Insomnia

Draco watched Hermione as she took a deep draught of wine to steady herself. Her was very white, and she was nervously playing with a strand of her hair. Feeling guilty for pushing her, he sighed.

"You don't have to go on, you know. If you don't want to."

She shook her head, and took a breath. "It's okay. I - I want to tell you. I haven't told anyone, you know. Everyone was either so sympathetic, like my mum, or trapped in their own grief, like Ginny and Harry. And those counsellors didn't know Ron, didn't know me. And I felt that they didn't deserve to hear the story, because they wouldn't understand."

Draco, touched by the implied sentiments, smiled.

"Would you like me to tell you what happened to me that night?"

She chewed her lip, considering. "I would like to finish. I just want to - you know, get it off my chest."

"Of course. I didn't mean to -"

"You weren't." She smiled at him, a smile so brief he almost missed the sheer beauty of it, the corners of her mouth turning up like wings, and he suddenly felt very guilty for thinking about Hermione like that when she was telling him how her lover had died.

She interrupted his little guilt-fest, her eyes fixed on an unseen point once more.

"We Apparated just outside the warehouse, just Ron and I. The rain was coming down hard by them, but we could still hear screams and curses being thrown from where other Aurors had arrived, although we were clear. Ron cast Maleficum Detecto, and for a second, it was too hard to look at it. All those little red dots, and the blue ones, and you'd hear a scream and one of the dots would disappear. Sometimes the dot was blue, and it's the weirdest feeling to know that someone you work with has just died. And then I noticed the spot just behind us on the map. It was this huge, pulsing thing, so red that parts of it were almost black. Right behind us. We'd been so busy looking for our friends that we hadn't seen it at first."

Her hand reached over to grip Draco's, and he held it tight.

"And I knew what it was. The same way I always knew there was something different about me when I was a kid. But this was like my stomach had turned to lead, and I just cast the distress flare into the sky, and turned around, and we saw him."

"Harry had never told us what it was like. His eyes were exactly like the light on the map - the colour of congealed blood and so dead. It was just him, and for a second I just felt this contempt for him, he'd left his minions to do the fighting and he'd slipped out the back, like a coward. Ron told me to run, and that's when he did it. He just cast Petrificus Totalas on me, and there wasn't anything I could do except watch. Ron looked so angry. I'd seen him angry a million times before, angry with you, angry about Snape, but I'd neevr seen that desperate fury in his eyes before. For a moment, he looked nothing like himself, and yet more like himself than I'd ever seen him, and he raised his wand, and then Voldemort crucioed him, and he collapsed, screaming and I just wanted to die. I've been under the Cruciatus before, but it didn't hurt as much as when I saw Ron under it. And Voldemort did it again and again, and there was nothing I could do. The map was still up, and I could see all these blue dots getting closer.

Ron stopped screaming, and I looked at him, and he was on the ground, and he just said my name, as if it would save him, and there was that flash of green light, and he was just gone."

Hermione turned to Draco and buried her face in his shoulder, crying uncontrollably, and talking through her tears.

"And then everyone arrived, and someone got Voldemort, and released me, and I just held him and tried to bring him back, and I couldn't. I couldn't do anything. I loved him, and I couldn't save him."

Draco held Hermione tightly, stroking her hair. "Shh. It wasn't your fault." He rocked her back and forth, waiting for her sobs to subside. Eventually, she looked at him, her pretty face streaked with tears.

"Would you like to sit on the couch?"

She nodded, and he stood and offered her his hand. They walked over to the chesterfield, and sat upon it. Hermione sat quite close to him, unwilling to part from the physical contact she needed right now.

"It was a terrible night. Do you remember the day after, when everyone was celebrating? I remember hating everyone for it so much. They were so happy, and I wanted to die."

Draco nodded. "I just felt numb." He laughed. "Hell, I still do."

"Would you tell me what happened?"

"Of course." He shifted slightly, and his movements caused Hermione to rest her head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes at the sensation. He hadn't had so much contact in years.

"I recieved an owl that afternoon from my father, asking me to meet him at the Manor. I took it to Dumbledore, and we talked about it for about an hour, whether I shoud go or not. I wanted to, because Lucius had asked me to come alone, and he had a sort of honour about things like that. He wouldn't trap me, because that would lack class."

Hermione snorted, interrupting him, and he smiled, understanding. "I know. It's silly. Being a Death Eater and killing helpless people in their houses, but refusing to set a trap to kill your son. Most of the Inner Circle Death Eaters were like that. Probably from all the inbreeding that went on." He smiled softly. "Do you know that my mother was the first wife a Malfoy had taken in over three hundred years who wasn't somehow a blood relative?"

"Well, that explains a lot about you." She grinned up at him from her space on his chest.

"Shut up, you. I'm trying to tell a story."

"Sorry." She sobered.

"I arrived, and one of the house-elves greeted me." He smiled fondly. "It was Tippy, she'd always been my favourite when I was a kid, and she was just so happy to see me. The butler and the rest of the servants were either too angry or to scared to come anywhere near me. Tippy took me up to my father's study, and I went in."

"Lucius was sitting in the big armchair I'd never been allowed to sit in as a child, and he stood up when I entered. He shook my hand, and spoke to me as if everything was normal. It was really strange, actually. Eventually, after all the small talk, I asked him what he wanted.

"He waved his want and muttered something, and the bookshelf next to me slid away, and I knew. That was the fencing room, the room he and I would train in when I was on holiday. I knew what he wanted, and I followed him in there.

"Silently and purposefully, he handed me the light foil he'd given me for my sixteenth birthday, and we saluted and turned around.

"It was surreal, fighting him. It was exactly like when I was a child - I was never allowed to wear protective clothing then - but I knew that at the end, he wouldn't pour us brandy and discuss where I had gone wrong. I'd never beaten him, and he knew it. It was a queer gesture from him, that although he had clearly been ordered to kill me, that he was being so - fair, and sporting and fatherly. If nothing else, my father was a gentleman."

"I don't think Lucius knew that I'd kept fencing, with Snape after I defected. My father always beat me when I was a child, because he'd taught me everything. Snape's style was different."

He sucked in his breath. "Does it sound strange that I felt guilty that I knew I could beat him, and I didn't tell him?"

Hermione shook her head, and reached up to stroke his face. "No. Now who's the one with the honour complex?"

Draco shrugged. "I beat him. When I was sixteen, he was taller, and more skillful, but I was 25 and I'd been training with Snape, who was far more skilled than my father. At least I got him cleanly."

He bit his lip thoughtfully. "You know, as he died, he congratulated me. Without any trace of bitterness. He thanked me for a good match, congratulated me, and said he was proud of me. And then he died." Draco smiled sadly. "I think that if Voldemort had been around, Lucius would have been a very great man. And a good father."

Hermione laid her head on his shoulder, and he rested his head on hers.

"Thank you for telling me."

"That's okay. I just - I didn't want to be the only person who knew that Lucius wasn't just evil. Power-hungry, yes, but not evil."

"I think there were very few truly evil people in league with Voldemort. Scared, stupid, or looking for power. But Voldemort was the only really evil one."

Draco nodded. "Can you imagine if people heard us talk? We'd be in Azkaban like that."

Hermione laughed. "No. I think Dumbledore knows."

They sat in contemplative silence for a while. Draco felt very calm, and Hermione felt relieved. After a while, the gnawing feeling in Draco's stomach could no longer be ignored.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Would you like to eat now?"