment, and the hurt you've suppressed for his sake. You deserve to unload that burden and no amount of late-night therapy with Theo will truly free you from that weight. Confront the monster, Granger. Reduce him to the mere mortal man that he is behind the fire and smoke."

Hermione's brain processed everything Blaise said as the rest of her friends showed up. She'd been unusually quiet that night while she made an internal pros and cons list. Blaise's words eventually pushed her to face Ron.

She wouldn't do it alone.

The Slytherins were banned. Hermione had heard their ideas for retribution and thought it best to keep that whole group from Ron. Blaise was especially murderous and too sneaky for his own good to be invited.

They would also draw unnecessary attention.

Ginny and Harry would be at Hermione's side and they'd do this in the comfort of the Gryffindor common room. A public setting where people were used to their little group sneaking into corners and having heated discussions.

It was safe. And maybe she could show Lavender just how not alone she was.

So here she stood. In front of the portrait of the Fat Lady with Ginny holding her hand and Harry waiting on her other side. They wouldn't move until she was ready.

"Let's get on with it, then," she sighed. Harry stepped forward to give the password and held the door for the girls.

Ron was in the corner playing Wizard's Chess with a set charmed to act as an opponent when two players weren't available. Even before this whole incident, people had given up playing against him when he always won.

Harry cast the Muffliato and Ginny cast a Notice-Me-Not charm to give them privacy from prying eyes.

Hermione took a steadying breath and prepared for a fight.

"Ronald."

"Come to ask me to take you back? Or to apologize?" he asked without looking up from his game.

Hermione saw Harry and Ginny tense. Their individual tempers were rather legendary. As a couple, they could do very serious damage if properly motivated.

"No, I've come to tell you what a piece of shit you are actually," she responded with more conviction than she felt. "I've come to tell you that you don't get to make me or anyone else feel small anymore."

"You do a fairly good job of that yourself. That little meek and mild act you've perfected over the years certainly doesn't make you formidable," he said calmly, finally looking up at her. There in his eyes was the anger swirling. He was keeping it in check.

This was a strategy. Paint himself as a victim, too. She knew this act of attrition. The false claims that he'd never meant it, that it was her fault for provoking him.

"Maybe if you hadn't been so cuddled up with a Death Eater, I wouldn't have—"

"Let me stop you there." Hermione threw a hand in the air, palm towards Ron. "One, Draco is a former Death Eater at best. He wasn't ever very good at being a dark wizard. Two, how dare you try to blame me for this. Again."

Hermione took a brave step close to him. She wouldn't be cowed by the likes of him anymore.

"I may not have always believed it, but none of this has been my fault," she kept her voice calm despite the emotion stirring within her. "It was never my fault for the bruises. For the broken bones. I was not responsible for your anger. It was not my job to keep you happy and to apologize every time you expressed your displeasure with your fists."

"I apologised—"

"Yes. What brilliant apologies those were. Until the next time another man talked to me. Or I was later getting home. Or I burnt dinner. Or I said no to sex. The next time I committed some grave transgression your beautifully worded apologies were reduced to dust in the wind." She registered the tears in her eyes and the emotions making her voice thick. Hermione hated that he was still bringing this out in her. That she couldn't even be mad without crying.

"Watch your mouth."

"No. Not anymore. You are not worth the fear and the tears. If you don't like the new reality of your life… get a fucking time turner and be a better man," Hermione spat. Her anger was bubbling into the surface. She'd never spoken to him like this and it was liberating.

Ron grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. His grip was tight and his resolve was crumbling. The audience they had didn't matter anymore.

"Not so tough, now, are we?" he sneered at her. "You disgust me. With your disrespect. Every time you open that mouth, disappointing words come out. Maybe I should—"

"I wouldn't finish that sentence." The group turned to see Neville standing just behind Harry. Either the charms had worn off or Neville had been in the area and no one had noticed.

It didn't matter at this point. Neville was red with anger, fist clenched around his wand which was pointed directly at Ron.

"You have three seconds to let her go or I'll stun you," Neville stated. He'd come a long way from a quivering first year. This was a man who'd stood up to Voldemort. A man who'd faced Bellatrix Lestrange. Neville Longbottom had faced his fears and come out victorious. A true Gryffindor.

And one who was fiercely protective of his friends and those who couldn't defend themselves.

Ron made the mistake of laughing in Neville's face and moving his grip from Hermione's arms to her throat.

The red light of the stunner connected before he'd even closed his fingers around her skin.

Hermione felt her breath coming in bursts and the panic leached into her brain. The edges of her vision were blurring and she could hear muffled voices.

None of her techniques were working. Her mantra was getting jumbled in her brain.

The dull pain in her knees told her she was on the floor now, but she couldn't be bothered to care.

The next thing she knew was darkness and the sound of her name being called.

When Hermione came to, she was in the Slytherin Common Room propped on her couch. Daphne was stroking her hair and several pairs of eyes were on her.

Neville, Harry, and Ginny sat on one couch. Blaise, Theo, and Pansy were squished on another couch. Draco sat on the floor in front of her with his back propped against her sofa. His head leaned back by her knees.

"You really must stop nearly dying," Theo said with feigned exasperation. "It's going to cause me grey hairs and I refuse to grey this early."

"But you'd be such a stunning silver fox," Hermione teased, her voice hoarse from the panic attack.

Everyone released chuckles that sounded more like sighs of relief.

"Well, now that our Golden Girl has joined us in the realm of consciousness," Blaise produced a bottle of firewhiskey. "I say we drink."

Before she knew it, everyone was mingling and switching seats. Ginny, Harry, and Blaise were debating Quidditch. Neville had been squished between Pansy and Theo who were in a competition to see who could make him redder.

Hermione overheard something about a fantasy in a greenhouse and decided that those two could play their games and she'd just ignore them.

Daphne had switched spots with Draco at some point and was currently using different charms to throw things at Blaise. So far, she'd conjured flowers, apples, balls of yarn, and she was now crafting a rather elaborate mini-fireworks display with suggestions from Draco.

Theo refilled her a drink as Draco threw an arm across the back of the sofa. Apparently, Theo had given up competing with Pansy and had acquired a new target in Harry.

"My, my Chosen One… you have such striking bone structure," he said while trailing a finger down Harry's jawline.

Harry spit out his drink and stuttered out a response that seemed to be more sounds than words.

Ginny snorted. "He's a lost cause, Nott. Took him six years to realize I was a girl and that I was hopelessly in love with him."

"Maybe you just weren't very direct, Red." Theo plopped himself in a very shocked Harry's lap.

"By all means, take your shot. Maybe you can teach him a few new tricks," Ginny retorted with a lascivious wink.

"Ginevra!" Harry exclaimed. It should be noted that he still had not removed Theo from his lap. The group then took turns detailing exactly what tricks Theo could teach Harry who was now just guzzling firewhiskey to cope. Neville looked relieved to have the attention off him and he'd relaxed into the couch.

Despite the panic attack, Hermione felt lighter. Ron's hold on her was finally gone, literally and metaphorically. A chapter had finally closed for her and she was ready to move on. Draco was tracing circles on her shoulder and had caught the ends of her hair in his rings. It was soothing to feel the gentle tug, though they'd need to untangle a bit before they separated.

"Harry, I'll come to your rescue now," Hermione said through her giggles.

"Thank you!" he exclaimed, though his words were a little slurred. Ginny and Neville would have a tough time getting him back to Gryffindor Tower.

"If you'll indulge me, I'd like to make a toast," she said, raising her glass. She looked around and held Draco's gaze. "To new beginnings."

A chorus of cheers and glasses clinking followed. She'd started a trend.

"To snakes and lions as allies," Neville said.

"To snakes and lions as lovers," Theo corrected while he leered at Harry and Neville.

"To Longbottom's growth spurt that enabled him to carry Granger down eight flights of stairs," Pansy leered at Neville and traced a path on his bicep.

"To Longbottom," Daphne echoed with a wink.

"To the exchange program," Blaise proclaimed.

"To good firewhiskey," Harry slurred as he raised his glass and proceeded to spill half of it on himself.

"To hangover potions," Ginny chuckled.

Draco's toast was last. He said the words without any bravado or theatricality. He said his toast while looking directly at Hermione.

"To friends, enemies, and all the broken people."

Art credit to vesperics

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