Harry rolled from one side of his bed to the other, still unable to sleep. The bruises he had gotten from the aggressive reporters earlier had been magicked away as quickly as he'd gotten them, but he just couldn't sleep. Judging by the moonlight, bright from a no longer entirely full moon, and where it was along his large bay window, he estimated it was around three in the morning.

Resigned to what was likely awaiting him, he climbed out of bed and grabbed the t-shirt slung across the back of the chair near his fireplace. Decent, he slipped from his room into Hermione's, where the silencing charm no longer protected him from the shrill screams of the woman thrashing in her sleep.

Harry walked over, slowly so as not to startle her awake, and slipped into her bed behind her. He first used his legs to pull hers in, holding her down to prevent her from hurting herself any further. He slipped one arm underneath her torso and with both hands clasped hers, pulling her back up against his chest and cocooning her in his arms.

"Shhh, Hermione. Come back to me," Harry whispered into her hair, nuzzling up against the back of her ear and pulling her lightly from whatever nightmare was plaguing her this time, though he was pretty sure he could guess what it was this time.

"Harry?" Hermione eventually whispered into the darkness, unsure and afraid. Disoriented, she tilted her head until she could clearly smell him; always the smell of fresh laundry, somewhat faded after a long day, mixed with the subtle scents of freshly mown grass in the morning and something distinctly foresty. He smelled of hope and strength and Hermione desperately needed the second as she began to cry, her chest tightening painfully as she heaved with each sob.

"It's okay Hermione, we're all okay. No one is chasing us, no one was splinched. You're safe, in my arms, at home. Everything is okay," Harry promised, repeating those reassuring words over and over into Hermione's hair, using the smell of her shampoo to help him remain focused. The smell of rosemary and peppermint always calmed Harry down because Hermione had always made everything better, and if ever he could do the same for her, he always would.

Her nightmares started during the war; not knowing if Ron had arrived home safely, if her parents had escaped safely, if they would even make it out alive. Harry held her close at night during that unbearable period when it was just the two of them on the run, at first claiming it was for warmth but eventually they both accepted it for what it really was: very desperately needed comfort, for both of them.

When the war finished, Hermione insisted that they both saw someone to speak about what happened. She found a psychiatrist who knew of their world, the muggle sister of a Hufflepuff a few years their senior, and within only a few months her nightmares quieted down. They never fully left, often triggered by strong connections to their times on the run or under attack, but they became controllable and predictable, which helped a lot.

Tonight, she had dreamt of Draco on the ground, bleeding and screaming as Ron had many years ago, his body ripped apart by an Apparation gone awry – only Hermione couldn't fix him. She couldn't stop the bleeding or the pain or the crying.

Harry could just imagine what she saw, as she calmed down enough to vocalize her fears in order to start getting over them. He had done exactly that to Draco not so long before, and had nightmares of that day ever since.

Perhaps Hermione noticed how he stiffened behind her, or how he held her tighter, or maybe how his breathing seemed to almost stop. Wiggling out of his grip, Hermione rolled over and wrapped her arms around Harry, holding him close. In silence, they drank in each others pain to try and lessen it, but really just being there was all the other one needed.

"You know, someday we're going to be far too old to snuggle every time one of us has a bad dream," Hermione joked, her face snuggled into the crevice between Harry's jaw and collarbone. He laughed and lowered his face, kissing her hair.

"You're one to talk, Ms.-almost-twenty-two. You're certainly coming on in age, aren't you?" Harry teased, wincing slightly when Hermione shoved her bony knee into his.

"How shall we celebrate, oh Mione-mine? Last year we did a week in Italy but I don't know if I'll be able to get the time off this year," Harry murmured, settling in to Hermione's bed, shifting her so that she was partially on top of him.

She sighed and used the arm not draped on him to raise her body slightly, looking him over with a soft smile on her face, the tear tracts illuminated by the moonlight streaming into her room pointedly ignored, despite how they made her eyes shine.

"As much as I loved last year, we spent a good portion in the muggle side and somehow I don't imagine Draco would be quite so comfortable with that yet, although he has made great strides," she admitted, thinking of their interactions in the muggle world and of the looks of wonder and confusion painted on his pale face.

Harry smirked, perhaps imagining Draco on a roller coaster or in a crowded shopping mall, and Hermione smacked him with her loose arm for enjoying the thought too much.

"Calm down woman, I wouldn't actually—"

"Please don't finish that thought."

The two smiled at each other and said nothing more, Hermione lowering her head back to her safety place and snuggling in. Harry tugged her comforter up, pulling it tight along the contours of her body, and listening to Hermione slowly drop into a peaceful slumber, settled in for a few more hours sleep.

. . . . .

Hermione managed to slide off of Harry and to the side of the bed by the time Harry woke up, the sun tickling his eyes. He blinked away the sleep and looked at his best friend, curled up in a ball beside him. Her worry lines were gone and other than a wayward strand of hair poking into her mouth, she looked perfectly content. Harry smirked as he tugged the lock of hair loose from her lips and quietly left the bed.

He wasn't sure what time it was but he hoped it was early enough that he could avoid seeing Draco in the hall. Exiting the room and resealing the door wordlessly, Harry turned to leave and was face to face with Draco, who was just then leaving his own room.

The tosser raised an eyebrow in question.

"She gets nightmares sometimes," Harry responded, leaving it at that and quickly escaped to his bedroom, where he closed and sealed his door before sliding down it and groaning. Whatever his relationship with Hermione was now, having been clearly defined before the bonding and slowly morphing ever since, Draco could only make things worse.

Draco however had nothing to say. He stood in the hallway, his eyes following Harry while he disappeared into his room and then shifted to Hermione's door. He hadn't heard any noise from the other side but he guessed that if he could ward his room quiet during the night then she could too. Lost in those thoughts, Draco didn't notice the door creaked open until a mousy brown head of hair pushed out.

"Oh, Draco. I didn't expect to see you outside my door," Hermione mumbled, clearly having just woken. He nodded, looking her over. No telltale signs of night terrors, but that's not to say she didn't already spell away the red marks from strangling sheets or the tears on her face.

"Just heading downstairs now. Should I put some tea on for you?"

Hermione dimpled, and suddenly Draco found himself blushing lightly. He had been careful to exist quietly since the trial, accepting that his life was no longer as the Slytherin prince or as heir to the world. He was just-Draco now, and he lived with just-Hermione and just-Harry, despite the constant urges to taunt them or be cruel, as he had in his youth. But when she smiled at him like that, it was like he wasn't just-Draco at all.

"Thank you, Draco. I'd love some. I'll join you downstairs shortly," and with that slipped back in her room. Draco watched the door for another minute before continuing his original quest to the kitchen for some food.

Not even eight in the damn morning and already these two have me feeling all out of sorts. Damn touchy feely Gryffindors…

Authors note: I usually wait until I reach a certain number of views on one chapter before posting the next but I was too happy with how this chapter turned out to wait much longer.