Hey, guys! Time for another chapter! Be prepared for a skipped Update Saturday this week, too. I have a thing that will leave me down and out for the rest of the week, so I might not be able to update this Saturday. Sorry in advance!

Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter Forty

As soft knock sounded at my door. I jolted awake and snatched up my wand, pointing it at the door. My paranoid mind automatically assumed that it was a Death Eater or Lucius at the door, but I took a deep breath and forced my racing heart to calm.

Both the Death Eaters and my parents were on the run. They were not in the house. They couldn't hurt me or anyone anymore.

I put my wand down with a sigh, my shoulders sagging. A second knock came, and I finally remembered who really was in the house. I got up from the bed and opened the door, greeting all three of the friends. "Morning," I muttered, stifling a yawn from my restless night.

"Good morning," Hermione responded, clearing her throat. "Um..we were all up early this morning and…" She turned to the two boys behind her and whispered, "Maybe I shouldn't be the one to tell him."

"It was your idea," Harry muttered.

"We sent another fire message to my mum this morning," Ron voiced suddenly. "We told her about your...situation, and she wants you to stay at my house."

"What did you tell her?" I questions, crossing my arms. They saw my memories, yes, but it was still private information. I didn't want it spreading any further than it had tol.

"Nothing specific. Just that a lot of Death Eaters used to meet in your house and that you were uncomfortable staying here," Harry explained.

I glanced at Hermione. She was trying to be helpful by telling Harry and Ron about our conversation early this morning, but I was still hurt by the fact that she told them about my private comment.

But mostly I was relieved. I had somewhere to go. Somewhere that wasn't infected with the memories of blood and Lucius.

"So do you accept or not?" Ron wondered.

I nodded, afraid my voice would crack if I verbally agreed.

Hermione smiled gently and shared a look with Ron.

"When do you want to leave?" Harry asked.

"I'll need some time to pack clothes and stuff, so is this afternoon good? After lunch?" I suggested.

"Yeah. We'll just need to tell mum what time to expect us," Ron answered.

"And I'll need to let the Ministry know that I'm going to stay with you," I added.

After the four of us ate breakfast and Ron and I sent our fire messages, I pulled out a trunk from under my bed and put it on top of the mattress. It was the same trunk I used for Hogwarts. It looked plain, but when I opened it, I was greeted by the emerald and silver Slytherin decor I put on the inside after I got Sorted.

I couldn't stop a small smile from forming on my lips. I used to hate Potter, Weasley and Granger. Slytherin would be all lined up to win the House Cup, but then Potter would swoop in with his two friends, break a dozen school rules and somehow get rewarded with the Cup. Now, I'm going to stay at Ron's house with Harry and Hermione. It was odd how things can change.

I sorted through my wardrobe, pulling out clothes for both night and day and tossed them on my bed next to the trunk. I took the usual toiletries from my bathroom and packed them into the trunk with the clothes like I was going to school.

I scanned my room for anything else I would need, and my eyes fell on the radio resting on my bedside table. I shrugged and picked it up, the small table rocking with the shift in weight.

Something metallic clattered on the table as I placed the radio in my case. I glanced over at the table and found that the picture frame that I kept on the table had fallen onto its face. I had looked at the picture so many times that I hardly noticed it anymore, but it glared at me now. I picked up the frame and looked at the photograph of my family and I inside. It was taken years ago when I had gotten home after my First Year. I stood smiling in Slytherin robes my parents on either side of me. Mother had her arm around me and was looking down at me proudly. Father had his hand on my shoulder, and though he wasn't looking at me, pride that matched my mothers glowed in his eyes.

My jaw clenched as I stared at the image of Lucius. I wanted to leave the picture behind and forget about it just to spite him, but I couldn't. This was taken before everything happened; this was when my father and mother were still just that: my father and mother and nothing more.

I placed the photograph in my trunk between layers of clothes and closed it. I was about to leave my room with the trunk when my mind drifted to the conversation with Hermione on the landing. I wasn't going to come back here, and if I was going to use the money from selling the house to get into a Wizarding school of medicine, I'd need to study, and Lucius wasn't around to lock the libraries.

I grabbed my trunk and left my room with it, pausing only momentarily at the door. This room had been my safe place for the passed year. The only Death Eater that entered was my Lucius, and he never hurt me here. But I didn't need it anymore. It was all over. I didn't need to hide.

I habitually closed the door to my old room and moved to a small hall closet, taking a second trunk that would be for the books. I shouldered the door closed and descended to the level where most of the libraries were. I entered the first one I came across and put the trunks on the floor.

I scanned the wall full of books for anything that sounded like it would have healing magic in it. Several feet up was a shelf that seemed to be filled with the type of books I was looking for, but I still had to check before I brought them down here.

I drew my wand and brought the library's laddar close to me then put my wand back in my pocket. I climbed up the rungs until I was level with the shelf of books and drew one out. I flipped it open and skimmed it, confirming that it was filled with healing magic. I repeated the process two or three times until my hands were full of books.

"Ah, crap," I muttered.

I didn't think this through. I needed my wand to get these books down to the floor without damaging them, but now I could reach for it.

"Need some help?" Hermione's voice called.

I glanced over at the door and found her standing with her arms crossed.

"Hey," I greeted. "And a little, yeah."

Hermione smirked and drew her wand, levitating the books from my hands and to the floor, though she caught one as it floated down. "Healing magic?"

"Yeah," I answered, grabbing another book. "Figured I should know a bit more than what I used to fix you up."

Hermione reached up for the book and I handed it to her before checking another.

"You wanna go to med school?"

"Don't see why not. After I sell this place I'll have enough to go."

Hermione took the next book from me, placed it on the floor and opened the trunk. She put the books in the trunk, packing them tightly. "You've got room for one more considering how thick these books are."

"Something tells me that the only thing you ever packed for school was books," I mocked, taking another book off of the shelf.

"Sort of," she agreed with a shrug, placing the book in the trunk. "Speaking of you selling the place, though, what're you going to do with the House Elves?"

I handed her the book and stepped down from the ladder. The truth was that I hadn't thought about it until she mentioned it, but I couldn't tell her that. "Free them, I suppose," I answered. "Elves don't do well idle, and I doubt they would do well at Ron's either."

"Okay, then you need to give them clothes," she rushed.

"Yeah, I know," I laughed, crossing behind her and closing the trunk. "Guess I'm raiding my father's closet."

I hauled the weighted trunk off the ground and moved to pick up the other one, but Hermione had it first.

"I'm gonna free them after we eat lunch, though," I added.

Hermione laughed lightly as we descended the stairs to the main level. "Understandable." We placed the trunks in the foyer and made our way towards the kitchen. "Actually, I came to find you to say that lunch was ready."

We arrived in the kitchen to find Ron and Harry already eating what the Elves had prepared.

"Ready to go?" Harry asked, getting up from the table.

"Yeah. Just one more thing," I responded.

Hermione smiled at me as I left the kitchen. I ran up the stairs until I arrived at my parents' old room. I grabbed the handle but hesitated. I was never allowed in my parents room. When I was little, my mother would bring me in a few times, but when I got older, I was barred from entering.

My parents weren't here. Lucius wasn't behind this door, waiting with his wand out.

I turned the handle and walked in. It was the smell that hit me first: mixture of my mother's perfume and the cologne that my father gradually stopped wearing during the war.

I forced my head down and went quickly to their walk-in closet. I grabbed an armful of small articles of Lucius' clothing-socks, ties and the like.

I walked out of the closet and tried to leave without looking at their room, but a photograph of my father and me caught my eye. It was the two of us at the Quidditch World Cup before my Fourth Year. Lucius' ring rested on the bedside table the photograph, so it must have been his side of the bed.

I ripped my gaze away from the photograph and left the room, racing to get as far away from it as possible.

I didn't know where the House Elves were when they weren't being ordered around, but I knew that they were always around the kitchen, so I returned there and found Harry, Ron and Hermione still sitting at the table.

"What're those for?" Ron laughed.

I dropped the clothing on the floor and looked back at him. "I doubt that I'll ever come back here, so I'm letting the Elves go before I leave."

"Sir?" Loft's small and cracking voice called. "Is that true, sir? You're leaving?"

I looked down at the Elf as he came around the corner. "Yes, Loft. I'm leaving, and I'm letting you all go before I do."

Loft's floppy ears raised up slightly, and his mouth curved upwards at the corners. He ran back the way he came and returned with all of the Elves my family had employed.

I got down on my knees as they lined up in front of the pile of clothes, staring at it with hope in their large eyes. I handed each of them something from the pile, and they either nodded, smiled or muttered a quietl, "Thank you, sir."

Loft was last in line. I held out the last thing from the pile, but he didn't take it. "Are you sure about leaving, sir?" he asked.

"You know what happened here," I said softly, trying to get him to take the tie in my hand. "I can't stay here after all that."

Loft nodded and looked up at me, taking the tie. "Loft will miss you, Draco Malfoy."

Loft passed by me and joined the group of Elves. All of them Disapparated at once, leaving the room silent and empty.

I got back to my feet and Hermione instantly pulled me into a tight hug that made me tense and fill with the same awkwardness that occurred whenever there was a lull in conversation between the four of us. She let me go and looked at me with gratitude. "Thanks for freeing them."

"Y-you're welcome," I stuttered, clearing my throat to banish the uncomfortableness in the pit of my stomach.

Weasley glared at me over Hermione's shoulder, getting to his feet.

"Uh. Could you please tell Ron that I don't like you like that?" I muttered, getting Hermione to turn and see Ron's reaction.

"Would you calm down, Ron?" she ordered.

Weasley rolled his eyes and looked back at me. "Now are you ready to go?"

"Yeah. I am."

I was overjoyed that Hermione was able to talk him down from wanting to hit me again, but now I was going to stay at his house. It was already tremendously awkward with just the four of us. Add infinitely more Weasleys into the mix, and the level of uncomfortableness would increase tremendously. Or it could be a lot less awkward because there was more people to make conversation.

"Let's go, then," Harry voiced leaving the kitchen and heading towards the foyer.

Ron, Hermione and I followed behind him until we found my trunks in the foyer. I picked up both of the trunks and headed towards the door. Ron opened it for me and I stepped out.

An odd, aching feeling settled into my chest as Harry and Hermione followed out. Ron closed the door and that same uneasy feeling traveled into my throat, nearly sealing it shut.

Harry tentatively placed a hand on my shoulder before lifting his wand and Apparating us away from what was my home for fifteen years. I tried to remind myself that the house wasn't a home anymore, but it didn't help ease the aching in my chest.

The four of us appeared in a field of tall grass, a long, dirt path stretching out towards a tall, wooden house. It had a wide, almost round base and a tall, rectangular top that was supported by wooden beams extending up and out of the roof of the base. The whole thing looked rundown, and the top was so precarious that it seemed like a stiff breeze could blow the whole thing over.

"So?" Ron voiced. "What do you think?"

I searched my mind for anything to say that wouldn't be insulting. "It's bigger than I thought it would be."

"It's not much, but it's home to me," he said, starting down the path.

Harry, Hermione and I followed after him, and when we approached the front door as Ron knocked on it thrice.

The door was immediately pulled open by Molly Weasley. "Welcome home, Ron!" she greeted warmly, pulling Ron into a hug that he readily accepted.

Ron was sent into the house, and Harry walked up next. Missus Weasley took him into her arms, and then embraced Hermione, sending her into the house after the boys.

"Aren't you going to come in, Draco?" the mother asked when I remained on the porch.

I approached the doorway, but was prevented from entering her home. Molly Weasley pulled me into her arms and hugged me the same as the others. My muscles coiled painfully tight as she hugged me. I can count on one hand the people who have hugged me in my life, and one of them was literally Lord Voldemort. I glanced at Ron as the hug went on a tad too long and was relieved when she let go.

I tried to smile at her in thanks as I entered the house.

"Ron. Why don't you show Draco where he'll be staying," Missus Weasley requested.

"Sure," Ron agreed. "Come on."

I followed Ron through the house and up a long set of creaking stairs that had two too many landings. He led me into a large room that had three beds and a tall window at the end of it.

"Yours would be the one on the end," Ron informed.

I nodded and crossed the lengthy, wooden room to the furthest bed and placed my trunks on top of the mattress and the thread-bare comforters. I rolled my shoulder that was aching from supporting the trunk full of books and looked back at Ron lingering in the doorway.

"Thanks for this," I said softly.

"Not a problem," he responded, rubbing the back of his neck. "I suppose its my way of thanking you. For all that you did for Hermione."

"That wasn't a problem, either," I dismissed, my chest tightening at the direction the conversation was going.

"Yes, it was. You were tortured for helping her."

I winced internally at the statement, faint memories of my own screams springing to mind.

We were silent for a moment before I was able to think of something to say for once. "We won, didn't we?" I offered. "He's gone, so it was worth it."

"Yeah," Ron muttered, falling quiet again. "I think I'll help mum with dinner."

"But it's only three in the afternoon," I pointed out.

"I know. But do you realize how big my family is? If you want to have enough food, you got to start cooking hours in advance." He took a step back into the hall but stopped and turned back to me. "And fair warning, it's first come first served here. You want to eat, you've got to move fast." With that, Ron left the room and jogged down the stairs.

I turned back to my trunk and opened the one with my clothes and dug through it. I drew out the picture of my family, the aching thorn in my heart returning and forcing me to take a seat beside my trunk.

I didn't know why my heart hurt whenever I thought of my parents. I should be burning with hatred. They hurt and betrayed me more than the Dark Lord ever did or could. But for some reason, I missed them. Or at least the version of them that was immortalized in the photograph.

A loud pop echoed through the room, making me jump and shout in surprise, dropping the picture to instinctively reach for my wand and look up at the two people who had Apparated into the room.

"So it is true!" George exclaimed. "A Malfoy is staying in our house."

"Isn't that a surprise," Ginny agreed with a smile.

"Mum said it was happening, but I didn't believe her," George added, taking a seat beside me on the bed and bumping into my trunk that was so weighed down with books that it didn't even wobble. "Woah. What's in here?" he laughed, taking the handle of the trunk. He tried to pull the trunk into his lap but couldn't overcome the weight of the books inside. "What is this? Cinder blocks?" he groaned. He flipped the trunk over and clicked the latches open. "Gross. Textbooks."

"You don't have to read them," I muttered.

"You're dang right I don't," George responded loudly, getting up from the bed. "And I won't. Sorry, Ginny, but I need to leave this room of learning. You're in charge of the Malfoy." George raised his wand and Disapparated, leaving me alone with his sister.

I tried to think of something to say to Ginny, but the only things I really knew about her is that she'd gotten together with Potter and plays Quidditch. I've never interacted with Ginny on a personal level beyond our brief meeting before my Second Year.

"Here," she said, thankfully breaking yet another silence. Ginny bent down and picked up the picture frame I dropped and handed it to me, briefly glancing at the photograph.

"Thanks." I took the frame from her.

Ginny picked up one of the books in the trunk and thumbed through it. "This is healing magic," she noted. "Is that what all of them are about?"

I nodded.

"You want to be a Healer?"

I wasn't sure how to react to the question. The answer was yes, but it felt weird to say it.

"Gotta say I never expected it out of you, Draco," she sighed, taking George's place on the mattress.

"Neither did I," I agreed, panicking slightly as we both fell quiet again.

Why could I never think of anything to say to these people? Eventually, I decided to stick with the current topic of conversation. "What about you?" I tentatively asked. "What do you want to be?"

"A pro Quidditch player," she answered, placing the book back in the trunk. "It's the one thing I can picture myself doing for the rest of my life."

I tried to remember the times she played during my Sixth Year, but I was so distracted that year that I barely remembered even one game. "You've got the talent for it," I complimented, thinking of how the Gryffindor team did Sixth Year.

"Thanks," she laughed, raising an eyebrow at me.

We were both quiet again for a while. All this silence was starting to get to me. Interactions with the Weasleys, Granger and Potter better get more natural soon, or I might lose it.

"Why don't you come down stairs?" Ginny suggested. "No point in you sitting up here all by yourself."

"Sure," I readily agreed. Anything to make this less uncomfortable.

Ginny and I got up from the bed, and I placed the photograph of my parents and I back in the trunk full of clothing and latched it shut.

I followed Ginny down the twisting and creaking staircase to the main level and was hit with the scent of a variety of flavours. I couldn't identify what they were, but they made my mouth water.

"There you are, Draco," Molly Weasley exclaimed, coming up to me from the small kitchen.

She embraced me tightly again, and I still didn't know how to react. My arms stayed firmly at my sides, and my stomach churned with the awkwardness, though I was probably making it more awkward by not moving.

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" George laughed from the sofa as his mother released me. "Your parents did hug you, right?"

I was about to answer that of course they did, but I froze, genuinely pondering his question. I couldn't remember the last time Lucius hugged me or if he ever did, and the last time I remembered my mother properly embracing me, I wasn't old enough to start Hogwarts.

The room fell silent for a moment, but it was a different kind of silence: more tense than awkward.

"Well, you're just in time to help Ron," Missus Weasley voiced, breaking the quiet. "Could you?"

"Sure," I answered, the etiquette lessons my parents had subjected me to coming to the surface. "It's the least I can do to thank you for having me, Missus Weasley."

"Call me Molly, please," she requested.

"Molly, then," I repeated as she placed a hand on my shoulder and led me to the kitchen where Ron was standing over a pan on the stove.

"Ron, could you fill him in on what we're making?" Molly asked.

"Yeah," Ron responded. "Come on." He used the spatula he was holding and gestured for me to join him by the stove. I walked up to him, and he gave me a condescending look. "Do you even know how to work a stove?"

"No, not a clue," I said honestly, my voice just above a whisper. "The House Elves always cooked."

"Must've been nice to have House Elves to all the work," Ron commented. "It's just burgers right now, so hold the pan, move the patties around with the spatula every now and then and make sure it doesn't burn."

Ron handed me the spatula, and I took the handle of the pan. Ron moved to the other end of the counter and reached up into the cabinet, pulling out buns in a plastic bag.

"The Elves were convenient, but it got rather boring at times," I added, smirking.

Ron froze and looked at me before rolling his eyes. "Just shut up and cook," he groaned, though he had a hint of a smile. "Lift the edge of them up to see if it's done underneath. If they're still pink, leave 'em, if it's brown, flip 'em."

"...Okay," I said, tentatively nudging the spatula underneath one of the four patties.

I lifted the edge of the pattie up, and was greeted with a spray of hot grease that splashed all over my hand. I hissed and automatically released the spatula, but I grabbed for it again before it could fall. The cooking tool repeatedly slipped through my fingers, and as it bounced off of the counter and nearly hit the floor, Ron easily caught it with one hand.

"You good?" he laughed, a full, mocking smile on his face.

"It's covered in grease and therefore is slippery," I dismissed, crossing my arms.

"Yeah, sure. We'll go with that." Ron slipped between the counter and me, taking my place at the stove. "Why don't you just get some stuff out, and I'll fix these," he suggested.

I gladly stepped away from the stove as Ron told me where everything was stored.

Molly Weasley had long since kicked Ron and I out of the kitchen and taken over the cooking, so everyone rushed to the door to greet Mister Weasley as he arrived home. "Hey, everybody!" he called.

"Hi, dad!" half of them called.

"Welcome home, Arthur!" Missus Weasley shouted from the distance.

I stayed in the living room, suddenly becoming alone when everyone ran to the door. Socially, I should get up to greet the man of the house, but I was still unbelievably uncomfortable with the whole situation.

"Well, hello, Draco," Mister Weasley said, coming into the room and offering me his hand.

I got up from the sofa and took it. "Sir," I greeted stiffly.

"Dinner!" Molly hollered.

George bounded down the stairs with Ginny, and they both shoved passed me. Mister Weasley and I followed after them, arriving at the table to find that there were only three empty seats and everyone had already started taking food, piling it onto their plates.

Arthur Weasley took the seat at the head of the table, and I took an empty one beside who I thought was Percy Weasley. I couldn't help but notice the empty chair next to George, and it made my chest tighten, but I forced myself to look away.

"Dig in, Draco," Molly offered, gesturing to the table full of food like at Hogwarts.

I took a hamburger from the plate in front of me and scanned the remnants on the table. Ron wasn't kidding when he said that I had to move fast if I wanted to eat.

Throughout the whole dinner, the family, Hermione and Harry ate and chatted, making jokes and laughing. Everyone stayed in their seat. Mister Weasley didn't say he had work things to catch up on and retreat into another room. It was loud and messy, and one of the most wonderful and terrible dinners I've ever been to.

There was a sense of familiarity instead of propriety. Everyone looked happy instead of neutral and unreadable. But it was also so loud that it made my head hurt, and George made so many offensive jokes that I could barely get my food down. I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed when it was over.

We all tossed our plates in the sink and Molly ordered us to bed. All of the Weasley siblings, Potter, Granger and I shared one bathroom, and it was a terrible mess to try to brush my teeth. Eventually I settled for quickly spitting my toothpaste out of the window and diving in front of Percy to grab a drink from the sink to rinse.

"Hey!" he shouted, but I shrugged and swished the water around in my mouth.

I leaned back out the window and spat the water out just as George had the same idea and disposed of his own toothpaste. I rushed out of the bathroom as Ron and Harry arrived in their night clothes. I ran to the room I was staying in and fell onto the end of my bed. The chaos of fighting over the bathroom sink was somehow incredibly exhausting.

I got up from the bed and got my trunk full of clothes open, deciding to get into my night clothes now before anyone else invaded the room, but I froze when I was greeted by the picture of my parents and me. I gingerly picked it up and placed it on the round table next to the bed, my fingers grazing the frame.

I shook my head, banishing the aching in my chest and grabbed my night clothes from the trunk. I dressed as quickly as I could but only managed to get my trousers on when the door was pushed open. I shouted in surprise and covered my chest with the night shirt, jumping as I faced the door.

Harry and Ron stood in the doorway staring at me before Ron laughed. "It's just us."

I sighed and lowered the shirt, overjoyed that it wasn't Hermione or Ginny.

Harry closed the door as I got the night shirt on and climbed onto his bed. Ron got into his own bed, and I removed the trunks from mine.

Ron was asleep and snoring the moment he laid down, but I tossed and turned for a while. It was almost like my First Year at Hogwarts when I found out I had to share the dorm. Before then, I never had to share a room with anyone. I had gotten used to it at school, but it was kind of nerve wracking here.

What if I snored like Ron-although, based on how loud he was, that probably wouldn't be a problem. Or what if I talked or screamed in my sleep like Anthea said I did?

I wished Anthea was here. She could always calm me down with her understanding and talks. She went on and on about anything and everything, so it took a lot of the pressure off of me to come up with conversation starters. It was easy with her around.

I closed my eyes and was somehow able to fool myself into thinking that Anthea would wake me up in the middle of my nightmares, so I wouldn't scream.

Something hit me, and I jerked awake, grabbing my wand and sitting straight up.

"It's okay," Harry's voice assured. "You were just having a nightmare."

I glanced next to me and found Potter sitting up, covered in sweat. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and lowered my wand, placing it back on the bedside table. "Sorry. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Actually, we were already awake," Ron answered, the blue light of Lumos brightening his side of the room. "You slept longer than both of us."

"If you could call that sleeping," Harry corrected. "Looked pretty rough. What was it about?"

I didn't answer, mostly because I barely remembered it. I only remembered being terrified and begging Lucius and Voldemort to stop hurting me.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and Ron got up and stumbled towards the door with a yawn. He opened the door and Hermione stood on the other side.

"You guys, too?" she said.

"Yep. Wanna come in?" Ron offered, opening the door a bit wider to admit her.

Harry reached under his bed and pulled out an old newspaper that had a photograph of him as Undesirable Number One on it. He crinkled the newspaper into a ball and got up from his bed, crossing in front of it and sitting on the floor. "Come on," he said, turning back to me.

I followed his lead and joined the other three on the floor. Harry charred the edge of the newspaper ball with his wand, creating a soft glow of firelight, and levitated the burning paper into the center of the four of us.

"So," Harry began, "what was everyone's tonight?"

No one spoke for a while, so Potter decided to say his piece. "I dreamt that when Voldemort killed me, there was no one there. Not Dumbledore, Sirius, Lupin or my parents. I was alone, and I didn't come back."

So Voldemort did actually kill him, but somehow he came back? I wanted to ask him how he came back in the first place, but it was a question for another time.

"I dreamed that I couldn't get to Hermione when she was facing down that snake," Ron muttered, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Hermione inched closer to him and gently wove her fingers into his. "Mine was about Bellatrix; but she wasn't torturing me this time." She looked up at Ron who gazed back at her.

"What about yours?" Potter voiced, turning to me. "What was yours about?"

I hesitated, trying to get myself to trust them. All three of them had seen my memories, and they were sharing their nightmares. They allowed me to stay here and had accepted me after all I caused.

"Lucius and Voldemort," I muttered. "They just hurt me in the cellar."

The four of us fell quiet, and I looked around at us all. Harry, Ron and Hermione were all covered in a thin layer of sweat, and their hair was a knotted and messy nest. Harry didn't have his glasses on, and I didn't have to look in a mirror to know that I looked as terrible as the rest of them.

"Well, we're all a mess," I breathed, glad that I could be the one to break the silence this time.

The other three glanced at me before starting to snicker, gradually turning it into full laughter.

"Shh!" Hermione hissed, straining to curb her jumping laughter. "We're going to wake everyone up."

"Nah," Ron dismissed, drawing Hermione closer. "They sleep way too deeply."

Ron planted a kiss on her cheek, making my stomach do a flip and Harry groan in disgust. "Come on, guys. Not while we're here," he complained.

"Hey. I'm finally in a relationship, so I'm going to enjoy it," Ron retorted.

"Yeah. You're welcome," I muttered, wishing I hadn't said it the moment the comment left my lips.

"And why do we have to thank you?" Hermione questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, as I recall," I began, pleading that I knew how to word this right, "I insulted you Second Year." I gestured to Hermione. "Then he wiped out his wand and said, 'Eat slugs!' Then his wand backfired, and it created a spark that evolved into the wonderful relationship you two now enjoy. You bonded over your mutual hatred for me."

I crossed my arms and leaned back into the foot of my bed, as Ron eyes drifted up, like he was trying to see into his own mind. "Holy crap, you're right," he gasped.

Ron's agreement renewed everyone's laughter, and I even found it within myself to join in quietly.

"Did you do that to Harry and Ginny, too?" Hermione wondered. "Push them together through mutual hatred of you?"

"Of course he didn't," Harry quickly denied.

"I don't think so," I agreed. "I think she just wore him down through constant begging."

"She did not beg," Harry corrected.

I shrugged. "Begging, crushing. Same thing really."

Potter suddenly grabbed another newspaper from under his bed, balled it up and threw it at me before I could duck. I genuinely laughed at his reaction.

"Of course, you'd make fun of our relationships," Ron voiced. "You've never had a crush on anyone, so you're just jealous." He drew Hermione closer and openly kissed her on the cheek.

Anthea suddenly came to mind, and I didn't know why.

"Draco," Hermione called, "you're turning red."

"What?" I pressed the back of my hand to my cheek and found that my face was hot.

"Do you like someone?" Potter interrogated.

"N-no," I stuttered. Why was I stuttering?

"O-oh. This I've got to hear," Ron mocked letting go of Hermione and leaning forward.

"I-I don't like anyone," I denied, Anthea coming to mind again. Why was I thinking about her? I didn't like her, did I?

"Then why are you getting more and more red?" Harry questioned.

"Wait. Red like, Weasley's hair, red?" I wondered sarcastically, pleading that the conversation would move in a new direction.

"Sometimes you don't know you like someone even when you actually do," Ron said, ignoring my comment. "Is there anyone you even think you could like."

I rubbed the back of my neck, debating whether or not I should say it.

"Spill!" Harry ordered.

"Her name was Anthea," I finally revealed, my cheeks growing hotter with flush.

"That's a pretty name," Hermione commented.

"How'd you meet?" Ron wondered.

"Was it at school or something?" Harry added.

"Actually she was guarding my cell in Azkaban," I informed.

The others fell quiet for a moment before Hermione asked, "Why'd you start to like her?"

I debated her question for a moment. "I honestly don't know. I think just I realized I liked her now. The Dementors in Azkaban seemed to really like me, and it got too cold for my body to handle, so I passed out, and the next thing I know, Anthea was shaking me awake and handing me a mug of hot chocolate. She made a fire in a jar and talked with me. She would come around every now and then, bringing me my meals and renewing the flame in the jar. We talked for a while, though she did most of the talking. She went on and on about the most random things, and she can't tell a joke to save her life." The corners of my mouth twitched up as I talked about her, one quality standing out above the rest. "I trust her."

Everyone was quiet again, and I could feel the others' eyes on me, but I didn't exactly mind.

Eventually, Ron cleared his throat. "So what did you think of your first night here?"

"It was…" I trailed off, trying to think of a nice word to describe it but found nothing. "Weird."

Harry and Hermione laughed again while Ron looked like I had insulted his mother. "What do you mean weird?"

"I mean you all stay at the table during dinner," I clarified, thinking of the countless times Lucius said that he had work stuff to catch up on and left me alone with my mother. "And you talk."

"What you didn't talk at dinner in your family?" Potter laughed.

"Not really, no," I sighed. "It was mostly just a lot of awkward silence and unnecessary etiquette."

"Well, that sounds...awful," Ron voiced.

"You guys eat like that every night?" I wondered.

"And breakfast," Hermione answered. "And lunch."

The others started to laugh again, but I didn't know what they were laughing at, so it was probably at my reaction.

The three eventually managed to quiet down, and Hermione stretched, getting to her feet. "We should probably head back to bed."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "You're probably right."

The newspaper Harry lit on fire instantly turned to ash, taking the light going with it. Hermione kissed Ron goodbye and left the room, closing the door silently. Harry and Ron climbed back into bed, and I did the same.

I laid down and covered myself with the comforter. For once, I was actually relaxed as I closed my eyes.

Hope you enjoyed, and fingers crossed that I can update Saturday! See you soon!