A/N 1: 1I'm sorry to have taken this long, and I'll try to update sooner next time, however, life is very hectic at the moment and for me to have gotten this done was also a big big big deal. Anyhow, I shall try to get stuff up faster.

A/N 2: Please review when you read, because it can really motivate writers. Even flames can motivate a writer to write better

A/N 3: I know my chapters are rather small, but it's not really an intentional thing. I usually write first on paper and then type it out and a lot of the times when I write stuff it covers a lot of pages, but when I post it up, it seems like very little, so apologies for that as well.

It had been months since I'd first woken up. I had no idea how many months had passed, I rarely asked someone for the date. I didn't even know how long it had been since the war. My nights had become relatively peaceful because of the Dreamless-sleep Drought that Madame Pomfrey gave me every night, but my days were filled with horrors. I'd relive the war over and over in my head- blaming myself for the casualties. No matter what Madame Pomfrey or Luna said, I couldn't think any different. If only I hadn't been hit by the "X"(that's what Madame Pomfrey called it because they had no idea what it did) curse maybe, just maybe I could have saved Harry, Ron, Ginny and all of the Order that had been wiped out after my "fall". Call it a Gryffindor-complex if you must, but I blamed myself for their deaths.

Everyday I'd meet survivors of the war. Neville was one of my frequent visitors; he'd changed so much since school. He was no longer the unsure, nervous boy I'd known back then. War had made him braver, stronger somehow, and he had the Gryffindor-air that had been absent during our school years. The war had been hard on him, he'd adapted slowly, but he was healing, I could tell by the look in his eyes. He and Luna had found comfort in each others arms, and that just helped reinforce the feelings of how lonely I really was. I'd met Lavender in the hall ways being lead to and from the Psych ward. Ron's demise had been hard on her, and one could often hear her cry for a man with red hair and startling blue eyes that she claimed not to remember. Lestrange's torture had taken its toll on her in the sort of way that it had on Neville's parents. Neville had told me he was trying to work on a cure because he'd observed certain effects a rare plant he'd discovered in Australia had on the psychological condition of Crutiatus Curse victims.

The worst part of it all was the fact that it was during my hours of consciousness that the grey "moon" eyes that kept vigil over me haunted me, and with them, the person I associated with them, became an obsession. Although Luna and Madame Pomfrey never said anything about Draco or his work at the Infirmary at Hogwarts', I knew he was the one that was in charge of my situation. I guess that was a perk of being close friends with the head Healer, a war-hero, and Hermione Granger- Resident Know-it-all. I really wished he'd just show himself to me. I didn't know why he took so much interest in my case, considering he was my primary tormentor in school, but I'd read his reports, on other cases and none seemed to be as meticulous as mine. The reason I'd had access to all these cases and reports was because, although I was primarily bed-ridden, I tried to be of assistance to Madame Pomfrey any way that I could. I was a certified Healer, so it wasn't like I was breaking any rules, plus it was voluntary.

I'd tried moving around the first couple of weeks but almost passed out each of the 28 times from exertion and pain (but I wouldn't really admit to the latter), and gave up trying until Madame Pomfrey thought it was worth a try. Today however, seemed different- there was something about today that made me feel confident I could do it. I couldn't really explain it, but like many of the other times that I'd had a hunch I decided to work on it. So that night, I'd decided I wouldn't take my medicine and see if my hunch was right. It was 1 o' clock and I could still hear voices in the corridor. I' heard Madame Pomfrey bid someone goodnight and lock up for the night at 10. I waited 3 hour just in case she came back to check on her patients. Pulling my legs out from under the covers and swung them over the side of the bed. My feet could touch the floor since the bed wasn't as high as most hospital beds since it was an infirmary for younger children. Holding onto the side of the bed I stood up slowly. I felt pain stab through me, that may have been the curse, or it could have been the fact that I hadn't used my legs in so long, but I felt the pain ebb away slowly. Holding the bed, I took baby steps to the foot of the bed. With each step that I'd take I'd feel pain shoot through me, but with a decreasing intensity. I kept the exercise up till I could no longer feel any pain. I was elated that I'd taken myself up on my hunch. Tonight was going to be my night…. Hopefully.

Insomnia- it was my curse. When the war began I had started off on the Dark Lord's side, doing his bidding by killing countless muggles and muggle-born witches and wizards, my punishment was my guilt and restlessness. The night I'd been inducted I had to kill a muggle girl who couldn't possibly have been older than six. The night of her murder haunts my dreams. I can still smell the smell of burnt skin from the torture that the Death Eaters had put her through, still see the hollow brown eyes that had held defiance milliseconds before I robbed her of her innocent life. Subconsciously my hand drifts over my now fading Dark Mark. If I hadn't met Hermione Granger six months after my induction I would never have survived the war with the guilt I harbor. Her words taught me more about myself and prejudices than my cowardly father's words ever had. She saved me from the curse that I bear in more ways than one.

Insomnia was also the reason I had the 24 hour shifts at the 'Medical Camp' even though I had to beg for it. I needed to keep an eye on her. I'd promised Harry and Ron that I would. Not many knew how strong my allegiance to the Phoenix was, but the truth of the matter was that Harry and Ron, yes, they were no longer 'Potty' and 'the Weasel', trusted me completely. I was their eyes in the final confrontation. We were connected by mind, and that's the last thing I heard him convey to me was Hermione's protection. I never had the chance to convey my reply, but I know they trusted me enough, because after all they were the only two people in the world at that time who knew that I, yes I, Draco Malfoy, was in love with the one person I'd been taught to hate: Hermione Granger. Since the final confrontation she's been my only concern. Madame Promfrey's gotten worried about me, the first few months she'd pour the Drought of Dreamless Sleep in my coffee, I'd argue with her everyday about till I finally had to start making my own coffee.

The war had changed all of us. Most of my childhood friends died and my childhood nemeses became my friends. I killed my own parents, something no child should ever have to go through and something I'm not very proud off. I had started out on the wrong side of the war. I had killed countless people, but one night it all changed. Nightmares rarely haunted me since I usually had dreamless sleep. That night, however, the faces of the people I had murdered haunted me: the children, the women, the men, the wizards and the muggles, all alike they flitted through my mind in my sleep, in my usually dreamless sleep. I had a conscience. At first I tried to ignore it, and didn't tell anyone, but slowly things got out of hand. Eventually, I turned to Harry. Admitting I was wrong was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do but I did it, and I'm a better person for it today. Not many people knew of my allegiance to the white, in fact even Hermione had no idea about it, not that Harry didn't trust her, he just didn't want to put her at more risk than she was already at. Anyhow, back to my story, since that night I never slept, the occasional doze I give into but never deep sleep.

I was beginning to doze off when I heard a loud crash from Hermione's room. My heart began to pace furiously. To say I was worried would be an understatement. There were still death-eaters out there who wanted to get back at Hermione. People still wanted to kill her. And I had vowed to protect her. I wasn't about to fail at the one thing I was asked to do, and chose to do willingly. I wasted no time getting up and ran through her shutters.

A/N 4: Don't forget the reviews! Motivate me to go on, or motivate me to write better. have a good day!