A/N: So I just wanted to clear something up about the story. Hermione will always be the 'brightest witch of her age', Draco is not smarter than her. In my mind, their strengths and weaknesses make them effectively equal. It's just that at this point in time, Draco's thrown himself completely into his studies as a distraction and to essentially put of dealing with things he doesn't want too.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Was it possible to argue and reach an agreement without a single word?

Lately it seemed like she mostly spoke in her silence, as though words were no longer enough to convey anything.

Oddly disconcerting for someone who loved words as much as she did.

She looked at the grounds, blanketed in thin layer of snow that was still falling fast. She buried her hands deeper into her pockets as she leaned forward on the bannister. The air stung her eyes, but softly stroked her cheek. The first snow fall.

Ever since her first winter at Hogwarts, she'd always thought that the school never looked as beautiful as it did when it was decorated in frost. It completed the picture, and the hum of magic seemed to resonate with the change in the seasons.

She shut her eyes, but all she could see were McGonagall's eyes locked on hers, passing judgement over the plans for the Winter Ball.

She'd come to the Astronomy Tower afterwards. She'd felt so trapped in the mundane routine they'd taken to carrying out.

"Your heart's not in it." He'd told her after the meeting, "She can see that."

She wanted to retort, defend herself or take aim at his own lack of enthusiasm, but when she'd met his gaze, she'd faltered. They hadn't seen each other properly since he'd recovered. His schedule was still vastly different than hers, and though he hadn't been obvious in it, he had avoided her. Though, with him in front of her, she wondered if recovered was the correct term. Sickly pale, and dark patches that matched his eyes. He wasn't looking for a fight, and she didn't want to have one.

She huffed, watching her breath cloud in front of her.

Three more attacks, two had been coupled with a floating Morsrmorde overhead. It was hard to say who was more anxious after, Harry or Draco.

Draco's was a silent torment. Seers and Seer blood was equated with depression in practically every book she'd come across, and she'd gone through many. His light was on more times than off at night, and his marks continued to be bloody brilliant. He'd scored higher on two more tests and they'd tied on two more. Though on their last Potions exam, he'd done so poorly, it made her think he'd done it on purpose. Slughorn seemed to agree, because after returning their exams he'd even asked if Draco would repeat it right then and there.

He'd refused.

Harry was whirlwinds. Loud then silent. He'd kept busy by coming up with a list of possible horcruxs, and she'd spent hours going over each and every one. They were waiting, waiting for something to push them over the edge and send them tumbling into their task. Dumbledore was stalling. Voldemort was stalling. The whole world seemed to be stalling, and he was going mad with anxiety.

She sighed. She was going mad by thinking about all of it. She cocked her head at the sound of light footsteps.

"Hello Hermione." She turned. Luna leant on the bannister beside her.

"Hello Luna."

Her blond head seemed almost white against the falling flakes. She blinked and the image of a different white blond head filled her vision. Ice. All ice and cracked edges, but beautiful. Incredibly so.

"I read a muggle book the other day, about a man who loved a woman."

"Oh." She said. She'd given up trying to reason why Luna said anything. She didn't have the energy to overanalyze or psychoanalyze anything anymore.

"He was pretty rubbish at it."

She laughed and Luna cracked a triumphant smile.

"He did things, and she knew what he meant to say because of them."

She looked at Luna, whose gaze was fixed at something in the distance. After a moment, Luna's eyes met hers.

"I suppose it's the same for the things we don't say and the things we can't do. Somehow we still know what it all means."

But how, she wanted to ask. How do we know anything without some sort of proof? Concrete fact that can be grasped. She started to form the sentences when Luna spoke again.

"Have you made anymore tea?"

She shook her head. "No." It surprised her how mournful her voice sounded.

Luna cocked her head. "Maybe you should make some with a spoon of sleeping draught."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Luna!"

She gave her a small smile. "He looks like he could use it."

Luna disappeared after that, her quiet footsteps echoing for a minute before disappearing too.

She waited a moment before leaving herself. The rest of the castle was warm, and she shed her gloves, letting her hands de-frost. She continued moving, and it wasn't until she was nearly there that she realized where she was going. The Slytherin dungeons.

She paused, pretty sure she understood why exactly her subconscious had pushed her in this direction. Perhaps, if she couldn't reach out directly to him, she could go to those who knew him best. Though, in the back of her mind, she realized no one could really get Draco Malfoy to do anything unless he wanted too.

She looked around unsure, because at this point she was lost. She'd never actually been inside the Slytherin dormitories and while she'd been given all the Common Room passwords as Head Girl, she had no idea where the exact entrance even was. A 4th year walked by, and she called out to stop them.

"Get me Blaise Zabini." She said before dismissing him. She felt guilty at the pure terror the 4th year had shown as he scurried off to the side. Using her Head Girl status to take advantage of the younger students, it just seemed like something….

"What are you doing here Granger?"

Blaise lent against one of the walls, hanging his head to look down on her. Judgement. Judgement was what Slytherins seemed to carry in their gaze. She supposed that's how they plotted and planned their next moves; based on whatever they could discern in your gaze.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"I don't know." She finally admitted.

He crossed his arms, and she self-consciously patted down her curls.

"Does he ever mention what they're about?"

She bit her lip. She hadn't meant to ask, but it had just come out.

He sighed, walking closer to her. He stopped a foot before her and met her gaze. "No, but sometimes things slip out."

She pulled at the edges of her skirt. Blaise's face molded into a mix of curiosity and concern. Curiosity for her, concern for his friend. Their friend. It was pointless in denying that their odd tumultuous interactions were nothing. It was a friendship, in the loosest sense of the word.

"Winter greets us with smoke." She said, "It's winter now, and something's coming."

Blaise said nothing.

"They've gotten stronger." She pushed, "I know they have. When he doesn't sleep…"

Blaise had edged closer, hanging onto every word.

She faltered.

"He hasn't slept." She finally said.

Blaise nodded. "I know. He's brewed enough wit-sharpening potion to give everyone two doses for a month."

He opened his mouth to say more, when he grimaced and bent over his arm. She caught sight of a ring.

The Protean Charm.

"It's him."

He turned to her.

"It is, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Pain Potion." He muttered, "Merlin, he must be Pansy's best customer."

She bit her lip as he led her down deeper, before stopping at a particular stone on the wall. "You'll understand if I don't invite you in."

She cocked her head, "What…"

"I'm getting the pain potion, and you can take it to Draco."

He was gone not longer than two minutes, which was long enough for her to invent a thousand scenarios for Draco's visions and for why Pansy Parkinson always had pain potions lying around.

When he emerged, he held out two vials for her to take.

"Granger." He called out to her right before she turned to leave.

"Go easy on him. There's only so much he can do."

She was struck by the familiarity of the statement that she only nodded blankly to Blaise before he disappeared back to the Slytherin dorms.

The potions seemed to grow heavy in her hands. "Merlin." She muttered before walking to her own dorm.

Their Common Room was empty, and his door was shut. She paused listening for any sign of movement. If he was sleeping, she didn't want to wake him. She put the potions on the coffee table in the Common Room and scribbled a quick note before going into her own room.

She paused at her bookcase before pulling out a single book, unable to suppress the groan that escaped her.

Divination

She found the chapter she wanted and proceeded to read.

Her eyes flickered open and a glance at the clock confirmed that she'd woken in the early hours of the new day. 4 am. She pushed the text off her stomach and rolled her shoulders as she sat up. A light shone from beneath her door.

He was awake.

She chewed her lip, and stood. Her hands went to her hair, pulling it all up into a messy bun at the top of her head.

Her hand lingered at the knob. Breathe Hermione. It eased open beneath her touch and she walked softly toward the Common Room. The couch had come into view, when Draco's voice echoed out.

"Granger if you're coming in, come in."

She huffed and stepped into the lighted room. He turned and shot her a half smile. "I was trying to be quiet." She said.

"Trying and failing." He grinned.

"Ass." She muttered taking a seat on the couch.

He laughed lightly, putting a half empty vial on the table in front of them.

She smiled at the sight. He had that way about him. A smile, one of his genuine ones, had the power to draw you into the moment, while the rest of the world fell away.

"I suppose I have to thank you for this." He waved at the two vials on the table.

She shook her head, ignoring the way his eyes focused on her, and cleared her throat.

"I've been meaning to ask. Why does Pansy have so much Pain Potion?"

He shook his head with a grin still on his face. "It started with her brewing some in case any of us was hurt due to." he paused, "questionable circumstances and wanted to avoid the infirmary. She did it for favors, which in Slytherin, are quite valuable."

Her brow rose.

"Course Pansy's always had a soft spot for me."

She bit her lip, slightly bothered by the way he spoke so casually about the other girl.

"And she still does it, for favors?"

He shrugged. "Depends on who's asking. For the most part, no. Pansy and I took over Slytherin together, and we…" He furrowed his brows and glanced down at the vials on the table, "We look after our own. No one else is."

He grew solemn at that and continued to stare intently at the vials in front of him. He sighed after a while and rubbed his temples. She took the opportunity to study him. With his head bent forward and the light low, it looked like a crown had formed around his head. He looked almost ethereal.

"You can't feel that ostracized."

He gave her a look.

"If so many of you didn't live up to your house stereotype, then maybe it wouldn't be that way." She argued.

He shook his head. "It wouldn't matter. Not with the dark cloud that hangs over Slytherin." He winced, pinching the bridge of his nose. She watched him, but he made no move to take the rest of the pain potion.

"I think I'm going to make some tea." She said before going to the kitchen. She flicked her wand at the kettle, and the stove came to life beneath it. She hummed slightly as she reached for the cinnamon on instinct and added a spoon. At the cabinet, she paused looking at the potion vials she had on the shelf above the spices.

A spoon of sleeping draught.

She turned quickly, shutting the cabinet. She wasn't going to drug him. Merlin. When she returned, two cups in hand. His head was leaned back and his eyes shut.

"They look like they're worse."

He opened his eyes and took the cup without a word.

"Maybe you should take the rest of the pain potion."

He grunted in response. "It counteracts the wit-sharpening potion. If I take the whole thing, I may not wake up for a week." He eyed her then.

"You don't have to tell me about them." His gaze stayed fixed on her. She sighed and put her cup down.

"It doesn't mean that I don't think you should. It might help to tell someone, so you're not so alone with it."

He sighed taking another sip of his cup. She shook her head taking her cup back into her hand. They were quiet for a moment, but she caught him grimace again.

"Draco."

He murmured something unintelligible.

"If you won't take the rest of the pain potion, I think you should at least take a Sleeping Draught."

His eyes opened and slowly traveled to hers. They were glazed over, a sign that only part of him was here. "I don't think…"

"Not the whole thing. Maybe a spoon or so." She pursed her lips, "You need to sleep Draco. People are starting to notice."

He nodded, absently running his shaky fingers through his fringe. Innocent gestures, but her gut seemed to do flips at the sight. "I know I do." He murmured. She took that as his agreement and went to the kitchen. He hadn't moved by the time she returned with the draught in hand. When she sat, he cocked his head and a thin smile formed at his lips.

"You had a sleeping draught?" his expression bemused.

"I don't suggest things I can't accomplish." He reached over and twisted the vial in his hand. He examined it, gaze hard. He sighed after a moment and took a single sip before closing the cap and handing it back to her.

He swayed slightly and motioned for her to help him. She immediately put her arm under his shoulder, wrapping it around his frame. They walked slowly like that until he sat on the edge of his bed, looking more relaxed than she'd ever seen him.

"Wait." He said when she moved away from the bed.

"Stay until I fall asleep."

She smiled slightly and sat on the edge and motioned for him to lie down. Begrudgingly, he stretched out. "Talk to me." He murmured.

"About what?"

"Anything." He furrowed his brows, "Who are you taking to the ball?"

She snorted. He grinned up to her as he turned to his side to regard her. "You already know that I don't have my heart in this so called ball."

He shrugged his free shoulder. "It's to keep up appearances. You still didn't answer."

She smiled. Always perceptive. "No one. You?"

He sighed burying the side of his face into the pillow. "No one." She frowned at that. She'd heard more rumors between the girls, both in her house and others. He had no shortage of possible dates to consider.

His eyes held a familiar look of mischief in them as he watched her.

"I could have asked some girl, but they always seem to get the wrong idea when I do."

Ah. Ever the eligible Slytherin Prince.

Mothers push their daughters in his direction hoping he'll take just a second glance.

She winced at the memory.

"I mean I'd have asked Pansy, but Millicent beat me to it."

Hermione whipped her head around.

"Millicent?"

Draco laughed, but nodded.

"I didn't think Pansy…"

"She isn't, but Pansy does what she wants." He chewed his lip, "It started out as rebellion and curiosity. Millie and she have been on and off. It's not going to lead anywhere, though I'm sure Millicent would want it to." Draco said thoughtfully.

She shook her head in disbelief. She'd thought she knew all these Slytherins, but it seemed she didn't know her classmates as well as she should.

"I guess I always thought that you and Pansy." She stumbled, unsure what to call the presumed relationship between the two.

He sighed, propping his head up on his hand. He was blinking slowly, as the potion began to take effect. "Pansy's been in love with me since we were kids." He bit his lip, "But she knows. She knows we'll never be…" he trailed off.

His lids dropped for a moment, before they fluttered open again. He was resisting the potion, probably nervous that the draught would do nothing to help with the nightmares.

"I thought Weasel would have asked you." He murmured.

She ignored the distasteful nickname he had for Ron.

"No. Ron and I." She paused, unsure why she was even discussing this with him, "We don't like each other like that anymore."

"More like you never did." He muttered, "We should go together."

She blinked, but he peaked beneath a shut blonde lash. "I mean the two Heads going together, inter-house unity, all that shit."

"Very Eloquent."

"I'm half asleep, eloquence isn't at the forefront of my mind." He retorted, both eyes now on her. Her hand went to the base of her neck, fingers curling through the fallen strands of her hair.

"Would you really go with someone." She bit her lip, "someone like me."

He sighed.

"It saves me from asking anyone else, and." His voice dropped off. He lifted his head off his propped elbow. "Even before. When I called you that… that word… I still thought." He murmured something as his head went to the pillow. "I still thought you were pretty."

Her heart stilled. Breathing seemed to be trivial. Draco murmured something unintelligible and bunched the sheets in his clenched fist. He was nearly asleep and his lips had loosened. There was no way he'd have admitted that to her otherwise.

"What are the visions about Draco?"

She needed to take advantage of this. She had to know.

His brows furrowed, but his lids stayed shut. "I used to be able to tell, but these…"

"What does it look like Draco?" she pushed, edging closer.

His lips stretched into a thin line. She thought he must have drifted to sleep, but then he answered.

"Like the world's on fire."

He slumped inward, as if to disappear within the sheets. His jaw clenched, the air of relaxation completely null. She put her hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright." She whispered.

He turned in toward her arm, relaxing slightly.

"So will you come with me?" he said, his voice sounding farther and farther away.

"To the dance?" he added as an afterthought.

She smiled slightly, and rubbed his shoulder soothingly. "Ask me when you're awake Draco." She murmured near his ear. He huffed, turning his face into the pillow. She waited then, watching as his chest settled into an easy rise and fall.

When she was certain the potion had taken it's hold, she moved as quietly as she could to the doorway. She turned back, watching as he pulled the pillow closer to him. He seemed so young and unguarded. The pressure he seemed to feel at every hour and every day gone. Always watched. Always analyzed. She wondered how anyone could live like that. Caged.

She sighed and eased the door closed.

He'd asked her to the dance. Drugged and half-asleep, but he'd still asked her.

He thought she was pretty.

Gods. She hugged her arms around herself. This was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Pureblood Supremacist Slytherin Prince.

But,

This was also the Draco Malfoy who snuck into Muggle London. The Draco Malfoy who made friends with a muggle woman. The Draco Malfoy who read books and quoted Homer and Virgil.

She rubbed her eyes, suddenly exhausted.

The Draco Malfoy who thought she was pretty, even before he'd changed.

She collapsed on her bed.

He doesn't want to be like the rest of them.

It was her last coherent thought before she finally succumbed to slumber.