A/n- Yes, I know I should be doing more important things. No, I can't help it.

Disclaimer: I don't own HP. Unfortunately.

Summary: After the War. This assumes that Draco Malfoy had been working with Harry Potter and the 'Light' side the entire time, so it disregards the end of HBP and DH.

Element of Warmth

His hand wrapped around the crystal knob of the decanter first, swinging it round to crash against the wall. It shattered instantly, breaking into a thousand shards of watery light, rebounding back against the floor to sparkle like blood amongst the rare Oriental.

He wasn't sure if he was yelling yet; if he were screaming. There was a voice, perhaps his own, rebounding off the walls, but his vision had gone blurry and everything was muted save the pounding of blood in his ears.

One. Two. Three.

The paperweight on the desk and the mirror against the wall and the windows all shattered.

He didn't need his wand to do it.

He didn't want his wand.

The bulbs in the chandelier popped like balloons in their brackets on their own accord, and the rest of the electricity in the house surged and wavered, making all the lights dim and burn bright

Outside the Study, Hermione sat upon the Manor's stair landing, knees pulled up to her chest. Above her, the lights went dark for a moment before coming back on.

She heard him roar and her stomach churned.

From somewhere down the hall, a little red streak came rushing up, her hair bobbing.

"What's happening?" Ginny gasped, a hand on her heart. "I was just in the Library and-" Another volley of something smashing into other things erupted from the room in front of them. "Is he alright?"

Hermione put a hand over her mouth, sniffing in, "I don't think so. It was a letter from the Ministry."

Ginny's mouth formed a round 'oh'. "Should we… should we do something?"

Hermione winced, "I suppose I could go in…"

"Was the letter about… his father?"

Silently, Hermione nodded. "He loved his father."

Ginny snorted, going to stand closer to the Study door than Hermione even dared to. "Lucius was a bastard." She pressed her ear to the frame. "But… it must be hard." A glance back at the girl on the stairs, "Do you know what happened?"

Hermione shook her head.

Before they could speak again an abrupt yell issued again from the enclosed room, but the voice that projected it broke, sounding pained.

Ginny backed away and Hermione came round to the door.

"You go back to the Library," she comforted, "I'll see to this."

The redhead nodded and backed away as Hermione slowly inched the door open and slipped inside.

Draco was leaning against the desk, his hands on the wood and his back to the door. Glass was everywhere. The windows were cracked and a many number of expensive items were missing… destroyed.

Hermione tipped her wand and the glass leapt back into their panes. Another flick and the colorful paperweight was slowly regenerating itself.

"Don't."

She paused.

His voice was cracked, low and rough because of his yelling.

"Draco…"

"Go away."

"No." She saw him stiffen, but she threw her shoulders back with confidence. "I won't." Her arms stretched to caress his back, feeling his shoulder blades, wrapping around his torso.

From her view, Hermione could see a crumpled piece of parchment upon the table.

"He's dead," Malfoy spat, as if he were reading her thoughts. "Bastard got himself bloody killed."

"I'm sorry."

He scoffed, taking a shaking hand and running it through his hair, still not turning to her. "They found him… in a bloody fucking cave and he fought them." A bubble of laughter spilled from his lips. "He's was a sodding wreck and he thought he could fight Aurors. They killed him. They fucking killed him. Idiot. Bloody idiot."

A pause.

A sob.

"Not even enough left of him to fit in a fucking matchbox, oh God."

He was shaking.

Grasping his shoulder, which was quite a stretch for her, Hermione was able to pry Draco off the table, slowly turning him around. He practically collapsed into her arms, holding her close to him, his head buried in the crook of her neck.

"Shh," She whispered, running a hand down his back to soothe him. "It's alright." He was shaking and trying not to make a sound but his grief was so tangible, it made her heart ache.

Silence persisted for a moment, in which the tension in Draco's shoulders ebbed, washing out of him in a wave and a rush of breath on her neck that made Hermione's skin prickle.

Another long stillness, where air was steadily drawn into lungs. He calmed a bit more.

His arms snaked down from around her upper body to her hips.

"Mmm, Hermione," he murmured against her skin, voice breaking, lips barely skimming the words, "You're… warm." His grip on her tightened, he sniffed in the remnants of tears. A pause. A small scoff. "I've made a mess of things, haven't I?"

"Draco," she huffed a small laugh, "you always make a mess of things." Her hand went to smooth out the strands of his hair. "Your father wouldn't want you to be like this."

Pulling away from her, turning away before she could get a good look, Malfoy crunched over the broken glass to the shattered mirror, remnants of the decanter's contents stained the wall there. "This was his private room, did you know?"

Hermione sat back against the desk, folded her arms, and said nothing.

"I was hardly ever let in here when I was a boy," Draco continued. "It never changed, this room. Even when I came back after the War, it never changed."

Hermione remembered the first time Draco had returned to the Malfoy Manor. He'd been absent for nearly two years, since that night he had joined the Order to the time after Voldemort was defeated. She and Harry had been with him, along with a group from the Ministry. They had found Narsissa alone by the fire, her husband gone.

Draco had been given everything, and his mother had been sent far, far away in lieu of Azkaban.

The Lord of the Manor, he was now… unwilling so.

"Draco…"

"I don't want this."

"I know."

"I don't want any of it."

She knew his thoughts. "You're nothing like Lucius," Hermione said matter-of-factly. She could see Malfoy's shattered reflection looking back at her, his grey eyes narrowed, as if thinking. "You're not," She said again. "You're brave and moral and- and kind, Draco. You are ten times the man your father was, and this is your study. This is your home. Make your life the kind your father was afraid to have. He would expect that of you; would want that of you. He knew you were good, Draco."

He finally looked away, bending to pick up a particularly large chunk of glass, turning it over in his hands.

Slowly, very slowly, he spoke. "Do you… think it can be different?"

Hermione came away from the desk. "The War is over. Everything is different. You are different."

The glass was set back down onto the floor and Malfoy stood, turning to the girl. A few steps and he closed the small distance. Delicately, he traced his fingers down the side of her face, pausing at the junction of her lips. Leaning in, he pressed his own onto her waiting mouth. In turn, Hermione clutched at him, drawing him to her, pressing his lithe body against her curves.

He was rough, forcing her lips to part, widening her mouth with his. Hermione felt as if he were searching for something inside her. Release. Ease.

They needed air; Malfoy wrenched himself from her, panting, looking utterly spent.

Hermione sighed against him. "Will you let me clean up, now? The glass?"

His golden head bobbed briefly, never breaking eye contact. "You amaze me," he whispered swiftly before he let her go, "and I love you."

Her lips broke into a small smile, and she stroked his arm, "I love you, too…. It'll be all right. I promise."

Fin

A/n- just the briefest idea I had to write.

When I say 'that night he joined the Order' I mean atop the Tower when Snape killed Dumbledore. I'm changing it around to where Draco accepted the Headmaster's offer of protection

Anyway, please review!