AN: And here is the chapter you all were actually anticipating, as opposed to the one you were given last time. I've mention this before- but that request for those of you who have skills to make graphics is still open, and if anyone guesses what is going on at Hogwarts (i.e. the big mystery tee he) then they'll get a prize.

Also, for those of you who seem to be worried that this story will not have smut, or worried that I have forgotten that this is a Dramione- have a little faith. This will more than earn its M rating, when the time comes.

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, though I do claim all of their awkward flailing.

November 1st

Draco:

Draco woke up to the feeling that something was smothering his head and, after a good deal of spluttering and very manly flailing, it was discovered that the source of it was that bandy-legged ginger monstrosity that has recently re-entered their lives. Why it was that Granger insisted on accepting every ginger in the world into her life he didn't-

Granger.

With a start, Draco's sleepy mind caught up to the situation. To the petite girl still held securely in his arms, to the fact that he had not woken up in his own bed. Draco looked down at the tangled heap of limbs and fabric that was he and Hermione, smiling softly at how her hair was even more a bushy wild beast than normal. It was odd, seeing her like this.

Save for her scars, it was almost as if the war had never happened- her features were relaxed in the softest of ways, forming an expression that spoke only of innocence. Parts of himself ached that Draco didn't realize existed, and he was struck with the realization that he honestly and truly needed to get out of that bed as soon as was humanly possible before what little was left of his sanity fled him entirely.

He moved slowly, delicately, slowly shifting Granger until she was lying on her side and he was free to move. Immediately he missed the soft warmth that she had graced him with, and dimly he wondered whether or not he would ever get a chance to experience it again. Draco opened and closed the door softly, so as not to wake her after going to all this effort to keep the chit asleep, when he came to the realization that the door had definitely been open when he'd raced to Granger's side the night before.

Had it been Fred? Draco groaned at the prospect as he shuffled towards his bedroom. Salazar help him if any of the Weasley's ever caught wind of what had happened last night, Draco mused as he opened his door. If that were to happen then he would never again have a moment's pea-

The sight of Little Red sprawled over his mattress sent his heart rabbiting in his chest. Acting on instinct, Draco grabbed his rumpled dress robes that he was still wearing form the night before, lifted them up off of the ground, and attempted to turn and flee. However before he reached his door, a blast of light flew past him and slammed the door shut, accompanied by a disgruntled and sleep-laden voice.

"Don't even think about it, Malfoy. It's time we had ourselves a chat, you and I."

Bloody hell. This was going to end with his insides as his outsides, or bogey's flying at his head, he just knew it.

Hospital Wing, Daphne:

She had come back down to the wing just as early as Madame Pomfrey might allow, eager to see if he had woken up yet. The night before, the mediwitch had laid Neville down into a healing sleep in the hopes of making the whole process a lot less painful. Daphne hadn't actually heard what was wrong with him- whether a curse or jinx had caught him in the skirmish last night, or if he was still suffering from the aftereffects of the potion that had splashed him accidently.

When she rounded the corner into the ward, Madame Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen, so, holding back a yawn, Daphne made her way over to Neville's cot and sat down by it, awaiting his return to consciousness.

As she waited, Daphne used the quiet to think back on everything that had occurred so far that year. In a way she felt as though this all had to be a dream- it was all too ridiculous to be thought of as anything else.

When she'd first read her Hogwarts letter that explained what would be done to the students, Daphne had rebelled against it, thinking that no matter where it was they all were put nothing could possible tear them apart. But now, looking on it, it seemed as if she was closer with Little Red than with Pansy- she hadn't spoken to Millie in ages, either. And it wasn't as if she was avoiding them, per se. She simply felt uneasy around them, particularly the ones in her old House. Then again, after the reaction to Daphne's re-sorting it was only logical that a bit of distance be put between herself and the Slytherins.

Right?

Or maybe that meant she should have held onto them tighter? She had no clue, other than the fact that Theo had done the same as she. She could tell that he was uneasy around the others as she did, but none of it made sense. The feeling was foreign and seemed to operate completely independently of Daphne, as if the mistrust was someone else's, but not hers. Speaking of mistrust, Daphne looked down on the sleeping form of Neville Longbottom.

From where she sat he seemed perfectly fine, almost completely at peace, sleeping as he always did. She hadn't any idea why she had come, it's not like she had forgiven him, but when she had woken up this morning it was as if her body had moved of its own volition. As has become her habit, Daphne tugged down her left sleeve to ensure that none of the Mark showed underneath it. It would forever be her greatest shame, and quite frankly she believed that all that had happened to her so far that year was her own well deserved punishment. Neville came from a different world, he was good, and she didn't deserve that.

When she had finally resolved to leave, had stood up and was ready to turn, it became clear that Neville had woken up.

"Come to finish me off, then?"

His eyes were still blinking away sleep, and his movements were sluggish as he drew himself up to a seated position.

"Should you be moving so soon?" Daphne asked as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, suddenly unsure in her own skin.

"Well I'm not sure if I should be defending myself or not. I feel like after everything that's happened, going out lying down in the hospital wing would just be a bit anticlimactic."

Her hands balled into fists and her face twisted into what would have been a glare if her face hadn't also twisted into an echo of grief. Steeling herself, Daphne brushed herself off and made once again to storm from the wing in outrage, but once again his voice stopped her and ripped the wind from her sails.

"Daph- I'm- I didn't mean that, alright? Just, sit down for a moment, please?" He sounded so timid when he asked; it was almost reminiscent of the Neville before the War.

As if against her will her body returned to the seat she'd been in before he had awoken.

"Why are you here?" he asked. "I thought you hated me now."

"Funny, I was under the impression that you were the one who hated me."

Merlin, her voice sounded like she was choking on glass. The was a long beat of silence before he answered-

"No, I don't hate you. I just- did you get me with that potion on purpose?"

The look on his face was indecipherable, though if she was forced to pick an emotion it represented, she would have to say hurt.

"No, it was meant only for the twins, I swear!" she rushed to respond. Neville nodded somberly before he took a deep breath, reached out and grabbed Daphne's left arm and pulling up her sleeve to reveal her shame.

Squawking in despair, she tried to pull away, but Neville managed to silence her with a look before he returned his gaze to the ugly black lines on her forearm.

"It caught me off guard, your Mark- especially since I'd never really thought about any of this from the other side before. And that's not right, it's not. Harry tried to explain something to me once over the summer, he went on saying that a bit of the wisest advice he'd ever gotten was that 'the world isn't divided between good people and Death Eaters'. I'd never really thought about that until… well, until you showed me. But it's true. That mark, it doesn't mean what I used to think it meant. Before, it was a way to tell to my enemy. A symbol that represented the monster that tore apart my family and my life. But now? Now it's just another scar. Proof that you survived, you know?" he explained softly.

Daphne couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

"I didn't simply go hunting anyone with a Mark this summer, you know. I only hunted down the killers who had escaped, who were still attacking innocents in their rage about how the war had turned out. I refuse to feel ashamed of that, because it some of the best work I've ever done…" Neville still hadn't met her eyes, instead directing his speech to her forearm. "I know that you think I'm a monster for that, but-"

"Out of the two people in this room there's only one monster, Nev, and it isn't you," she whispered. But that whisper may as well have been a shout in the silent echoing wing. Neville's grip on her arm tightened as he finally looked up into her eyes, a fire burning in the depth of his own.

"Now you listen to me Daphne Elira Greengrass. I have met monsters, I have fought them and feared them and beaten them. I have watched them torture for pleasure and gaze upon the blood of people fallen as if it were the most beautiful sight in the world and heard their laughter mix in with the screams of children. And you? You are many things, Daphne, but you are not a monster."

He brought her arm up to her face and forced her to look at the inky black symbol that rested there.

"This Mark? It means nothing other than the fact that you did what you had to do in order to survive. It does not define you! What defines you is your independence, your confidence, your kindness when you don't think anyone is looking. The way you still love your sister with all your heart even though she treats you like dung. The way that your eyes change color slightly when you smile and that your laugh is probably the most obnoxious laugh I've ever heard. You're no monster, Daphne," Neville slowly put down her arm and returned to his spot on the bed.

"You're incandescent."

At his final two words, Daphne could feel the tears beginning to pool in her eyes. There was so much emotion wafting through her that she couldn't hope to parse it all, so she was left gazing wonderingly at the man on the bed before her. And there was no doubt that this was a man, a man that none had thought would come from the boy he had once been. Here he sat calm and confident and unashamed of his words when many would be blushing or nervously fiddling. And though she had many things she wanted to say, wanted to ask, what came out instead was:

"What happened to you Neville? You used to be this timid stammering image of a boy, and you're… well, this."

A smile graced his face as Neville relaxed back against his pillows.

"There's a lot to be learned from Harry Potter if you actually pay attention to the bloke. Growing up I always thought that he was so brave, always confident and never afraid. Until one day I noticed that his hands shook, even while he was giving a rather inspiring speech. From that day on I looked, really looked at him whenever he was doing something that the rest of us would mark as brave. Bloke was terrified! That's when I learned that people need someone who can do the big things, say the things that no one else was brave enough to say. And that Harry only ever did it because someone had to and they already expected it to be him, so why the bloody hell not? 'Why not'. That's perhaps the best lesson the man has ever taught me- which is really saying something considering the DA- and he never even meant to teach it.

And then came last year, and Harry wasn't around anymore. Someone needed to do something, to fight back, to keep people from giving up entirely, but they all thought you needed to be some grand hero in order to do them, and no one stepped up. So I figured, why not me? And it worked. Since then, it's better just to go for it, because if you can't come up with a damn good reason, there really isn't one. You don't have to be a hero in order to act like one, or be brave to act brave."

The way that Neville shrugged that off bothered her, how dare he sell himself short? After everything he'd done, he deserved to pat himself on the back. Her voice was hard and serious when she spoke up again.

"You are a hero, Neville. And don't you dare think otherwise."

For the first time that morning, Neville's face was guarded before he broke the silence that followed Daphne's declaration.

"Daphne, you never answered. Why did you come here?"

Smiling softly, Daphne reached out and grabbed Neville's hand before answering.

"Why not?"

Ginny:

Thoroughly enjoying the look on Malfoy's face, Ginny took her time arranging herself so that she was seated against his pillows- which were ungodly soft- and placing her wand rather delicately in her lap. She looked at him calmly, deciding whether or not she wanted to break the silence or to let him stew. The choice, however, was taken from her and Malfoy drew himself up to his full height and sneered down at her in a manner so haughty that Ginny wanted to smack it from his face.

"Just what the bloody hell do you think you're doing in my bed, Weasley?" he snarled, his pale face twisted.

No. Just no. This was not going to work if this is how he is going to behave.

"Well, Malfoy, I had considered climbing in with Hermione but that would have been rather difficult considering there was already someone there," she said in a sugary sweet voice, a smile like poison on her face.

What? It was too early for her to deal with nastiness with grace and tact. If this was how Malfoy wanted to play, then this is how they would play.

"So, what, the logical conclusion was to invade my room instead? I'd love to know how you managed to work that one out!"

Merlin. They would be going around in circles all morning at this rate.

"Yes, well, speaking of logic, I'd love to know just what it was that led you to believe you needed to storm into Hermione's room and climb into her bed!"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her and struggled to find something to say. His breathing was heavy, and Ginny could tell that he was reluctant to part with his anger. He was acting as though he were a trapped mouse that Crookshanks had caught in a corner. To fill the silence, Ginny began pointing out all of his odd behavior.

"As a matter of fact, there is quite a lot I would like to know your logic behind. Why did you come and inform me of Hermione's nightmares? Why were you sitting so close to her on the couch? What reason could you possibly have to ask her for a dance? How the bloody fuck did you know she was being attacked and where? And, most importantly, why did you go and climb into her-"

"BECAUSE YOU NEVER CAME!"

Malfoy's interruption caught Ginny off guard and it took her a moment to really understand his response. Malfoy himself was red in the face and running his finger through his already mussed hair, his dress robes from the night before trailing after him as he paced by the foot of the bed, all nervous energy and jerky aborted movements.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"I waited! I kept waiting and waiting for you to come, but you didn't! Where the fuck where you?! You know what happens when she sleeps alone, you knew that Pomfrey had given her a sleeping potion, so just what was it exactly that kept you from getting to her side as soon as possible?!" he shouted at her, an accusing finger pointed in her direction.

"I-"

"She was screaming! She's been through so damn much and she was screaming bloody murder and distraught and you didn't come! So what was I supposed to do? Just cast a silencing charm on the chit and go on my merry way?!"

"Well, yes, actually."

"I-you-what?"

All at once it seems that the anger abandoned Malfoy and in its wake left genuine confusion. He had stopped mid-pace and stared at her. To be honest, Ginny wasn't sure what it was that was so confusing for him.

"You, Draco Malfoy, would have ordinarily done absolutely nothing about the situation and ignored it. Hermione is a muggle-born, an ex-Gryffindor, and basically represents everything that you hate. So, yes, based on all of that information you shouldn't have cared nor done anything. So why do you?"

"Why…why do I what?"

"Why do you care?"

"I'm not… I don't…"

He looked lost, Ginny decided. Thinking about it, Malfoy had been looking lost for a while now, as if the rug had been pulled out from under him. Right in that moment it seemed as if he was at war with himself over something, until he let out a loud groan and exclaimed,

"I promised the bloody Sorting Hat, alright?"

What.

"I beg your pardon?"

Draco:

He had no idea why he was telling Ginevra Weasley of all people, but the only rationalization he could find what that he needed to talk to someone, anyone, and she was there. So spoke. Draco fell backwards onto his bed next to a Weasley and spilled out everything about that ruddy hat and what it had done to him, how he had been forced to acknowledge that Hermione was indeed a human, and how the Hat had invaded his mind the previous night and told him where to go. When he was finished there was a moment or two of silence before the chit sitting next to him spoke up- and he didn't dare to look at her.

"…well, okay that explains a few things at least, but it doesn't explain your behavior."

He should have known he wouldn't be getting off of this easily.

"How does it not explain absolutely everything?" he asked petulantly.

"Well, it doesn't explain why you helped Fred. And looking out for and protecting Hermione doesn't mean trying to dance with her, or being kind to her, and it sure and hell doesn't mean flirting with her."

"I do not-"

"Malfoy, don't even start with me. To be honest I haven't ruled out that this is all a giant plot, that you're acting like a human being in order to try and do something nasty to us all later. You haven't been acting like yourself; it's as if you're a completely different person. It's like I can't even recognize who you are anymore," she said.

"Yeah well, neither do I," he whispered, hoping that if he said it low enough she wouldn't hear. But she did, of course she did.

"What do you mean, Malfoy?"

"You've slept in my bed; I think you can call me Draco at this point."

"Stop deflecting."

Draco groaned and ran his hands over his face before allowing them to flop onto his mattress once more. He stared up at his canopy and thought about everything he went through last night, how he had broken all at once and said to hell with it all and went to Granger. He felt like that now, like he was on the cusp of another breakdown. The only difference was that this time he wasn't alone.

"I feel like I'm drowning. I'm questioning everything I've ever thought I've known about myself and everything anyone has ever told me. Nothing makes sense anymore; I don't know how to operate in this new world… I… I don't hate anymore, liked I used to. I don't see the point. Not when I was wrong about everything. The promise with that ruddy hat started it all but it's… it's not just that anymore. I can't- ugh, I don't even bloody know what I'm saying!"

He closed his eyes and silently wished that all of this will just go away, because how was this his life? He was miserable on his bed, ruining his dress robes, having a heart to heart with Ginny Weasley of all people.

"You're not very good about talking about feelings are you?" Little Red asked.

It took every ounce of his willpower not to roll his eyes.

"Let's just say I've been out of practice for 18 years and leave it at that."

"Quite. Well then, given all of this, I've decided that I am no longer coming down here every night. Hermione can either take her bloody medicine or she can curl up with you, either way this is sure to be entertaining for me."

Draco sat bolt upright and turned to face her, mouth open and ready to argue, but she was already getting out of bed and moving around.

"Nope, listen. You're not changing my mind, so don't even bother. The two of you need a kick in the arse and I've decided I'm the one giving it to you. I'm pants at emotions and dealing with them, she isn't. But don't you go bottling all of this up; it's not healthy to go around being so maudlin all the time."

Draco could do nothing but stare as she gathered her things and made to leave.

"Also, I suppose it's only fair to warn you that I'll be telling Hermione all about how you flew into her room to rescue her, and about all of the other things you've been doing- minus the whole hat nonsense because I don't think it's that important. With that in mind, you'll probably want to not be in the room today… finally! I was waiting for this term to get exciting and it's about bloody time!"

And with that, she was gone from his room and presumably entering Hermione's, leaving a panic stricken Draco in her wake as he questioned all of his life choices up until that point. Then, when what she had said caught up to him, Draco sprinted to the bathroom so that he could shower and disappear before Granger woke up and all proverbial hell broke loose.

AN: I have no excuse for how long this has taken. Life just keeps catching up with me, sorry guys. One of these days I'll get better. Sorry