A/N: Wow! So happy with the results of Sleep Don't Weep! Some of you (all of you that commented) thought that it was abit rushed. I totally understand. I meant to make the writing style choppy, but the end kind of left you feeling unfinished. It was quite early in the morning...and I don't have Microsoft Office yet on my new laptop so Notepad is extraordinarily annoying to write stories with, and the song I based it on and listened to the whole time I wrote it is fast paced. Maybe all these things contributed to why it feels so unfinished? Anyways. Because you all enjoyed it, here is another one in the same spirit. But different, and hopefully it doesn't leave you with that unresolved or sloppy feeling.

This is also based on a song, and I listened to it repetitively while writing. "To Build A Home" by The Cinematic Orchestra, and a shorter, different version called "That Home" by the same band.

Draco Malfoy didn't fit anywhere anymore. The Death Eater days were over, his father controlled nothing but his Azkaban cell, his mother was no longer a socialite, and he wasn't wealthy anymore. Everything he had ever once naively believed in had turned out completely and utterly wrong. He had nothing. All he had was time to reflect on the terrible things he had been forced to do over the course of the war. The terrible things he had seen, had smelt, had been a part of. No matter how he tried to repress it, it was always bubbling on the surface of his mind. While he drank tea and watched the children play outside he would be reminded of when the Dark Lord had killed a group of innocent children because they had been playing in the wrong field at night. And then suddenly he would be doubled over the toilet having his breakfast wrenched from his gut.

But that was right after the war. Now he managed to escape this part of his mind constantly. Luckily for him his reputation as a sex god hadn't been tarnished by the war, so he spent every night with a woman. Sometimes it was the same one more than once, some weeks he might have several different woman in a day. He was constantly searching, trying to find that feeling of safety he had known as a child. His childhood experience with it had been warped, and maybe finding it through sex was warped, but he knew no other way, and he needed the intimate physical contact. Sometimes he thought he had it. It would be one intimate moment during sex, one kiss, and he would be ecstatic, thinking he had finally had that eureka moment. But he would wake up the next morning holding her and he would feel colder and emptier than before.

Then he met her. She was absolutely beautiful. She took his breath away. He was addicted. And he'd never seen it coming.

He'd known that girls handed out his phone number often to one another. "Oh, you need a good lay? Here's Draco's number." He never complained, just another way for him to meet that special one, and he wouldn't have to put himself through the hell of going to bars and clubs where he had to pretend to be young and carefree and horny. But he never counted on her getting his number, or callling him, or-and most definitely he had not expected this-her actually showing up to his place. But Hermione Granger did all of those things and shocked the hell out of him.

"Granger," he said as he opened the door, surprise tingeing his voice.

"Don't sound so surprised, we talked on the phone and decided on this time." She brushed past him with her usual brisk manner. "And don't call me Granger. If we're going to be sleeping together, Draco, we should use first names."

He chuckled and murmured his consent. He certainly had never pictured Hermione Granger as one who was open, honest, and direct with business of a sexual nature. But she was like that with everything else, so it must come naturally to her to be so annoying with this too. He chuckled softly to himself again as he imagined a young Hermione trying to order other students into doing her sexual favors, and then oddly found himself a little turned on by it.

She immediately began stripping her clothing and Draco let her, staring at her without moving.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" She asked him when she had gotten down to her knickers and realized he hadn't moved yet.

"Well, Hermione," he said, rolling his tongue around the newness of her name, "I'm not a whore, so typically I'd treat this more like a date." She blushed slightly. It was adorable.

"Care for some wine?" He called as he headed for the kitchen.

"Sure," she called back.

He heard some rustling around in the other room and realized she was probably trying to redress herself, which was unnecessary and would only get in the way later.

"There's a robe hanging in the bedroom, if you'd like." He told her as he walked back in to find her struggling with her clothing.

She blushed again and dashed to get the robe. That was the last time she blushed in front of him.

At first they lounged on the couch, talking about what they were up to, their likes and dislikes, odd memories. He found out that she hadn't had time for dating with her job and friends keeping her constantly occupied. Draco let her do most of the talking, he tried to stay away from his past now, but he enjoyed viewing his school days from Hermione's point of view. They seemed so blissful, so unblemished by the scars he was plagued with. It lifted him, gave him a lightness he'd never expected. Soon an empty bottle of wine sat on the table in front of them, and though they hadn't run out of things to say, they were silent and sitting closer to each other than when they had started.

Hermione pulled the tie of his robe and let it fall open, giving him a pleasant view of her chest as he realized she had done more undressing in his room and had been completely naked under his robe the entire time they'd talked.

"Is it alright for me to strip now, then?" She whispered to him.

And then he was kissing her, and they were holding on to each other and neither of them ever wanted it to end.

And for awhile, it was pure bliss. Hermione came over every day, and then every night. They would wake up and make breakfast together, if they made it out of bed. They would at least try to make dinner every night, though sometimes they couldn't keep their hands off one another long enough to not burn it. Draco worshiped Hermione, and Hermione adored Draco. They didn't tell anyone. Draco just stopped accepting phone calls from the female half of the wizarding population, and Hermione allowed her friends to think work had dragged her away, and work to think her friends dragged her away. Draco opened up, slightly. He didn't want her to see how dark and twisted he really was on the inside, mostly because when he was with her he wasn't dark and twisted. He felt safe, and the happiest he'd ever been. What good was it to talk about something he'd all but erased from himself? It was something he would get rid of within himself, so he didn't show her. Hermione never pushed for it, either, and for that he loved her even more.

One morning during some post-coital cuddling, Hermione was trailing her fingers up and down Draco's arms when he asked her.

"Why don't you move in with me?"

She laughed, not unkindly. "You know why not."

"I don't think I do."

She turned to look at him. "Well, what if Harry or Ron came looking for me?"

He snorted at this. "Hermione, you're never home anyways. You'd be just as lost to them then as you are now. Besides, practically everything you own is here anyways."

She glared at him. "You know what I mean. If I gave up my apartment, they'd demand an address. And them showing up here and finding you, well, that's unthinkable."

He rolled onto his back, away from her. "Yes, right. It's unthinkable for people to know why you're so happy all the time. Forgive me, I'd forgotten I was your dirty little secret."

"Don't," she said as she scooted closer to him. "Don't be like that. You haven't told anyone about me, either."

He looked at her pointedly. "I don't have anyone to tell."

"Would you tell anyone if you did?"

"Yes," he answered immediately, "I would tell the whole world why I'm so happy. I would shout it from the top steps of Gringott's, I'd put an ad in the Daily Prophet, I'd tell every gossip monger in Hogwarts, I'd-"

"Oh, shut up," she interrupted him angrily and rolled away getting up to go get ready for work.

He followed her, annoyed. "Well, why not? What's so wrong with that?"

"You know perfectly well why not. It would be a complete scandal."

"Oh-ho! Far be it from me to involve The Great Hermione Granger in a scandal with the likes of me!"

She paused in brushing her hair. "Stop it, you're acting like such a child."

He growled and grabbed her wrist, "Don't call me a child."

And then his lips were on hers and before she knew it Hermione ended up being quite late for work.

Then for a few more weeks it was happiness still. They told no one, and sometimes Draco would push her to, but they never fought long and he never won and so they still told no one. Draco wondered how Hermione could bear keeping a secret so huge from the friends she obviously held so close to her heart, but she seemed content with the double life. Eventually she had to stop coming over so often, she had to keep her job and see her friends to keep up appearances, but she always came to Draco at the end of her busy nights, and always woke in the mornings wrapped in his arms.

One night she apparated back to his place later than usual, and Draco was practically sick with worry. Usually when she was late she owled to let him know, but she hadn't this time. When she finally showed up she smelled like fire whiskey and though she was dressed up rather nicely, she looked like she'd been through hell. Her eyes were bright but her hair and dress were disheveled.

"Where have you been?"

"Oh, Draco, darling!" She threw herself at him, alternating her kisses between his mouth and neck. "I was just at this boring Ministry party, I'd completely forgotten I'd promised to go months ago and Harry showed up to take me so I had to run home and get ready and I...Draco, what's wrong? You're so tense."

"You smell like another man."

"Well, I danced with several men, Draco. It's expected. No one knows we're together so I-"

His voice grew louder. "You taste like another man, Hermione!"

She drew back slightly from him, "I told you, no one knows we're together, I can't tell people I'm taken. Everyone was tipsy, some people made passes at me, it was nothing, I-"

"Don't lie to me," he growled.

"Well, alright, but it's nothing, Seamus kissed me, but I told him I wasn't interested and-"

"He kissed you?" He said quietly, eyeballing her disheveled state of dress. "He just kissed you?"

"Well, he did a bit more, but I stopped him, I-"

He threw her off his lap in disgust. "I can't believe you!"

He paced back and forth for a minute before coming back and pulling her up towards him, kissing her roughly. "You. Are. Mine." He growled before sweeping her off her feet in order to carry her to the bedroom where he threw her down on the bed. "You are mine, and I will make sure you never forget that."

And though for the next few days things returned to normal, Draco began to feel emptier inside. Not as light, not as warm, not as safe as he had before. She had broken his tenuous trust.

Later that week, he came home early. He needed time to think.
It was true, what Hermione had done was wrong, and she had apologized relentlessly for what had happened and how she hadn't told him upfront about it. But it hadn't helped him, and on her part he could tell the huge secret Hermione was carrying around was finally starting to burden her. And as for himself, if every time they got into a fight he avoided talking it out by immediately demanding sex, maybe this wasn't right for him. But he was unwilling to give up that feeling he had found with her. He had searched for years for it, and had finally grasped it. Though it was now slipping from his fingers, he didn't want to relinquish it, he wanted to suck every last drop until it was bone dry and had nothing left to give him.

But as the days wore on, it seemed he had overestimated how much was left for him. The feeling dwindled quickly until within a week it was nothing. Until he woke up on the opposite side of the bed from her, shivering, nightmares plaguing his sleep like they had before. And he knew it was time to leave, and though a part of him turned to ash on the inside at the very thought of leaving Hermione, he knew it was just the feeling of home that would be missed, not the woman.

The next morning he woke and sat up, waiting for Hermione to wake. When she finally did, she yawned and stretched, and finally turned to look at him.

"That's it, then?" She asked him.

He nodded. "It's just not..."

"Not the same." She supplied.

He nodded again. A single tear ran down his face and she reached up and brushed it away for him before giving him a watery smile of her own.

"It was good, though." And she got up and gathered her things. By the time she had finished packing and getting dressed, Draco had already showered and made tea.

They sat at the kitchen table silently sipping their tea, watching the children on the playground below them. And then Hermione gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and she was gone.

He sat watching the children a little longer, fighting the nausea.

He shook his head and looked around. Maybe a change of scenery would do him good. Maybe a new city, with new women, with more chances. Maybe he would finally find that home he searched for, or maybe he was destined to forever be alone, paying for the sins of his youth and the sins of his family.

I found this on a site for lyrics and I was completely struck by it. It gave me a much more structured picture of what I wanted to write.
"...for me this song is about a guy who's carrying the scars of his past... he's always moving forward.. escaping his past... looking for a place to start his own life... and if it's possible... starting it with "that other" person...so then he finds a place and he starts building up a life.. but then something goes wrong.. he can't settle down... so he realises, he has to move on.. again searching.. "