A/N: Hey guys! So quick update (I hope) for you all. Thank you for all of you that reviewed, favourited and alerted. It gave me a thrill! Makes me want to continue writing.

This chapter may be dull because Draco explains his mental issues. I hope I've been detailed enough and don't sound too pathetic. But yay for Draco's point of view! Also, in the next chapters there will be more action instead of all of this explanation stuff you're getting here. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 8: Before a Confrontation

Hermione:

I woke up to bright sunlight and extreme pounding and groaning. At first I thought I was being burned to death, then just realized that I'd forgotten to draw the curtains before I'd gone to bed. That didn't explain why my back was being pounded, though, and I was too groggy to want to care for a split second.

That is, of course, until the memories of last night came rushing back to me and I jumped out of bed in a defensive stance ready to kill the sodding Malfoy for attacking me. I'd given him a second chance!

I continued to rant such unflattering thoughts to myself in my head until my eyes finally decided to focus in the bright light of the day. Then I noticed that Malfoy wasn't attacking me at all, but he was thrashing about all tangled in the covers, trying to escape or fight off whoever it was in his nightmare. His face and neck were covered in gouges, most likely self inflicted, as was his bare chest. I instantly felt bad for jumping to conclusions but then decided I could deal with my unworthy mind later.

Jumping in to bed on top of him, I attempted to pin his flailing limbs, unsuccessfully for a while. Eventually, he managed to toss me off and I smacked my head smartly against my bedside table. Groaning at my stupidity, I picked up my wand and bound his arms above his head and his legs to the posts at the end of my bed. Yet still he thrashed and screeched, attempting to get out of his bounds. I was slightly shocked at his behaviour. Only slightly, though, I'd seen this kind of behaviour displayed in many of the prisoners that had been released from the dungeons of many of the Death Eaters homes. Could it be that...?

But I couldn't finish the thought, it seemed preposterous! Why would they torture one of their own? At least, this is what I was telling myself to quell the panicky thoughts that had started to flood my brain. Instead of focusing, however, I decided I should really get about waking him up and heal what he'd done to himself.

I straddled him once more, shaking him gently, calling his name, but to no avail. He seemed absolutely trapped within his own mind. Eventually, I decided I would either have to settle with splashing him with cold water or wake him with magic. Since I didn't want to be too cruel, exactly... for obvious reasons, I supposed magic would have to do. For now.

"Enervate."

His eyes fluttered open, dilated bright silver orbs lined with darker grey, pink flushed cheeks... I came to the conclusion that Malfoy was perhaps the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. Slowly, confusion also spread along his well shaped features but more that that, I found that he was finally showing signs of being lucid. The lost, uncaring, unemotional look was gone. Perhaps he would be someone I could actually recognize! But in that case... perhaps sitting on him wouldn't be the best way to commence a conversation.

"Gr-anger?" He managed to cough my name out. That was relieving. With his behaviour, I'd began to think he'd forgotten my name. I got up to retrieve him a glass of water from the jug on my side table only to find that his struggles had tossed it over to the floor and smashed it.

Sighing, I cleaned the mess with a swish of my wand, and refilled the glass with a quick spell. "Here, this should help."

He looked at me curiously but accepted it without question and sipped at it, perhaps to test if I'd poisoned it first. When he was satisfied, he gulped it down, much like the night before. When he finished I offered him another but he just shook his head and stared at everything but me.

"What...are you doing here?"

That was an odd question to ask, didn't he remember anything from last night?

"This is my apartment, Malfoy, I live here." I noticed he didn't cringe this time, when I called him by his family name. That was odd... he was the most interesting thing that had happened to me in a while. I supposed I could take advantage of the situation. "Don't you remember?"

He just shook his head, again. "What am I doing here then?" As if finding himself in an ex-war hero/ school rival's home wasn't something that happened every day. Oh alright, I guess it isn't something that happens every day.

"I found you last night in an abandoned park freezing to death and injured," I offered, trying to see a spark of memory flash behind his eyes. All I found there was wary confusion.

"Why did you help me? Why did you bring me here? What are you doing in New York?" It seemed as if he had a million questions he wanted to ask but was purposely being patient.

"I'm not about to leave a helpless person to freeze in that weather when they're injured, even if it's you, Malfoy. I brought you here because you weren't sure you had any dittany at home. As it is, I didn't think you knew where to go. I thought you had a concussion but maybe it was just shock. You were acting really odd last night, you know... so I didn't think I ought to just let you go home. In case something else happened," I paused for a breath and noticed he was a little stunned. Was I speaking too fast? His mouth was slightly opened and I decided just then that I adored that look on him. Seeing my past tormentor confused was rather amazingly pleasant.

"And what are you doing here?" he finally managed to say.

"I told you I live here-" but he cut me off.

"In New York. What are you doing in New York, Granger?" he asked, apprehensively.

"I got a job at the American Ministry, actually," I said, attempted to look proud of the fact that this was actually the case. "What about you, what are you doing here? What do you do?"

"I live here," he spoke with a hint of his old smirk and I could help giggle back. It was relieving to finally have something real from my past life. Not just a reminder of the things I'd left behind. "Listen, I'm sorry I put you through the trouble...I'll just be-"

But this time I cut him off. "Nonsense. Stay for breakfast, I'll put something on the stove, yeah?"

Before he could contest I ran out of the room saying he could find his clothes folded in the basket in the room on the other side of the hall. Smiling to myself, I took out pancake mix and realized for the first time in a long time I didn't feel bad about forcing my company on someone. It looked like he actually needed it.

Draco:

My mind registered several things when I regained consciousness from the deepest most restful sleep I'd managed to gather in Merlin knows how many years, but most likely never.

First, my face and neck were stinging, and I was very, very sore. Second, my mind was clearer than it had been in years. Third, bright light was flooding my room and fourth, someone very soft and definitely feminine was atop me, straddling me.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized not only was I not in my room, but the very feminine lithe thing that had been atop me was none other than the very famous Hermione Granger, who should have hated my guts as far as I was aware.

Our conversation passed by too quickly for my liking, I was not able to grasp it, understand it. Before I knew it, she was walking lithely out the room telling me where I could find my clothes. What had I gotten myself into, I wondered?

Walking towards the place Granger had indicated for me to go, I took what appeared to be my clothing without question and donned it. I had learned very quickly that once I rose from these mental lapses, it was best not to ask questions, or people got panicky, concerned... always talked about the damn medi-ward for the mentally unstable.

Go visit a goddamn shrink yourself, buddy.

I found myself walking into what must have been Granger's bathroom, finding myself slightly relaxing while I took in the surroundings. If one had asked, I wouldn't have been able to answer why seeing her clothes discarded in the corner calmed me, or her towel hanging from a hook on the back of the door... but I revelled in it, as calmness wasn't something that came naturally to me in this state.

This state? Brilliant Draco, just talk like a complete nutter.

Sighing to myself I deigned it for the best that I ignore my mind. Pressing my forehead to either side of the sink, I leaned myself forward and gazed upon my reflection, engaging in the breathing exercises the shrink had given me when I had taken the time to visit one all those years after the war... after the nightmares and thoughts had started to plague me...

Shuddering, I focused on my reflection decided I really did not recognize who it was that had the audacity to stare so boldly back at me.

After a minute I realized I was having a staring competition with myself. Shaking my head at the foolishness, I splashed cool water on myself, hoping to wake up. Hopefully ascertaining that this was a real lucid moment and not just another dream.

It had taken a while to get accustomed to my...current state. The shrinks that my mother had rushed me to had all agreed that it was a mental defence against everything I'd seen and partaken in during the war. I remember something along the lines of a coping mechanism, and my mother's tears for her only child that had gone absolutely loony.

The shrinks had convinced her that moving to a different place would help me. I agreed with it simply to be rid of them. I pretended to be healed, to be normal, but once out of sight it ceased to matter if I were normal, sane, and lucid or not. I could engage my mental defences and protect myself from the nightmares, from the stares... from myself, maybe. So I would regress into a state where nothing could harm me. Perhaps weeks at a time, sometimes months and emerged partially cleansed. Certainly strong enough to hold onto a few days with my full mental capacities running.

It worked fantastically, at first. I would allow myself to become mindless, emotionless, release the insanity then, before I returned back to a more lucid, functioning state. That is, until my mother passed away. After that, I had no one to pretend for anymore. My lucid states, as far as I'm aware, began to come farther and fewer in between... I must have mentally begun to dread them.

Now, however, I was fully accustomed and accepting of my lifestyle, so long as I did not involve anyone in it. Though somehow, I might have roped Granger in with me. I was sincerely hoping that this was not the case when I heard her knock softly on the door.

"Are you going to be long? I've breakfast set up," she called out to me. She seemed timid. Had I scared her?

Already feeling more grounded, I opened the door and attempted a smile but it must have turned out to look more like a grimace. I am not in the habit of smiling these days... certainly not. Clearing my throat at the awkwardness, I replied, "That would be lovely, thank you."

She nodded, perhaps a bit startled at my response, though I couldn't figure out why, she led the way to her table, and offered me a seat while she took the one across from me. "Help yourself," she offered.

Breakfast was silent. Glancing at the clock and seeing it was two in the afternoon, I realized it was more like lunch. "What is the date?"

"November 30th," she replied without looking up from her plate and the paper that she was skimming rather quickly through. When she glanced up, I quickly averted my eyes. There was an awkward moment of silence that was broken thankfully by a tap at her window.

She jumped up quickly and ran to the window to let the rather ordinary barn owl in. Taking the letter and giving it a piece of bacon before it left with a swish, she opened the letter and ran her eyes over it, a slow frown beginning to appear on her face. I instantly decided I did not like that look upon her at all.

However, with the arrival of the letter, I had the opportunity to appraise her form. She was rather slight, clad in only boy shorts and a tank top, her hair much shorter and well kept than from our school days. She had turned into a graceful thing of sorts...

I stopped myself from thinking, my face turning red and quickly returned to finishing everything on my plate. Perhaps being completely unaware of one's surroundings was a good way to be!

When she came to sit at the table again to continue with her meal, she proclaimed, "Well! I've no plans for today anymore, seeing as I was cancelled on. So we have plenty of time to talk about what's happened with you and why you're walking around New York bleeding like a pig."

I looked up at her expectant face with horror. Perhaps I could skive this off saying I had to work, or had other matters to attend to... but the expression on her face told me that I would not be getting out of anything today.

Oh my.

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