Draco sat in the alcove in the library, his knees drawn up to his chest, his head resting on his knees as he stared outside at the lake. His night had been intermittently interrupted by nightmares. He'd never had so many in one shot. He deduced that Snape's memories must have triggered them. In one dream he killed his father by beating him to death with his staff. He had woken up from that one leaning over the bed and violently throwing up, the image of horror and seeping blood fresh in his mind. Snape had been by his side in an instant, holding him and smoothing back his sweat-soaked hair. When the retching had finally ceased Snape had given him a stomach vial and helped him lie down, talking to him soothingly till he had calmed down. He had sat with him till he had fallen asleep again.

In another dream his father told him that Snapes didn't care about him and that it was all a ploy to get him to help Potter. It was Potter that Snape thought of as a son. He had woken up silently shaking from that one. In the last dream Snape hit him with the staff for putting a spell on Potter. He felt lost and betrayed. He couldn't tell Snape about any of the dreams.

“Draco?” came a soft voice interrupting his thoughts. He looked to find Hermione standing beside him.

He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, and he was paler than usual, his eyes looked listless. She frowned, looking worried. "Are you not feeling well?"

"Scram, Granger; I'm not in the mood for company,” he responded coldly, annoyed by the concern in her eyes.

"Not even from a friend?” she asked softly. She had gotten used to his prickly moods and his endless game of trying to push her away, especially when he desperately needed someone. She could see past the icy glare to see how alone he was feeling.

"We're not friends,” he responded icily, looking away to stare out of the window.

"Perhaps, but we aren't enemies anymore either.” She climbed up on the ledge opposite him.

He looked at her with narrowed eyes; his words were clipped. "Only because you want me to help Potter win against the Dark Lord."

Hermione sighed. "If you didn't do anything to help and as long as you didn't do anything to hinder the fight, I would still care. You keep letting your insecurities get the better of you. You start putting up all these walls that are really hard to get past. Trust me, I'm not going to do anything to hurt you."

He snorted, scoffing at her words. "You can't hurt me."

"Maybe not, but I can help you if you let me."

He regarded her suspiciously. "I'm fine. I just didn't sleep well,” he informed her irritably.

She remembered the nightmare he had had on New Year's Eve. "Are you having nightmares?"

He hated that she and the others had witnessed one. He didn't want to show any more weakness in front of them. With his gray eyes stormy, he turned to look out of the window again. "I told you before, Granger - I don't want company and I don't want to talk!”

"Draco." She reached out to him.

He jerked away, his voice acquiring a note of panic. "I mean it; leave me alone!" As his anger grew his breathing became laboured.

Not wanting to upset him more than he already was, Hermione got off the ledge. "I'm sorry, Draco I just wanted to help. Just so you know, I really am starting to think of you as a friend. When I see a friend not feeling well I try to help. But I guess you’re just like Harry -  you have to push everyone away because you're afraid to let anyone get close."

"I'm not afraid!” he snarled at her, his face slightly flushed.

She goaded him by raising an eyebrow. "You are otherwise you wouldn’t be acting like you are, unless of course you still hate me and my Mudblood presence is unworthy in your pureblood space?" she challenged him, staring him in the eye,  daring him to call hera Mudblood again.

He looked away, guilty, and swallowed heavily. "That's not what I meant."

She sighed. "Did you at least talk to Professor Snape about your nightmares?"

Draco shook his head, looking uncomfortable.

"Why not? He might be able to help you.” she suggested softly.

"I don't want to bother him."

"He cares about you so much; you know that." Hermione grew thoughtful. "Are you afraid - I mean, worried -  that Professor Snape will suddenly stop caring?"

Draco didn't answer and Hermione's heart ached as she suddenly realized after a lifetime of not having anyone care about him he was terrified that Snape would suddenly stop. Maybe Draco thought that none of it was real, only based on his helping Harry defeat Voldemort as he had just accused her of.

She reached out and put her hand on his wrist. "If not Professor Snape, will you please talk to me, then? I promise it won't go any further than the two of us."

He looked at her, his eyes betraying the worry etched on his features. Part of him wanted to push her away again but another part desperately wanted someone to confide in. She kept reaching out to him - it had started from that day in the fog  and had continued right through to now. He moved his arm so her hand slid from his wrist to his hand. He stared at it as he gripped it softly. She squeezed it reassuringly. His eyes hesitantly moved up to meet hers again. She smiled softly. "Come on," she said and gave his hand a small tug.

He resisted. "I'm sorry; I can't. I just can't." A wave of panic rolled over him. He couldn't talk about his dreams - not to her, not to anyone.

She nodded sadly. "It's ok, I understand." She smiled at him kindly. “But come with me anywat - I have an idea. You won't have to talk but it will make you feel better."

She gripped his hand a little tighter and tugged again. He looked at her suspiciously; trust was something he didn't give lightly. He swung his legs effortlessly off the ledge and followed her out the door.

She led him to the hallway of the room of requirements and dragged him back and forth three times until the door appeared. She led him inside.

A wonderful smell of sandalwood came out from under the door adjacent the area they found themselves in. A soft, fluffy bed was situated in front of the fireplace. Hermione let go of Draco and went and opened the door to the adjacent room, where a large bubble bath took up most of the space and steam escaped into the other room. Draco stood near the door, his eyes wide with amazement. His eyes connected with Hermione’s and a sly grin formed on his face.

"Forget it, Malfoy; that's not what I brought you here for,” she responded, glaring at him.

His eyes narrowed, his ego knocked down a notch. "Never considered it, Granger; I wouldn't with a Mud -" He stopped in mid-sentence, biting his lip.

She looked at him, her dark eyes wide with hurt.

"I didn't mean to use that word. Sorry,” he added softly.

"Forget it. You look like a zombie so why don't you get into the warm bath and relax a bit, but don't fall asleep because I have no desire to haul your wet carcass out of there, She said, raising her chin.

He snorted in annoyance as he went into the room and slammed the door behind him. He had to admit, that she had had a wonderful idea as he stripped his clothes off and sank into the hot, steamy, scented water. His muscles relaxed and his chest felt clear and pain-free. After a whilea loud banging on the door startled him and he realized he had almost fallen asleep.

“Time’s up; get out now."

"What if I don't want to go?" he responded grumpily.

"Then I'll turn the water to ice,” she responded sweetly.

He got out of the tub, dried himself off and put his clothes back on.

His hair was still wet when he came into the other room, Hermione noticed, but he looked a little better - less tense, more at ease.

He realized that a warm bowl of soup stood on the nightstand beside the bed.

"Go on, climb into bed and help yourself to the soup."

Annoyed that she kept telling him what to do, he didn't move.

She noticed the scowl on his face and groaned inwardly;  Prince Malfoy looked like he was about to throw a tantrum.

"Draco, I'm just trying to make you feel better. The bath was to relax you so you won't have any nightmares. The soup is because you haven't eaten well since you were hurt and since you look like a zombie you really could use a peaceful sleep."

She looked at him standing there so defiantly. She knew that he didn't want pity, was horrified at the thought they all felt sorry for him - but truth be told, she did feel sorry for him, very sorry for all the pain he had been through, the trauma of realizing he was unloved by both his parents, the humiliation that people he considered his enemies had found out. She knew he was angry but he looked so terribly vulnerable standing there wavering slightly, his fists clenched, his wet hair falling over his forehead, his eyes looking sad and confused. After hating him all these years it was hard to define exactly what she felt. If there hadn't been so much animosity she could fully appreciate that Malfoy had indeed grown into a rather good-looking boy - tall, lean with striking eyes, fine features and that pale blond hair - but what she felt for him right now wasn't physical; it was that same mysterious force that made her want to comfort Harry. She smiled softly to herself. She wanted to be Draco's friend; she didn't want him to feel so alone. Driven by some unknown instinct she got to her feet and went over to him. He looked at her warily as she put her arms around his neck and lightly hugged him. He stiffened for a moment but then he wrapped his arms tightly around her. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked quietly.

"Because I want to,” she responded.

He pulled away. "You just feel sorry for me, don't you? Poor Malfoy the beaten boy, he's so pathetic.” He angrily spat out the words.

She snorted, annoyed. "Being beaten does not make you pathetic, Draco - you survived, you’re strong."

"But you feel sorry for me, don't you?” he accused again with narrowed eyes and a sneer on his face.

Hermione sighed. "How do you expect me to answer that? Of course I feel sorry for you;  we found you almost dead and then to hear of all the things your father’s done, of course I feel terrible that all this happened to you! But you know what? I feel even more sorry for what had happened to Harry. Despite his rotten life he’s always been nothing but caring. I care about Harry so much and it's not just because I feel sorry for all that's happened to him. Can't you understand that?"

He looked down at his toes, not sure how to respond.

"Come on, your soup’s getting cold."

His eyes looked into hers and he nodded; he was just too tired to argue anymore.

He sat on the bed and ate the soup. When he finished Hermione waited for him to lie down but he just kept sitting there.

"You're exhausted, Draco why don't you lie down?”

He glanced at the bed and shook his head. "I'm okay. I don't want to sleep."

She narrowed her eyes; he looked so tired she couldn't understand why he wouldn't want to sleep. Taking the risk of making him angry again, she asked, "Do you think you'll have another nightmare?"

His eyes flashed and he got up. "I should go now. Thank you for the bath and the soup."

"Wait, Draco." She paused. "I'll stay with you while you sleep - if I think you're about to have a nightmare I'll wake you right away, I promise."

He looked into her worried dark eyes and felt an incredible surge of envy when he realized what a wonderful friend Potter and Weasley had in her. She had grown into such a beauty. For years he had fought against thinking that, trying to focus on the fact she was, as his father always said, a filthy Mudblood. She wasn't just beautiful on the outside but inside as well. She was offering him that friendship; he would be an idiot to turn her away again. The offer might never be made again. He nodded and smiled at her softly. "Okay, but under one condition. You can't tell Potter and Weasley about any of this."

She smiled. "Don't worry, I'll guard your pride."

He gave her an annoyed look at that.

Much to his surprise she climbed onto the bed above the covers and grabbed one of the big fluffy pillows laying beside her and beckoned for him to lie down. He looked at her, startled.

"Well, if you have a nightmare I have to be close so I can wake you."

He hesitated a little; this was almost like the time when he had thought Snape died and McGonagall had held him close till he fell asleep – almost, but not quite, since Hermione definitely wasn't McGonagall.

He climbed under the covers and put his head on the pillow close to Hermione.

"Now close your eyes and have some nice dreams; dream about beating Ron at chess and Harry in Quidditch and me in Transfiguration.

He laughed softly. In some ways she was as comforting as McGonagall was. Maybe most females, aside from his mother, had that lovely quality.

"What happens when school starts again?" he asked hesitantly.

"The four of us will continue to be friends, I promise. Draco, just remember one thing as you fall asleep: Professor Snape loves you unconditionally,” was her answer.

His eyes closed wearily and the last thing he remembered was Hermione reassuringly patting his arm.