September 6, 1998 

Draco sang. He sang well, not that he would ever admit it. 

 The first time she had heard him sing was while they were both painfully drunk, laying in her bed while she cried. He was stroking her hair and muttering nonsense under his breath. Now, they were sitting in a car, driving aimlessly in the London countryside, long after dark, pouring out their emotions through song. Draco sat in the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel, singing as he drove, while the other hand was pressed firmly on Hermoine's thigh. 

The music raged, blasting through the car, shaking the vehicle. The window was open, the warm, humid air ruffling their hair, and the wind whistling in their ears. Yet, nothing was able to knock the silly grins off their faces. 

Hermione wasn't a good singer, horrible even, but Draco always tolerated it, just for her. He constantly teased her about her pitchy singing and off-beat words, all in good fun. Singing always brought a smile to Hermione's face, which was enough for Draco to tolerate her disastrous vocals. 

He parked the car by the side of the road. 

She turned and looked at him, out of breath and a loopy smile plastered onto her face. 

"You know I love you, right?" 

I love you. It had taken Hermione a very long time to acknowledge it, that she loved him, even more, to be able to say it. But, now, it couldn't stop coming out. 

She loved him. She really, really loved Draco, and he was all hers. Forever and always. 

"Only four times in the past hour. Are you feeling alright, love?" Draco teased as he leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. 

"Prick," Hermione said, grinning while being stifled by his lips being pressed on hers. 

"Please, enough with the baseless accusations," Draco said as he pulled away. He gave her flashed her a smirk. "You know you love me." 

"Oh, I do. I love you, I love you, I love you." She drove her lips against his in a passionate embrace, once again. 

And so they sat, in an old, barely working car, on the side of the road, Hermione's mouth pressed up against Draco's. Illuminated only by the full moon, a soft silvery light shining on their faces, warm air brushing against them, the two lovers couldn't have a care in the world. They had each other, and at that moment, it was more than enough. 

November 19, 1998 

Narcissa Black, what an exceptional personality. She grew up an heiress, a descendant of the Noble House of Black. The second daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black, the picture-perfect idea of a pureblood daughter. She had been the top of her class at Hogwarts and enchanted, loved, and married Lucius Malfoy. She bore a son, an heir to both the Black and Malfoy line. She was a silent bystander while the Dark Lord lived in her home, yet she sat laughing with Hermione Granger in the same dining hall. 

Narcissa was always supportive of Draco's relationship with Hermione, slightly over-enthusiastic at times. From their first interaction since the war, Narcissa had taken in Hermione like her own daughter, cared for her, taught her, loved her, and as Draco had told her, Hermione had taken his spot as the favorite child. 

The two of them were sitting side by side at the table, flipping through old picture books, laughing, reminiscing, and poking fun at a young Draco. 

"Draco, you never told me you had glasses," Hermione said, shocked. Draco groaned.

"Thank you, mother. I'll never live this down." 

"Oh yes, wore them all the way up till he had to go to Hogwarts. Threw a hissy fit about wearing them to school. Refused to wear round glasses. I remember it like it was yesterday," Narcissa promptly ignored him and chuckled softly. Hermione stared deadpan at Draco.

"I never want to hear about you making fun of Harry's glasses ever again." 

"Not a chance, Granger," Draco said dryly. Narcissa flipped the page and smiled. She pointed at the little boy in the picture. He was standing next to a child's broom with a wide grin on his face, holding a tooth up to the camera proudly. 

"Oh Merlin," Narcissa shook her head, reminiscing about Draco's former years. "That's Draco after he broke his tooth on his first broom ride, gave me quite the headache. You should've seen him; he couldn't keep his eyes off of Lucius." 

"Lucius?" 

"Mother," Draco warned. 

"Well, dear girl, Lucius was the one who bought Draco that damned broom. When he was younger, Draco wanted nothing more than to be like Lucius. I mean, he was already the spitting image of him," Narcissa mused. Hermione's stomach flipped. Lucius was always a sore topic between them, one that they rarely ever dug out to talk about. So to hear Narcissa talk about him so casually didn't sit very well with her. 

"Is everything alright, dear?" Hermione forced a smile. 

"Of course, just thinking about some paperwork, I left at the office that I've got to finish."

"Well then, I best not keep you and Draco away any longer. You two both keep so busy. Go on then, it was lovely seeing you again, Hermione, please come visit more often" She turned to Draco and wagged a finger at him. "And you, don't you dare ignore my Owls, I know you've been reading them." 

November 25,1998

Meeting the future in laws was a headache. Hermione had gotten lucky with a doting Narcissa who loved her from the time she had set eyes on Hermione. Draco, however, would not be so fortunate. Richard and Jean Granger didn't like the idea of Draco. Childhood bully turned Death Eater, turned loving boyfriend was a challenging idea to sell. Well, it was more of Richard that had a problem with Draco. No one was going to hurt his daughter, especially not her playground bully. 

"Try not to be so much of a prat tonight, yes?" Hermione said, smoothing out her own dress as the pair walked to the front door. 

"Me? A prat? Never. Salazar Slytherin, where'd you ever get the idea?" Draco teased. 

"I love this prat. It's okay. Embrace it." 

She grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. Her brown eyes met his grey ones. 

"Draco, regardless of how this goes, I'll love you. There's no need to worry about me. I'll still be here." He grinned and pulled her in for a kiss, a passionate one. 

A cough cut through their kiss. They turned and saw Richard Granger glaring at Draco, arms crossed and foot tapping.

 Hermione, cheeks flushed red, pushed herself off of Draco and cleared her throat.

 "Dad, this is Draco," Draco stepped forward with his hand out for a shake which was hesitant met. 

"Draco Malfoy. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Granger. Hermione told me great things about you and your work in dentistry." 

"You can call me Doctor Granger." He turned and went inside without another look. Hermione grabbed Draco's arm and dragged him in behind her father. 

"Oh Richard, are they here?" Jean called as she emerged from the kitchen into the dining room, where Draco and Hermione stood awkwardly by Richard.  At the sight of her daughter, Jean embraced her so tightly that Hermione felt as though she might pop a vessel. 

"Hi, mum," Hermione squeaked. Jean took a good look at Hermione and Draco and decided to drag him into her arms. Draco winced as her arms wrapped tightly around his. 

"So, you're the famous Draco Malfoy. I've heard a lot about you, fantastic to finally meet you." 

Draco's charm was unmatched. Without missing a second, he flashed her a bright white smile, and took her hand, raised it to his mouth, and gently pressed his lips down on it. Jean blushed. 

“You look lovely today Mrs. Granger. It's lovely to finally meet you,  My apologies, do you prefer to be called Dr.Granger like your husband?” Jean glared at her husband who cowered at her spiteful eyes.

“Oh Richard, that more than enough. Stop messing with Draco. He’s a lovely boy.” She turned to look at Draco.

“Jean and Richard are fine. Let me know if he gives you any trouble. He’s a bit grumpy today. Come on then, let’s go eat, dinner’s been ready for quite some time.” 

By the end of the dinner, it was safe to say that Draco was like family. He sat around the dinner table comfortably, laughing, joking, and sipping champagne like an aristocrat. His manners were minded, he never slipped up, and he certainly never made snarky, sarcastic retorts. Hermione hated every minute of it. 

“Jean, Hermione tells me that you’re an avid poetry reader?” Draco said. 

Jean’s eyes widen and sparkle, just like how Hermione’s eyes do. “Of course! I particularly enjoy William Blake, what a way with words that one has.” 

“William Blake? I think his poetry is beautiful. I specifically favor Love and Harmony. It’s a work of art how Mr. Blake compares the virtues of a beautiful woman with the wonders of nature. This certainly was one of his better works I suppose.” 

Jean peered over at Hermione with a smile. “You picked a good one, he has good taste.” Hermione rolled her eyes and coughed. 

“Draco, it’s getting late. I think we need to start heading out now.” The couple rose from their seats and were escorted out to the front door. Draco kissed Jean's cheek. 

‘Thank you for the lovely meal, it was a pleasure to finally meet you.” He turned to Richard and shook his hand. 

“Doctor Granger, pleasure. I look forward to hearing more about your intriguing dental work.” 

“Oh that’s enough, Richard is fine. You’re a good man Draco, take care of my daughter.” He beamed and nodded enthusiastically. Draco gave Hermione his arm and winked. 

“Shall we?” 

After they got in the car, Hermione was fuming. 

“What in fucks sake was that?” The puppy smile on Draco’s face slowly faded into a look of confusion and hurt.

“What are you talking about Granger,” he said quietly, focused on the road. She sighed, exasperated. 

“The whole thing! The entire dinner you were sucking up to my parents! The hand kissing, the flattery, the sudden interest in dental hygienics. For Merlin's sake, you hate poetry! I’ve never even seen you pick up a muggle book. William Blake?” 

“Is there something wrong with me trying to be likable to your parents?” Draco said through gritted teeth. 

“It's fake!” Hermione yelled. “It's all fake! You don't flatter, you don’t care about dentistry, you sure as hell don’t care about Muggle poetry. You’re Draco Malfoy, you taunt, you’re sarcastic, you don’t sit back and let my father bully you into calling him, doctor.” 

“Granger, I don’t see the problem. What’s so bad about me being a bit less of an ass for your parents?” 

“You’re blocking me out. Every time you put on this persona of being this gentleman, you start to believe it. You become this blank, aristocrat,  pureblood shell. You become the person that I hated, the one who got the Dark Mark, the one who fought for Tom, the one who almost got me killed!” 

“Are we really doing this again?” 

Hermione threw her hands up in the air. “Of course we are! We’ll stop having this conversation when you stop acting like a Death Eater.” Everything became quiet, not a single sound was made. 

“Draco, I didn’t mean-” 

“Oh yes, Miss High and Mighty. Saviour of Wizarding Britain and Gryffindors Golden Girl, dating scum of the earth Draco Malfoy? How could the Brightest witch of our age date that idiot bastard? The Mudblood and the Death Eater, a hopeless relationship, damned if I’ve ever seen one.  Granger, why don’t you just get out while you can. Escape before the rest of my mudblood hating family finds you and decides to finish the job that my aunt couldn’t last year. If you think so little of me, why don’t you leave! If all I am is a Death Eater aristocrat, and you can’t stand me being polite, why don’t you go run away to Potter and Weaselette,” Draco snapped. His face instantly showed deep regret.

“Granger, I-I’m so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I didn’t mean-” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” The pair sat in the tense silence, quiet for the remainder of the car ride. They never spoke of this again. 

December 16, 1998

Breakfast. The most important meal of the day, the only meal that Hermione and Draco consistently ate together. It was a time of peace, conversation, teasing, laughing, mostly because they were still giddy after their routine nightly sex. 

Draco always woke up first, at least an hour prior to Hermione. He showered, shaved, dressed, combed, sprayed his captivating apple cologne, and went to go fix breakfast. They were light eaters, a scone and tea would work fine for the both of them. By the time Hermione awoke from her deep slumber and had gotten ready, Draco would already have her tea made and scone heated. 

She took her earl Grey, steaming hot, with a splash of milk, no sugar. Draco on the other hand preferred his Earl Grey with an absurd amount of honey.

“Why are you staring at me,” Hermione asked groggily, eyes fluttering to stay awake. Even though she had gotten dressed, and probably attempted to brush her hair, her mane had a mind of its own.  Draco fought hard not to laugh. Hermione’s hair, the ever struggle, was knotted and frizzed, adding several inches to her height. 

Draco just smiled sweetly. “You just look so beautiful this morning, I can’t take my eyes off of you.” Hermione groaned and dropped her head on the table, covering her face with her arms. 

“Bullshit. Absolute bullshit Draco Malfoy. It’s my hair isn’t it, you git.” He stifled a chortle. She lifted her head and glared at Draco with such fury that he immediately ceased laughing. “I’ll get more of the Hair Tamer potion when I’m in Diagon today.”

“Why are you headed down there? I was planning on going sometime today too.” Hermione’s face brightened.

“Christmas shopping! We’ve got to go now, before it starts getting too crazy. You know, why don’t we just head out together today. You said you were headed there too,” mused Hermione. A look of panic and fear spread on Draco’s face, one that Hermione noticed almost instantly. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing! I think I’ve got some paperwork to do, that last raid case is sucking the life out of me. I don’t think that I can come with you to Diagon today, maybe another day.” Hermione’s eyes narrowed as Draco squirmed in his seat. 

“Is this about the reporters?”Hermione asked, exasperated. When Draco avoided her eye contact and didn’t say a word, Hermione stood up and threw her hands in the air. 

“Draco Malfoy, are you embarrassed by me? Are you ashamed that I’m your girlfriend? Is that the problem?” Draco’s nostrils flared angrily, and stood up to match Hermione. 

“This isn't about me, it’s about you! Do you know what kinds of things they’ll say if they find out you’re dating me?” Hermione couldn’t control the burst of giggles that followed. Draco stared at her in confusion. 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” laughed Hermione. She composed herself, the fury returning to her eyes. “ Don’t you dare try and make this about me? Not when we both fucking know it's not.” Draco’s mouth opened, only to be cut off by Hermione. 

“See, what you’re really worried about, it’s not about me. It’s about you. It’s always fucking about you. I sure as hell don’t give a damn what Rita Skeeter has to say about us. You know why? Because I love you. I love you enough that I couldn’t care less about the world’s opinion on us. You’re not worried about the articles called, The Mudblood Charms Malfoy and Black Heir with her Whorish Deceit. You’re worried about the news articles saying, Death Eater Draco Malfoy and War Heroine Hermione Granger; Starcrossed Love or Imperio Spell

That’s fine, be scared, but don’t you ever dare to make this my fault. Don’t try to act like this is for my sake.” Draco just stared at her, eyes narrowed. “You know I’m right, Malfoy.” 

“Back to the Malfoy? So mature. Get out of my sight. I try so hard to be a good boyfriend, keep you safe, and what do I get? Ungrateful bitching,” Draco scoffed. 

“You don’t want to be seen with me? You want to protect my face? Fine! Stay here, I don’t want to see you at Diagon. Have fun with your goddamn paperwork,” Hermione spit venomously. She turned and slammed the door furiously, leaving Draco Malfoy sitting  bitterly at the table, with two cooled cups of tea, and one half eaten scone. 

February 14, 1999

“Granger, please, for me?” He followed her around the kitchen, as she washed dishes and wiped tables. “You won’t even see me there, we won’t be together, no one will know,” Draco begged. Hermione stopped and put one hand on her hip and the other on her forehead. 

He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and nuzzled his face on her , pressing kisses up and down her neck.

“We could play hooky in the bathroom though if you wanted. One evening, I’ll make it up to you.”

“I said no Draco,” said Hermione sternly. 

“It’s just some socialite party. My mother specifically requested that you make a speech. It’s a fundraisee with fancy dresses, meanlingless small talk, and champagne. Don’t think you can handle that for one night?” he teased. Draco was promptly pushed off. 

“You know that’s not the problem Draco. The issue is that I’m going to be in a room full of people who hate my guts and think that I’m completely and utterly vile. Not that I need you to protect me, but it would be bloody nice to have you by my side while I’m facing these society wives.” She paused to inhale.

“The most important part, which you frogot to metnion, is that the fundraiser is being held at Lestrange Manor. I can’t go there.” 

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re fine at Malfoy Manor. You’re being overdramatic.” The was the last straw.

She stepped towards to him, eyes blazing.  “I couldn’t look at your mothers face for the first three months of dating you.” 

Another step. 

“ I freeze every time I see Malfoy Manor. I can still feel someones hand gripped on my shoulder, dragging me in there by my hair.” Hermiones voice got louder.

“Hermione,” Draco warned. 

Even closer

“Do you realize that I can’t even hear your father’s name without tasting an unpleasent bitterness in my mouth,” 

One pace away.

“Granger, please, enough. ” Draco pleaded. 

“NO,” hissed Hermione sharply. “I’ll tell you when enough is enough.” She took that final step, and was now toe to to with Draco, pointer finger stabbing into his chest.  

“Riddle me this Draco. Do you or do you not remember me collapsed on the floor, screaming and crying because I caught a glance at that damn drawing room? How you had to drag me out of the foyer, and drug me with Calming Drought?” When the life faded out of his face, she scoffed and turned to walk away. 

“You’re Hermione Granger. You fought a war, and you won. You survived Bellatrix Lestrange’s crucio. You saved Boy wonder from unthinkable conundrums with just your quick thinking. You singlehandeledy planned the Order’s war strategies. For Merlin’s sake if you can put up with me, you can do anything,” Draco called to her. She turned, only to see Draco’s pained face. 

She swallowed, and said. “Well I can’t be that girl. I can’t be Hermione Granger brightest Witch of Her Age. I can’t be the perfectly put together brave war heroine, that smiles at fancy parties, sipping champagne, or kissing babies at memorial meetings.  I can’t be the know-it-all- praise seeking 12 year old girl, nor can I be the terrified 18 year old war veteran. I’m Hermione Granger, a girl who panics when she hears crashes, she’s a girl who sleeps with her wand in her hand. I can’t live my life freely, because I’m juust trying to do the bare minimum, survive.” 

Hermione stared Draco dead in the eyes. “The girl that you’re looking for? She’s dead. She died screaming and bleeding on the floor of Malfoy Manor while you did nothing. Enjoy the party. Give your mother my apologies.”

May 30, 1999

The couple had not known a moment of peace since the ball at Lestrange Manor. Every week, there would be a new argument, a new issue, one that neither would be willing to compromise on. Maybe it was the color of the drapes, or what to eat for dinner, or Hermoine bringing up Draco’s past. However, once shouting and crying ceased, they would sweep the issue under the rug, and never bring it up again. Hermione knew this certianly wasn’t healthy, but ignoring the problem was worth keeping him. She could disregard everything they disagreed on, if only he was hers to hold, to cherish. However lately, there had been no fights, no arguments, no tears or hoarse screaming.  Everything was peachy. 

It had been a long day at work, and Hermione returned to home late.  She opened the door, flicked the lights on, and saw a stone faced Draco sitting in the dark. Draco saw her and gave her a small smile. He patted the seat next to him on the sofa, and Hermione complied. She kicked her feet back, and closed her eyes. 

“Oh Merlin, it feels nice to sit down, I’ve been running around the Auror office trying to find out who’s taking point on the burglary cases.” No response from Draco. 

“Draco?” He shifted in his seat, and sat face forward at her. He grabbed her hands and pulled her to look at him. 

“Hermione, we need to talk.” 

Hermione’s heart started beating uncontrollably. Was he proposing? Oh Merlin, he’s going to propose. There was a warm, bubbly feeling, and Hermione nodded enthousiastically. 

Draco inahled. This is it, he’s going to pop the question.  

“We need to break up.” Hermione was taken aback, it felt like whiplash. 

“Break up? Break up? Draco Malfoy I thought you were proposing!” Hermione sputtered, standing up from the couch.

“Hermione-”  She cut him off. 

“Godric, I knew this was going ot happen. You’re scared, that’s what this is. Draco, we can talk about this, go to couples therapy, and-and fix this! Whatever it is that you think is wrong.” 

“The fact that you don’t know what’s wrong is the issue! We can’t keep doing this thing where we ignore the fact that we were never going to work.” That shattered eveyr part of Hermione’s soul.She stood, trying to muster words, with no success. 

“I’ll leave. You stay here, I’ll come get my stuff tomorrow. Goodbye Granger.” He stormed out the forn toro, wihtout as much as a glance over the shoulder. 

This wans’t how it was supposed to play out. They were supposed to be together, to get married,  have a family, grow old together. 

All plans of the future now lay at the bottom of a waste bin, and hermione stood starign tearyeyed at the front door, wishing and praying the Draco walked back through the door. 

He didn’t.

June 8, 1999

Everyone had always said to say no to drugs, to be strong enough to prevent a vicious cycle of addiction from ever starting. Well, nobody had told Hermione that she didn’t have to smoke or stab or snort to be an addict. She was addicted to him. Draco Malfoy was Hermione’s vice, her drug of choice. Every minute being around him had tightened his grip over her, to the point that he had consumed every thought, every feeling, every desire. It wasn’t disgusting, or outrightly harmful, in fact, it was sweet, comforting, irresistible. But that’s all a drug is, isn’t it? It lures victims in with the promise of fun, happiness, and excitement, only to drag them into a hellhole that seems impossible to climb up out of. 

Withdrawal hit her hard. She wasn’t nauseous, overwhelmed with body aches, or burdened with sweat. Instead, she cried uncontrollably, shook violently through tears, and lived riddled with anxiety and paranoia.

She stayed alone, refusing to allow Ginny and Harry through the Floo. Seeing their faces seemed like a terrible idea. She didn’t want comforting, she wanted to be alone.  In the bed she had once shared with Draco, she lay for days, unmoving, unable to process her feelings, her grief. 

When she could finally pull herself out of bed, numbness boiled over into rage. At every minor inconvenience, Hermione found herself throwing anything in hand. Pencils, phones, books, plates. By the end of the week, there was shattered ceramic littering the floors, and dried,  bloody, footprints trailing the apartment. Her heart ached for Draco. She could scream and destroy as much as she liked, but that didn’t bring him back. 

Rage too, faded, only to be replaced by regret. She poured over every conversation and argument they had. She analyzed every word spoken, wondering where she went wrong. What could she have done to keep their relationship afloat? What had she done wrong, why had she driven him away. Oh, what she would give to just smell his apple cologne, or to rake her fingers through his hair. But once every sentence was replayed, and every action was reviewed, Hermione couldn’t find the problem.. Her hours searching and pondering were meaningless. 

Then came the tears, tears that wouldn’t stop forming. They streaked her face, and wet the sleeves of the snotty sweater she was wearing. This was also the first time that she had allowed Ginny to see her. Ginny had arrived through the floo and was stunned at the condition of the apartment. When she had seen a puffy-faced Hermione, she just opened her arms and leaned a shoulder. Hermione sat on the couch bawling and muttering incoherently for hours, and Ginny had sat through all of it. 

Hermione thought that if she could just hold him one more time, she would be alright. If she could tell him that she loved him one last time, she would finally give it up. She didn’t have the luxury that most addicts did. She didn’t have an option. Her drug wasn’t there tempting her. It wasn’t there calling out to her. Instead, Hermione’s drug had left her, and there was no way of obtaining it again. 

What was left to do? Get clean, get sober, learn to live without him. But if it wasn't the hardest damn thing she’d ever done. 

September 10, 1999

So much can end up changing in three months. Drastic decisions are made every day, and Hermione had taken the initiative to make them every chance she got. Hermione had given up being an Auror, dyed and chopped her hair, and even made an investment to buy her own home. From the surface, everything was going swimmingly, except for one small detail. At the end of the day, it all traced back to Draco. 

Why had she given up being an Auror? It was too hard to see him at the office every day, to walk by him and make eye contact, only to walk the other way, pretending as if their hearts didn’t long for the other. 

Why had she changed her hair? That was the same hair that he had loved. He loved teasing her about it, the untameable mess on her head. It was the same hair that Draco had played with absent-mindedly while they were in bed together. Her hair was a constant reminder of her old self. 

The flat. She couldn’t stay there, could she? The air smelled like him, and memories of him haunted her in every corner she turned. The bathroom was where he would come up behind her and hug her tightly. The kitchen was where they had danced in the refrigerator light at midnight. The dining table, their daily conversations over breakfast. Every crevice, every foot of the flat was stained by him. No wonder she couldn’t stay there

So she lived at Grimmauld, at the invitation of Ginny and Harry. Just until Hermione was ready to move out into her new home, she would reside in the comforts of the warded house. She worked long hours, leaving before dawn and returning far after dusk, working as a Magical Creatures advocate. For the first time in a while, Hermione felt like one day, one day, she would heal. 

Imagine Hermione’s surprise when she returned home, half past ten, to see Draco Malfoy sitting on the steps of her temporary dwelling. He sat, legs spread, arms crossed, like a stubborn little child. His eyes widened when he saw Hermione, and stumbled to his feet. He grasped the handrail to keep his balance and produced a goofy smile. Hermione was not amused. She stared at him, arms crossed, frustration exuding, while warm wind blew lightly against her face. 

“Grangeerrr,” he slurred. Draco took a step forward, causing Hermione to back away. “I missed youuu,” Hermione’s heart pattered. He missed her? 

“I’ve been hurting,” he pouted. “You’re gone! You left me even though I love you!” 

Love. Not loved. Love.He still loved her. This time when Draco took a step, Hermione didn’t retreat. He reached out his hand to touch her hair lovingly. 

“You changed it. I liked it long and brunette. It’s alright though, you look really fucking fit with short black hair. You-you kind of look like Pansy,” he said without a filter. In such close proximity, she could smell it. He reeked of alcohol. The slurring, loss of balance, inappropriate candor all made sense now. He was drunk. Really, really intoxicated. 

That bastard.  He showed up drunk, just to come and beg for her back. Hermione knew it was wrong, she shouldn’t be going back to him. But Godric was the temptation sweet. 

“What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?’ He stopped playing with her hair. 

“I’m here,” He paused dramatically. “ To win you back.” He grasped her hand. “Come back to me Hermione, let’s make this work. I want to be with you forever, I love you. I’m sorry, okay? I was an ass, please don’t leave me alone,” Hermione's heart felt like it was tearing into shreds.

She didn’t want him, not like this. 

“Draco-” Hermione’s mouth was met with his finger shushing her with a smirk. 

“Oh Merlin, I miss hearing my name on your lips. How about that, you and me in my bed, and then we’ll go from there,” He purred into her ear. 

She swallowed and shook her head. “Draco, we can’t, not like this. You’re drunk. You, need to go home. Sober up, come back to me if you want to have this discussion again.” 

Draco’s brow furrowed. “I just told you that I loved you, and you’re trying to send me home? I came here to fix things, Granger. You can’t just send me away,” he sputtered frantically. 

“You know what, you’re being ridiculous. Come inside and use the Floo. You’re in no shape to apparate.” Hermione grabbed his arm, and he shoved her off. Hermione stumbled backwards. 

“Draco Malfoy, you listen to me this instant and you let me take you to the Floo.” Draco’s eyes darkened and his glare looked sharp enough to cut. 

“Guess what Granger, NO.  You’re not my mother, you’re not my keeper, and you’re sure as hell, not my girlfriend. You’re just as swotty as you were in school, not a single thing has changed. You’re still the stuck up, prissy, little know it all, that always has to have things go her way, or else she’s going to throw a fit. Are you going to throw a fit Granger? Cry and scream and bitch until Saint Potter hauls me off to Azkaban?  You have absolutely no right to tell me what to do with my life, not when you left me like you did. I loved you, I still do. And you left me.  No right to tell me how I should live my life when you took away everything I loved. ” Draco screamed, looming dangerously over Hermione. The tears slipped down her face, stinging her cheeks, and with her voice shaking, she whispered. 

“Get. Off. My. Property. Leave before I have you removed.” Draco scoffed and threw his hands up in the air, turning around to leave Grimmuald’s grounds. He paused, turning around to face Hermione. His eyes burned with fury, contempt, bitterness, and arrogant humor. 

“I wish I left you dying on the floor of my drawing-room, let my aunt finish what she's best at. Killing mudblood’s like you. Maybe my father was right. No matter how good you are at magic, you’ll still be a muddy blooded, magic stealing muggle.” he spat. Hermione’s eyes widened. 

“Get off! Leave! How dare you! ” Hermione shrieked angrily. Draco stumbled off her property, and as soon as he was out of eyesight, Hermione fell to her knees sobbing uncontrollably. She remained there, heartbroken, bawling,  until Ginny brought her inside, cleaned her up, and sat her down on the couch. 

“What happened?” Ginny asked while her hand stroked Hermione’s head. 

Silence. 

“He said he still loved me.” 

That was all that mattered. 

December 3, 1999

Cause there we are again, when I loved you so, back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known. It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well (All Too Well Ten Minute Version Taylors Version)

Dear Draco, 

I loved you, I loved you, and I'm not sure if that feeling will ever go away. Every second of every day, I was thinking about you. *You were epic for me. We were the great love story, my heart beat for you, Draco Malfoy. It never occurred to me that I would ever have to be with anyone else; you were perfect. You were everything. You turned my world.* You never said that you loved me, but you did. I know it. After the war, I was broken, traumatized, and alone. But, you loved me in a way that I never thought was possible. You loved me in a way that I couldn't even love myself. When I couldn't bear to look in the mirror at myself, you showed me that I was beautiful. When I couldn't bring myself to go to work, you restored my passion. You picked me up and pasted me back together, restored a fire, confidence, and a drive, gave me something to live for. You loved me even after seeing my flaws. Your capacity to love is enormous, much larger than you give yourself credit for. I always underestimated it. I held my own prejudice against you. I thought you were cold, distant, emotionally unavailable, bitter, and evil. Whether I like to admit it or not, I was still angry. I was angry at you, and Tom, hell even at Harry. I was mad at everyone. Internally I  blamed you for making me the way that I was. In some sense, I couldn’t get over the distasteful mark on your arm. You proved every single one of those things wrong. You were warm, present, and willing to love me.  You’re a good man Draco Malfoy, don’t you ever forget it. 

But you made a mistake. You let me go, you told me to go away. I was yours. I wanted to be yours forever. I was willing to take that next step with you, give my life to you, and you threw it all away. Let's get one thing clear. As much as you helped me find myself, I was there for you, too, every step of the way. When you had nightmares and woke up screaming and sweating in the quiet of the night, I nursed you back to sleep. I helped you get sober off of Calming Draught. I picked you up just as much as you put me back together. How could you end something like that so quickly? I thought there was something wrong with me, that I was crazy, that I was driving away everyone who could love me. But it was you, not me.

You were scared of commitment, terrified of judgment, fearful of opinion, and hell knows what. We could've worked through that, found a compromise, but you ran. You ran away from all that was hellbent and scary. Yes we argued. Yes we fought, but if we had tried, tried to make it work, we could still be together. There were most certianly thingst that I regret saying, that i wish I could take back, and I’m sure you have too. I won’t hodl you to them, as long as you promise to forget them as well. Putting that aside, you still couldn’t be bothered to communicate, and work with me to make amends. You acted like a coward, Draco Malfoy. 

Then you dared to show up drunk at Grimmauld, and beg for me back. What you said drunk hurt more than what you said when we broke up. Why? Because I know you meant it. When people are drunk, they say the things they wouldn’t have the courage to do sober. You told me that it was my fault, that I was controlling, rude, stuck up. Malfoy, you said that you wish you left me on the floor of your drawing room. But you said you that loved me. Draco Malfoy, you said that you saw a future for us, one where we could be happy. And to be honest, that was enough for me. I could ignore every other word you said because you told me that you loved me. Do you know how hard it was for me not to run back to your arms?  I needed to see you. But I couldn't, Harry wouldn’t let me, and I knew he was right.  Because you were drunk, and you had already said your peace while sober. You told me that you didn't want me even when you were sober. I can't place myself back in a relationship with a man who only wants me while drunk.

 I truly believe from the bottom of my heart that you were the right person for me. There's no other person who loves me the way that you do. So thank you. Thank you for picking me back up. Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for being the highlight of my day,  my will to live. Thank you for helping me find a life I never thought I could have. I pray to a God that I don’t believe exists, just so that we can be together. But we can’t. It isn’t the right time.   I don’t think there will ever be a right time. When we started this, we were both picking up our torn-up pieces, and we couldn't handle sewing each other back up. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't be the person you needed because I damn well wanted to. We can't be together, which hurts me so much to say because I know it's true. I can't stop missing you, even though I know I should. I can't stop thinking about you even though I know I really need to. I can't stop loving you, even though I try every damn night. I love you, I love you, I love you, Draco Malfoy, but this has to be our goodbye.

Forever and always, yours in another lifetime, 

Hermione Jean Granger

Was this supposed to be her closure? Sending a letter, ending things,  to the man who she couldn’t live without? Would this solve her problems? Would this get rid of the unbearable aching pain that tormented her both day and night? Would this relieve the guilt and shame she felt? No, it wouldn’t. As much as she wanted to accept what had happened, this letter wouldn’t fix the problem. It wouldn’t provide the kind of closure Hermione needed for her to feel whole again. Only time could stitch her heart back together, but even then would she ever feel the same? 

Once she mailed that letter, it was over. It was finally over. All chance of reconciliation would be gone, and they would go about their lives pretending as if they hadn't scarred one another. It shattered Hermione's heart to say it. No more late-night car rides, no more brunches with Narcissa, no more apple cologne, no more platinum hair, no more sharp remarks, and quick-witted taunts. No more Draco Malfoy. 

As much as she wanted to run back to the comfort of his arms, she couldn't. She couldn't keep her dignity while going back to a man who didn't want her. It had always been too good to be true, the fairytale had to end. Blissful, ignorant, drunken happiness always faded, and the highs of love always left people desolate and alone. The great love story was over, and Hermione’s heart needed to find another reason to beat. She had lost everything. All Hermione was left with were the tormenting, bittersweet memories of him, ones that she couldn’t help but remember All Too well.