Disclaimer: Fan made by fans for fans. I do not own these characters; JK Rowling does. Please don't sue.

Summary: He can feel her watching him watch the stars.

Lights

-x-x-x-x-

He watches the lights of the stars reflected in the water. The slow ripples of blackness distort the tiny yellow pinpoints of light, making them wriggle and glow, like tiny flames on tiny invisible candles floating on nothingness.

It is quiet here beside the lake, where he doesn't have to hear their murmurs and whispers. Peaceful. He doesn't mind being alone. In fact, he prefers it to the constant bustle of people in the castle. He doesn't like having to defend himself against those who think it great fun to attack the ex-Deatheater that can't fight back. Nor does he like being stared at or being treated like he has spattergroit or some other disease.

He can hear his father in his head, berating him, telling him to act like the Malfoy he is. But the Malfoy name means nothing now, so he does his best to be nothing; he keeps his blond head down, his mouth shut, doesn't draw attention to himself, and disappears into the crowd.

It is only at night, when he is alone by the lake, that he feels truly at ease.

-x-x-x-x-

He can feel her watching him. Granger. She's been doing that more often, but he doesn't know why. Before, when he caught her staring, they'd exchange frowns and go back to whatever they were doing, but lately... She doesn't frown. She just tilts her bushy head and looks at him quizzically, like she's trying to solve the problem that is him, before he squirms under her curious gaze and looks away.

-x-x-x-x-

She has that look in her eyes, the one that's full of fire and says "Don't you DARE cross me!" But for once, it's not directed at him; it's directed at everyone else in the room. He's just as shocked as the rest of them when she sits next to him, but class is starting and she acts like she normally does, with open books, parchment, ink, and quill before her and her slender hand in the air. It's as if she's sitting with her best friends and not him, her worst enemy.

He can feel her knee brush against his leg. He can smell the apple and cinnamon of her mousy brown hair. Somehow, it comforts him.

-x-x-x-x-

He finds her one night on the stairs that lead to the Astronomy tower. She looks up at him with those big brown eyes that mirror his cold grey ones and he can see the tears that threaten to spill out; the fear the nightmares bring; the need to be alone but not be lonely. He can see her broken soul. He finds himself reflected in those shimmering orbs and he knows exactly what she needs because he needs it too. So when she grabs onto the sleeve of his robe, wraps her arms around his waist, pulls him close, and cries into his chest, he quietly holds her, silent tears slipping down his face.

-x-x-x-x-

Even though he can't see her, he knows she's behind him with those inquisitive eyes watching him watch the stars.

If it was anyone else, he'd get up and leave. There's no point to sitting by the lake when his solitude is broken. But over the past few months, an understanding has been reached. They've never spoken a word to each other, but with a stolen glance here, a small smile there, a brush of soft fingertips upon an arm, he's gotten to know her -oh so- well. The eyes are the windows to the soul, after all, and they can read each other like no one else can.

So when he looks up and meets her steady gaze, he holds out his hand and silently motions to the spot next to him.

And as her warm fingers entwine with his cool ones, she places her head on his shoulder and they both take comfort in the quiet stillness, watching the glimmering lights reflected in the dark water.