A/N: so, you all want to know what happened. well. maybe this chapter will answer your questions. you just have to reeeeeaaaaadddd to find out!

Disclaimer: not mine, kbye.

HP (Third Person)

"Hermione? What're you doing up so late?"

The curly-haired Head Girl nearly jumped off her seat in surprise. Her book fell from her lap, landing askew on the carpet in front of the couch. She hadn't expected any voices except Ginny's, and that manly baritone was definitely not Ginny's. She craned her neck and peered up at the haggard Draco Malfoy, toting a small trunk behind him. He was dressed in traveling gear, a long black cloak and a black and grey scarf about his neck. He had on a woolen cap, demonstrating that though it was November, it was still colder than imaginable.

But Hermione couldn't ignore the purple circles under his eyes, making him look about ten years older and that much more unattractive. Hermione nearly pitied him for a moment.

"You gave me a fright," she spoke in a small voice, afraid that his appearance was a tip-off to his mood. He might explode at any moment.

"I'm sorry, that was not my intention," his voice was gentle, as if he were talking to a frightened child. "What're you doing up so late?" he repeated.

"I—uh—I was waiting for Ginny to come back down—that is, I thought you were with her."

He raised one single, perfectly manicured brow. "Please, make some sense, Granger," his acerbic tone was back. "How could Ginny possibly be with me when I haven't set foot on these grounds for the past five days?"

"We hadn't seen you all week, and Dumbledore left me nothing to go by except telling me that you wouldn't be able to fulfill your Head Boy duties. She began to worry, and I merely suggest she check your room. When she didn't come back down, I figured you were in there and you two were…" she trailed off, her cheeks growing pink. "Ah, well, never mind me. Happy to have you back," she replied stiffly.

"Happy to be back," his tone was somber, indicating he really wasn't happy to be back.

"Good night Draco. Sweet dreams," Hermione whispered softly as he lugged his trunk towards his own spiraled staircase.

Draco stopped in his tracks, his foot freezing before taking another step. He hadn't expected that. He really hadn't expected that. Since when is Granger so compassionate to him? Since when is her voice so full of emotion? She answered all these questions without him saying a single word.

"Ginny sees some good in you, Draco. I have yet to see it myself, but her compassion isn't unjustified. If she likes you, I'll bloody well try to see that good for myself. I think civility is overrated. Let's just be friends."

She said all this without turning her head from the book now positioned back in her lap. Draco hadn't turned his head either, staring down at his shiny leather shoes. He looked like he had come from a mortuary.

"I'd like that, Hermione," he said her name with a certain foreignism, as if he had never heard it in his life. "Yes, I'd like that. Sweet dreams."

He continued on his pathway back up the stairs, lugging his trunk with him. It wasn't that heavy, and therefore didn't strain him too far. It only had a few changes of clothes and the necessities tucked safely away.

"Huckleberries," he whispered to the door, pushing it open and gliding inside, as if a ghost in his own room.

He set the trunk near one of his closets, his eyes never leaving the beautiful girl fast asleep atop his bed. She was wearing curve-hugging cotton pants and a small white wifebeater, showing off the edge of her tattoo. He could see such because her back was to him, her red hair cascading against the pillow behind her. That silhouette against the moonlight looked so beautiful that he had the urge to just stand there and drink it in, imprinting that image in his mind forever.

He unwrapped the scarf first, throwing it over his desk chair. Then, he slowly removed his cloak, revealing his black button-up, the thin black tie, and his black belted slacks. He looked like an incredibly gorgeous version of the angel of death, complete with pale skin and white-gold hair. All he needed was a sickle and he'd look ready to murder.

He unfastened his tie, and let it join his cloak. He took his sweet time unbuttoning his shirt though all he wanted to do was jump into bed. It was almost a whole minute before that too joined the pile of darkness. He kicked off his shoes, unbelted his slacks, and in a flurry of movements he had his favorite black sweats on instead.

All he wanted to do at this moment was fall into bed with his favorite redheaded vixen. That's exactly what he intended to do. He was exhausted, slinking forward, his hands hitting the edge of the mattress. Ginny's luscious skin was inches away from his own. His flesh burned to touch her, to feel that soft velveteen skin he had missed so sorely.

Instead, he put one hand on the other side of her, gently straddled her (careful not to touch her at all) and fell to his rear next to her. Finally, he had a clear view of her face, and how utterly angelic she looked with moonlight pouring in from one of his bay windows. She had an etched smile upon her face, the same smile she always wore while in the throes of dreams. Her arms were curled up into her body, hands underneath her head upon the pillow.

Draco rested on his side, still careful not to touch her. He mocked her position, staring into her face for Merlin knows how long, memorizing every curve, every freckle, every mark. He wanted to know her, inside and out. He wanted her to become a part of him. Hell, she already was. Draco couldn't get enough of this girl, and that scared the wits out of him (assuming he had any left since she reduced him to a love struck fool).

"Nev," he whispered.

Finally, and with great trepidation, he reached up to brush a lock of crimson hair from her face, pressing it behind her ear. The one thing he loved about her was her hair. It wasn't auburn like Percy's, or pumpkin-colored like Ron's. It was a true fiery red, a color that would seem unnatural on anyone else. It made her look all the more exotic to him.

"I can't believe I've let myself…I can't believe that I'm…" he trailed off, tears shining in his eyes for the first time in the longest time. "I just need someone to hold me right now, to tell me it will all get better. I need you, Ginny."

He couldn't believe he was expressing his deepest feelings for this sleeping beauty, but something about her made him lose all inhibitions. He felt at peace with her. Even if she was awake, she would understand. She wouldn't laugh, or be skeptical, or even tell another soul that the Great Draco Malfoy had feelings. She would get him. And he would get her.

They would be perfect together. Now if only she could see that.

Draco edged himself closer to her, his thighs bumping against hers. She twitched a bit in her sleep, let out a groggy moan, and then reached out. For what, he did not know, until her warm hand felt his cool cheek.

"Draco," she murmured.

He was shocked for a moment, since he thought she'd really been asleep.

"Ginny?"

But she didn't answer. She was dreaming: about him. He couldn't have been happier.

He removed his hand from under his head and pressed it against hers. Draco wormed himself even closer, until their chests were touching and her head was just under his chin. She pressed it into his chest, giving him a chance to work his other arm around her. He'd forgotten how sweet it was to have her body pressed against his. The sheer pleasure of it brought on a swirl of emotions unknown to him.

And after many a-night of restless sleep, Draco could finally feel peaceful. He finally felt at home. No matter what had happened in the past few days, he could always count on his Ginny to make everything better.

He desperately hoped it would stay this way.

HP (First Person, Ginny)

I vaguely remembered being alone when I fell asleep. I hadn't thought that was a dream. Yes, now that I think of it, I remember coming up here alone and accidentally passing out once my head hit Draco's unnaturally comfortable pillow. So I was in Draco's bed. And I hoped to Merlin that could only mean it was one person pressed up next to me.

Afraid to be disappointed, I slowly opened my eyes. I was greeted by the beautiful face of my one and only angel. That's right, ladies and gentlemen; Draco Malfoy was lying before me, his arms wound around me as if he never wanted to let go. I let my mind run away with me, thinking of the scenarios that could have led him here. Did he see me in his bed and rejoice? Did he rip of his clothes and press himself against me, vowing silently never to leave me again?

He obviously wasn't angry with me, or else he wouldn't have hesitated to wake me up and kick me out of his room. In fact, the look on his face led me to believe he was anything but angry.

Alas, it couldn't possibly stay that way. Because after at least five minutes of just laying there, surveying those beautiful features of his, his brow furrowed and I recognized the ensuing signs of a nightmare. His limbs twitched around me, his lips quivering, his eyelids squeezing together.

"Merlin, no. Liam!" he whimpered in his sleep.

I reached up a single hand and brushed back his white-blonde hair, resting my warm hand against his temple. I stroked my thumb back and forth against his cheekbone, realizing my lips were close enough to brush his. It would've been an easy feat, yet I decided now to practice some restraint.

"Draco, shh. It's ok. It's ok, I'm here," I cooed, yet again feeling stupid, as if I were talking to myself.

He settled back into the normal sleep pattern, his features turning to beautiful stone. I unwound myself from his arms, deciding it might be best if I wasn't there when he woke up. I'm not sure if either he or I could handle that. Sex complicates everything, and it would surely complicate this.

I bent over, pressed my lips to his forehead, and swept back his hair for one final look into his sleeping face. Who knows when I would see him next? I wanted to stay, oh Dear Merlin I did, but I knew it would be best for me if I could get over him. Hermione was right. This secret obsession I held for him was quite unhealthy. It would be better to try and push him out of my mind entirely.

I crept towards the door as silently as I could. To sneak out and be caught now would be a waste of the willpower I used to get out of that bed. My hand had just reached the door handle when I heard a groggy moan.

"You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye, now were you?" his voice, laced with sleep, questioned innocently.

I froze, my back going stiff and straight. I sincerely didn't want to turn around and look at that face, or to even make eye contact with him. My resolve would be crushed underneath that smoldering gray glare. I might just jump him in the next thirty seconds if I didn't get out of here soon.

"I think it's best I don't say goodbye, Draco," I spoke softly. "We both know that we need to stop thinking about each other. Leaving without goodbye is probably the best way."

"You know you don't really feel that way, Ginny. Please, come back to bed. Can we talk about this?" his voice was broken and pleading, as if this were the last thing he needed.

"I don't think there's much to talk about, Draco. You and I are two totally different people. We don't belong in the same room, much less the same bed," I reminded him stiffly.

"Don't do this, Ginny, please. I need you now more than ever," his voice was still broken, lowering with each word he spoke until it was a mere whisper.

Finally, I whirled on my heel, just to take a glimpse at the face behind those heart-wrenching words. The calmness of sleep had completely drained, his eyes weary and his mouth set in a tight frown. He looked about ready to cry, if I didn't know better that he wouldn't. He propped his body up on one elbow, his other hand rubbing across his face.

"What happened to you, Draco?" I asked before I could control the words coming out of my mouth.

He didn't answer at first. I took hesitant steps back towards the bed, until my legs hit the edge of the mattress. I got on my knees and plopped down so my heels were digging into my derriere. My hands folded in my lap, though they cried out to touch him. My flesh was itching to touch his, but that restraint I had practiced earlier was back.

He sat up, swinging his body around to sit cross-legged before me. He folded his hands in his lap as well, looking down upon them.

"What happened to you, Draco?" I repeated, more firmly this time.

Then, the waterworks began.

He still had his head bowed, so I didn't realize at first that he was crying. When I saw moisture drip down onto his sweatpants, I sensed something was amiss. Hesitantly, I reached out one hand to take his chin between two fingers. He was as pliable as rag doll, so when I tilted his head back, it felt as if I was pushing air.

His cheeks were streaked with tears and his lashes were brimmed with moisture. His lips were parted, sucking in gasps of breath. Draco Malfoy crying was the single most beautiful and heartbreaking thing I'd ever witnessed in my short sixteen years.

I leapt forward, still on my knees, to grasp him around the neck. I made sure my arms were tight so he had no chance to pull away, even if he wanted to. I pressed my head into his neck, placing a sweet kiss against one of the blue veins. He must've been stressed; I recognized the veins in his neck only made guest appearances when he was put under stress.

He put his arms around my small waist, holding me close to him. It seemed he needed me as much as I needed him. It turned out to be a good deal, after all.

"Draco, please, don't cry," I pleaded. "Oh, I hate seeing you upset."

When I picked my head back up, he pressed his mouth against my shoulder, his hair tickling my neck. I wound my arms underneath his, my hand delving into his hair.

"Draco, where have you been? What happened? Were you hurt, is there something—?" I cut myself off, realizing now was not the time to talk. He would talk when he felt like talking.

So instead, I held him. I held him there for what seemed like an eternity, as he cried into my shoulder. I gently rocked him back and forth, placing kisses against his skin when I felt it was necessary. I wasn't quite sure when he stopped crying, since he didn't outwardly sob like I did. It was silent yet flowing, his tears dampening the strap of my wifebeater.

"Please, Ginny, don't leave me," he whispered against my skin. "Gods, I can't stand to be alone right now."

"I won't leave, I promise. I couldn't leave even if I wanted to."

I retreated, with my arms still around his neck, our noses just centimeters from touching. I looked into his cried-out dark gray eyes, trying to convey all my emotion into one gaze. His lips were still set into that tight frown, but they desperately reached, up searching for my lips. He didn't have to look far; I met him halfway.

This kiss was the most bittersweet thing I'd ever experienced. It seemed Malfoy was taking a lot of the superlatives for today. His lips were gentle against mine, yet somehow urgent, like he couldn't get enough and he would never willingly let go. I complied, pressing myself tighter to him, wondering how I had ever assumed I'd just get over him. You don't get over Draco Malfoy. You push him to the back of your mind, never really forgetting him.

I'd learned that the hard way.

Draco pushed me away, very gently, but holding my face in his large hands. He gazed into my eyes, my heart breaking all over again for that forlorn look on his face. Suddenly, his hands dropped into his lap.

"Gods, Ginny, he's been drunk before, but I never thought he would do something like that."

I was confused at how he could go from crying to kissing to making no sense in no time flat. At first I thought he was talking about Ron or Seamus—the word drunk just made me automatically assume nowadays—but there was such pain in his voice that I realized he wasn't talking about either of them.

"What happened?" I whispered, brushing back his hair, my fingers feathering across the skin on his cheek.

His eyes closed and he leaned into my touch.

"My grandfather died"-and upon seeing the look on my face-"no, no, don't say sorry. I never knew him that well anyways."

"Then…who? What happened?" I questioned, taking one of the hands from his lap and interlacing it with mine.

"My father. He came back from one of his proprietor's meetings, about our estates and all of that junk. I had no clue what was going on, but he was downright angry. He shut himself in his damn study and got himself foxed that night. My mother told me he was mad because all of her inheritance and all her estates were untouchable to him because he was only in the family by marriage. She told me how he only married her because he inheritance was such a great amount that once her father died, my father would be one of the richest wizards alive," Draco spoke softly and methodically, as if he were reciting the story.

"I'm not quite sure I understand…" I trailed off.

"He was angry because all the money he had married my mother for once her father died was not rightly his. It was my mother's. And she refused to put it into an account where they both could access it, because she was using it as money for Liam and I once we grew older. She wanted us both to lead comfortable lives as well, instead of wasting it all now."

I finally understood. "Your mother…she's a smart woman," I whispered.

"Apparently not that smart," he replied, grimacing. "Oh, Gods, Ginny, why couldn't I have stopped him? Why couldn't I…?"

"It's ok, Draco," I murmured, though his story made no sense to me. "Shh."

I pressed his head to my shoulder again, combing my fingers through his hair.

"It was the night of my grandfather's funeral, on Sunday. I was forced to attend, though he'd never liked me that much and we really weren't that close. We came home after the reading of the will, and my mother and father then had to meet with their proprietor about my mother's inheritance. He came home, and—well—you know the rest.

"Then, around ten thirty, he finally comes out of his study, foxed to the gills, in the surliest mood I've ever seen him in. He's got a wand in one hand and a bottle of firewhiskey in the other, shouting out for my whore a mother to get her arse up to his study immediately. I was so stupid, trying to keep her from going. I held her wrist and told her something bad would happen if she went up there. She agreed and refused to go up there. So instead, he took on another unwilling participant.

"Liam was sleeping only a few rooms away."

My heart stopped beating; at least, that's what it felt like. I pulled away to look into Draco's eyes. A fresh round of tears had started, clouding his vision. I pressed my hands to his face, forcing him to look at me.

"Oh, dear Merlin, Draco. What did he do to him?"

He looked away and choked back a sob, his eyes focused on one of his armchairs. I could tell he was purposely not meeting my gaze.

"Of course using magic while intoxicated is illegal, and for due good reasons. I doubt he even realized what he did to his own son. But he did what any drunk bastard of a father would do. He used the cruciatus curse on him. Three times."

If my heart had stopped before, every other function in my body came to a standstill now. I could picture Liam's beautiful gray eyes filled with pain, his cherub face twisted into agony. My heart broke for both Draco and Liam.

"What happened to him? To both of them?"

"Oh, we stopped him, before he did any permanent damage the likes of which Neville's parents have seen," he grimaced again, his voice dark and painful. "We took Liam to St. Mungo's right away. He's still in a coma, and my mum will owl when anything changes, but…let's just say the doctor's don't expect any changes."

"And your father?"

"Once he sobered up, he realized what he did and…he killed himself. Of course he can take torturing innocent human beings, but when it comes to his own son, he finally has a conscience," Draco was angry now, his teeth gritted, his fists clenched. "That monster."

I hesitated this time, before wrapping him into my arms. I held him tight to me, rocking him back and forth, my mouth against his hair. I could still feel his hot tears against my skin, his hands clutching at me, desperate to never let go.

If I were him, I wouldn't want to let go, either. After having almost everything you knew ripped away from you, letting go must be the most difficult thing to do.

"Thank Merlin I had Blaise with me, or I might've gone crazy. But Ginny, I found there were nights when I was wishing it was you I had by my side instead. I needed you, Ginny, to be there for me."

I had my hand wound into his hair, cradling his head against me.

"I'm here for you, Draco. No matter what, I'm here for you. I'll never leave you."

"Never?" he asked, sounding like a lost, scared little child.

"As long as you need me, I'll be here." I pressed my lips against his hair again. "I promise."

And we sat like that for who knows how long, reveling in each other's company. My heart broke to see him in such a condition, but it soon repaired itself knowing that he needed me just as much as I needed him.

HP