Insomnia

between the bars

drink up, baby, stay up all night

the things you could do, you won't but you might

the potential you'll be that you'll never see

the promises you'll only make

drink up with me now and forget all about the pressure of days

do what I say and I'll make you okay and drive them away

the images stuck in your head

people you've been before that you don't want around anymore

that push and shove and won't bend to your will

I'll keep them still

drink up, baby, look at the stars, I'll kiss you again

between the bars where I'm seeing you

there with your hands in the air waiting to finally be caught

He watched as the woman at the bar downed one drink after another. She was becoming a familiar sight in the Leaky Cauldron. Every few nights she'd walk in at some ungodly hour, pull up a bar stool and quietly drink herself to sleep, at which point one of the bartenders would call the Knight Bus for her.

Of course, the Knight Bus and the Ministry of Magic had an agreement that Hermione Granger was to be looked after and left alone.

He knew about her pain. Hell, everyone in the wizarding world knew what had happened three years ago, but he understood. That's why Aurors got so many government perks - the sacrifices they had to make and the things they went through pretty much destroyed their lives afterwards. And there wasn't a single Auror who hadn't lost something huge in the final battles against the Death Eaters.

Take him, for example.

Recently, he'd taken to watching Hermione when she came in here. The wall she'd put up around herself was almost visible. In fact, if he didn't know better, he'd say she'd cast a spell to make people leave her alone. It wasn't true, of course. People could just sense the waves of hurt and misery that emanated from her and they unconsciously avoided going near the woman huddled over her drink.

It had been going on for months now. And nobody said anything. Old Hogwarts graduates, former Aurors - they'd sometimes be in there, and they'd recognise their old colleague. And none of them had the balls to talk to her.

Inspired by a sudden urge to comfort her, he stood up and walked over to the bar.

Hermione sensed the man in the black cloak standing behind her, and wasn't surprised when he spoke.

"Hello. Would you like some company?"

Hermione lifted her left hand so that he could see the two platinum rings, the one with the small garnet and the plain band.

"Sorry, mate. I'm married."

His reply was soft and painfully sympathetic. "We both know that's not exactly true, Granger."

Hermione raised her head to look at the source of the oddly familiar voice. The man lifted the hood off the cloak off his face, revealing blond hair and a thin pale visage. He gave her a weary smile. Hermione stared.

"Draco?"