a/n: Hi everyone! Yes, I know it's been a long time and you probably don't ever want to see my face or read this... but to be fair, I had the decency of coming up with excuses! I won't bore them with you, because there's no excuse for being absent that long.

So in apology, I made this chapter extra long and insane. This is from Hermione's point of view.

Should I continue? Please review!

Chapter 7: Strangeness in the Night

Hermione:

He reaches into his pocket to grasp the only form of defence he has, his keys. The sharp dig of them into his palm, slowly scraping, slowly grating, ripping his toughened skin brings him to a sort of reality. Biting on his tongue as he feels a drop of blood begin to roll down his now unfurled fingers, he lets out a little groan, barely noticeable. Or so he had hoped. Quickly checking himself, he quiets.

He is sitting on the floor of a vast room, high ceilings, high windows, high doors. Oversized. It is a place made for the giants, but it is empty. Devoid of furniture and life, except for the curious exception of a too tall bird cage, placed on a sort of pole extended directly from the ground. In it is a small, bright yellow canary, chirping, racing across its cage, perhaps fighting to escape? It is almost as if he could hear the little bird's heart thumping. The bird knows there is something wrong here too.

He curls into himself, realizing he can see his breath puff out in front of him as he slowly, shakily, exhales. Shivering, he pulls his legs to his front, closer, dreading the actions. He ought not to direct as much attention to himself as he already had. Resting his head on his knees, he watches and he waits. For what, no one knows.

It's as if his blood is slowly freezing right in his veins, and his heart is slowing down, as if caring about the body it works for is completely irrelevant to resting, and he knows that if his eyes droop slowly closed, he will not wake to see the bird fly.

But as he continues to stare at the little canary, flying tiredly around its cage, he realizes that the canary no longer flies. In fact, it is not a canary at all, but a crow, trapped within the cage, but not caring any longer. Its feathers are lank, matted, and it is the most pitiful bird he has ever laid eyes on. It seems even more tired than he. It smiles at him, slowly, pitifully, as if he knows exactly what he himself is going through, and together they slowly close their eyes together. Slowly, they both gently sleep.

And never wake up...

I woke with a start, shivering but sweating at the same time. Tossing the heavy blankets I normally slept with off of me, I sat up, sitting on the edge of my bed, my head in my hands. My head hurt.

Remembering the odd dream that had been the cause of my abrupt awakening, I groaned. What was wrong with me? I'd been having disturbing dreams since the end of the war, but nothing quite like this. In fact, I'd grown accustomed to blood, violence and fear but... not this oddity of a nightmare. It was just despair. This was something I never did well dealing with. Yes, I was a new found realist/pessimist but despair was something that broke me on a daily basis.

What was worse was the object of the dream. Something that'd been plaguing my mind since that day at the park and my failed run. That's right, a certain tall, lean blonde, who was mysterious as hell. I don't know how I'm sure it was him in the dream, the dream itself had become blurry in my mind already, as it was. But I had a strong feeling, an insane compulsion to believe that it had been him. Shaking myself, I realized I'd not be getting back to sleep tonight, glad it was a Friday night.

Glancing at the clock I realized it was well past three in the morning. So I suppose it's already Saturday. I groaned at myself internally, acknowledging I'd have to hide the horrid bags that would no doubt be under my eyes, for my date later on in the day.

I was looking forward to that, I told myself.

But nothing really could get the unsettling feelings that sleep had burrowed into my mind and I could feel it growing, sprouting its tentacles deeper into my brain, making itself a permanent presence...

Grabbing my coat and scarf I made a run for the door, feeling as if I stayed here even a second longer I'd suffocate to death. And then haunted by creeping dreams for the rest of eternity. Now, I realize that I'd been a little bit irrational, running out the door because of some silly dream at near four in the morning whilst living in New York. It can't be exactly the safest thing a girl can do. But I'd fought death eaters in a war, and survived. I can't say I was too worried. Actually, I wasn't really thinking at all.

Walking the dirty streets actually helped. The smoggy, questionable air cleared my mind, and I was actually beginning to develop a smile on my face. Regaining my sanity always brought a smile to my face, well I suppose regaining what's left of it anyways. I was just about to turn back and go home when I spotted a very pale blonde head walking on the other side of the road aimlessly.

My heart almost stopped. If I didn't know better, I'd have added "literally!".

Ducking quickly behind a parked car on my side of the street, I thanked Merlin for the quick reflexes I'd developed during the war. Slowly, carefully, I poked my head around the car and watched him stride slowly, carelessly along the sidewalk. He didn't look anywhere but ahead of him, and it seemed as if he didn't care. When he had passed me, I slowly got up and ungraciously followed, feeling odd as I did.

Don't get me wrong, this isn't something I would normally do. This was Harry's kind of thing, tailing Malfoy and all. But the man had been behaving odd and I'd been having bad dreams about him for god sakes! It was also about five in the morning by that time and I was thoroughly sleep deprived. Not that I'm trying to justify my actions or anything of the sort. Violating someone's privacy is something I'm completely against, mind you! I just wasn't thinking I suppose... wasn't thinking about much except figuring out what he was doing here and why he was out at this time of day.

So we walked, to the most random places too, places I'd never been to and probably wouldn't ever have gone if I hadn't been tailing the odd character. I'd gotten exasperated when he stopped idly by a dumpster in an alleyway that had a dead end. It'd looked like he was contemplating why anyone would create a dead end or even possibly, what am I doing in an alleyway that just ends?

I can't say I know what he was thinking. I've a strong feeling that he wasn't paying attention to where he was going.

Eventually, we ended up in a deserted park. It was quite the creepy kind too, with the creaky swing set and all squeaking and moving with the wind. He'd sat down at a rusty looking bench and I'd gotten a chance to appraise him properly, while feeling like a deranged stalker.

He seemed tired, definitely looked it too. He had bags under his eyes, which wasn't surprising looking at the time it was and how far we had walked. I honestly had no idea where we were, but we'd walked a good while. He was slouched, and clutching his stomach. His clothes were ratted and stained, quite torn in places but it didn't look like he cared much about it.

Raising his hand to his face, he wiped his hair out of his face, pushing it out of the way. When he'd completed the action, I saw a dark streak on his forehead...something that looked slightly akin to...

Blood!

I panicked, ran towards him, startling him in the process when he caught sight of me. His eyes widened and he leaned back in shock. I became aware of the growing stain in his sweater... (Yes, the idiot man was wearing only a sweater in this kind of weather!) it was definitely blood.

I saw him recoil then, at the sight of me and I suppose he'd finally recognized me. But I wouldn't let that put me down, no. He needed help, he was bleeding! At the time, I'm not sure exactly why I was so painfully frightened. Maybe because as far as I was aware he was the only connection to my past life in this city. Or maybe because I realized on a subconscious level that he was more messed in the head than I was.

I walked slowly, cautiously towards him, "Malfoy...it's alright." I saw him visibly cringe at the name. That was odd.

"Draco. Just let me see." He relaxed a bit, and I stepped as close as he would let me. I looked at him, tried my best to be reassuring. He seemed scared as hell of me, and I suppose he didn't trust me at all. I don't blame him, he seemed as if he were in stress. A wounded animal...

When I'd spoken enough nonsense to calm him down, I kneeled in front of him and unzipped his sweater. At first it struck me odd that someone like Malfoy would resort to walk around in muggle clothing, but then all trivial, irrelevant thoughts were wiped out of my mind when I saw the amount of blood that had soaked through the white shirt he'd been wearing underneath.

Gingerly lifting it, I prepared myself for what I was about to see. On hindsight, it could've been much worse. The actual injury wasn't so bad, really... it was just the shock of this situation that got to me. There was a gash from his hip up along his side. It was relatively shallow and seemed to have opened up recently. I silently brought out my want that was always on my person, even when I slept, and healed him mumbling the incantation.

When I looked up I saw him staring at me wondrously, his hand was raised as if he were about to touch my face, but it was trembling. He was shaking like a life. I then slowly realized it was freezing cold outside and concern washed over me anew.

I took my scarf from around my neck and wrapped it around his, then over his head to protect his amusingly red ears. Zipping up the now ruined sweater, I pulled the tattered hood over his ruffled hair. As my fingers brushed against the golden strands, I was washed over with the realization that it was the softest thing I'd ever felt. At this point, I was no doubt blushing like an idiot.

"You should rub some dittany over that, so you can avoid scarring. It was quite shallow, but you can never be to safe, can you?"

He just stared at me, except this time his eyes were wide as if he'd just come to realize that I was a real person. Or that I was actually there. He didn't respond, needless to say.

"Malfoy?" He cringed again. Cursing myself for not catching onto my mistake a second time I took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm sorry, Draco."

But again, he just stared at me. I began to wonder if he had brain damage or if an accident had left him this way. I tried again, anyhow, speaking slowly, clearly, as if to a child. "Do you have any dittany at home, Draco?"

He said nothing, I could see conflict behind his eyes. "Do you-"

But he cut me off, speaking quietly so that I had to strain to hear. "I...don't know..." He sounded uncertain. At first I'd thought he just didn't know if he had any dittany at home. Later, much later, I'd come to learn that he was just uncertain if he ought to be talking to me at all. He was conflicted, but I hadn't picked up on it. Perhaps if I had I wouldn't have taken him so freely to my blessed apartment.

At that point the only thought that was going through my head was that everyone deserved second chances, and I pictured my favourite dear old headmaster saying it to me smilingly, in his crazy old way.

"Come on, then, I know I have some at my place. What happened to you, anyways?" I wasn't really expecting a response. Grabbing his hand, I helped him up, noticing the grimace of pain. I was glad that he hadn't said anything out of line to me yet. I was secretly hoping this meant that he had changed for the better. Little did I know that he had change, irrevocably, and probably not for the better.

"I'm going to apparate us, okay?" He just dumbly nodded.

I held onto his hand tighter and found the gesture comforting, not realizing how horridly lonely I'd been up to this point.

"Are you ready?" I waited for him to respond, but realizing he probably wouldn't, I was surprised when he squeezed my hand to indicate that he probably was. I smiled reassuringly at this wary face, which was towering well above my short frame, and turned.

We landed square in the middle of my apartment, proud that the wards I'd placed on it worked. One could not apparate in or out unless their magical signature was not previously weaved into the ward beforehand. I'd created it myself, though being the perfectionist that I am, I decided I'd wait and perfect the idea first.

Looking at Malfoy, I noticed he was clutching himself again. Apparently, he didn't like apparation at all. I didn't blame him, really... it wasn't the most lovely experience after all.

Conjuring him a squishy chair, I had him sit before I went to get him a glass of water. He accepted graciously and eagerly gulped it down. I let out a giggle when some slipped over the rim of the glass and spilled down his neck. He seemed too engrossed in drinking to care much.

"May I have another?" he asked in his meek, timid voice. It would be odd, getting used to that change in him. He'd been so bold at school. Demanding, arrogant definitely.

"Of course." And we repeated that process three times until he'd had his fill of water. It occurred to me that he had probably been dehydrated. When was the last time he'd eaten?

I made him soup and a sandwich, which he ate without being forced, while I gently applied the dittany to his stomach, noticing how lean and muscular he was. The man always had been rather fetching, hadn't he?

After he had finished, I ushered him to my shower, realizing he was grimy and parts of him still caked in blood. Still, he didn't say anything. It seemed as if he was relieved, being told what to do.

While he was gone, I magically removed the stains from his clothes, blood and otherwise, then put them in the wash. Perhaps I had become a clean freak, but I found that magic wasn't enough to clean one's clothes. By the time he had finished showering walking out with the towel I'd given him wrapped around his waist, he stood there awkwardly waiting to be told what to do. I had a feeling this was the first human contact he'd had in a while. He displayed all the signs I'd read about... Had he come to America to be a social recluse?

I wouldn't pry just yet, he looked just about dead on his feet. I'd intended on asking him where he lived so that I could help him get there, but I realized just how starved for company that I'd actually had a connection to, no matter how meaningless. I had gone to school with this bloke. Known him since I was eleven in fact!

So I offered. "You could sleep here, if you'd like, I don't mind. You can leave when you're well rested... that way I'll see if your cut is better in the morning," I said, gesturing to his bare abdomen. Though I think both of us knew that his injury had been completely healed at this point. He didn't say anything, he seemed a little confused by my suggestion.

"Sleep?" he questioned, wearily. As if he didn't quite understand the concept.

"Yes, Draco, sleep." I silently cheered myself for remember not to call him Malfoy. I'd have to remember to ask him about that sometime, if we actually kept contact after this. I was hoping we would, dreadfully. I did need more friends. Life was always easier to live with friends around. It really was time everyone got over their pasts and became true friends with each other.

As if he'd ever want to be friends with someone like you. You're a mudblood, remember? My inner voice taunted me. I promptly told it to shut up and silently waited for his response, wondering if it would come at all.

"Sleep...where?" It seemed like he was thoroughly confused, and I had no idea why that was the case. Did he have a concussion? I should have checked for that. He didn't seem disoriented exactly...

"Sleep here, at my apartment. Which is where we are right now." Maybe he hadn't understood the concept yet? He raised his fingers and scratched his still wet hair, looking around.

Then it dawned on me. "You can sleep in my bed... which is through the door behind you."

He turned slowly, as if the action took a lot of effort. Perhaps he was exhausted. Slowly walking through the door he turned back and quickly walked back out. "Your covers are everywhere!" I didn't understand why he'd be panicked about something like that, and he truly was. Eyes widened, as if he was scared of the idea of messy covers.

Maybe he was more screwed up than I had gathered, or was this something his parents had instilled in him as a child?

"Sorry, I left them like that before I went out for a walk, it must be a mess." And I suppose to some it would be a mess, a few blankets messed, the sheets crumpled. I realized must have been moving around in my sleep, before I'd left for the walk.

I set upon fixing them, surprised when Malfoy came to help. He was even more pristine at making the sheets than I was. When we finished, I went to my closet and transfigured a pair of my pajamas bigger so he'd have something to sleep in, as his clothes were still drying. Walking out of the room to give him some privacy to get changed and into bed, I went to check the locks and wards before going to sleep. When I returned to check on him as well, I found him laying neatly above all of the blankets his arms folded on his stomach.

Odd behaviour, I suppose. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. He might have sensed me there for he spoke up, his voice a little broken. "I'm sorry, I keep ruining your covers."

"What do you mean?"

"They're wrinkled!" Either he was deranged or he really did have a concussion and I should look at that. In either case, I supposed it was best for me to just go along with the flow.

"I like them that way. And normally, I sleep under them. Would you like to try that?" He looked scared, and looked at me as if I were the crazy one.

"How will you be able to run away if you're trapped under covers?" the question seemed to be more for himself than for me, but I decided to answer him anyways.

"You'll learn."

I held the covers up for him, and as he brushed past my fingers I was glad I had convinced him to crawl into my bed, for he was still freezing cold. Tucking him in, I brought another blanket and put that over him too. As I was walking to the door to go to sleep myself on the couch, I heard a strangled moan. Turning around I found him staring at me, his face contorted in fear.

"Don't leave me under here."

I stood there, my body frozen under a sort of odd shock. I remembered all the years of bullying, of the war, of Dumbledore. I considered him, then, and he looked harmless. Hell, he looked needy and pathetic, and I could tell he had far too many issues. He was probably worse off than I was myself. Did he really deserve a second chance? He had to be passed his parent's idiotic ideology if he was willing to spend the night at my house, the supreme mudblood. Mudblood Number One. I was uncertain.

"Please," I heard him say, and that made my decision for me.

I found myself walking towards the bed, sliding under the covers and allowing him to come close, though I felt as if it were him allowing me to come close to him. It felt nice to finally have someone truly need me, even if it were just for a little while. I didn't feel lonely and it was a rare miracle that hadn't occurred since before the war.

He gingerly fell asleep, curled around me, his face inches from my neck. He was mumbling something, his eyes closed. I'm not sure what compelled me to, but I stroked his hair out of his face and continued, which must have soothed him, for he fell peacefully asleep after that. I didn't stop for the longest time, stroking his hair, face and neck until the sun was well into the sky.

It was a miracle, but I also didn't think. I didn't think about the consequences I'd have to face when I woke again, didn't think of the dreams that haunted my sleep, didn't think of what I was doing, or the consequences of stalking the pretty blonde boy. In fact, when I finally fell asleep, for the first time in a very long time, I didn't dream. Therefore I knew, even in my sleep, when I would eventually wake, I wouldn't regret.

Not one bit.

a/n: This doesn't exactly mean that they're suddenly going to be together now. It's just honestly a consequence of being lonely and forced to take someone's company.

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