Chapter Seven

I'm glad so many reviewers noticed Snape's emotions as he witnessed certain parallels between him and Draco. Too sad. He might make a reappearance sometime! Onwards as we continue exploring our two protagonists and their connection. As always, JKR is the owner.

...

Hermione was seriously considering throwing some hexes around. Maybe a Bat-Bogey-Hex, or the classic Slugulus Eructo aimed right at someone's face. Anything was better than just sitting there grinding her teeth during Order meetings and trying not to roll her eyes. Maybe Draco's sarcastic brand of crankiness was rubbing off on her. (Oh dear god. Note to self, Hermione thought wryly, her face flushing crimson don't think about any part of Draco Malfoy rubbing itself anywhere…)

It was becoming clear that there was a small group of wizards and witches in the Order of the Phoenix who resented any connection to the young Malfoy boy, who refused to trust even the most basic information he provided. This turned out to be a rather difficult hurdle for Hermione, as she was the one who was responsible for passing on his knowledge of the Death Eaters. She was quite sick and tired of having to attend meetings where she was met with a barrage of suspicion and accusations on behalf of 'her prisoner', as they called Draco.

Why don't they make up their bloody minds, she groaned to herself.

One minute they were demanding that he give information to the Order and then the next they were refusing to follow it. But she knew that now finally they had out-manoeuvred this small faction of doubters. Draco had given her the name of someone he knew was an active target of the Death Eaters and where they had been hunting for him. The man in question was Ted Tonks, father of Nymphadora. Based on Draco's word alone, they had managed to locate the man exhausted and near starving in the woods before the Death Eaters found him. Without Draco's help he would surely be dead by now. Nymphadora had been able to interpret the clues with more insight based on her superior knowledge of her father, and the Order had arrived just in time.

Even the most vehement deniers had been forced to admit that Malfoy had proven useful. Now they seemed desperate for more intelligence from the blond boy, even as they hated him in the same breath. Hermione personally thought they were hypocrites. They treated him contemptuously and demanded his help with no remorse.

But she appreciated the aid of a select few who seemed keen to foster this relationship with the newly discovered Malfoy boy. They had their supporters too. Minerva was as staunch as ever in her defence of Draco. She didn't necessarily believe in his worth herself, but she trusted Hermione's judgment implicitly. And now Tonks too was on board. She had come to Hermione once or twice asking questions about him, grateful for the rescue of her father. She wanted to know whether her cousin was genuine. Hermione had almost forgotten that the two were related, but it was true. Narcissa Malfoy had been the sister of Andromeda Tonks before the latter was disinherited and shunned from the family for marrying a muggleborn. Tonks seemed keen to meet her cousin and speak with him in person. But Hermione was still trying to convince Draco that this was a good idea – he was continuing as before, unwavering in his refusal to speak to anyone else except her. A part of her thought he was being stupid and stubborn, but a part of her also understood his concern. He had a hard time trusting others. And she now knew that she had become…special to him. A revelation that had filled her with both fear and awe. Hermione wasn't sure what exactly was the nature of his obsession with her, but she knew that he had somehow come to associate her as being a symbol of his salvation from darkness. A mantle that she thought was undeserved. There was surely nothing exceptional or unique about her that would inspire such devotion. But it seemed to have kept him sane through some desolate times, so she was willing to accept it, whatever it was. And it wasn't like he was alone; that kiss had lingered within her too and haunted her through many sleepless nights.

What now? She had asked a few days ago following their heartfelt conversation about what happened in the hospital wing. Draco had smirked and shocked her by running a fingertip across the back of her hand

We should probably try to actually get to know each other, he had replied making her snort and nod in agreement.

Hermione sighed in fond remembrance and opened the door to Draco's room, politely requesting entry when she saw him instead of just storming in like so many others had in the past. She juggled the plates she carried and thought back fondly on the strange game they'd started, to get to know each other. They had taken turns asking each other silly little questions, slowly breaking down the walls that had stood between them for years. In between compiling information to give to the Order, of course.

It was…fun actually. She was peeling back layers of Draco's prickly personality and revealing things she had never thought possible.

And she was sure today would be just as interesting and illuminating for them both. It was with a light, almost excited heart that she entered his room, actually looking forward to the continuation of their game.

….

"Okay, let me think of a tricky one… hmmm…" Draco waited patiently for her to come up with her question. He didn't mind. It was worth it just to see her adorable nose scrunch up slightly as it always did when she was pondering something difficult. And she didn't like being rushed. The last time he had pressed her to hurry up, his arm had smarted for hours where she had swatted him indignantly. "Oh! I've got it! Favourite Honeydukes sweet?"

Draco snorted.

"That's it? You were thinking for five solid minutes."

"Liar. It wasn't longer than thirty seconds."

"Still, do you think knowing my preference for sweets will give you some deep insight into my soul?"

Hermione giggled prettily. He loved the way she laughed; the way her whole expression lit up and her lips crinkled in at the corners.

"Well maybe…" she retorted primly, "If you say Bloodsicles or Acid pops I'll know to run the other direction..."

"Or cockroach clusters."

"Exactly!"

Draco shook his head with the kind of uninhibited smile that the muscles in his cheeks weren't used to.

"Very well! If you must know, the answer is Sugar Quills."

Hermione made her expression look suddenly mock serious and she let out a dramatic gasp.

"Sugar Quills?"

"Very funny, Granger. And what did you learn from this fascinating answer?"

She contemplated him with narrowed eyes, her lips still curled slightly upwards.

"Well…it tells me you're a prat."

"Really? Does it indeed? And how has it revealed such an astounding conclusion?"

"Come on, Sugar Quills? They don't even have any compound flavours! It's just a glaze of sugar crystals. Pure sugar. Terrible for one's teeth! But I suppose the prat part I just already knew."

Draco snorted.

"Alright then! What's your favourite?" he asked

"Mmmm… Butterscotch Bombs!"

"Oh yeh, I know them. My grandmother used to eat them."

Hermione giggled again and leant her head to rest on the back of the couch, exposing the slender line of her neck. She had conjured the plush sofa a few days ago when they had come up with their 'getting to know you' game. It sat in a cosy space in front of the crackling of a brand new fireplace she had transfigured from some loose bricks. She had insisted that a friendly game needed a friendly space. Draco wasn't sure if she was implying that they were now friends when she said it, but he hoped not. He didn't want to be her friend. When he was all alone in this dreary room his mind sometimes toyed with him by coming up with little fantasies wherein Hermione lay sprawled out in front of his new fireplace, begging for him. Not an inch of clothing on her. Arching her back and purring like a cat in his ear…

Not something a mere friend would dream of.

"Your turn."

Draco blinked and turned his attention back to her face, her features innocent and expecting as she waited for his question. He swallowed and nodded, forcing his thoughts back to the present. A few questions raced through his mind temptingly. He very much enjoyed getting to know her better. Every detail he learned only increased his respect and admiration for her. Even the silliest little titbits carried so much weight. It was as if he was piecing her together like a jigsaw puzzle scattered into a million tiny fragments, each one more interesting than the last as it formed a whole stunning picture. He finally settled on a question and turned towards her with a mischievous grin.

"First crush?"

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, before she huffed out a breath. Her cheeks flushed in mortification.

"I claim non-compliance by reason of insanity!"

Draco actually choked a bit with laughter.

"Seriously? Well now you have to tell me."

"But it's so embarrassing…"

He leaned over and gave her shoulder a little nudge with his own, his smirk positively devious now.

"Come on, Granger. We both promised to be completely honest."

Hermione seemed to glare at him for another long minute, gnawing on the edge of one fingernail as she debated with herself.

"Argh! Fine. I had a tiny crush in our second year on Professor Lockhart."

He was unable to stop the burst of laughter that escaped him, coming out in a guffaw as he stared at her incredulously. Hermione blushed a deep pink and then buried her face in her hands.

"I knew you'd be a pig about it!" she groaned, her voice muffled by her palms as she refused to meet his eyes. He was still cackling at her as he drew her hands away from her face.

"Lockhart? Gilderoy Lockhart? That self-absorbed pampered prince who wore curlers to bed and had portraits of himself all over his office?"

Hermione snorted and gave a resigned chuckle herself, seeing the humour in her own confession.

"I was twelve and he really did have a wonderful smile," she argued defensively, but it was underscored by a pretty giggle.

"Eugh," he commented, sticking his tongue out and miming being sick.

"Well I suppose your first crush was Pansy Parkinson! How mundane."

Draco scoffed.

"Hell no. Don't get me wrong, Pansy tried. But she was so…er…"

"Vapid?"

"Ha! Something like that. Actually I don't remember who my first crush was. I don't think there was one specific person. Sometime at the beginning of third year I just started fancying all the girls!"

Hermione laughed at him, returning his nudge by bumping her shoulder against his.

"Okay, Casanova," she teased, "Favourite subject?"

"Charms actually."

"Not Potions?"

Draco shrugged and his lips curled into a smirk.

"Despite being the teacher's favourite, no. I like the practicality of charms. The range of opportunities and skills it teaches. You?"

"Ancient Runes. It's fascinating! It helps you discover more about the origins of certain spells and how they're formed through runic patterns and incantations."

"You're such a swot. Favourite holiday?"

"Christmas!"

It was difficult not to smile at the excitement gleaming in her eyes. She sat up a little straighter on the couch, practically bouncing up and down.

"Why Christmas?" he asked, captivated by her energetic response.

"Oh just everything about it. The Yule tide joy, decorating the tree with my parents, playing in the snow, wearing Mrs Weasley's hideous jumpers, baking ginger bread, watching Harry's face light up every year when he receives gifts no matter how stupid they are, singing carols…" she trailed off with a wistful smile, gazing into the fireplace. Draco's heart clenched a bit as he watched her. He swallowed and inched closer to her on the couch.

"You actually decorate the tree with your parents?"

Hermione frowned in puzzlement at his question.

"Of course. Mum makes spicy cinnamon hot chocolate and puts on her favourite Dean Martin album. And Dad always obsesses over getting as many lights on the tree as possible until there's just this big jumble of electrical cords."

Although he didn't really understand some of the references she had just made, he could certainly hear the tone of pure yearning and joy in her voice. But although she was still smiling, her eyes were a little sad as she stared at the fireplace.

"The house elves always put up the tree for us. I've never actually decorated one myself," he admitted softly.

"Really?" her tone was one of disbelief tinged with pity.

"I never did much with my parents growing up. Certainly not something so… cosy."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Maybe I will get to do it someday."

She nodded, frowning softly at him. He couldn't stop his poor, lonely mind conjuring an image of arranging baubles on a tree with Hermione humming softly behind him and the scent of hot chocolate wafting through the room. Brushing snowflakes from her curly hair…

"Next question?" she asked shakily, and he nodded encouragingly. She thought for a few moments, her nose scrunching up again. "Ummm… what form does your boggart take?"

Draco's eyes widened at the question.

"Let me guess," he drawled, "Yours is a library book filled with graffiti!"

He received another shove on the shoulder for his teasing joke.

"I would get angry at you, but it's actually not that far from the truth. In our Third Year Defence exam my boggart turned into Professor McGonagall. She told me I'd failed everything."

He chuckled at the amusing image of Hermione being most terrified of her own academic failure. But he was sure in the years since then, her boggart would most likely have changed. His certainly had. They had all known too much darkness since then.

"What about you?" she asked. He took a deep breath, his brows furrowing tightly. He took a long time to answer, long enough that Hermione shifted towards him a bit, cocking her head to the side curiously. He cleared his throat.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

Her lips pursed into a slight frown and then she gasped and slapped her hands up.

"Oh I'm sorry Draco," she groaned, "I should have realised… It's You-Know-Who, isn't it?"

He shook his head with a pained grimace, barely even noticing that she had used his first name.

"No actually…" Draco let out the breath he didn't realise he had been holding and curled his fingers into fists, "There was a boggart hiding in a closet in Lucius's study last year. I went to get rid of it, thinking it would be as easy as it was in Third Year," he confessed in a low murmur, the humour dropping completely from his features and tone as the memory washed over him. Hermione's face crumpled up in concern and she listened attentively, her brown eyes fixed on him with such intense compassion it gave him the courage he needed to continue, "I thought it would be the same. Back in third year it used to be this gross inferi. But then…when it emerged from the closet…"

His voice choked up a bit and he struggled to go on. Hermione did not shove him again, but she did place her hand gently on his shoulder for support. He took a shaky breath.

"It was me. The boggart was me. At first I was confused, but then it was approaching this huddled form in the centre of the room. A person. I watched myself start torturing them, but he…I was grinning. I was enjoying it, laughing madly and goading their screams…"

He shuddered and trailed off. He didn't know why, but he had chosen not to tell her the other truly terrifying part; that the huddled form writhing and shrieking in pain had been her. Her curly hair was too distinctive for it to have been anyone else. He trembled at the memory. Hermione's hand had tightened on his shoulder unconsciously, before she noticed how hard she was gripping him and she released him with a whispered apology.

"Oh Draco…"

He stared at a mouldy spot on the wall behind her.

"It was…horrible. I was a monster."

"But don't you see?" Hermione murmured, her voice dripping with emotion, "That's not you! You're not a monster. Your greatest fear is turning into them – it's becoming someone like your father! And that shows strength, Draco."

He considered her words for a moment, allowing them to wash over him and it actually helped soothed the prickling of terror he felt at the memory. She was right. The boggart wasn't a reflection of himself – it merely revealed to him what he feared becoming. What he refused to become.

"Thank you."

Hermione nodded and sat back quietly on the couch. She was staring down at the fireplace and contemplating what he'd just told her with a grim expression. Draco felt his stomach roll over nervously as he watched her. The firelight was casting a gentle orange glow on her skin that made her look so very beautiful. It shone in her irises; specks of gold flickering in the deep brown. He was filled with the desperate urge to put a smile back on her face.

"So…" he asked, his voice slightly croaky, "favourite food?"

….

...

It was much later that night when Hermione was woken by a noise. She had been sleeping quite lightly, her mind consumed by thoughts of the blond boy next door. She had been unable to drift any further into her dreams as her brain kept ticking around and reflecting on the things he had revealed to her that day. But when a noise infiltrated her bleary senses, she shot upright in bed. It was a groaning, gasping sound. Hermione padded over towards where it was coming from and pressed her ear against the wall. The wood was cold and rough on her cheek. But she could hear it clearly now. It was whimpering, sobbing, heavy breathing.

It was coming from Draco's room.

Despite her rational mind whispering doubts in her ear, Hermione padded over to her door and made her way to his room. She knocked softly but received no reply. She knocked again and called his name softly. No answer again. Then she realised that the room had a silencing spell on it so that Malfoy couldn't overhear anything going on outside in headquarters. She cursed Remus Lupin for all she was worth and twisted the handle to enter his room. The room's wards responded to her magical signature as they always did. She peered her head in and tried to see what was going on without being too invasive.

Everything was dark inside. Only small slivers of moonlight trickled in through the curtains. But the noises were louder now. Heart thudding, Hermione entered the room and crept towards the bed. The floor was icy on her bare feet and she shivered. She should have put on her dressing gown.

"Draco?" she whispered

The still night was broken by another louder, pained groan. She was being eerily reminded of that night in the hospital wing. She slunk right up to the bed and looked down on the figure beneath her. Draco was wrapped tightly in the white sheet, his arms and legs kicked out at strange angles. The sheet was practically strangling him. His back was arched and his face was painted with an expression of agony.

He was fast asleep.

His eyes were scrunched up tightly and he was grinding his teeth. Hermione's gut clenched with worry. He was clearly having a nightmare. She stared at him numbly for a long time before working up the courage to act. Leaning over, she grasped his shoulder and shook it very mildly.

"Draco…"

He moaned pitifully and thrashed his head to the side, but did not wake. She shook him a little harder.

"Draco!"

A gasp of breath was sucked in and he rasped out the word 'no' in a croaking, desperate whisper. Hermione's throat convulsed with sympathy, blinking rapidly as she reached down to shake him again. Before she could, she froze in fright as Draco's eyes slammed open and he stared at her in unseeing horror.

"NOO…"

He grabbed the wrist that was stretched towards him so hard she winced. With another yell the blond sat upright, panting and tugging her towards him with a threatening growl.

"Draco-" she croaked with a tingle of fear. This time saying his name seemed to penetrate whatever cloud of terror he was lost in. His movements stiffened and stopped. Then his eyes cleared a little and he stared at her in shock.

"Her…mione?" he asked in a stammering croak. She nodded rapidly, gripped awkwardly in his firm clutches. Once he had managed to properly absorb what was happening, he immediately released her from his grasp.

"Wh…what… why are you here?"

He looked confused and lost. Hermione's heart skipped.

"You were having a nightmare," she explained in a very quiet voice, trying to sound calmer than she felt. Draco shut his eyes tightly. He took a couple of deep, steadying breaths. When he opened them his expression was tormented.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked urgently. Hermione shook her head and he let out a sigh of relief. There was an incredibly uncomfortable silence between them for a few moments before she was bold enough to break it. She shifted slightly on the edge of the mattress where she now sat near him.

"Are you alright?"

He didn't meet her gaze. He was staring at an invisible spot on the sheet, which was clasped firmly in his white-knuckled fingers.

"I…It's fine. I'm used to it."

He didn't seem to even be aware of his own response as he continued to stare blindly between them. His whole body was trembling and held taut with repressed terror. Hermione reached the few centimetres across and touched her fingers to the back of his hand.

"I get them too," she told him with quiet intensity. It was something that no one else knew, not even Harry and Ron. Even in their shared tent she had made sure that they did not notice her nightmares. It was her divulging this secret in a tremulous voice that finally made his eyes connect with hers. His gaze was haunted by whatever had plagued him in his dreams. She could see the echoes of that horror in all the minutiae of his face. Her fingertips were still pressed gently to the back of his hand. Draco turned it over and they linked their fingers together. Using the hold on her hand, he tugged her forwards. Hermione was pulled further onto the bed, so close that she could feel his heavy breaths on her face and smell the slight hint of the spearmint toothpaste he must have used.

Once she got her bearings again, she noticed that his gaze had dropped from her eyes. She flushed when she realised its new direction. She was wearing thin cotton pyjamas, a dark forest green, and nothing underneath. Hermione squirmed a bit on the bed, trying to curl her body in on itself. She watched as Draco's tongue slipped out to lick his lips so quickly she almost missed it. Then he was leaning in towards her and she felt the breath freeze in her lungs. Her body tensed up as he came closer, and she was certain that he would kiss her. But as he got impossibly close to her, Draco exhaled a shaky breath and simply pressed his forehead against hers. They sat there for an endless moment just breathing in sync, hands intertwined and heads resting on each other.

"Will you stay with me?" he asked in a hoarse whisper so soft she thought at first that she had imagined it. Then she swallowed and leaned back to stare into his grey, steely eyes. He blinked and returned her gaze with something frantic and chilling burning in his eyes. Hermione paused a moment to consider what he was asking, whether she would be willing to sleep in here, so close and so intimately with the blond Slytherin boy. It took mere seconds to make up her mind, driven more by the sound of her soul crying out for him, rather than her brain for once.

"Of course," she croaked. But her anxiety was strong, and she still regarded him and the bed between them with an anxious frown. Draco saw her hesitation and took the lead. He squeezed her hand encouragingly and pulled on it to softly draw her fully onto the bed. Hermione followed him a bit timidly, gnawing on her bottom lip. When he raised the sheet and straightened it from where it had moved to wrap itself tightly around his body, she slid in after him. Hermione wriggled around until she was lying with awkward stiffness flat on her back, looking up at the cracked ceiling above them. She saw him in her periphery lying on his side and staring at her and she turned her head to rest her cheek on the pillow beneath them, facing him in return. Rather than going to sleep he was watching her warily, as if afraid that either she was just a figment of his imagination or that she would disappear entirely and without any warning. She gave him a crooked, nervous smile that she hoped would reassure him, even though her heart was pounding.

Draco seemed to take comfort from her smile. He reached up and stroked his fingers lightly across her cheek, his trembling fingers tucking an errant curl behind her ear. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to get to sleep while her pulse was racing like this, but figured she may as stay awake anyway.

Gritting her teeth to calm her nerves, Hermione snuggled deeper under the sheet and turned her whole body to face him. She let out the breath she had been holding and smiled again, more convincingly. Draco smiled back, a lot of the tension from his nightmare easing from his muscles. He looked almost relaxed now. And it was as if his blond hair was white in the light of the moon. Feeling suddenly bold, Hermione fidgeted forwards a few inches until she was pressed against his chest. He was wearing a simple t-shirt she had transfigured for him from a spare handkerchief of hers. She tucked her head underneath his chin as he lifted the same hand to wrap tentatively around her waist. A hot sensation spread through her stomach. This close to him, his skin smelled of something faint and musky and very masculine. The heat spiked when she felt his hand tug her even closer towards him from its place around her hips, pulling until their legs were almost entwined. He burrowed his nose into her curls. His slender frame was still quivering fretfully.

"Are you okay?" she whispered into the darkness, her voice muffled by his chest. He nodded against the top of her head, and she felt his lips brush over her forehead briefly. Slowly the shivering faded until their bodies provided enough heat to warm even Draco's weary spirit.

Neither of them slept.

It was too much, too many feelings passing between them. Too many sensations to take in. Hermione registered every detail of him as she nestled deeper against his solid chest. And she knew Draco was awake too. He had been completely still at first after they had settled, but now she felt his fingers twitching against her waist and begging to stroke the patch of skin on her spine that had been slowly revealed by the slight movement of her pyjamas riding up her back. Hermione clenched her eyes shut as her skin flared with more heat. She became aware that goosebumps had started prickling and spreading over her skin, not from cold but from a strange sort of longing that was welling up from deep inside her navel. Draco could clearly feel it too. He chuckled hoarsely against her hair and ceased the restless movements of his fingers. When he spoke, his voice was husky and strained.

"So…um… favourite animal?"

….

So much tension it's killing me. Hopefully you saw some progress in their relationship this chapter and you're keen to see more. A bit of teasing too, sorry. Hope you enjoyed – please review! Your words inspire me.