Author's Note: This is a little plot bunny that bit me on the nose and wouldn't go away while I was working on something else. It stands well on its own, but I may choose to expand on it someday. If I do, the rating will probably change. Please read and review!

This chapter was updated 5/17/13.

"Granger!" The voice echoed across the grounds, travelling with the wind to the edge of the lake. In the distance, the Forbidden Forest was on fire with color – the leaves orange, yellow and red – but Draco knew it would only last for a few days. Fall in Scotland never lasted more than a week. He walked quietly, his footsteps cushioned by the thick grass covering the ground. The hair of the Gryffindor eighth year blew around her face, an unmanageable cloud of dark brown waves, covering eyes that stared blankly over the choppy surface of the water. He stopped ten feet from her, close enough that he knew she was aware of his presence, but far enough away if she decided she didn't want him around. She threw a mean jinx when properly motivated.

Her arms came up to grip her elbows, and she hugged herself as she took a deep breath. He could see her shoulders drawn tight against herself, but they had not started to shake just yet. He knew she was thinking about them. Those "friends" that had chosen to not return to school after the war. They were no doubt off somewhere with the Aurors, tracking down the Death Eaters who had evaded capture after the Final Battle. They had known the danger, and they had encouraged Hermione to continue her schooling instead of following them. She had hoped that coming back would've convinced them to come with her, back to the safety of Hogwarts, but they were just as stubborn as she was. They had deserted her, and she had to deal with the remnants of war on her own.

"Granger?" His voice was only just audible over the wind. She didn't react, continuing to stare over the lake. Cautiously, he approached her, standing just to her side and directing his own gaze over the water.

"What do you want, Draco?" she asked, her voice shaking as if she was on the verge of tears. "I'm tired. I don't want to deal with you right now."

He noticed her wand was gripped against her arm. She rarely put it down anymore, always ready for anything that might come her way, even though there hadn't been anything to worry about since the Final Battle.

"McGonagall sent me to check on you," he lied.

"I can take care of myself."

"I know that. Maybe you don't have to."

Her eyes moved briefly. Draco continued to stare at the inky blackness of the water.

"There's supposed to be tiramisu tonight. Fancy going to dinner?" He tried to sound casual, but he knew she was already suspicious of him. Their interactions so far had consisted of "pass the salt" and "can I borrow your Arithmancy notes." Rumors had been going around the school that the two eighth years had become friends, but Draco thought of it more as a mutually beneficial acquaintance. Younger students wouldn't approach them in the library when they were at the same table, and the other eighth years wouldn't bother them with stupid questions at dinner if they sat next to each other. Draco had counted his lucky stars when McGonagall had announced the eighth years would no longer be divided into their houses – he wanted to distance himself from the Slytherins as much as he could. Lucky again, he and Blaise were the only ones to return for eighth year.

"I'm not hungry," she said, "but thanks."

Draco nodded, but didn't move to leave her. They were rarely apart during the day, having all the same classes and the same homework. On the few occasions they had actual conversations, it was usually on the application of some archaic magical theory – it was also the only time he saw her alive, when she argued. She would eat, sleep, and breathe, of course, but her eyes were dead, as though the life had been sucked out of her. The passion and conviction she had possessed the first six years Draco had known her was gone, and it pained him to admit that he missed it.

He didn't know how they started spending so much time together, but it seemed that she simply desired company that wouldn't ask her to talk about her time travelling with the two morons she called friends. He couldn't bring himself to care about what they had gone through while traipsing through the English countryside, and she certainly didn't want to hear about his ordeals of sharing a bathroom with Voldemort. Their interaction was easy. Safe. No one expected anything.

"You don't have to babysit me."

"I know."

The only sound was the wind ripping through the trees. The sun dipped below the horizon. Hermione shivered.

"Let's go nick some food from the kitchen and sneak it into the library. We've got that Potions essay due tomorrow." Again, his tone was casual.

"I finished it last week."

"Then you can help me."

She sighed heavily and turned to face him. The wind had brought color to her pale cheeks, now blotchy red from the oncoming cold. "Can't you take a hint? I just want to be alone right now. I don't want food, I don't want to go to the library, and I don't want to help you with your essay! Why can't you just leave me alone?" An angry tear fell from the corner of her eye, slicing a wet trail down her cheek before dripping off her chin. "We are not friends, Malfoy. You don't care about me, so stop trying to trick me into thinking otherwise. There is nothing for you to fix here, not that you'd be capable of that anyway."

He didn't move under her onslaught, but simply stared across the lake, maintaining a blank look. When she had finished and was breathing heavily, refusing to wipe away the other tears that had joined the first, he turned just his head and met her eyes. "Feel better?"

"I don't feel anything!" she shouted. "I can't! Harry and Ron don't talk to me anymore. My parents won't even look at me. I can't sleep without my wand under my pillow because it feels like something will get me if I drop my guard for a second. I've stopped caring about everything because I'm afraid it will leave me, or break, or die. I feel empty. I am empty." Her voice broke and she crumpled, her knees sinking into the soft grass. Her small frame shook as she sobbed silently.

Draco settled himself onto the cold ground, facing the broken girl. He didn't remember the moment he had started to care for her, but he knew that he missed her fire. Slowly reaching his hand towards her, he let the tips of his fingers rest lightly on her shoulder. When she leaned towards him, he gathered her to him without a second thought, one arm wrapped around her shoulders and another across the small of her back as she cried into his chest. She sat awkwardly in his lap, but he didn't dare move her to a more comfortable position.

Her fingers clutched at the front of his jumper, digging painfully into his chest. Her wand lay forgotten on the ground, and it shocked Draco more than it should. The idea that she might actually trust someone – trust him – enough to let down her defences was the first hint that she might not be as empty as she claimed. As she quieted, she shifted in his arms, her own snaking around to return his embrace. Time passed unobserved as they sat at the edge of the lake, the grounds growing dark around them.

Draco's stomach grumbled loudly, and Hermione hiccuped a laugh. She tucked her face into his shoulder.

"Can we nick some food now?" he muttered, not bothering to remove his arms. "I bet the house elves would've made extra."

She nodded against his chest, pulling back to face him. Hermione dropped her arms first, grabbing for her wand behind her and standing. When Draco rose up beside her, she grabbed his wrist, keeping him from moving towards the castle immediately. She stood on her toes and placed a dry kiss on his cheek before releasing him altogether. He bit back a grin and the urge to pull her back towards him.

"You said tiramisu, right?" she asked, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over them as they walked.

"Yeah, and if there's none left because you refused to come to dinner, you're helping me with that essay."

She scoffed. "If you wanted it so badly, you could've left me out here to freeze. And you know I'll be helping you with that essay regardless."

"Which is why I didn't leave you to freeze, Granger."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, catching sight of the small smile that had formed on her lips. "Whatever you say, Malfoy," she replied.

Author's note: Thoughts? Feelings? I'm still not 100% happy with it, but since I have no idea where I'm taking it, I'm not sure how to fix it yet. Constructive criticism is welcome!