Rolling over for the hundredth time, Hermione mentally cursed her painful wrist for keeping her awake. And that ground that was way too hard. And the temperature that was awfully too low.
No kidding… she was down a pit in the library of a castle, mid-night, at the end of december. What would you expect ?

If only Harry's cloak could have been of any help. But the powerful magic impregnating the textile was somehow making it ice cold, and even rolled as a pillow it was colder than the floor itself. No use.

Hermione was dead tired, and unable to sleep. Which was making her really prickly.
She felt her jaw clenching at the sound of Malfoy's breathing, that he obviously was making as loud as possible to annoy the hell out of her.

"Could you please breath a little quieter ?" she hissed to him with the same dismissive tone he had used earlier.

But she got no answer.

She rolled her eyes, getting really upset when the boy started to sound almost like he had asthma. And she would have swore she even heard him moan.
What kind of comedy was that ?
Hermione raised her head to take a look at the lying body of Draco, so upset she felt herself ready to throw at him one of the precious books surrounding her.

But her anger vanished as she saw him twitching on the ground, in a way that didn't look like a comedy at all. She almost gasped at the thought that he might start to convulse, and got up eagerly.

"Hey… are you ok ?" she whispered softly, coming closer in quiet steps.

But he seemed deeply asleep, lying on his side, eyebrows frowned and hands clawed at his stomach as if something was eating him from the inside. And she jumped when he started to gasp for air again.

- I hope you choke in your nightmares -

Hermione's heart tightened. If Pansy had wished him such a thing, it had to be because the boy was pretty used to those kind of rough night. Maybe… maybe he was even experiencing it through every single sleep.
How could normal people survive such hell ?

She risked a shy hand on his forehead, and as expected, he was ice cold.

"What can I do for you…?" she whispered too low to be heard, her voice almost breaking.

God, how she hated to see someone in pain. Even that one.
She tried to wake him up by shaking him a little, but there was nothing to be done. And she felt pity, and sorrow, and a feeling of helplessness so strong she did something she never had imagined she would do one day.

Her chest against his back, Hermione lied down against Draco's body to warm him up.

She even put an arm - her valid-wrist one - around him to bring him closer, to try to sooth a little his awful shivers that would eventually drain all of his energy. To try to bring him rest.

And when he frantically caught her hand in his own, clawing at it with so much strength it was painful, she didn't even make a move to back out.

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… that was not… I did not meant to… I'm sorry…" he started muttering, his voice so low she wasn't even sure what she was hearing.

"Sorry about what ?" she asked softly.

But he was sleep talking.

"Sorry... so sorry... sorry..." he kept muttering in a sorrowful loop, and he held her hand tighter and tighter, and she felt so heartbroken she rested her forehead against his silken blond hair.

"Don't be" she just whispered.

And she closed her eyes, letting the soft warmth of his body heat her own, the twitches of his shattered breathing rock her to sleep, and his voice, just his voice.

Just him.

And that velvet, cotton-soft silence that wrapped her whole.

Whole.

To sleep.

.

.

.

"Uh, well… what the fuck ?"

Hermione woke up startled, her eyes widening in fear. She hadn't noticed her hand was not held anymore, nor that the body of the boy she was pressed against had stopped shivering and sleep talking.
Well, the body she had been pressed against - that very boy having rolled over to look at her eyes with suspicion.

"I…"

But she just couldn't explain. So she backed off instead, with a murmured apology, and got back to her side of the pit to lie down face against the wall.

"You're one weird girl, aren't you ?" she heard his cold voice mumble, probably not expecting an answer. An answer she did not give anyway.

She heard him roll over against his wall, sighing. But after a few seconds he rolled back and his voice raised again.

"No but seriously, what the fuck ?"

Because you were moaning like a little girl and I felt sorry !

"I was just cold…"

"Oh yeah, right. Ok. Glad to be your heat provider then" he drawled, rolling over again. "Anytime."

"Fuck you" she whispered, too low for him to hear. And she bit her lip so hard that she decided the pain was the reason her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

Prick…

.

.

For what probably was half an hour, the boy on the other side of the room rolled over a thousand times, obviously struggling to fall asleep again. She was herself shivering cold.
But listening to his breathing that was calm and regular again, she felt kind of relieved. The bastard was at least not choking to death, and - in spite of herself - she did prefer it that way.

"Hey…"

Hermione did not believe her ears when Malfoy's voice had raised in a whisper. And she did not answer.

"Come on, I know you're not sleeping…"

"What do you want ?" she uttered, her voice a bit too sharp.

"Don't get upset, I just wanted to…"

"Wanted to what ?"

"I wanted to know if…"

She rolled around to meet his eyes. His eyes that were - from the other side of the pit - staring at her with a strange shyness. His grey eyes that were almost glowing silver under the moonlight touching his face.

Every single drop her anger drained at that image.

And he took a deep, timid breath.

"... are you still cold, Granger ?"