Harry Potter 1. Pickets and Pebbles

**Chapter One:**** Introduction.**

_Draco Malfoy trailed his once perfectly manicured fingertips along the picket fences. _

_**White fence, green fence, brick fence, blue fence... **_

_The pavement beneath his feet was cracked and resolved to rubble in certain parts. So he walked slowly. Careful where he stepped. Avoiding the cracks. Avoiding the caterpillars that bravely ventured across the blistering pavement. Keeping his eyes focused on the fences the entire time._

_**Brown Fence, White fence, Green Fence, Red Fence... **_

_He reached the street corner and stared at the last picket of the corner house. _

_**White Fence. **_

_He did not know what drew him to come here. It was all over there was nothing. No-one for him._

_Perhaps that was why. _

_He begun slowly walking backwards, counting his steps. _

_Draco stopped before the gate and outlined the golden numbers with his fingertips. _

_** Nineteen. **_

_Taking a deep breath, Draco closed his eyes and unlatched the gate. He took one step inside and closed it quickly behind him before he had a chance to change his mind. _

_Holding his breath, Draco walked slowly up the pebbled path to the front-door. A breeze lilted through the small flowers which lined the path. They bent in the breeze as if pointing and urging him towards the door. Like a helping hand showing him the way. And as unlikely as it was that that was what they were actually doing, Draco found comfort in the thought. He was at the right place. _

_He reached the steps onto the front patio and slowly scaled them. _

_He was finally here. At the door. With absolutely no clue of where to go from once he knocked. Only knowing that knocking was the only thing he could do. _

_There was nothing left for him. _

_Fist raised and trembling. He cleared his throat, counted to three and knocked twice; ever so gently. _

_Draco took two steps back from the door and waited anxiously. He could hear voices inside. Happy, wholesome sounds of loving family and friends. He lost his resolve at this. Not taking into the consideration that perhaps she wouldn't be alone. Yet footsteps sounded, getting closer and closer to the door. And Draco stood frozen anxiously waiting. _

_The door unlatched and a girl appeared, brown tendrils sticking to her porcelain features. When she noted her guest she froze. Her smile disappearing and her face growing illegible. _

_She said nothing. _

_He said nothing. _

_Minutes passed and they simply stood eye to eye; both unreadable. Then hesitantly, Draco took a step backwards, regretting his decision to come here. Wondering what an earth it was that possessed him to consider the thought that, perhaps, he'd be welcome. Yet as he took a step back, she took one forward as if trying to stop from moving away. So he froze. _

_And then he trembled. She watched as his whole body trembled slightly as if cold; which was rather impossible considering the searing heat of this summer day. She noticed the reddish-hue of his eyes, and the deep, dark circles which ringed the once fresh and healthy silvery orbs. _

_She recognised how weak and weary he was. How dead he was inside. And so she nodded. And took a step back to the door, opening it wide and waited for him to follow her. _

_And he finally spoke. He could only manage to raise his gaze to her feet. He did not feel worthy of looking her in the face. Not now. _

"_Granger." He whispered. _

_It wasn't just a statement of the girl's name. It was a reprieve. A cry for help. Relief. _

_It was three weeks after the final battle. Draco slowly followed Hermione Granger through the front door of her home, mustering as much gallantry and pride as was left. _

_Granger closed the door behind them with a click. _

_**A/N: **First chapter. It's written differently to how the rest of the story shall be written and is terribly vague. But I also feel this is important because on the first meeting after the events which have played out within these two characters lives I imagine this would be how it would happen. Vague and odd. I have also ended this chapter to sound slightly like a one-shot. But I have entire story I intend to post with it. Havent thought of a title. Hang in there with me though everyone. (: _

_xx LB  
_


	2. Coffee Tables and Cardboard Boxes

_Chapter Two _

Draco Malfoy sat in silence before Hermione Granger's varnished oak coffee table.

Cardboard boxes scattered across the carpet overflowing with assorted knick-knacks.

"How did you know where to find me?" Hermione finally said.

Hermione split the silence which had been hanging thick in the air from the moment he'd arrived. The last few weeks of Draco's existence, actually, had been overcome with silence; as if someone had hit the mute button on life.

"It wasn't difficult." Draco replied, his voice void of emotion; eyes continuing to gaze intently at the coffee table.

Hermione nodded and continued to simply stare with a mix of bewilderment, pity and blame.

"So why are you here, Malfoy?" She asked softly.

Draco's fingers twitched slightly at the sound of her concern, and he began to pick at the material of his slacks in an attempt to conceal his trepidation.

Time passed yet still he said nothing. The silence was palpable. Pressing in upon their ears and raising the tension to boiling point. When it became obvious Draco had no intention of answering, Hermione let out an exasperated breath and stood up. Arms crossed upon her chest, she headed towards the door ready to shoo the flaxen haired boy out of her home and out of her life. The overwhelming bizarreness that Draco Malfoy was sitting in her lounge room was a feeling Hermione couldn't quite grasp, and she was eager to rid herself of the entire event. As she grabbed hold of the door handle ready to fling it open and order the man out she heard him mumble a tangled response.

""What was that?" She asked.

Draco sat silent for a moment before repeating his statement.

"How do I live."

Slowly Hermione let her arm fall slack and crept back towards the sofa. She situated herself opposite him, in the floral armchair her mother had given her as a housewarming present.

"Don't you dare feel sorry for yourself Malfoy." She said coldly.

Draco did not retort. No malice as usual. No nothing. His sunken, stormy eyes simply drifted from the coffee table and finally met Hermione's.

"I feel anything but sorry for myself Granger." He said hoarsely. "I deserve no pity. No reprieve or relief. I walk amongst the deserving. The survivors. The mourning... And I have no place. I do not belong. My breath should have been taken from me that night yet I still feel it drag through my lungs day in and day out. And so I ask, how do I live? "

Hermione felt the discomfort of the entire situation creep up the back of her neck. To this boy she fell victim to years of torture and he sat in her lounge room pouring the depths of his inner demons to her. She looked out the window in an attempt to escape the uneasiness and watched the sun glint off the leaves of her garden.

"Why did you come here, Malfoy?" She finally said, keeping a steady gaze on the leaves cocooned and bathing in the brilliant sunshine.

As silence ensued Hermione let her eyes drift from the window back to Draco. He sat once again staring at the oak coffee table. Draco took long deep breaths before meeting Hermione's eyes again. She found them raw and sodden; ready to spill his fear and pain onto the porcelain dust of his cheeks, one tear at a time. Draco shook his head, looking at Hermione with despair.

"I haven't a clue."

Hermione considered her options. Her mind urged her desperately to tell him to leave at once and restore order. But her heart was thumping wildly telling her to reach out and fix this disgrace of a wizard. Because it was obvious he couldn't do it himself.

"Okay. Alright then... Okay." Hermione said to no-one in particular. Draco wondered whether she was simply running through the options in her head, like a checklist, and announcing their validity out-loud.

"Malfoy, where are you currently living?" Hermione asked.

Draco snorted.

"Look at my current state Granger. You think I'm living anywhere in particular?"

Hermione surveyed his appearance. He definitely looked much more ragged than she had ever seen the usually perfectly preened and manicured, Draco Malfoy. His hair took on the appearance of a much more careless civilian, unwashed, ungroomed. There was the obviously tired and frail face. His crinkled clothing was dirt trodden and sent off an unwelcoming odour, and his body hunched over. Tired and down-beaten. Heavy and plagued with demons felt by few. _When did he last sleep? Or shower for that matter? _Hermione thought.

Hermione took a deep breath then looked at the ceiling, as if praying to the Lord she was doing the right thing, and then cleared her throat.

"Follow me." She said hoarsely.

Hermione stood up and quickly strode upstairs. Slowly Draco stood up from the couch and lilted down the hallway behind her. Hermione tried her best to ignore the pestering fear upon her shoulder at having Draco in her house following her. The upstairs hallway was piled with boxes, like downstairs. Some were unopened, where as others appeared to have been rummaged through already. Hermione came to a stop before a bathroom.

"Towel," She proclaimed and pointed to a set of large crimson towels hanging from a railing beside the shower. Draco stared dumbfounded at the bathroom than back at Hermione. Hermione quickly averted her gaze, finding his stare too intense to stomach.

"Take your time." She said, continuing to stare at her shoes.

Draco continued to stand frozen as if trying to say something in response but thought the better of it. He gave a staggered nod and slowly entered the bathroom. Hermione closed the door quickly and squeezed her eyes shut. She leant up against the wall beside the bathroom and sunk to the ground.

What on earth was going on.

**A/N: **So obviously, I havent gotten very far into the story at all. But it is always these first few moments which are the most important i feel, and therefore require the deepest amount of exploration before you head off and dive into the plot bunnies, know what I mean? Like the whole Dramione scenarion is so hard to make realistic that I am trying my best to avoid the cliche's and ridiculous impossible scenario's. I was a little worried this chapter was rather fragmented though so let me know your opinion.

LB xx


	3. Velvet Skies and Hot Chocolate

Chapter three

Hermione Granger pulled her bed sheet up tighter to her chin and eyed off the hawthorn wand which rested beside her lamp. No sound was coming from down the hall and she assumed this was a good thing; however it didn't dull the knot in her stomach. She made a decision during the tossing and turning that she would ask him to leave in the morning. This was ridiculous.

As a matter of fact Hermione jumped straight out of bed and marched down the hall to the guest room with every intention to kick him out this instant. She inched the door open and caught sight of him. Ivory strands gently dancing to the breeze which trailed through his open window. He leant out seemingly surveying the street below, shoulders hunched, tense, and imperfect. The moonlight glinted off his bareback illuminating the scars from a battle lost.

She had no reason to help him. No matter how alone, and scared and desperate and... In need of a friend he was.

Draco half looked over his shoulder at Hermione.

"You can ask me to leave you know." He said softly. His husky voice was lost of the usual drawl. The sneering ambivalence of superiority.

Draco hadn't felt superior in a long time. Not since muggle studies professor Charity Burbage dropped like a carcass upon his dining room table.

Hermione left the room and Draco turned back towards the street below. All the picket fences, keeping families safe as they delved within the realms of their wildest imaginations; the type that only ever revealed itself in the turns of slumber. Moment later Hermione returned with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate. She sat on the edge of the bed and placed one of the cups on the bedside table for Draco should he choose to take it.

Draco said thankyou without turning around and picking up the mug.

"When did you move in Granger?" Draco asked.

"Uh three days ago actually." Hermione replied giving a slight chuckle. She stared at the swirling froth within her drink. "I decided to go out on my own. Get my own house. Leave my parents to their own devices. " Hermione said with a little enthusiasm.

Draco didn't turn around to face her, but she saw him nod in the light of the moon.

"The stars are beautiful, aren't they?" Draco said.

Hermione peered out the window into the twinkling amass set in midnight velvet which blanketed the sky.

"Absolutely breathtaking." She replied softly.

They both sat staring at the stars for a moment. Hermione warming her hands around her mug of chocolate, Draco digging his into the window sill; holding himself back from jumping out and attempting to fly straight on in to the velvety depths.

"When do you want me to leave, Granger?" He said after a while.

There were two answers which occurred to Hermione instantly. One was immediately. The other was never.

Hermione shook them both from her head. She stood and headed towards the door stopping in the doorway and looking back at Draco. Shirtless and over- wrought with built up agony. It emanated off of him like waves of nausea and gave Hermione an unsettling feeling.

"I want you to leave, when you can stare out that window and not appear to be weighing up whether or not to jump."

With that she silently closed the door.

Draco's mouth curved into a slight smile at her perceptiveness. He loosened his grip on the window sill and gently closed it. Pulling the curtains shut he turned and picked up his mug of hot chocolate. It was so warm and inviting that he had to refrain from giving the mug a hug. He drew the warm liquid into his mouth and felt it curl itself around his heart; seeping through to his spirit. Draco climbed into the bed feeling warm and safe for the first time since he was old enough to understand the truth about magic.

A week later and Hermione and Draco had fallen into a routine. In the morning, Hermione would knock on Draco's door then wait for him in the kitchen. He would shuffle down, each morning looking slightly more groomed than the last, and stand awkwardly behind her breakfast table.

"Sit down, Malfoy." She would intone over her shoulder, and very gracefully Draco would take a seat. Hermione would pull out milk and cereal and pour herself a bowl. And every morning Draco would give her the same befuddled look before pulling out his wand and sending the contents magically into his own bowl.

During the day Draco would sit and read. Sometimes Hermione would attempt to start a conversation with him but it was always a struggle and she would eventually give up. It seemed as if in the daylight he was yet to be able to come to terms with existence. Yet every night, Hermione would make her way down the hall with two cups of hot chocolate. She would always find him at the window. Hands clenched around the window sill, staring out at the velvety abyss of twinkling promises. She would settle onto the bed and set his mug down on the bedside table and he would ask a question.

"What colour dress did you wear to the Yule Ball, Granger?" He asked tonight.

"Pink." She replied softly.

Draco nodded out to the street below before loosening his grip on the window and slowly bringing it to a close. He picked up his mug of hot chocolate and hesitantly took a seat beside her on the bed.

"I thought so." Draco said.

They both sat taking small sips of their hot chocolate; savouring the comfort and warmth it brought to the awkward and angst filled relationship they had formed.

"Why did you care, Malfoy?"

Hermione need not specify what she was talking about. They both knew. All those years at Hogwarts, of the dark times of Voldemort, there was one thing Draco seemed to care about more than anything. That he would try his best to flaunt and expose and use to victimise and terrorise and bleed the school of any form of harmony.

"I cared because I was better than you."

Hermione flinched.

"You cannot deny it Granger. To the wizarding world I _was_ better. I was upper class. High end society. Pureblood. I was to live up to my status. Be superior. Obtain the appearance that to spill a single drop of my blood was a tragedy.

"I did a good job don't you think." He smirked.

Hermione snorted. "A marvellous job." She drawled.

Draco's smirk fell and he stared back into the swirling chocolate.

"But I'm not, am I Granger."

Hermione closed her eyes and her crimson lips curved into a slight smile

"No." She replied gently.

Draco looked on at her appearance. So delicate and graceful. Hair swept back, loose tendrils framing her porcelain face; she was purer than any pureblood he had come across.

"I am not worthy to sit here. To be in your home, am I Granger." He said hoarsely.

Hermione shook her head and opened her eyes to look a Draco.

"If there is one thing you should have learnt that night a month ago, it's that it is not up to you to decide whether someone is or isn't worthy. So I refuse to acknowledge that statement."

Draco stared deep into her eyes. He lowered his barriers allowing her access into the bitter depths of his psyche. Hermione did not necessarily want to see this. To be so connected, see Draco Malfoy this willing and exposed to her. Yet he opened up to her anyway.

Draco raised a trembling hand towards Hermione, stopping before he touched her to see if she would flinch. Cringe away in fear. But she stayed motionless, lost in the stronghold of his swirling grey eyes. He lightly trailed his fingertips down the edge of her face and Hermione shut her eyes and melted into the feeling. They stayed in their frozen moment, drowning in their bizarre pool of heat. It was as if they had been cocooned in the hot chocolate tenderness of their mugs. Lingering in a forbidden moment.

Hermione pulled away far too late. Standing and stepping away from the bed. She stopped in the doorway and turned back to look at the flaxen haired man upon her guest bed. He sat staring where she had been sitting, hand lying limp by his side. Without another word Hermione turned and slowly stumbled back to her room.

Draco drained his cup of the last remnants of hot chocolate love and lay down on his bed. He couldn't breathe. He heard Hermione's door close down the hall and he closed his eyes. Picturing her slipping beneath her sheets and falling into a soundless slumber. He tried to stay in his bed. To simply keep his eyes shut tight and drift off into the unknown. But he simply couldn't.

Hermione wrapped her duvet up around her chin and closed her eyes. She pictured Draco stretched out on his bed. Moonlight glinting off the scars across his chest. She held her breath.

And waited.

**A/N: ** chapter three. i would love to know what you're thinking and thankkyou very much to those reviews I've lready recieved. And in answer to your questions yes the story shall be picking up pace =] Anyway please review that would be champion. LB xx 


	4. Heavy Breathing and Hotcakes

Chapter four

The door clicked open and Hermione slowly sat up. Draco stood in the doorway, waiting for permission.

Hermione gently pulled back the covers and waited. Draco walked slowly towards the bed. His soft thuds upon the carpet were magnified by the ear-piercing silence of the night. He gracefully slipped in beside her and pulled the duvet up over them. Their slow gentle breathing grew in sync as they lay swathed beneath the covers together. Slowly, Hermione reached out and delicately traced her finger down his chest. She outlined the tracks of scars with her fingertips and stopped above his heart. Feeling it shudder within his ribcage, growing in speed and intensity the longer she left her hand there.

Hermione shuffled closer, feeding off the warmth of Draco's body. She could feel his warm breath upon her cheek and laid her forehead to rest against his shoulder. Draco stared at the ceiling and closed his eyes; trying to slow down the rapid beating of his heart. Very gently he trailed his hand down the smooth, milky skin of Hermione's arm, letting it rest upon the curve before her hip.

In one slow, fluid movement, Hermione turned onto her back and Draco leant in over her. He lingered just above, suspended by his inner conflict. Hermione's chest rose and fell rapidly with his proximity. She kept her eyes closed, not daring to look, unsure of how she would react if she were to see his body leaning in over her.

She couldn't block her other senses though; his warm breath tickling her skin, rustling the strands of chestnut hair which floated around her face. Very gently he brought his face to hers and their lips touched. Both were too choked in trepidation to shape the contact into a kiss. Their lips simply brushed against each others; his top lip trailing against her bottom lip, tugging ever so gently upon it. Hermione let out a deep breath as if she had been holding it since he had entered the room. Draco inhaled deeply as if attempting to draw in all that she had held back and buried his head in the crook of her neck.

Gathering strength and courage he proceeded to slowly pull Hermione's shirt up over her soft stomach, her supple breasts; her smooth creamy shoulders. Hermione slowly opened her eyes to catch sight of Draco's swirling depths of grey staring in earnest upon her. She sat up, causing Draco to come into full contact with her bare chest. She watched him visibly tremble at the contact and very slowly edge away. Hermione helped him remove his slacks, before in turn removing her cotton shorts and dropping them lightly to the floor beside the bed.

They sat simply staring for a moment; their yearning to feel connected evident in the clouded, dark whirl of their eyes. After holding back, trembling, for as long as he could, Draco leant in and placed a kiss upon Hermione's shoulder. Hermione lay back upon the bed and melted in to the feeling of a trail of kisses down her arm. She felt his hand softly wrap around her waist and pull her closer to him. Their bodies moulding into one caramel congealed candy of lust and loneliness, fear and misplaced verve, uncertainty and conviction.

Beads of sweat dripped off Draco's chest onto Hermione's breasts, gently rolling off onto the sheets. Their breathing became laboured with every movement. Every thrust felt almost sinister. Erroneous and hazed. Yet at the same time it was as if they'd just found another piece to the puzzle. It all fitted together, this was what was supposed to happen.

Hermione clenched the sheet beneath her in the final moments. She found herself holding her breath as the final waves washed over her. Draco leant his head upon her chest and shakily trailed his hands across her curves. They both lay silent trying to regain composure. Eventually Draco gently receded and lay beside her. Hermione turned to face him and looked into his eyes. They echoed brilliant silver she was yet to see since he arrived.

Draco pulled her in closer and gently trailed his fingers across her back. He felt as if his heart was going to crumble in on itself. The immense weight of his fear and loss and burden drove him here. Yet it was that burden which battled this place so fiercely. Hermione sheltered against his chest and closed her eyes. Her head was spinning with delirium and her heart burned. She felt her virtues slip between her fingers like grains of sand. Yet she could not distinguish whether the feeling was regret or that of utmost content.

Hermione awoke the next morning alone. After a quick shower she treaded softly downstairs to be met by the waft of baked goods. Upon arrival at the breakfast table she was met by the sight of a table set for two. A pile of hotcakes sat upon a plate in the middle and eggs and tomato and bacon and sausages were piled into a platter beside it. Draco was in the kitchen busying himself before the stove when she heard the toaster pop and he swivelled round to come face to face with her.

He gave her a hesitant smile.

"I just have to uh –" He said attempting to reach around her. Hermione moved out of the way and he grabbed the toast, quickly buttered it (by hand I might add), and put it on the table alongside a bowl of fruit and box of cereal.

"Malfoy what are you doing?" Hermione asked amused.

Draco made his way to the table and pulled out a chair.

"I just thought I'd – do something nice. Say thank you for... for, well more or less just for letting me in the front door." He replied lettings his gaze drift around the room in embarrassment. He then gave a hand gesture towards the chair and Hermione took a seat (in utmost surprise) before he sat down opposite her and proceeded to simply stare. Waiting.

"Hermione hesitantly reached for the hotcakes and put one upon her plate. Looking up she noticed Draco was still watching her. Waiting.

Giving him a meek, awkward smile, she cut off a bit and slowly brought it to her mouth; pausing to stare back in thought at Draco. And as she popped it into her mouth Draco gave her a smile and let out a breath of air; and began to place food upon his own plate.

They both sat in silence, both hiding small smiles beneath their mouthful's of food; when a knock sounded at the door.

Hermione and Draco looked up in synchronised shock. Hermione had not had any visitors in the last week, insisting she needed a week to settle in and unpack. Therefore, no-one was aware that she was currently housing Draco Malfoy.

As Hermione thought this she found it shockingly distasteful to say in her head. _Housing Draco Malfoy. _It simply did not make sense.

Yet it truly did. She knew that. She had felt that.

With a clatter and a muttered "excuse me", she stood from the table and hurried to the door as a second knock sounded. Draco sat frozen at the breakfast table with a mouth half-full of bacon.

**A/N:** Ok, half my reviews have been saying they love how descriptive I am, where as then I've had some saying that it's lacking in detail and others saying there's too much and it's unneccessary. So please can somebody clear up so I can work on it. I'm not sure if people are happy with the pace of the story at the moment. But you may have noticed it is slowly picking up pace with every chapter. And i did say slowly - these first chapters are so vital with such a delicate pairing to prevent the cliche's. So please review everyone i truly would appreciate some feedback. I wont be posting another chapter tomorrow night as I have prior commitments but I will the night after and it would be great to be able to read some great constructive fantastic reviews to help me when i sit back down as I hate when i have to break my writing patterns it always makes it so much harder to motivate myself to post again. so please please please do the motivating for me :) LB xx


	5. Pantries and Pleasantries

A/N:** I AM SO SORRY. Real Life got in the way and I just didnt have any time to write let alone post. I'm going to try at least 2 chapters up tonight and then hopefully some this week if i get round to it. And then I'm going to be mega mega busy for 2 weeks but then I promise to gun the engine and get this story on the road. Once again. Mega sorry. Please don't be mad. **

_Recap of chapter four _

_They both sat in silence, both hiding small smiles beneath their mouthful's of food; when a knock sounded at the door._

_They both looked up in synchronised shock. Hermione had not had any visitors in the last week, insisting she needed a week to settle in and unpack. Therefore, no-one was aware that she was currently housing Draco Malfoy._

_As Hermione thought this she found it shockingly distasteful to say in her head. __Housing Draco Malfoy. It simply did not make sense._

_Yet it truly did. She knew that. She had felt that._

_With a clatter and a muttered "excuse me", she stood from the table and hurried to the door as a second knock sounded. Draco sat frozen at the breakfast table with a mouth half-full of bacon._

Chapter 5

"Hey Hermione". Ron said enthusiastically as the door swung open.

A flushed and rather charry looking Hermione Granger stared back at him, hair as frazzled as ever and lust bitten lips glistening endlessly against her milky white skin.

"Ron! How have you been?" She said beaming, throwing her arms around his neck and embracing him tightly. Ron wrapped his arms around her waist and Hermione stared over his shoulder into her garden; a dreaded feeling wrapping itself tightly around her heart.

"Yeah really great. Missed you terribly though..." He said trailing off into softness.

Hermione said nothing, simply clenched her eyes shut tight. She felt Ron loosen his grip around her waist and begin to move beyond her into the house.

"So show me your new _pad_ 'Mione", Ron said goofily.

Hermione snorted and grabbed him by the elbow, pulling him back to her side.

"Look, Ron there's something I should probably prepare you for", She said nervously.

"Ok then..." Ron replied quizzically.

Hermione open her mouth several times to speak before closing it.

"I didn't realise this was the time for charades 'Mione but ok then. You got a pet fish?"

Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes in response, before taking a few moments to compose herself and leading him into the house.

"Now I don't want you to freak out or anything okay so just, keep an open mind."

Ron nodded but wasn't really paying attention, too busy staring earnestly around at the house.

They reached the kitchen and Hermione came to a stop causing Ron to bump straight into the back of her.

"Wha – Hermione what'd you –," Ron froze and stared over to the breakfast table.

"I don't believe it." He said breathlessly.

He slowly edged towards the table grinning manically.

"You cooked all this Hermione? I thought you specialty was a bowl of muesli." He said before taking a seat and forking a stack of bacon.

Hermione looked around the kitchen puzzled and shaking her head.

"What's wrong?" Ron choked out between mouthfuls. "Come sit down." He said and patted the seat beside him.

Hermione stayed standing, frozen, before mumbling that she would be back in a minute and backing out into the hallway. Quickly she ran upstairs and checked Draco's bedroom to find it empty. Working her way along the hall she came to the conclusion that Draco was absolutely nowhere to be found and ambled back to the kitchen deciding it was more than likely for the best.

Hermione took a seat beside Ron who had quickly devoured the main portion of the buffet and was leaning back in his chair stretching his arms.

"Are you ok Hermione?" He asked.

Hermione swallowed the slight air of disappointment and lets artificial relief fill her lungs.

"Yeah, Ron. Perfectly fine." She replied, letting a smile grace her lips and meeting Ron's shining chocolate eyes.

He smiled back and Hermione let her eyes drift to the window absent-mindedly, hoping perhaps she would catch site of flaxen wisps floating amidst the leaves of a tree. But the yard was empty - apart from the guttering wind which swept in over the picket fence and enraptured the garden.

* * *

Draco leant his head back against the bare wall and gripped his hands into two fists; his knuckles turning a brilliant white. The darkness that flooded his escape was split from the light that spilled through the cracks in the door.

Meeting Hermione's friends was beyond reason. Being in Hermione's house was beyond reason to be honest, but facing Weasley or Potter was like admitting it to the world. Hermione was the only one who knew. The only one who was aware that the war had shattered him into this being of fear and regret and dying inside-out in the hope for redemption.

So obviously, staying put was out of the question. Draco ran. As soon as he saw Hermione turn her back he sprinted out of the back door into the yard. Edging around the corner of the house, he saw Hermione and Ron on the porch in a warm, deep embrace. He felt his blood chill and slowly back peddled. Looking around the yard he took note of the signs of escape. The tree, the roof, the back fence which led into an empty field and in onto the city. He had his wand, he could just leave, remember this week in the house of Hermione Granger rebuilding himself - and move on.

He imagine Hermione could deal with that, no longer having to handle the burden of hiding an enemy in her guest room.

_No, not enemy._

_Correction._

_Friend._

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath, making up his mind and swivelling towards the back door.

Draco was far too selfish a man. Never before had the word 'friend' even crossed his mind as a thought. He usually had a filter on. Like his very own Berlin wall between him and the world. Had the wall crumbled already?

So he now found himself cramped in between packets of self raising flour and jars of jam. He peered between the slits in the pantry door out at Ron devouring his breakfast.

_Imbecile. _Draco found himself thinking.

He watched Hermione idle in and sit down beside Ron, gracing him with a smile before staring absent-mindedly out into the back garden.

"Maybe I should stay tonight Hermione." Ron said.

Draco's gut twisted into a tight mess of distress. _No. This is my Safe house. My Solitude... My Hermione. _

"Uh, well I don't know Ron. I still have so much to do and I start college tomorrow I just don't know if I'm up to -,"

"Okay okay, it's just... well we haven't really spent some time together since those first few days after the war.I just thought maybe we could, you know, try again? I'm sure it won't be as difficult this time round I mean that was our first time it's supposed to be like that so maybe if we...,"

Draco chuckled from within the pantry upon hearing this and thought back to last night... Difficult? It was like liquid sand in a satin funnel. Uninhibited smoothness.

Draco decided thinking about last night any further was far too damaging to his sanity and quickly reverted to silently munching on crackers out of a packet he found near his head and peering out at the couple at the breakfast table.

Hermione's eyes went as wide as saucers and blushed a brilliant crimson.

"Ah well, Ron I just... um. Oh God." She fumbled before closing her eyes and turning her face towards the ceiling.

"Look, Hermione, there's no need to be embarrassed. It's supposed to be this way. And it's not what matters anyway I can wait. This is what matters." Ron said softly. He softly caressed Hermione's leg before curling his arm up around her waist and leaning over. His lips met hers and she felt a tug of that melting pot of happiness Ron's kisses brought her.

Draco leaned his head desperately against the pantry door trying to catch sight of what was happening. Disbelieving.

Slowly Hermione returned his chaste kisses and attempted to swallow the weight of guilt and mistake that followed, but it was anchored in her heart.

With a deafening clatter and the unmistaken utterance of _fuck_, she tore herself from Ron to see Draco tumble out of her pantry and land sprawled out on the linoleum floor.

A/N: Once again. Really sorry. I give you permission to review with messages of abuse for the lateness of the chapter if it isn't up to the usual standard.

LB xx


	6. LighthouseinTheSky and Strangers

Chapter Six

_Recap  
_

_Draco leaned his head desperately against the pantry door trying to catch sight of what was happening. Disbelieving._

_Slowly Hermione returned his chaste kisses and attempted to swallow the weight of guilt and mistake that followed, but it was anchored in her heart._

_With a deafening clatter and the unmistaken utterance of __fuck, she tore herself from Ron to see Draco tumble out of her pantry and land sprawled out on the linoleum floor._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"Hermione quick run!" Ron bellowed, jumping out of his chair and throwing himself before her. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and thrust it towards Draco.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Wha- Hermione what'd you do that for!?" Ron asked exasperated.

He stared dumbfounded at his wand on the other side of the room and back to Hermione who stood with her wand in her hand breathing wildly.

"Dont- kill him" She managed between deep breaths.

Draco had scrambled to his feet and now stood plastered against the pantry, gripping the door jam.

Ron continued to stare in confusion at Hermione. Very slowly his face dropped towards the breakfast table and the two sets of cutlery that had been set out before he arrived, both plates already piled with food. Understanding dawned on his face as it fell slack. His stony expression tore holes in Hermione's resolve.

Without another word Ron slipped quickly out of the kitchen, gaining speed as he tore down the hall and burst out the front door, marching in fury down the front path and through the front gate. By this point he had no control over his anger and simply kicked the gate, ripping it from its hinges and leaving it scattered across the footpath.

Hermione and Draco stood in the same spot he had left them in, both staring holes into the linoleum floor.

Eventually Draco peeled himself from the pantry door and ran his hands over his face, as if trying to awaken it from its catatonic, frozen state. He let out a deep breath and let his hands fall to his sides, burying themselves within his trouser pockets.

Clearing his throat he looked back down at the linoleum and kicked at a spot on the floor anxiously; as if nudging at an elusive button that would deafen the roaring sound of tension in the room.

Hermione watched the mark on the floor now, waiting for something to happen. Draco cleared his throat and walked softly out the back door into the garden. Hermione didn't seem to notice he left; just continued to stare at the floor looking for the mute button.

The rest of the day they didn't speak. It was back to the same old routine, as if last night had never happened. Draco pushed his croutons around in his soup until they had absorbed so much that they dissolved into a mushy island of orange.

"Malfoy I just wanted to explain -,"

"What's there to explain?" He cut in.

He looked up for brief moment, cold hard eyes of slate piercing Hermione's rippling pools of amber. Draco quickly looked away and continued to crush the croutons in his bowl. Her eyes were overbearing.

"Well... nothing I guess..." Hermione drifted off.

They sat in silence. The sound of crickets chirping in the Summer heat closed in on there ears only adding to the discomfort.

"Don't you ever want to talk about it all?"

"Talk about what." Draco replied plainly.

"Well... our lives I guess. Isn't that what you're here for? To work through that stuff?"

Draco snorted.

"Absolutely not Granger. I'm here to avoid that stuff."

Once again the room fell silent.

"I don't understand why I'm letting you do this Malfoy." Hermione snapped as she stood to clear the table.

Draco sat back in his chair to let her clear his plate, but sat staring where it had disappeared from.

"Do what -,"

"DO THIS!" She shouted, clattering the plates down onto the kitchen bench.

"Be in my house! Being rude and avoiding me and making me feel guilty for the fact that before you turned up last week I did actually have a LIFE. MALFOY!"

Draco didn't react. He sat like a gargoyle leering at the empty space before him.

"I deserve some RESPECT for this Malfoy! I deserve you to talk to me! TALK TO ME MALFOY!"

Before the last syllable had even left her mouth, Draco had stood, so quickly that the chair had gone flying backwards and the table had been thrust forward. He pushed Hermione back against the counter top, gripping either side of the bench with iron fists and white knuckles. Face pressed up close, they could feel each other's hot angry breaths tickling against each other's lips.

Hermione's furious amber orbs held up against the wall of blazing molten silver that were Draco's. They stood frozen. Both breathing heavy, shaking with rage. Pinned against each other, flush against the countertop. Slowly their ragged breathing stabilised and Draco pressed his forehead in against Hermione's, closing his eyes and taking one deep breath. He drew in the hazelnut and vanilla scent that was Granger greedily.

"Sorry." He whispered. Hermione felt the shape of the words against her lips.

Draco pushed himself off the bench and spun around hastily leaving the room.

Hermione stayed plastered against the counter shaking. She wet her lips slightly with the trace of her tongue, dry from the frustration that had crept to the surface and burst from within her. She could taste his words upon them. The comfort she found in their unfamiliar and indefinite bounds scared her.

Hermione ran the sink and washed the dishes.

Cleared the table.

Turned off the lights.

Then trailed upstairs...

* * *

Hermione peered out her bedroom window at the night. It's imperfection startled her. The moon didn't have its usual_ lighthouse-in-the-sky_ brilliance. The stars twinkling seemed to have dulled. The tree branches ripped and thrashed against their roots, trying to detach and escape with the wind. Hermione let out a deep sigh and pressed her forehead up against the cool glass.

"This is the first night I haven't wanted to fly on out into the night."

Hermione swivelled around to see Draco leaning in the doorway.

Slowly he came and joined her at the window. He looked out into the dull night and Hermione followed him, her eyes pinned to his pale face before flickering back into the night.

"This is the first night since I was thirteen – in which I haven't wanted to just float on out of life and pretend there was no such thing."

Hermione's warm breath had fogged up the glass. Like a child, Draco traced his finger through the haze in an 'S' shape. Hermione's lips curled into a small smile.

"This is the first night I'd prefer to be _with_ someone rather than _no-one_."

Hermione closed her eyes and let out a deep breath.

"Malfoy I need to tell you about Ron. You see after the war we–,"

Draco pressed his thumb against Hermione's lips. When she grew silent he let his thumb trail off, tugging ever so gently on her bottom lip on its way.

"I'm not asking for anything Hermione." He said softly.

They stood in silence, staring waveringly- both transfixed; frightened yet completely and utterly confident.

"But maybe I am."

Draco chuckled softly, more to hide his trepidation than anything.

"How can you ask for something from a stranger?"

Hermione sidled in between Draco and the windowsill, bodies pressed flush against each other.

"You're no stranger, Malfoy." She said, gracing him with an awe-inspiring smile. Her lips of soft pink satin taunted him with every syllable.

"You think that just because you won't tell me what's inside, I don't realise? You're an open book, Malfoy. You turn up here at my door, neither of us with any idea why or how, just knowing that it was supposed to happen. Expected...Strangers aren't expected Malfoy."

Draco stood thinking about her words, feeling her every breath press in against his, growing in sync.

"After the war, I wandered out of Hogwarts on foot. I walked straight out of Hogsmeade and apparated to Malfoy Manor. I wandered through every single room. All 256 of them. And you know what I found?

Nothing.

Not a single room had anything for me. Not a single keepsake. Not a single memory.

Except for one.

When I walked into the drawing room all I could see.... was you. All I could hear was your screams.

I sat in that room for a whole week. Not for some perverted reason in hearing your pain. But because it was the only place I didn't feel alone. Your presence had seeped into every crevice and arch and crack of the floorboard.

Only thing was it was the most unforgiving place to be. The guilt and regret of my entire life flooded out. I left at the end of that week intent on starting again. Forgetting all of this and just being someone new. Maybe a muggle. I decided I'd make a good muggle.

But once I had left that room, the whole world went into mute again. I felt alone all the time. I passed people on the streets laughing and smiling – but their voices were muffled and their faces blurred. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I couldn't pull myself together and find my way out of what happened.

Because I was alone.

And that was what the last seven years of my anger and pain had dwindled down to. Being alone.

And no matter how many people I spoke to or attempted to find salvation in. Redemption in. I couldn't.

And so I came here. Because it was the only place I could go. Because you were the only person I wasn't numb to...

Because you were the only one who wasn't a stranger."

With that, Draco's lips came crashing down upon Hermione's, pressed up against the cold glass. His hands crept up beneath her white tee-shirt; trailing across her ribs. He felt the goose bumps across her stomach, over the curve of her breasts. The shudder of her frame with every breath.

Slowly he pulled the shirt up over her head before pressing his lips against hers once again; their soft supple shapes fitting faultlessly together.

Hermione let out a small yearning whimper and tugged Draco's tee shirt over his head fiercely. They stood breathing raggedly, each holding the other's shirt in one hand, their other hand curled tightly into a fist; holding back all of the pent up passion and fear, ready to escape from within them.

With every rough, arduous breath Hermione and Draco desperately tore the fabric which separated them from each other's frames. They sunk into the sheets and Draco trailed his hot breath down Hermione's chest, to the very end of her long caramel thighs; setting her entire body on fire. Hermione held Draco tightly; her finger's digging into the muscles of his back leaving red, fervourous streaks.

Deafening, trembling waves of forbidden sentiment melted the walls of Hermione Granger's house that night. The imperfect, dull night watched in distress as the lioness and the serpent lit up the night with a _lighthouse-in-the-sky_ brilliance the moon didn't seem capable of achieving. The ambience of their deed out-twinkled the dulling stars who flickered out in defeat, and the thrashing, tumultuous trees learned a lesson in grace as the pair gave in to the force that had pulled them there.

Twisting together into a hopeless, graceful, glorious mess.

A/N: This chapter's a bit longer for you guys. Please review I'd really like to know what you think - i realise that since I havent updated in a while its very possible my writing style for this story has changed and I'd like to get a bit of feeedback. Thanks Guys

LB xx


	7. AppleGreens and RubyRed's

Chapter Seven

_Recap  
_

Deafening, trembling waves of forbidden sentiment melted the walls of Hermione Granger's house that night. The imperfect, dull night watched in distress as the lioness and the serpent lit up the night with a lighthouse-in-the-sky brilliance the moon didn't seem capable of achieving, The ambience of their deed out-twinkled the dulling stars who sulked in defeat, and the thrashing, tumultuous trees learned a lesson in grace as the pair gave in to the roots that had pulled them here,

Twisting together into a hopeless, graceful, glorious mess.

* * *

The sun spilled through the open curtains, flooding the figure that lay swathed beneath the sheets in ambient morning rays.

With a groan, Draco Malfoy turned over and reached beside him hoping to curl in closer to the chestnut curls sprawled across the pillow; only to find the only thing there to hold was chilled air. Sitting up blearily, he reached for his shorts beside the bed and struggled into them before woozily heading downstairs to the kitchen. A note sat upon the kitchen table in Hermione's neat scrawl.

_Malfoy, _

_I didn't want to wake you, the dark circles you constantly have around your eyes these days begged me not to. _

_First day of college today, if you need to reach me you should know where to find me, Conhill College Further education in Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_But I'm sure you shall be fine. _

_Maybe you should go out today? You haven't left the house once yet. It'll be good for you. _

_Enjoy your day. _

_Hermione. _

It had completely slipped Draco's mind that perhaps Hermione may have other commitments beyond staying indoors constantly with _yours truly_.

He fixed himself a bowl of muesli before heading upstairs to find something to wear.

Draco had been wearing the same set of clothes the entire week and merely rewashing them every to say he had little to choose from was an understatement.

Nevertheless, he pulled himself into a respectable appearance before heading outside, as ready as he'll ever be, to face the world.

Upon reaching Diagon Alley he immediately recognised the tell-tale signs of the war. It was a changed place.

Of course, they had managed to completely revamp the wizarding shopping district and it was once again flourishing. But it was forever stained with a twisted, grief stricken air.

Or perhaps that was only to Draco.

Walking down the cobblestone pavement turned out to be a much more difficult task then he was prepared for. Wizards constantly stared; witches quickly averted there gaze and scurried away with their children.

You would think Draco was walking around in a death-eater mask.

He tried his best to keep his head held high, to rise beyond the stares and judgement. Yet it enraptured him. He was walking through a sea of judgement, overwhelming and crashing down upon him. Drowning him.

He hastily headed towards Gringott's to retrieve some galleons.

As he stepped through the mystified doors, the bustling marble hall fell silent. He felt the judgement bearing into his skull, yet he waded through it to the desk.

"Mr Malfoy..." The Goblin sneered.

Draco avoided eye contact and shook his head in affirmation.

"I would like to go down to the family vault to retrieve some funds." Draco replied in as bold a voice as he could muster.

"Right this way, Sir." He sneered before leading Draco down into the depths of Gringott's.

* * *

Hermione took a seat at the front of the lecture theatre overwhelmed with excitement. She pressed the sides of her cloak down removing any illusive wrinkles from the fabric and pulled her things out of her satchel. Eventually the rest of the room filled with other witches and wizards; none of which appeared to be as enthused about the situation as Hermione.

She heard someone sit down next to her and looked up to see a wizard slouched in his chair, twiddling a quill between bored fingers. His dark skin had a shocking luminosity to it, brought forth by his jet black hair, trailing wispily before his eyes.  
The rest of his hair was tied back with an elastic and Hermione realised it probably trailed halfway down his back.

He looked up, feeling Hermione's gaze set heavily upon him and she instantly recognised his dazzling green eyes. Such an unusual green, like an apple.

"Granger." He said smoothly.

Hermione drew her gaze back to the desk before her and rearranged her quills.

"Hello Blaise." She replied curtly.

They sat in a tense silence for a few minutes before their professor finally arrived.

"Good Morning my dear students. I am Professor Cartrier and welcome to your first Transfiguration, a history seminar. Now if you will please take out some parchment and a quill we shall get started..."

Hermione steadied her quill above the scroll of parchment before her and set it to _auto scrawl._ She heard a cough from the seat beside her and turned with obvious irritation to her neighbour.

"Would you mind lending me some of your parchment?" Blaise Zabini asked. His thick Italian voice rang out smoothly and gracefully.

Hermione stared at him for a moment fuming that he wouldn't be prepared. However she retrieved a second roll of parchment from her satchel and handed it to him.

"My sincere thanks." Blaise said in reply, a cheeky smile plastered upon his face; brilliant apple eye glistening.

Hermione nodded and simply tuned out to the boy so as to focus on the lecture; immodestly irritated by the fact that even after leaving Hogwarts, she had to share a classroom with a Slytherin.

* * *

Draco left _Malraux's Wizarding Wear_ armed with bags upon bags of clothing.

He hastily headed towards the apparition point, eager to be out of Diagon Alley, when he walked past Flourish and Blotts and took note of the interesting window instantly thought of Hermione and hesitated, before back-peddling and entering the store.

"May I help you? _Sir. _" Came an irritated voice from behind the counter.

Draco cleared his throat in an uncomfortable fashion and looked at the carpet, prepared to simply turn around and head straight home.

But then he thought of Hermione.

"Yes, actually. I was hoping to have a closer look at the window display."

The witch behind the counter pursed her lips indignantly. Her frazzled mop of hair bouncing as she flicked her wand and conjured the contents from the window.

Draco strode towards the counter with fake certainty, yet providing a Malfoy front with ease, such as he had learnt to over the years.

She could feel the heat of her gaze making his skin prickle as he surveyed the items before him.

Clearing his throat he looked up at the witch and retrieved a bag of galleons from his pocket.

"I'll take the lot please."

The witch grunted and flicked her wand sending Draco's purchases into a box smoothly.

Draco hastily picked up the box and headed towards the door swiftly. Yet upon reaching the cobblestone pavement of the street, he found himself wishing he had the company of the miffed Bookwitch over what lay before him.

* * *

Hermione returned home that afternoon glowing in brilliance. The feeling of being back to learning and feeling the knowledge surrounding her was a feeling to rival all others.

There weren't many people who could agree with that feeling.

Putting her satchel down on the kitchen table, Hermione opened the pantry in search of food, when something caught her eye.

Halfway up the staircase, collapsed and completely motionless was a pile of flaxen haired, black-robe swathed, ruby blood glistening Draco Malfoy.

Hermione felt her heart in her throat and her lungs in her stomach. She scrambled to the stairs, breath hitched and hands trembling.

"Malfoy, Malfoy look at me." She said fearfully.

Draco didn't move.

"Malfoy please." She whispered into his ear.

Draco suddenly coughed and spluttered slightly, before appearing to try and turn over.

Hermione exhaled a deep breath that she hadn't even realised she had been holding. She helped him roll over onto his back. Draco tried to hold himself on his elbows but they gave out. Hermione pulled him onto her lap and held him tightly.

Draco's eyes rolled back into his head and Hermione brought her face to his.

"I'm going to take you to the hospital okay?" She said, attempting to keep the fear from her voice.

Draco struggled to reply but his view on the matter was obvious.

"No, please no." He coughed and spluttered. "You – you, c-can fix it." He breathed out.

Hermione whimpered slightly and looked at the ceiling, trying to gather herself.

"Please." He whispered.

Hermione gently retrieved her wand from her pocket. She could feel the heat of the warm blood escaping from the back of his head and very gently attempted to haul Draco into a sitting position.

He fumbled for the railings, and gripped tightly, trying to hold himself up but resolving to simply let the stair railing support him. Hermione kept her arm wrapped around his chest. She could feel his heart beating rapidly and his ribcage shuddering with every laboured breath.

Trying her best to focus, Hermione surveyed the wound and considered the small amount of healing she had learnt /during her Quest with Harry and Ron.

Quickly, and with as much strength and grace and clear state-of-mind as Hermione could muster, she steadied herself and began uttering incantations. Draco tried his best not to shake, but even the pain of healing shook him to the core.

After what seemed like forever, Hermione slowed down. She cleaned the remaining blood from around the wound and very gently touched the area that his head had, until recently, been split.

Draco flinched slightly and shuddered. His grip on the banisters had not loosened and his knuckles were white. Hermione inched his hands free slowly and let him fall gently back into her lap. She let her wand drop with a clatter to the stairs below.

"Hermione I –,"

"I don't want to know yet." She said shakily.

Draco submitted, too weak to refute.

They sat in the stairwell, both shaking slightly. Hermione kept her arms tightly wrapped around Draco in fear of him slipping.

In fear of losing him.

* * *

A/N: Ok don't be mad because I did warn you I'd be busy over the last few weeks. So here's a chapter and I am in the process of writing chapter eight, but took a break to post this. STUFF IS HAPPENING IN THE STORY NOW! i told you it would. Hope you hang in there for whats to come.

LB xx


	8. Raindrops and Reality

Draco flinched slightly and shuddered. His grip on the banisters had not loosened and his knuckles were white. Hermione inched his hands free slowly and let him fall gently back into her lap. She let her wand drop with a clatter to the stairs below.

"Hermione I –,"

"I don't want to know yet." She said shakily.

Draco submitted, too weak to refute.

They sat in the stairwell, both shaking slightly. Hermione kept her arms tightly wrapped around Draco in fear of him slipping.

In fear of losing him.

Chapter Eight: 

Earlier on that Day:

Diagon Alley 

Draco closed the door to Flourish and Blotts with a _chink_ and stepped out onto the cobbled pavements. Instantly he felt the dread, the feeling that something was wrong.

And then he saw it.

Coming for him from across the Alley Centre Square.

He looked around at the other witches and Wizards. Where was the panic? Why couldn't they see this?

Draco began walking swiftly towards the closest apparition point. He felt them closing in. They gracefully swam through the crowd, their long, quick strides across the cobbled pavements easily bringing them closer and closer. Everything slowed down. Draco became numb to the banter of the witches and wizards who surrounded him; hearing nothing other than the wild thumping of his heart and the clacking of _their _feet on the pavement.

Bright white cloaks billowing slightly in the breeze, the sun pelting down upon them.

They stood out like lit candles in a dark room.

Draco broke out into a run, choking on air, blinded by fear. As he neared the apparition point, he could feel them. Right there. Why wasn't anyone stopping them?

And it hit Draco like a cool smack in the face.

_He _was the enemy. They were stopping him.

Draco pulled his wand from his pocket as he pushed witches and wizards out of the way. He could see their faces displaying their disgust, could imagine their squeals of outrage, but couldn't hear it.

Draco closed his eyes and thought of Hermione's white picket fence, he felt the familiar tug in the pit of his stomach, accompanied with a shout from behind and a blinding smack to the head.

He landed in a heap on Hermione's front porch, and groaned audibly. Eyes squeezed shut, he felt around his skull and the warm trickling blood stained his fingers.

Draco's breath became shallow, his head began spinning and he felt himself slipping away from reality.

He stood shakily and fumbled with the door before tripping into the house and slamming it shut behind him. He leaned against it momentarily, taking a few deeps breaths, before making his way towards the stairs.

Draco kept his eyes straight ahead, dropping his shopping bags halfway up the hall and taking the first stair. Trembling, he kept his gaze forward, his pace slowing with every step.

Halfway up, he stopped.

Closed his eyes.

And felt the world pull out from beneath him.

* * *

**Present **

Hermione watched the rain attach itself to the glass window pane. Clinging desperately, shaking violently, then trickling towards the ledge. Sliding gracefully into a puddle.

Draco lay in the deepest of slumbers in the bed behind her. Hermione wondered whether it was possible that it was an accident. That perhaps... they thought he was someone else. Yet the naivety of that thought did not evade her.

Draco was no saint. Hermione mentally slapped herself for letting the image she had of Draco slip into an idealised picture of sanctimonious reliability. Had everything he had symbolised before the end of the war become null and void? Was he no longer 'Malfoy'? Just... Draco?

Hermione leant her head against the window pane and closed her eyes. The cool glass soothed the flurry of thoughts bombarding her mind.

Hermione needn't ask Draco what had happened. She had no doubt that it was the work of the Ministry. Since the end of the war they had formed a society of wizards known as the AWRS .

After-War Refinement Society.

It was their job to track down and round up what they considered the remainders of the war criminals. To cleanse society of the monstrosity's which were nearly the destruction of the wizarding world. And this of course, meant killing every single last death eater or death eater related witch and wizard.

If the ministry was to realise that Hermione was sheltering a death-eater, then she herself would fit into this category.

Sent to death by the ministry.

Hermione audibly groaned at the thought. Was sheltering a war criminal worth all of this? Worth death?

Hermione looked over her shoulder for the sleeping death-eater. But she couldn't see it.

All she saw was Draco.

No... death eater, war criminal, Malfoy, ferret-boy. Just a man, who... yes, was once a messed up boy, but now was just... Draco.

Looking out at the street once again Hermione caught site of a figure walking up the garden path.

Hurrying downstairs she met him at the front door and flung it open hurriedly to find Harry standing there fist raised, ready to knock.

"Hermione, we need to talk." He said.

Hermione nodded soundlessly and ushered Harry through the door and into the living room. Without a sound they both took a seat on the floral lounges before Harry began to speak.

"The house looks great." He started looking around at the room, fumbling with his hands nervously.

Hermione simply stared blankly at him. Just waiting.

"Were these a house-warming present?" He asks motioning to the lounges.

"They're lovely really suit the- ,"

"Just say it already Harry." Hermione snapped.

"What are you thinking Hermione!" He suddenly screamed out. "I haven't heard from you in weeks, your best friend. Nobody has actually! I mean, have you started college or did you decide to neglect that too for that... that ferret!"

"Of course I've started college I'm not an imbecile Harry!"

"Well how am I supposed to know, it's not like I've heard from you! And why is this? Because all your time is put into HIM! Do we even matter anymore!?"

"It's not like that at all Harry don't you understand?"

"Understand **what** Hermione, what is there to understand? That you're willing to risk your life for that of the boy who nearly ruined yours? "

"He isn't that boy anymore Harry, he's different the war changed him."

"Yeah well it appears it changed you too. You have no idea what you're losing for him do you."

Hermione sat silently.

"Do you know what you've done to Ron? After all these years of chasing him, of this stupid sexual tension you guys had getting in the way of everything, you've gone and shattered him for... for what, Hermione? He's heartbroken, he barely says a word these days."

Hermione stared at the carpet, unable to face him.

"Is it worth all this Hermione? Is he really worth this much to you that you are willing to lose everything you've known in your life, for him?"

Hermione felt the tears well in her eyes without permission and tried to hold back. Yet big heavy droplets trickled down her porcelain cheeks and splashed onto the crimson rug at her feet. She didn't ask for this. It's not as if she went looking for him, murdering her friends psychologically in the process. But it happened and she had no idea of where to go to from here.

They sat in silence, Hermione crying silently and Harry staring stonily at her trembling hands.

He stood and headed towards the door. She stayed staring at the rug, frozen. The sound of Harry pausing at the door for a single moment to utter a whole of five words, before clicking it open and closed gently, was the last sound Hermione heard before the sounds of her own heavy gasps for air and choking tears swallowed her whole.

Draco watched Harry walk down the garden path, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration and loss. He heard the sound of Hermione's heart breaking downstairs. It poured out through her tears and cracking voice. The unmistakable sound of her heart tearing at the seams.

Hermione sat with her head in lap. Her hands grasping fistfuls of hair, trembling as her whole body was wracked with heavy sobs. She sensed Draco lean down before her and gently take her trembling hands into his own. She looked up from her lap to catch sight of Draco's searing slate-grey eyes. They swelled with not only concern, but honest fear for Hermione.

He brought his head towards hers placing them cheek to cheek. Hermione's body tremors began to calm and she closed her eyes. Draco felt Hermione's warm tears trickle onto his soft cheeks, and he closed his eyes giving her hand a slight squeeze; a question in itself.

Hermione wanted to blurt out her every thought. She wanted to lay out the truth of how alone she was now. Of how Draco was truly all she had left. And how that scared the absolute living daylights out of her, as you'd expect; I mean her only surviving company was Draco Malfoy... The irony of the situation was palpable. In all honesty there was a very big part of her that wanted to tell him to get out, to just tell him to leave and let everything return to normal.

So here she found herself, with the hardest decision of her life to date in which she must choose her life and her friends as she knows it, or the boy-evil who turned up on her doorstep as a confused stranger.

But Hermione had no say in the situation in reality. Her heart and her mind and her mouth had made the decision for her before she even had a chance to go over it.

"They're coming for us." She said softly. "Both of us."

**

* * *

  
**

**A/N: Life is hard, okay readers. Time is limited... and more importantly so is my creativity these days. I managed to get this chapter out when I lost a really big part of my life recently. That being my closest friends. Under much the same circumstances as Hermione has in the story...Minus the death eaters, magic, ministry scenario. Hope you enjoy it. **

LB xx


	9. Black and White

Recap:

So here she found herself, with the hardest decision of her life to date in which she must choose her life and her friends as she knows it, or the boy-evil who turned up on her doorstep as a confused stranger.

But Hermione had no say in the situation in reality. Her heart and her mind and her mouth had made the decision for her before she even had a chance to go over it.

"They're coming for us." She said softly. "Both of us."

* * *

The seconds ticked passed in deafening silence. The weight of Draco's morbid, stone-cold face enraptured the entire room.

"Why." He managed to sputter out.

"The Ministry... They're trying to purify the wizarding world from the remainders of -,"

"No, why you!?" He shouted.

Hermione flinched and recoiled slightly in her chair. Draco let go of Hermione's hands roughly and stood up, taking a few steps back.

"WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH YOU!?"

Draco appeared to be getting angrier with every passing moment. His stormy grey eyes pulsed in vain of understanding why this was happening.

"Because I've been housing you Draco I'm... I'm an accomplice to your war crimes. I'm tied to you indefinitely." Hermione replied, voice trembling. It was the ultimatum Harry had come to deliver:

_They're coming for you both. _

In a single moment Draco's entire demeanour appeared to change. His momentary lapse in self-control was swallowed entirely and replaced with a stone-cold, unmoving character. Draco stared at the crimson rug where Hermione's tears had splashed and his face stayed frozen in a bitter moment.

Hermione noticed his sudden turn around, and it struck fear in her heart.

"Don't do that Draco."

His neck snapped up and he stared right through Hermione's twinkling amber orbs to her crying soul. Yet his arctic stare left Hermione with nothing to see into but a reinforced concrete wall.

"You blame me for this, don't you Granger." He seethed coldly.

"What? No, Draco I don't, this was completely my own decision!" Hermione said, standing in a defensive act.

"Don't feed me that bullshit, Granger." He said.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

Draco sneered. "See." He said solemnly.

Hermione watched Draco walk bitterly and stiffly out of the room, willing herself to say something but honestly, entirely speechless. For once.

She knew this Draco. She spent seven years avoiding his snide, cold, unforgiving appearance in her life. This was the same Draco that had shouldered the world, set on being alone.

This was Draco Malfoy closing off. Shutting Down. Disappearing into blank numbness once again.

* * *

Draco spent the next few days avoiding Hermione. Every time Hermione left for college she expected to be ambushed halfway through a lecture by a flood of white-cloaked wizards. She was finding it hard to concentrate on the Professor, much to Blaise Zabini's delight.

"Ah, Hermione? Do you mind if I borrow your notes there?" He asked softly.

"Huh? Um yeah, yeah sure." Hermione mumbled, snapping out a reverie. She had been staring at the heavy wooden double doors for the past half an hour.

"Thanks." He replied amiably and picked her notes up off the desk.

The thing is Blaise didn't actually have any use for Hermione's notes. It was more a less a game of finding how far he could go with the obviously preoccupied witch.

"Ah, Hermione? Would you mind if I partnered you for this 15th century thesis?" Blaise asked softly.

Hermione nodded and slowly turned to look at Blaise. She made very brief eye contact with his dazzling apple-green orbs before quickly looking back at the door.

"Yeah sounds great, Blaise." Hermione replied in a monotone.

"Great!" Blaise continued ecstatically letting out a small surprised chuckle.

A few minutes passed in which Blaise tuned in to Professor Cartrier momentarily before gaining the courage to push Hermione just that little bit further.

"Ah, Hermione? Did you want to grab something to eat after we're finished here?" His fluid Italian voice spoke softly.

Hermione's eyes flickered away from the door and settled on Blaise. She surveyed his luminous dark skin and well groomed appearance and nodded numbly.

"Yes Blaise, sounds good." She replied.

The doors creaked open and Blaise watched on in amusement as Hermione practically fell out of her chair.

When an extremely short wizard appeared around the heavy wooden doors, sporting a tattered green cloak and a pair of scuffed loafers, she closed her eyes and exhaled in relief before settling back into her seat; only slightly less on edge.

Blaise knitted his eyebrows together in a mix of amusement and confusion.

_This witch is absolutely off her broom. _Blaise thought.

* * *

After the seminar ended Hermione hurriedly tidied her things and scurried towards the door. Blaise quickly followed, shaking Hermione notes in his hand.

"Hermione! Hermione your notes." He called out.

Hermione swivelled around and ran smack bang into Blaise.

"Oh, shit." She breathed wearily.

Blaise chuckled and handed over her notes.

"So where would you like to go? I've heard there's this great place down on the corner of campus they serve the best pumpkin scones -,"

"Wha-?, Uh, Blaise I can't. I have to get home in all honesty. I have to... tidy. Tidy my house. See I only recently moved in." Hermione replied flustered, turning and walking swiftly away from Blaise.

"Oh really I'd love to see the place!" Blaise said enthusiastically, jogging to catch up to her. "I can help you clean, we can just grab take out or something." Blaise made to take Hermione heavy texts books out of her arms but she hastily snatched them back and spun around to face Blaise, stopping him in his tracks.

"Blaise we are not friends." Hermione uttered tersely.

He did not seem to falter.

Blaise' mouth curved into an elusive smirk. Not malicious in any way just...playful, perceptive and shrewd. Blaise gracefully sidestepped Hermione and began to walk away, yet he kept their eyes locked in a game of suspicion.

"But we could be, Granger." Was all he said, before turning and disappearing into a flurry of people.

* * *

Hermione closed her front door and heaved her heavy text books onto the foyer bench.

Blaise' words kept playing over and over in her head. She hadn't really given it thought. He was simply the slytherin who somehow managed to get a place in the prestigious witchcraft and wizardry College and chose to pester her every 'Transfiguration, A History' tutorial.

But they could be friends...

Merlin knows Hermione could do with some friends these days.

With a sigh, Hermione scaled the stairs and headed towards the guest room from which the utterance of numerous swear words and bangs echoed.

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked agitated. She knocked on his door fiercely and waited for a reply. She'd taken to calling him Malfoy again, even in her head. It was like those first few days all over again, mixed with a hint of return from her Hogwarts bully.

"Malfoy!" Hermione shouted and rapped loudly on the door.

The banging and cursing stopped and moments later the door swung open.

Draco stood panting heavily, beads of sweat forming upon his forehead and forearms pulsing with exertion. His demeanour was still stony and numb, yet drops of the anguish he had currently twisted himself into spilt through.

Hermione peered around him into the room. It appeared to have been torn apart by a pack of pissed off grizzlies, yet Hermione had her suspicions that perhaps it was just one...

"I'm going to fix it." He said wearily in his _concrete wall_ monotone.

Hermione just sighed and ran her hands through her hair before looking up at Draco's drawn face.

She didn't know what to say.

That everything was going to be okay?

Hermione mentally snorted. Unlikely.

That he should pay for the damage he' d done to her guest room?

Probably. But that was the least of her worries.

"You know Mal-, Draco." Hermione tried in her most soothing voice.

She grasped Draco's upper arms and slowly dragged him towards her. Hermione now stood with her face inches from Draco's chest and looking up, saw he was trying his best to focus on the wall behind her.

Yet his resolve was cracking.

"They are coming. Whether you like it or not. It's only a matter of time and waiting around here for it to happen is not going to save-,"

"Then I'll leave. Right now I'll-," Draco pushed away and spun around into his room. He made to hurry towards the bedside table where his wand was currently stashed but was held back by the tug of Hermione's delicate hand upon the hem of his shirt.

"They're coming for _both _of us Draco. You leaving... won't save me."

He froze.

"However," Hermione continued softly. "It might save you."

Draco slowly turned to face Hermione. It became evident that the concrete wall he had put around his self the past few days had crumbled away, leaving his fear and desperation spilling out of his silvery, agonised orbs.

"I would be anything but saved, if not for you." He took a step closer to Hermione, trailing his fingertips across her pale feathered skin.

"I'd go back to being numb. To being alone. Granger, alone in the land of the living is a fate to rival death itself." Draco said trembling.

He let his finger linger across Hermione's rose dusted cheek as their eyes intertwined in an inescapable chasm of yearning.

Hermione felt her breath hitch in her throat and the ends of her finger tips tingle with the electric current emanating from the moment.

"Then what do you propose?" She asked gently, not letting her stare waver in fear of Draco slipping away behind his concrete wall.

"That we run together." He whispered, before capturing Hermione's lips with his own and letting them fall gracefully and eagerly into passion amongst the disarray.

They sunk to their knees, Hermione hungrily accepting Draco's kisses as he grasped her shoulders tightly and ravaged her blossom-bitten lips.

They impatiently shed each other of the bounds of their clothes and collapsed into a fervent blistering pool. It eased the agony of the circumstance in which they found themselves. Survivors of a war, that it appears was not truly over.

They were the loose-ends now.

And as they reached that point of utmost pure spirit, eliminating all angst and concern from their minds, eight wizards in white cloaks stood upon the footpath before Hermione's white picket fence.

Ready to cut the loose-ends.

* * *

A/N: Surpriseeeee another chapter :) Please review. I had some really wonderful reviews on the last chapter (and i dont just mean praising wonderful, i mean actually telling me something reviews) which is why I updated so quickly it spurred me on. The story is picking up force and the ball is finally rolling for me! so hopefully I don't hit a wall somewhere along the line. Your ideas for plot bunnies are always welcome and often can be the saviour of a story when i hit these writers blocks. Thankyou for reading whether you review or not :)

xx LB


	10. Dusted Vests and Dew Covered Gardens

Recap:

They impatiently shed each other of the bounds of their clothes and collapsed into a fervent blistering pool. It eased the agony of the circumstance in which they found themselves. Survivors of a war, that it appears was not truly over.

They were the loose-ends now.

And as they reached that point of utmost pure spirit, eliminating all angst and concern from their minds, eight wizards in white cloaks stood upon the footpath before Hermione's white picket fence.

Ready to cut the loose-ends.

* * *

"_Can you kneel before the king and say I'm clean_

_And tell me now where was my fault in loving you with my whole heart_

_Her white blank page and her swelling rage_

_You did not think when you sent me to the grave"_

_

* * *

  
_

"Minister I am certain there is a better approach to the situation."

"Are you honestly willing to take the chance Ackley!? He is not a child anymore! He shall face judgement day along with the rest of the loose ends."

"Yes, yes I understand... But Miss Granger, she is a war hero sir -,"

"Exactly why the situation is more serious, Ackley. Who knows what spell he has the poor witch under. It is conducive that we disengage the situation as quickly as possible before she joins the dead."

"She doesn't need to see this-,"

"As if she hasn't seen it before! Ackley get out of my office. You have your orders now follow them, gather the society and get going."

Nigel Ackley took a deep breath and clenched the white slip of parchment tighter in his hand before turning and leaving Shacklebolt's office. Taking a last look at the address printed in fine script across the parchment, he crumpled it up and through it against a wall before striding swiftly down the hall; leaving the ball of paper rocking gently upon the marble stones.

* * *

Ackley gathered his thoughts and his men upon the pavement before number nineteen, with the white picket fence.

Solemn and silent he opened the gate emanating a slight scraping of the hinges, and his men followed through. Noiselessly they glided up the garden path, their white cloaks unmoving in the night air.

As they gracefully swept up the stairs they made no sound. And as they plunged swiftly down the hall, the light which had been spilling endlessly from beneath the end door suddenly flickered out. And they froze with baited breath, poised for ambush.

* * *

Hermione and Draco sat in an entangled pile upon the floor; clothing strewn haphazardly and upturned furniture surrounded them.

Their shallow, hasty breaths tickled the light hairs upon each other's shoulders as they gathered each other in their arms, absorbing the overpowering heat and comfort; exerting their troubles with every bead of sweat that trickled down their spine.

Hermione heard the familiar creak of the gate and closed her eyes, taking a deep shuddering breath.

Draco planted gentle kisses across Hermione's collar bone; she could feel the curve of his smile against her skin. Gently, she raised Draco's chin with her finger.

He saw the fragility pressed against the edge of her hazel orbs and his smile faltered, yet Hermione urged it on, moving her own rose-bitten lips to form a warm comforting smile.

Hermione exhaled shakily, trying to wrap her head around what it was she was doing here. What she was risking. What she was losing all together. For a brief second she let her mind ponder staying, of returning to her friends who she had known her entire life and forgetting about Draco Malfoy; letting him slip back into the outfit of the bully-turned-death eater child from school.

It made her falter. Was this too much to give up? In all honesty, it was everything.

Draco felt Hermione shaking within his arms, her breathing excelling rapidly. He tightened his grasp around her waist and brought his head to the crook of her neck.

The small squeeze of her waist and the soft tickle of his breath upon her neck brought Hermione down. And the fear of all she would lose for this one feeling evaded her.

Hermione nodded. Draco took a deep breath and tightened his arms around her waist. Hermione gently slipped her wand from the pocket of the cloak which lay discarded beside her and with a flick of her wand, the light went out.

* * *

Nigel Ackley looked around at the still hallway. The white of their cloaks glowed amongst the darkness. He felt beads of sweat drip down from his thick black hair as he lowered his wand towards the door. He watched as one of the front-men of the operation muttered an incantation, sending a powder stream beneath the door. It was meant to make them more... reasonable. Less likely to want a confrontation...

Nigel waited a few moments for the powder to take effect. Then with a sharp intake of breath he blasted the door open and they flooded in, wands at the ready.

Yet all they found was a room that appeared to be entirely destructed, a chest of timber draws lay shattered upon the floor, the bed upturned the ceiling lamp still swinging gently, and still-warm garments littered the floor.

A sense of relief flooded Ackley at the site that lay before him. That they were not the ones to deal with this situation. Yet as the curious state of the room struck him dread swallowed his lungs.

Perhaps someone had gotten them first.

* * *

"Where are we?" Draco asked coughing and spluttering.

He sensed Hermione shuffling in the darkness and the click of the light switch. With the room now lit up, Draco looked around blearily at the harsh wooden timber floors and the risen dust from their entrance. Hermione was standing sheepishly near the door as she attempted to subtly cover up her still naked figure.

Draco, still sitting upon the dust covered floorboards, had the decency to look apologetic and cast his gaze towards the window.

Hermione cleared her throat and headed towards a tall wooden cupboard. As the doors creaked open a whoosh of dust enveloped the entire room leaving Hermione and Draco once again choking and gasping. As it settled, Hermione spent a few moments staring at her choices, before reluctantly choosing the least dreadful looking garment and brushing off the dust.

Out the window Draco could see the morning dew clinging to leaves upon the trees and slipping helplessly from cherry-blossom petals. A thick fog swam sluggishly between the gardens and procured a hollow echo as it snaked between the trunks of ancient trees.

Draco cast his gaze back over his shoulder to be hit in the face with a dust riddled pool of brown fabric. He soon discovered it was a pair of trousers and he noiselessly slipped them on.

Standing at full height he realised they only reached halfway down his calf. He looked up rather confused to Hermione, who was sporting a rather old-fashioned frock.

The peasant-like canvas fabric clung dramatically to her unharnessed attributes, and was cinched at the waist with a thick piece of rope. Draco eyed her small slender feet shuffling nervously on the dank floorboards, raising dust with every movement.

Hermione held out a dust consumed oxford. The once-white garment had a faded grey vest hung around it; thick oak buttons dotted down the breach.

With a breathless chuckle Draco gently took the clothes from Hermione and shrugged them on.

"You know you don't need to wear the vest Draco."

Draco frowned.

"Well, if I didn't. This would all be far too real."

Hermione stood frozen in befuddlement.

Draco looked down at his outfit. Brown dusty peasant pants which barely made it passed his knee, dusty yellowed oxford and faded grey vest.

He looked up in amusement at Hermione.

"See this. This is like a game of dress-ups. Just fantasy." He trailed. Draco pivoted back towards the window and Hermione managed a smile towards the boyish attitude he seemed to have acquired in the absence of their reality.

"So..?" He asked. Draco wiped the dust off the window pane and lent his head against it for a better look at the surrounding garden. Hermione joined Draco at the window and peered into the mysterious greenery.

"This is my grandparents house." She said softly.

Draco's body stiffened.

"You think this was a safe place to bring us?"

"They're passed Draco. They left their property to me. We're in the middle of a muggle occupied part of the French countryside,"

Hermione pushed away from the window and headed towards the thick wooden door.

"Still, to be safe I apparated to the workers cabin just in case they had a magical trace on the house."

"You don't think there's a chance the cabin is traced?"

Hermione creaked open the door and peered out into the yard. With a smile she replied,

"Not at all. It's deep within their garden and near impossible to locate if you don't know where it is. It was my playhouse when I was a little girl,"

Taking a step outside Draco watched her trail into the garden.

"So when you say we're merely playing dress-ups, Draco, that's truly what we're doing. "

Draco followed her outside. Since reaching the cabin, a strange buzz had overtaken him. As if he was breathing on a different plane of life entirely. the frosted grass beneath his feet was an arctic carpet. He watched amiably as droplets swam towards the sky with every footstep Hermione made upon the grass. Spears of sunlight split the fog and illuminated the overgrown gardens beauty. Vines twisted their way across the arctic carpet and up the ancient trees. Flowers spilled from every crevice they could find, reaching towards the sunlight hungrily. Hermione stopped in the centre of a small circular clearing. A crumbling stone bench was situated on the edge beside an empty pot plant.

The bittersweet freshness of the air left a cake of frost throughout Hermione's lungs, yet extinguished the sweltering frustration that had become her life.

"Come sit down." Hermione said softly.

Draco came and sat down on the cool, wet grass beside Hermione. Cross-legged and placid. Hermione tucked her legs up beneath her and leaned towards Draco, taking his hands in hers and giving his fingertips a small squeeze. Hermione smiled brilliantly before placing a quick, chaste kiss upon his cheek.

Draco smiled, grey eyes twinkling like an infant on a mystical journey.

And to an onlooker perhaps that was how they would look.

Dust-covered peasant dress-ups, sitting cross-legged in a dew-covered garden with careless smiles upon their faces.

And everyone knows, that to be but a child comes with woes and frustration.

"What's happening Hermione?" Draco asked serenely.

He watched the luminous dew droplets evaporate before his eyes off the leaves of the plants. Dancing gracefully with each other amongst the fog.

"Are you sure your grandparents weren't magical? I feel so light." He chuckled and flung himself backwards against the arctic carpet.

"Draco, this has nothing to do with this garden. I mean certainly, it has heightened the... magnificence of it. But this is the effects of the ministry.

"What about them." Draco asked as he attempted to make an arctic carpet angel. Whooshing his arms and legs like scissors to and fro.

"Just before we left they attempted to... sedate us of soughts. I read about it in a book I found in the forbidden section once. You see-,"

Hermione wormed herself over beside Draco. She came face to face with a Daisy which she picked and began to sway before Draco's face.

"It's a powder that effects the transcendent state of the mind. Making you open, free, relaxed."

"They drugged us Hermione!" Draco said. He looked skywards happily and laughed freely.

Draco snapped the Daisy out of Hermione's hands with his teeth, originating a yelp in surprise from Hermione followed by childish giggles.

They lay in the clearing making arctic carpet angels, as the sunrays began to dissolve the fog.

"Life is good, is it not?" Draco said breathlessly.

Hermione turned her head to look upon the flaxen haired angel. The sun sparkled against his porcelain skin making him appear less like the moody dark force that had been enrapturing Hermione's life and more like a the pure fresh breath of air that he made her feel.

"Life is wonderful." She replied blissfully.

Draco placed a kiss upon Hermione's hand. She felt as if she could see the kiss as it sunk into the soft skin. It was golden and brilliant. Draco placed another and another; dotting them straight down to her toes. Hermione chuckled and closed her eyes, falling into the feeling.

Working his way back up he brought the canvas peasant dress with him, pulling it over Hermione's head and leaving he bathing in dew and sunshine in the clearing.

Draco felt that she looked like she belonged; as if she was a part of the garden. Her reckless hair sprawling lazily across the cool grass, her abdomen rising and falling steadily with the coming and goings of the wind.

Hermione opened her eyes to the boy who knelt staring yearningly at her figure.

"Yes, peasant friend of mine?" She asked sweetly.

His face split into a smile and he quickly shrugged off his oak buttoned vest and yellowed oxford. Hermione helped shuffle him out of his trousers before she felt him press in over her.

Although his head blocked the sun, his hair shone bright enough to illuminate the entire fixation.

* * *

Draco snuggled closer to the warm figure pressed against him and felt the material against his back slip off leaving him exposed and shivering. Blearily he sat up and looked around.

He found himself in a dark clearing, ancient trees and arctic spindles closing them in from every direction. In the distance he could see the light they had left on in the dust riddled, dilapidated cabin.

So very uninviting.

Draco took a deep breath of the painstakingly chilled air. He felt Hermione sit up beside him, her breaths hasty and shaken.

They both looked around into the black gloom of the night, unable to recall how it was this garden had looked so blissful in the light of day. Draco and Hermione huddled closer. Naked forms pressed tight. Peasant fabric strewn amongst the cold black grass.

"Welcome back to reality, Draco." Hermione said softly.

It echoed throughout the deep woods and came back in a strained fierce spit.

"Thankyou." He replied in emptiness.

* * *

_A/N: _

_So I had hit that stage where I just ciouldnt move the story forward because my head kept wanting to go off on tangents of mystical imagination and fantasy. _

_So I let it happen. _

_I guess its a fill in chapter in which they sort of fluff around a fair bit doing nothing. _

_But it meant a lot to me and its good to have this out of the way so I can move on with the story. _

_My apologies if you dont like it or think its too far fetched. But it makes sense to me. _

**I've placed a vote on my profile about whether or not you think they should stay at this house for a while and work on their own relationship, or whether I should throw them straight back into the whole ministry thing. Now just a warning, If you choose the latter, the story will more than likely be a few chapters shorter. **

_LBxx_


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