Disclaimer: Who owns Harry Potter? Not me.

Draco

Draco was trying to sleep. Trying, and failing to sleep. Hermione was tossing and turning in her bed, and it was horribly distracting.

"Can you stop moving around?" he snapped irritably.

"Sorry." she replied meekly. "I just... can't find a comfortable spot. The mattress is so hard."

He sighed. "Have you tried cushioning charms?"

"No." she shifted some more and murmured some spells under her breath, seeming to cast the spells he'd suggested.

"Draco?" her voice suddenly rang out, sounding panicky.

"What?" he spoke back, his eyes wide open in the darkness.

"Nothing. Just checking that you're still there. You're so quiet."

Silence ensued.

"Draco." she called again.

"Hmm?"

"There's something I need to tell you. Remember when I... gave you that blood transfusion?" she said timidly.

He shifted in his bed so that he was facing the direction her voice came from in the dark room. If he squinted a little he could make out a small lump on the bed on the opposite side of the room. To be honest he was a little unnerved. He wasn't used to Hermione being so shy and so... vulnerable around him. It made him feel odd.

"Yeah." he replied quietly.

"We... kind of share more than blood now. I think we share magical power as well."

Draco sat up with a jolt. "Wait, what?"

She sat up in her bed too. "I felt it when you tried to wandlessly unlock the cabinets in my flat."

"Ah, that." he chuckled a little sheepishly before his head snapped up with shock. "Wait, you know about that?"

"Yes. It was like a tug. I feel it when you use magic."

"But I... I don't." he swung his feet down to touch the cold floor, his heart thumping a quick, panicked rhythm in his throat. "I don't feel yours."

He let out a helpless, humourless laugh. Merlin, what was wrong with him? Why did everything feel so out of place? Why did he feel so out of place?

Hermione stared thoughtfully at him. "It's not because you have a problem, you know. I think... I think it's because we project our magic differently."

"What do you mean?" he croaked out, desperate, dangerous hope hammering against his heart.

"I tend to keep my magic inside of me, because of my Muggle upbringing. When I was younger I used to have these... magical outbursts. My magic would flow around, moving things and breaking things. It scared my parents and people around me. Eventually I learned to lock it inside of me. It's like... a core. I wrapped the threads of my magic around each other and wove it into a thick rope, then wound it into a coil, and finally into a ball of pulsating energy. I shoved it deep, deep inside me, until none of it leaked anymore. So I could live as a Muggle. When I entered the WIzarding World, I had to learn to unlock it again."

She paused, looking down at her clenched fists.

"But it didn't feel safe. It scared me to let it loose. So I learned to only let out minimal strands of magic at a time, only as much as I needed for each spell. It was why I focused so much on magical theory my first two years at Hogwarts. I couldn't do powerful spells because I wasn't letting out enough energy to power them. It took me a long time to figure out a balance."

She looked up at him again.

"It's different for you. You were raised in a magical environment. Your magic flows around you, interacting with your surroundings and the elements. It reacts for you, moves and surges dynamically with your emotions and desires. In other words, you 'share' your magic more."

"That's why you can feel my magic and I can't." he finished for her, realization dawning upon him in waves of relief, and strangely, spikes of heartache.

He imagined a tiny girl with bushy hair painstakingly hiding her magic from the world, burying it deeper and deeper within her so she could fit in. It must have been so lonely for her, he found himself thinking. She was right. His magic had always run freely around him, with him. He had always been proud of his magical heritage, had always been eager to use it to interact with the world as a child. He had never been ashamed, never tried to hide, not like her.

"The Ministry should've taken better care of Muggleborns." he said quietly. "Intercepted earlier. Taught parents what to expect. Taught you to not be ashamed, never to be ashamed of that part of you."

Hermione laughed dryly, a single tear sliding down her face. "You say that now, but you hated me back then. Thought I was stealing from the magical world. Thought I didn't belong. Truth was I didn't belong anywhere, did I? How could I? The wizarding world did not welcome me, and I couldn't fit into the muggle world either. I believed you. I believed I was inferior for a long time, deep inside of me. It drove me to try harder, learn more, but It was never, never enough."

Draco stared at her wordlessly, guilt and shame welling up and clogging in his throat.

"I'm sorry," he croaked out, and it seemed so insignificant, so fucking useless that he almost laughed.

"I'm sorry." he repeated helplessly.

He wanted to reach out, to walk over to her side of the room and comfort her, but what right did he have?

"I was young and cruel and bigotted and I'm sorry." 

She shook her head at him, the beginnings of a tremulous smile tugging at a corner of her lips. "You can make it up to me."

And he understood that she'd already begun to forgive him. Had accepted him into her life, even. A strange feeling swelled through his body, filling him with warmth and humility. He'd never felt like this before. Gratitude. 

But he couldn't say thank you, because 'I'm sorry' was still sitting on his tongue with a bitter, salty aftertaste.

He opened his mouth uncomfortably and choked out "Okay.", hoping she knew what he meant. Thank you. Don't deserve your forgiveness but thank you.

Hemione sighed tiredly. "It's late, let's just go to bed. I'm sorry I woke you at all."

"No, no." he hastened to reply. "It's... fine."

An awkward silence hung between them, both of them waiting for the other to speak, to end the conversation.

"We... we should practise." Draco said suddenly. "We should practise this new shared magic. It could be useful."

Hermione's eyes brightened a little. "Yes, we should study it. I've never read about this effect of magical blood transfusion before. Then again... it's never exactly been done before, either."

She blushed lightly, "I've only read about it in an experimental context before. And in some muggle texts, but that's a bit different."

Draco found himself smiling slightly at the excitement she displayed suddenly at the prospect of research.

"Hermione," he was saying before he could stop himself. "thank you for saving me." The world seems just a little easier to bear with you in it. 

And it was the easiest thank you he'd ever said yet.

Hermione smiled at him. "Goodnight, Draco."

"Goodnight."

Draco returned to his previous horizontal position on the bed, staring into the darkness as before.

"Hermione." he suddenly called out.

"Yes?" came the quiet reply.

"You do belong here."

"I know."

And this time there was definitely a hint of a smile in her voice.

-----------------

Harry

He stared at Blaise Zabini as the other man broke down on his living room sofa, broken gasps bursting from his lips and tears streaming down his face relentlessly.

Harry tentatively offered him a tissue. He grabbed it and pressed it against his eyes until he somehow managed to wrench the lid back on his overflowing grief and guilt.

"Sorry." Blaise said a little tightly. "Didn't mean to --" he cut himself off, closing his eyes to get a better grip on himself.

"I'm sure Pansy will be fine." Harry tried to offer what comfort he could, but his words sounded weak and he knew it.

Blaise scoffed at him. "Shut up, Potter."

He shut up for five seconds.

"You want tea?"

Blaise noticeably stiffened. "Are you fucking kidding me? No, thank you." he shuddered. "I don't think I'll ever think about tea the same way again."

Five shots of firewhiskey later, Blaise told him in detail about his 'tea gathering' with Theodore Nott and the rest of the rogue ex-Death Eaters.

"I didn't actually drink the tea, thank Merlin. I pretended to be under Veritaserum, and he told me they had... had Pansy. The entire time I looked at Theo and I was thinking, Merlin, I hate you. I fucking hate you." Blaise said a little slurrily, gesturing wildly in front of him. "And he said, Blaise, bring Harry Potter to me. And I thought, why not? So I went to find you to try convince you to go because everyone knows Harry Potter has a fucking hero complex. Well here's a damsel in distress for you, because Merlin knows I'm not up to the job."

He choked on a sob, crying again despite himself. "I'm fucking useless against all of them."

Harry took a shot of firewhiskey himself, a headache beginning to build in his temples.

"And what if I can't do anything either?" he asked quietly. "What if I'm done with that life? What if I don't want to help?"

Blaise stared at him incredulously, a shocked laugh passing from his lips. "Then I guess I'll just have to tie you up and drag you there."

"What makes you think I'll let you?"

"Wait, you're serious? You're... you're not gonna help? Are you kidding? Fuck, Potter, you better be kidding."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling inexplicably exhausted. "Look, it's been a long day. Go home. I... I need some time to think about this."

Blaise stood up, swaying a little on his feet. "Fine. You get one day, okay? Send me an owl by tomorrow. Your answer better be yes, because... because I don't know what I'd do otherwise."

Harry looked up at him from his seated position tiredly. "Go home, Blaise. I don't think you're in any position to demand anything right now."

He threw a vial of Sobering potion at Blaise, who caught it clumsily before it fell. "Get sober and go home."

He did, though not before throwing a desperate, pleading look at Harry at the doorway. "Please." he said. "I'm begging you."

Harry shut the door in his face.

-----------------------------------

Astoria

She looked down at Draco's wand in her hands, twisting it this way and that in contemplatiion. She'd taken it when she had pretended to be Head Healer Crax, and she wasn't sure what to do with it now.

She couldn't use it to break out of the room Blaise had put her in, the wards allowed for no magic to work except for Blaise's, and anyway she doubted she'd be able to take down the layers of wards and locking spells over the doors and the windows.

She thought about snapping it. Thought about Theo's beautiful, cruel blue eyes. Thought about the striken, self-loathing expression she'd seen on Draco's face the last time she saw him. She applied pressure on the wand until it bent a little in the middle. Then she let it go, let it drop down with a clatter by her feet. She couldn't do it.

She ran a hand over her face with a sigh. Slowly, she knelt down to pick up the wand and stored it within her robes again. Maybe one day she would return it to Draco.

A loud crack signified Blaise's return. Astoria shot to her feet when the door to her room slammed open with a giant crash. Blaise stormed in, his cheeks flushed, reeking of firewhiskey.

He looked furious. And drunk.

"Blaise..." she stammered.

He rushed up to her, putting his hands around her throat in a single fluid movement.

"Fuck you." he choked out, tears streaking down his face as he shook her by the neck. "You're supposed to be friends with Pansy. What kind of friend are you?"

Astoria gasped for air, her hands straining against Blaise's bigger ones around her neck.

"Bring Pansy back to me. Bring her back!" he screamed in her face, his face twisting into a horrifying, demonic expression.

Astoria gagged and gasped, her struggles becoming weaker in his grasp.

Gradually, he loosened his hold on her neck, letting her fall to the ground like a marionette with cut strings. After a moment, her chest heaved as she took in great breaths of air, her body shaking slightly with the effort or perhaps fear.

She looked up at Blaise after she'd caught her breath. His eyes were bloodshot, his fists shaking by his sides. Dried tear tracks marked his face, more tears making their way silently down his cheeks and dripping from his chin. He'd slid down a wall and practically fallen into a sitting position against it after he'd let her go, seeming to have suddenly lost all his strength.

The room was silent for a long moment, until it was filled with a terrible, hopeless howl.

Astoria watched the broken man in front of her with wide eyes, knowing with a sick feeling in her gut that she had done this. 

A/N: A longer chapter this time :) Thanks for keeping up with this fic, and I hope you guys enjoyed!