She hears him before she sees him. He only wears dragonhide boots after all, and they're heavy against the floor boards. He calls her name, but she doesn't reply, stays silent, wishing weakly that she would just leave Ron, and stop this stupid stupid cycle.

Draco calls her one more time, before allowing silence to take over. He doesn't need to call her anyway, he knows exactly where to find her. The same place he always does.

He had given her a key to his flat after a particularly bad night. He had told her to use it whenever she needed a place to breathe, a place to catch her breath.

Hermione knew she was over using it.

She's been repeating the same actions for nearly a year now. Ever since the yelling had started. Ever since therapy had stopped working.

Ron didn't hit her. He would never hit her, he'd promised, and currently, he'd kept his word. But sometimes, when his words cut her so deeply she thought she was bleeding out, she wished he'd hit her.

Confiding in Draco had never been something she was banking on; he had just been there. He had swung by her office to drop off some files and found her pressed to the back wall of her office, clutching her knees to her chest, tears flowing. He hadn't said anything, had simply kneeled in front of her, grey eyes sinking into hers, and held her hand.

A few days later she apologized profusely, telling him it was nothing. He had raised an eyebrow, before looking back down at his papers, and said, "dont lie to me, Granger. I can handle an ugly truth, but don't bother lying."

She'd been taken aback by his response, but now she was grateful for it.

Arms wrapped around her knees, Hermione pressed her spine into the pale green wall, attempting to ground herself. Her therapist had suggested, whenever the panic attacks were crippling, to press herself into a wall, and take deep breaths. Digging her bare feet into the carpet, she inhaled, then exhaled, repeating the action slowly. She curses mentally at herself, hates how weak she had become. Hated how the simplest argument with her boyfriend could stutter her breathing.

She hears him approaching, hears the sharp inhale he takes. She hates herself for showing up at his place unannounced, again. Hates that she wastes his time, takes him from his own life, because she needs him.

He pauses in front of her, and she studies the dragonhide shoes on his feet. They're deep brown, with thick laces and expensive rubber on the heel.

He kneels, and she squeezes her eyes shut so that she doesn't have to look at him, and can't bear to see the pity in his eyes. The concern. She doesn't deserve it.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, wiggling her toes slightly. "Why is it like this? It never used to be."

It stings, saying the words out loud.

Hermione flinches slightly when his hand grasps her shoulder, thumb pressing into her skin. "What happened?"

She shrugs, breathing out shakily. "He said we need to cut back on spending after I told him I bought something for Harry and Ginny. They're expecting a baby, you know. And I thought it'd be nice to get them something, for the shower."

She pauses, expects him to say something, but he's silent, so she continues, her eyes still closed.

"And he said it was stupid, spending money we don't have. That I'm...more stupid than a teaspoon for being so inconsiderate. But I wasn't trying to be, I swear."

Draco shifts, leaning against the wall on her right side, his shoulder brushing hers, feet splayed out while hers are tucked in.

"When did it get so fucked up, Draco?" she whispers, her throat thick. She opens her eyes, studies his shoes once more.

"Why are you still with him?" Draco asks. His voice is light, caressing her gently. His question isn't accusatory; simply inquiring.

"Because I love him." She replies immediately, without thought, because it's true. Isn't it? He's her boyfriend. Of course she loves him. He makes her laugh, challenges her intellect. He makes her so, so happy.

So why was she in Dracos apartment having a panic attack?

He's quiet for a moment, and she watches his hands fold in his lap, ankles locking around one another.

"Then why are you here?"

His question feels like a stab, and she bites her lip to stop it from trembling. His tone is quiet again, like he's worried she'll break if he ups the volume. Little does he know she's so broken that she doesn't recognize the pieces.

"When I'm away from him..." she replies, pressing her back against the wall so hard it hurts. "I'm happier than ever."

She turns to him, lifts her heavy head and looks into his grey eyes. They're not as scary as she remembers them being in school. Now they're bright, hopeful. She could get lost in them if she tried.

"Granger, I'm going to tell you something. And none of it is in the way of my benefit, although it would help me." His voice is even, easy to listen to. "Leave him. I've never liked him much, but I truly hate him now. His actions are erasing you, buffering the swotty girl I once knew into something so unlike herself, it angers me. You don't deserve that."

"I just don't relate to him anymore," she whispers, leaning her cheek against her knee. "I-I'd never make him feel like this."

The sorrow filling her chest begins to boil, bubbling into something else, something darker. All the years she, Ron and Harry spent in school. The endless nights of studying and growing up together during a war, had brought them together. Now that the dust had settled, they were different people, people she was beginning to not recognize.

"He doesn't even notice," she murmurs. "How miserable he makes me."

"You don't deserve that." Draco replies, placing a hand atop her foot. She looks at him, counts the flecks of dark grey swimming in the lighter grey of his eyes, he's so close. Her eyes drop to his lips. She wonders how soft they must be.

The ringing of her mobile phone shatters the moment, and Draco jumps in surprise. Hermione swears, digging in her pocket before answering, "Hello?"

"Where are you?"

Hermione takes a shaky breath, unsure of how to proceed. He sounded angry.

"Just out."

"Yeah, that could be anywhere. Where specifically? Or is it too much trouble to know your location?" Ron seethed through the speaker, and Hermione leaned her head against the wall.

"I'll be home later."

The sound of laughter filled the speaker, and she paused, trying to listen. "Where are you?"

"Out," Ron bit back. "You know, I would have never believed the likes of Pansy and Lavender can be more entertaining than you but here we are!"

The tears sprang to her eyes quicker than she realized, her hand gripping the receiver hard. She knew he'd been drinking, she could hear it in his voice, and he was always cruelest when intoxicated.

"Don't come home, stay at Harry's, I don't care," he spat. "Sleep in the streets for all I care."

The line went dead, and Hermione sat in stunned silence. Draco's hand was still on her foot, the grip loose, and she threw her head back.

"Lets not," Draco hummed, and his hand cups the back of her head, fingers threading in her hair. "Don't give him the satisfaction."

"Don't Malfoy," she cries, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes. "Don't. Because I don't know what to do. I-I don't know how it got this bad. I don't know when he started hating me."

"Him hating you is not your fault, and completely lies with him." Draco cuts in, but Hermione shakes her head, the tears flowing freely.

"I'd never treat me this shitty." She sobs, her shoulders shaking. "H-he makes me fucking hate this city, our home, this world. I've always been an outsider in the wizarding world but now, I'm a complete stranger to it."

Beside her, Draco is quiet, his hand still in her hair. Dropping her hands, Hermione turns to him, eyes puffy and wet, and Draco pulls his hand from her. His action panicked her, and she gripped his wrist.

"D-don't go," she whispered, embarrassment flooding her at how needy she sounded, the desperation lacing her voice. "Please don't leave me."

Dracos lip twitched, gently grabbing her hands. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Hermione takes a gulp of air, nods. Against the back of her hand his fingers stroke her skin. He doesn't point out how cold she is, how her ragged breathing hurts him.

"Can you manage to stand?"

She clutches his wrist, looks between their hands and his face. "Yes."

"Let's try then shall we?"

She squeezes her eyes shut, panic and guilt flooding her being. Ron would freak if he knew where she was. If he knew she was seeking comfort from another man.

"Hey," Draco soothes, bringing her back and she opens her eyes. "Ignore your head. It's being awfully cruel to you right now. Just focus on me, ok?"

Herimione nods, feels his arm against her back as he holds her to his side, gently helping her stand. He whispers encouraging words to her as they move, and her limbs scream in fatigue from being forced into a position for so long.

They move slowly, before sitting down on a plush couch pressed to the corner of the room. Hermione lets out a breath, before her head lulls onto his chest.

"I don't know how long I can keep doing this." She whispers into his shirt. He places a hand over her shoulders, squeezes her, and its grounding. Her teary-eyes shut tiredly against his chest.

"You don't have to." He replied, his chest vibrating against her as he spoke. "And you can stay here as long as you need."

"Thank you Malfoy..." she whispers, unsure of how to explain her gratitude. "F-for everything."

He doesn't respond, just continues brushing his thumb against her arm, and she presses into him, head resting against his collar bone, listening to the soft thud of his heart, and it blocks out the impending thoughts, long enough for her to fall asleep.