Chapter 6

Dread filled Draco when Voldemort summoned him to one of the empty guest chambers of Malfoy Manor. He had hoped that, now that the war had begun in earnest, the Dark Lord would forget about him, or at least ignore him. It seemed that was not to be.

Draco entered the room to find a bruised and bloody Thorfinn Rowle curled up on the carpet, wandless.

"Draco," Lord Voldemort hissed. "Rowle has displeased us. He must be punished. I will leave it up to you."

Draco tried to keep his body from stiffening visibly, even while his gut twisted. "Me?"

"Yes, you, boy. Your cruciatus curse needs practice. For some reason I think you don't mean it when you cast unforgiveables."

"Of course I mean it," Draco said, even while hoping that his occlumency shields would hold.

"Then show it!" Voldemort hissed. "I would hate for your mother to meet with an accident. Those who are not loyal to Lord Voldemort will not be protected."

Draco swallowed hard, understanding the threat at once for what it was. He lifted his wand and pointed it at Rowle. He poured all the hatred that he felt for Voldemort in his heart and centered it on his wand. "Crucio!"

A red light sprang from the tip and Rowle screamed, convulsing on the carpet. His limbs twisted in agony while Draco fought to hold onto the spell. He channeled all his hatred for the wizard standing by and watching, and that malice flowed into the curse. In return, the dark magic flooded through his veins like a sickness, infecting every cell, rotting his bones and poisoning his blood. It flowed through his whole body, until it centered on his heart. And in that moment, Draco thought that he might be better off dead.

"Malfoy! Malfoy! Draco!"

It was the sound of his first name, spoken in that familiar feminine voice, that woke him from his nightmare. He was shaking and sweaty, tears pouring down his face as he looked up at Granger, who had lit a lamp and was leaning over him. "You were having a bad dream. Are you all right?" she asked.

He couldn't stop the tears from falling. The nightmares had been persistent ever since the war, and nothing seemed to take them away. They were gut-wrenching and bone shivering each time he had one, and he knew he would find no more sleep tonight.

"It's all right, Draco," Granger said, putting her arms around him in an attempt to console him. He found his teeth were chattering. "You don't have to be alone."

The feel of her arms around him was so comforting that, without thinking, he pulled her down to his side so she lay next to him on the bed and held her in his arms. For a moment he feared she would resist, but she just held him tighter. He buried his face in her hair as he wept. He could scent the lilacs there.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked him in a gentle voice. He shook his head but didn't speak. It seemed to him that he was back in that horrible room, with the dark magic running through his veins, poisoning his very soul.

"I can still feel it," he said through chattering teeth.

"Feel what?" she asked softly.

"The dark magic."

He said no more and she did not ask, just nestled closer.

He was desperate to feel something other than the soul-wrenching torment of having to torture another living being. The feel of Granger in his arms filled his mind and his senses. He had never experienced this type of comfort before. Her silky brown curls brushed his face where it was buried in her neck. Her small hands rubbed up and down his back in soothing circles. Soft breasts pressed against his chest. Slender legs tangled with his among the cool sheets. He needed something good, something pure, to clean this darkness from his soul. He was desperate for it.

Hermione was good. She was pure. She was lovely.

He wanted her.

With a groan he lifted his face from her neck and brought his lips to hers. She was all around him as he kissed her harshly, his lips grinding against hers in desperation. He could feel an outpouring of his grief in the action, and his desperation lessened a fraction. He became gentler, with soft kisses over her top lip, then her bottom lip, then the corners of her mouth. It was then she began to kiss him back. He moaned at the feeling of her soft lips moving against his as he deepened the kiss, running his tongue over her bottom lip until she opened for him. He thrust his tongue inside, seeking out the moist warmth within, and felt her tongue touch his in answer. With a desperation he had never known before, he kissed her harder, feeling that he needed to crawl inside her to be rid of this horrible darkness within him. Hermione would wipe it all away.

He rolled her onto her back and lay on top of her, insinuating one leg between hers. His cock was hard against her thigh, and he ground it against her as his right hand moved up to squeeze her breast. She wasn't wearing a bra beneath her nightie, and he groaned at the feeling of its soft weight in his palm as he kissed her harder.

It took him longer than he cared to admit to realize that she was no longer wishing for his attentions. She had tilted her head away and was pushing at his chest with her small hands, calling out for him to stop. Gasping in deep breaths, he rolled off of her to the other side of the bed, still shaking with sobs. He felt desolate without her in his arms. The darkness was creeping back.

It was with immense relief that he felt tentative arms encircle him again. "It's all right, Draco," came Hermione's soft voice. "I'm here."

It took a long time for the horror to fade, but having her next to him, her slender arms around him, helped to banish the darkness inside him. He could smell lilacs all around him, and some brown curls were lying on his shoulder. He focused on the feel of Granger beside him until he fell asleep.

It was late the next morning when Draco woke. He looked over to the other side of the bed, but it was empty, though mussed, and the pillow was dented.

At once the memory of last night flooded into his mind. He felt ashamed of his behaviour. He had taken advantage of Granger when she had been trying to comfort him. Yesterday he had decided that he wanted to make her into his friend; what if this drove her away for good? Even worse, who would look after Narcissa if she left? He couldn't risk that. He needed to find Granger right away and apologize.

He rose from the bed, realizing that he felt better rested than he had in months. Apparently having Granger with him had soothed his spirit in some deep way.

He dressed quickly and looked into the adjoining room, where his mother rested, but Granger was not there. Milly was by his mother's bed, brushing the sleeping woman's thin blonde hair.

"Milly, do you know where Miss Granger is?" he asked, with dread in his heart. What if she'd already left?

Milly nodded. "Yes, Master. Miss is in the dining room, getting some breakfast."

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he could convince her to stay. "Thank you, Milly," he said, striding from the room.

He found her moments later, piling sausages and scones onto her plate. She saw him out of the corner of her eye and turned to him.

Draco had expected to find her hurt, or angry, or distrustful. He did not expect the gentle, compassionate smile that spread across her face. "Good morning, Draco. Did you sleep all right?"

Her soft voice, combined with the use of his first name, pierced his heart, so that tears pricked the backs of his eyes. He blinked them away. "I did sleep better with you beside me. Thank you," he said.

She just smiled gently and nodded. "I'm glad."

He stepped forward, hoping she would not retreat, but she stood firm and watched him with those compassionate brown eyes. "Granger – Hermione, please allow me to apologize for last night. It was inexcusable of me to take advantage of you in such a way, especially when you're a guest in my home. I know it's no excuse, but I was out of mind with the horror from the dream I'd had. I was seeking comfort, and – but that doesn't excuse me. I just beg you not to leave. Please let me make it up to you."

He began to ramble, but Granger held up a hand to stop the flow of his words. "Draco," she said softly. "I understand completely. You don't need to apologize or explain anything. You were having a nightmare and wanted comfort. I'm not upset, and I'm not going to leave."

He hesitated. "You aren't?"

"No," she shook her head. "I'd like to think that we've become friends – haven't we?"

His spirit lifted from where it had lain at his feet. "Yeah. Yeah, we're friends, Hermione."

"Friends comfort friends," she said. "And you stopped when I asked you to. It might have taken you a moment to do so, but you were in control of your faculties. I don't blame you for what happened."

He stepped forward and reached for her hands, filled with gratitude and affection. Then he stopped, hesitating. But she reached forward and took his hands in hers. "Thank you, Hermione. I don't deserve a friend like you."

"Certainly you do. You deserve every good thing, Draco. You're not a bad man, and you weren't a bad boy. You were put in an untenable situation and forced to survive, to protect yourself and your mother at all costs."

"Yes."

Now Granger hesitated for the first time. "Can you tell me now what your dream was about?"

He hung his head, threading his fingers through hers, needing the comfort of her touch in order to talk about it. He didn't want Hermione to know the twisted darkness that was in his heart. But he knew he owed her this after his behaviour last night.

"Sometimes, when the Dark Lord wanted to test my loyalty, he would order me to – torture others, sometimes fellow Death Eaters, sometimes innocent muggleborns. He would always make it clear that my mother's life was in danger if I didn't obey. Performing an unforgiveable curse requires an incredible amount of hatred and malice, and when I would cast the cruciatus curse, I could feel the dark magic flow through me, almost as if it were poisoning me from the inside. That's what I was dreaming about – one of those times."

Hermione's eyes were glassy with unshed tears as she stared at him in a mixture of horror and pity. "Oh, Draco. I'm so sorry you went through that," she said, stepping forward and enfolding him in a gentle hug.

He was greedy for the contact, but didn't take advantage of it, letting his hands rest lightly on her back as she laid her cheek on his sternum. She was so tiny against him that she barely came up to his chin. He felt the pinprick of tears behind his eyes again. Had anyone ever offered him such pure and selfless consolation before? He found he was ravenous for it.

Still, when she made to move away, he released her at once. She smiled up at him tremulously. "I'll try to make up for all the horrible things you experienced, Draco," she said. "We'll do it together."

He had to swallow the ache of tears in his throat. "Thank you, Hermione," he said hoarsely.

Hermione felt almost tender towards Draco that morning, which she had never expected to feel for the previously spoiled and selfish Slytherin. To see a grown man weeping as if his heart was broken, prostrate with horror and grief, had moved her deeply. It was second nature to put her arms around him to try to comfort him.

When he had first kissed her, she had been too shocked to respond. The kiss was harsh and not at all pleasant; but when he began kissing her more softly, she found herself wanting to kiss him back.

The kisses that followed were the hottest, most arousing she had ever experienced. She had not realized that she had never known true desire before this. She had been in a relationship with Ron for six months, and had never even realized what was missing until she kissed Draco last night. He had kissed her with a passion and desperation that made her feel as if he would die if he stopped. It was thrilling, making her feel powerful. It was only when he had rolled on top of her and tried to take the embrace further that she had balked. She'd been aware that he was seeking comfort in the midst of soul-deep horror. It would not be right to her to allow him to continue. It had taken a minute for her to get his attention, but then he'd stopped at once. When he rolled back onto his side of the bed, he had still been weeping, and she couldn't bear to leave him alone in his grief. So she'd put her arms tentatively around him once more. When he didn't grab her again, she relaxed, and eventually they both fell asleep.

She was confident this morning when she told him she wanted to be friends. But she found that she had gotten herself into a bit of a pickle. She'd realized last night that she was attracted to him, that she wanted his kisses, wanted his hands on her body, wanted his cock, which she had felt so hard against her thigh last night, moving inside her. She had always known objectively that Draco was handsome, but she had never felt it on a visceral level until he had kissed her. Now this morning she found herself gazing on his slender, yet muscular form. The aristocratic features, which had seemed too sharp before, now made him appear noble, and she longed to run her fingers through his soft, blond locks. She felt an ache between her legs as she sat next to him at breakfast, sneaking glances at his hands, the long, slender fingers that had shaped her breast last night.

But then she felt discouraged, for he had sought her out for comfort in the wake of a terrible nightmare. She could have been any woman offering consolation, and he would have behaved the same way. There was no chance he would ever be attracted to her in normal daily life. Attractive men like Draco Malfoy did not lust after plain girls like Hermione Granger.

Besides, she wasn't ready to jump into a relationship with him. Friendship she was ready for, yes, but not more than that, at least not right now. She wasn't a person who could have sex outside of a serious relationship, so she had no intention of being friends-with-benefits with Draco, even if that were something he desired, which she doubted.

She resolved to hide her attraction from him. She didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, or worse, pity her. She would resolve on being the best friend he had ever had.

The thought left her feeling strangely depressed.