He grazed his hand above hers silently as she slept in their common room. His movements were firm, yet loving - strange yet natural. Hermione was a deep sleeper; she wouldn't realize his hand was touching hers while she dreamt in the cloudly bliss above his head. He had never been able to sleep and dream as peacefully as she did. And he knew she did, for he had come down from his room many times at night to find her slouched over her books, either sleeping or fighting the battle with her eyelids.

Ever since he had become Head Boy, and began rooming with Hermione, it seemed as if the entire situation was an inviting new experience for him. Every night he would come down, bid good night to the moon as she pulled her black blanket over her silvery head, and say hello to the stars as they peeked out of their sleep, but mostly, he'd sit and watch Hermione as she danced with them in her dream trance. Every night, he felt he'd get closer and closer to Hermione. His only saving grace was that Hermione slept soundly and never found out that the ever so egotistical Draco Malfoy had taken an interest in her while she was in slumber land. Or, at least, he hoped she didn't know. He wasn’t sure if he could handle her finding out about his caring gaze, his wistful smiles, and his aching heart.

Draco found these nighttime watchings more peaceful than anything else in his life. Whenever he watched Hermione sleep, in her peaceful and graceful glory, he felt transported to an all-new world where things were right. He could breathe deeply, inhale Hermione's mixture of everything scent, and not have to worry about any consequence. He could grab her hand, feel her soft peachy skin in his bony pale one, and feel at ease. He didn't know why these petty things made him feel better, especially when someone he had previously looked down upon caused them. But some how, some way, without Hermione's knowing it, he had grown closer to her. And he never wanted to go back - never wanted to get out of the nightly bliss that had now shaped his life.

He looked at her peach skin, tinted slightly at the cheeks. He watched her chest rise and fall; her eyelids twitch with her dreams. Her hair framed her face, in an unkempt and curly mess. She looked so calm, so happy and unworried. Draco wished he could stay with her like this forever, because when she felt calm, happy and carefree, he did too. His breath got stuck in his throat as she turned in her sleep; his blood chilled at the thought of being caught.

His grip on her hand loosened a little, and he held his breath as he attempted to get up and leave, unnoticed. He let out the breath just as a shock jolted into his hand. He looked down, stunned, to find that it wasn't electricity that had grabbed hold of him. It was Hermione.

Her eyes were cracked open in sleepy surrender when she blinked and eased into focus. She saw Draco sitting beside her, on the floor next to the couch, with her hand obviously wrapped around his wrist. She smiled at him and intertwined fingers with his, then proceeded to close her eyes and try to sleep.

Draco was frozen. Frozen in time, frozen in this moment so imperfect to his eyes that it was perfect, frozen in the warmth that Hermione's hand gave him. Yes, it was quite possible to be frozen in warmth when Hermione Granger was involved, he concluded as he stared at their locked hands. His pale fingers laced with hers; they just seemed to fit together.

Suddenly, a distant sound cracked the silence and caused Draco to fall back in fear. He looked towards the window and saw an owl, staring at him with piercing yellow eyes. Draco felt guilty, felt afraid, as if the owl would somehow tell the rest of the school that the great Draco Malfoy was holding hands with Hermione; that the Slytherin Prince was falling, hard, for Hermione Granger. He pulled his hand out from her grip, as if showing the owl that nothing was happening. It continued to stare at him for a few moments, questioningly, then took soaring flight into the night sky. Draco sighed and calmed his rapidly beating heart.

Somewhat embarrassed, he looked back to Hermione’s serene face and was quickly met by her saddened and dazed brown eyes. He realized that the warmth from his hand had vanished, and the happy warmth in his body was gone. He quietly reached out his hand again, asking for forgiveness in a way, asking her to take him back. His grey eyes swirled with confusion and want, of apologies and hope. Warmth and peace slid through him as she reached out and held his hand again, with a previously lacking firmness - she didn't want him to let go. And he wouldn’t let go, not ever. And he prayed to Merlin that she would never let him go, too.