Other than potions, Hermione didn’t see Draco the rest of the day. After class Hermione sped to the library to check out some of the necessary books for the potions essay assigned. She wrote most of the essay in the library but ran out of parchment. In defeat she made her way back to the Head’s room in order to get more parchment, but decided to simply finish the essay in her room.
She made her way upstairs brightly and gave the password. As soon as the portrait swung open a peculiar sound reached Hermione’s ears. Was it… yes, that’s exactly what it was: crying. Hermione cautiously made her way into the living room where she found what was possibly one of the last things she had expected.
Draco sat on the couch, doubled over with his head in his hands. The sobbing was uncontrollable and heart wrenching even to Hermione. She stood frozen, unsure of whether she should approach or back out of the room before the portrait could close. Before she could make up her mind the decision was made for her. The portrait slammed closed alerting Draco to her presence.
“How long have you b-been standing there?” Draco stuttered out as strongly as he could.
“Not long, just a second,” Hermione rushed the words out, “I-I was going to leave, but the portrait and… I’m sorry.” She remained rooted to the spot as if her body was physically incapable of moving.
Draco took a deep breath and wiped his face clean. “No, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault… I shouldn’t have been upset in the first place, and definitely not so in the open.”
“Mal- Draco,” Hermione cut herself off, “It’s okay to be upset. Really. What’s wrong?”
“Look, I don’t really want to talk about it,” He regained his cold composure again.
“You never want to talk about anything, you never want to even show emotion!”
“And?” He drawled.
“And how’s that working out for you?” Hermione grew as cold as she could.
“Ouch. I think I just felt an icy breeze,” Draco mocked.
“Now you know how I feel all the time. Do you know what it’s like to live and dance with a block of ice?” snarled Hermione.
“You want to know what’s going on? Today is the one year anniversary of my parent’s death. Happy now?”
“No,” Hermione’s voice grew soft, “I could never be happy over something like that. I’m sorry to hear that… I understand though. My parents were hunted down in Australia and killed. They’re buried there under the false names I created for them. The birthdays are wrong, and the actual day they died is unknown, only the day they were discovered.”
“Gra- Hermione, I’m sorry, I had no idea,” Draco muttered. He wasn’t warm exactly, but definitely not cold at least.
“Yeah, the war hurt everyone Draco.”
“I see.” Hermione wiped the tears away from her face as they flooded over her lids. At first Draco was uncertain what he should do. Finally he defeated his own desire to remain unattached and moved from the couch to Hermione. He pulled her to his chest and allowed her to cry on him as she gripped him as if he were her only link to reality. Finally she managed to gain control again.
“I-I’m so sorry. L-look at your sh-shirt!”
“It’s fine. I have a hundred more in my closet,” Draco said quickly.
Hermione took a deep breath and began again, “Thank you Draco, I appreciate it. I’m… I’m just going to go to bed now.” She started up the bed, but was stopped.
“Hermione! Wait,” Draco called, sounding almost surprised that he had done so.
“Yes?” She asked quietly.
“Hermione, I… I don’t think that either one of us should be alone tonight.” Hermione raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
“No! Not like that!” Draco blushed deep red at his mistake, “I mean I think that neither one of us are in good shape to be by ourselves right now.”
“I agree, so what are you proposing?” Hermione asked quietly.
“I think,” Draco began slowly, “That we both need sleep so… why don’t you meet me in my room in a minute? Completely platonic.” Hermione thought for a minute.
“Okay. I’ll see you in a second.” She went quickly to her room and pulled on a pair of loose pajama pants and a tank top and began walking back towards Draco’s room as she pulled her hair up. Upon entering the room she saw Draco already in bed with his eyes half lidded.
“Turn out the light?” Draco requested sleepily as he referred to the small lamp on the night stand on the open side of the bed. Hermione flicked her wand at the lamp and placed said wand on the end table. She then crawled into Draco’s large bed and squirmed until she was comfortable- right in Draco’s arms; her back was pressed snugly against his chest and stomach.
Each felt exactly what they needed, safety, warmth, and caring. Both of them were trying desperately to evade the coldness they felt whenever they thought of the dead. For once Draco and Hermione were able to avoid the sadness by clinging to one another as they fell into a blissful sleep.