Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Harry Potter, nor will I ever.

A/N: This song really moved me, so I decided to attempt to write a story about it. Tell me how I did.

ENJOY!

OoOoOoOoO

All Hail the Heartbreaker

OoOoOoOoO

Winter was by far his favorite time of year. Not only did he love the intensely freezing winds, but he also loved the way the season could make everything look so dead. The leaves that were so bright and alive in the spring and summer, just crippled, dried up, and blew away with the wind. All of the trees' branches became uninhabited and lonely, covered in drapes of stinging white snow and dangerously sharp icicles. It brought elation to him in a way that most people couldn't grasp. Death was mighty enticing right now.

Although now that he thought about it, winter hadn't always been his favorite season. Actually, he had been quite the sucker for summer; the way the sun lit up everything, bringing out the highlights of the trees, how you could see across the lake for miles, the unbelievably passionate thunderstorms, the way the lightning illuminated her face… he used to love watching her dance in the rain.

He pulled himself up of the bench and started walking. All of that was in the past. That was the nice-dressing, funny, amorous, caring Draco that had rotted away into what he was now: a cold, distant, malevolent loner who never smiled. But, what did he care? His aloof appearance, black clothes, and sunken-in face kept him safe from people. No one wanted to talk to a weirdo.

He continued to walk, snow and ice crunching beneath his weighty boots, not at all sure of his destination. Reaching his hand in to the pocket of his heavy black cloak, he fingered around in it before pulling out a crumpled pink sweater that reeked of too much perfume. He used to love the smell, but now that she was gone, it just singed his nose. He sneezed and wrinkled his face. His eyes began to water.

Thrusting the arm that held the ominous cloth to his side, Draco looked up and gazed around. He was now looming upon a local muggle park, his used-to-be favorite place. Passing under the gate, he began up the path, absentmindedly kicking a rock along his way. He cleared his throat, hoping that it would also clear his mind. It didn't. His conscious was drowning in the reek of her perfume, his hand combusting beneath the fabric of the sweater. He felt sick.

He got closer, but kept a good distance from the other inhabitants of the park. The last thing he wanted to do was piss someone else off. Though he seemed to be very good at that, lately. You see, he was never really in the mood to talk and this aspect seemed to upset people. It's not like he ignored them completely, he more or less answered the comments and questions with a short yes, no, or a grunt. It's not his fault that creating words tore at his heart.

Draco exhaled sharply as he stepped up onto the wooden platform that housed a rusty old swing set. The seat complained loudly as he placed his weight upon it and began to rock slowly back and forth. He fanaticized that no amount of WD-40 would be able to stop this swing's earsplitting squeaks, but still, he swung. He needed to swing. The erratic whoosh of the wind rushing past his face helped him to clear his mind. The freezing chill of the chain links beneath his hands helped cool the stinging burn of the sweaters perfume. The weightlessness of the flight helped him forget to live… helped his soul escape his ruddy old sack of a body.

A large lump grew in his throat as he realized why his body had led him here: she had loved going here; it was one of her favorite places to spend time. He used to push her as high as he could, so high that the swing would start to whine and groan, even though she practically weighed nothing. Little muggle kids would sit on the swings next to her and try to outdo her height. They'd grunt and pump their legs, but they couldn't get high enough. Eventually, Draco would start pushing them too, just to give them a little boost. The children would explode in frenzied laughter when they finally caught up with his beautiful brunette. They would all laugh.

But no laugh could ever match the sweet melody that belonged to his amour. No. She outshone everyone, no matter what the occasion.

As he began to slip into comatose, he heard her luscious giggles.

"Push me higher, Draco!" she was telling him. "Push me higher…"

He let her voice dissolve his mind.

oOoOoOo

I had the notion that you'd make me change my ways

My bad habits would be gone in a matter of days

I had the feeling that you'd open up my eyes

To a whole new world that had since been in disguise

But that day will most likely never come for me

And it's just my luck to end up getting stuck

To everything you are

So tonight I'll sit and pick apart your pictures

And over analyze your words

But the truth is that I've never fallen so hard

It's taken everything in me

Just to forget your sweater so far

oOoOoOo

"Oh, come on Draco, push me higher!" her laughing voice filled the air.

"I'm trying!" Draco responded, practically breaking his back to make the swing go higher.

"Higher, love!"

"I think that's as high as it goes!" he told her.

"You sure?" she asked, still trying to climb higher in the air. The swing started to whine in protest.

"Yes, I'm positive," he told her. "It's awfully high."

"Okay! I'm going to jump now!"

"I don't think that's such a good idea, sweetie, you might hurt yourself," Draco yelled.

"Watch out Draco, get out of the way!" Nervously, he moved to the far edge of the swing set, well out of her reach.

"One… two… three!" Her voice was a whirlwind of laughter as she plummeted towards the gravel. Draco rushed to her side to make sure she was okay. Seeing as she had landed on her feet, he didn't think that there would be any damage, but it never hurt to check.

Her laughter continued to come in erratic boughs.

"Oh Draco, let's do that again!"

"Maybe tomorrow," he said, making her gripe, "I'm tired."

She sullenly gathered herself up off the ground, with his helping hand of course, and pulled on her discarded sweater. She rubbed her arms at the slight chill that brought the beginning of fall.

"You're so fun to be around," Draco told her, slipping his arm around her waist.

"As are you, love," she responded, momentarily putting her head on his shoulder. She nuzzled him lovingly then stood up on tiptoe and planted a light kiss on his lips.

"I love you, Draco," she told him.

"I love you more, Hermione."

oOoOoOo

I had the notion that you'd make me forget the world

But your undecisive mind shows me that

You are "just another girl"

I had the feeling that those looks you gave me were real

What if I ripped your heart apart at the seams?

Maybe then you'd know how I feel

oOoOoOo

Draco slowly opened his eyes, coming to grips with reality once again. A vehemence of tears clouded his vision. He couldn't help but feel dense for loosing control of his emotions in such a public place.

He took a quick glance around. Much to his console, no one seemed to notice.

Relaxing back into his swing, Draco began to daydream. He wondered what it must be like to only have to worry about childish things. Things like not getting caught smuggling cookies out of the cookie jar or sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to play with your new toy. He couldn't remember his life ever being like that; he couldn't remember much of his upbringing. It was a shame that he'd missed out on the simplest part of life.

He let out a sigh, unknowingly playing with a loose thread in the sweater. He looked down at it quizzically.

The sweater, he thought. No… her sweater. He corrected himself.

Tiring of these memory-filled surroundings, he stood up and began to walk again.

He had soon left the park and was making his way down the immaculate, bitter sidewalk, kicking up clouds of feathery white snow. The frozen ice shards swirled up around his boots only to descend lightly back onto the concrete in a frosty vapor.

He had no idea where to go- seeing as his heart wasn't emotionally fit to return to his apartment- it seemed that every solitary place in this bloody city had been saturated with his memoirs of her. He just couldn't escape.

Seeing as it was his lone choice, Draco sat down on a nearby bench and tilted his head back to gawk up at the heavens.

How long has it been since I left? He wondered. Pulling out his cell phone, he refreshed his memory: December 24th- that's what it said- December 24th, 2:35 pm.

A little over a week. That's how long I've been away. Wow.

It didn't seem that way; he could've sworn it had only been a few days.

I guess that's what happens when you have nothing left to live for.

He sat up and looked around, a nearby couple catching his gaze… or at least they flirted like a couple. The girl was un-mistakenly beautiful; her hair fell in a curly brown curtain across her back, her eyes were a striking emerald green, and her skin was a pastel, milk white.

He couldn't help but be reminded of someone as he watched her smile.

Hermione…

I wonder where she is right now.

oOoOoOo

I can honestly say

That I never, ever, ever felt this way

Your lips, your eyelashes, your skin

These are the parts of your body

That cause my comatose to begin

oOoOoOo

"You're wonderful, did you know that?" she whispered softly, running a finger down his unclothed chest.

"As are you, love," he said somberly, pulling her bare body closer to his, closing his eyes in a stupor. She was so soft, he often inquired as to how she did it.

After a short minute, Hermione sat up and removed the sheets from her body. Grabbing a robe, she got up off the bed and moved to draw back the curtains from the windows.

She pulled open the satin shades, letting the pale moonlight spill across the floor. The way the light caught on her skin made her appear to be glowing, as if the moon itself was radiating within her pores. She almost looked inhuman.

"Ah... I love the night, especially when there's a full moon. It's so romantic." She sighed and walked over to the fire place. Drawing her wand, she muttered under her breath and watched as the wood blazed into a smoldering inferno. "That's better."

As he watched her, Draco's mind began racing again. He had quite the predicament on his hands. Now would be the perfect time to ask her, if only he could assemble the valor within himself to carry it out.

It's now or never, his conscious insisted, now or never…

He let out an anxious sigh as he rolled out of their bed and wrapped his black silk cloak around himself. He quietly approached the still beauty before him and tenderly snaked his arm about her waist.

"Mina," he softly caressed into her ear. "I love you." She didn't move, as if spellbound by the dancing flames. "Mi?" She remained unaffected, but spoke.

"Yes, love?"

Now or never…

Draco placed his hand on the small of her back and turned her to face him.

"These past two incredible years, I've felt this gnawing hunger in the bowels of my heart. No matter how I tried to quench it, nothing filled it better than being with you did. I have finally realized why; you are my other half, Mia, the remedy to my hungry heart." Getting down on one knee, he reached up and took one of her hands in his; it was cold as ice. "So, love, would you do me the honor of being my wife? Would you help rest this wandering soul?" He pulled a small silver-velvet box from his robes and flicked it open to divulge a glistening silver ring. Hermione fingered it lovingly before taking it out and placing it on her finger.

"I'd do anything for you," she said, a single tear trickling down her porcelain face.

oOoOoOo

I will sleep another day

I don't really need to anyway

What's the point when all my dreams are infected?

With words you used to say

I will breathe in a moment

As long as I keep my distance

I wouldn't want to go messing anything up

So don't go worrying about me

It's not like I think about you constantly

So maybe I do, but that shouldn't affect

Your life anymore

I knew it the moment you walked into the door

oOoOoOo

Draco pulled the silver band from his pocket. He had poured every ounce of his being into picking this ring, it had to be perfect. And so it was. In the center of the ring, resided a shinning green emerald. It was simple, just like their relationship. There was no gaudy diamonds, no glistening gold, just the basics. That's how she'd liked it.

Draco liked to thing that the silver band of the ring represented himself; the lesser part of the relationship; the basis. The emerald was for Hermione; the beautiful and graceful part of their love; everything he'd ever dreamed of.

Examining the ring again, he noticed that it just didn't seem to shine the same when not on her finger; it looked monotonous and dirty. He rubbed it over his shirt again and again, but it didn't seem to make a difference. He hung his head in defeat.

He wanted nothing but to see it on her again, he wanted her to be his once more.

Yes, that's what he wanted. Or… at least he thought that's what he wanted; That is, until he remembered why it wasn't on her finger and why they weren't together any longer.

He stood up, frustrated that he was thinking of her again. She was like a toxin that had completely unfurled his brain; he couldn't think of anything else.

"God damn it!" he yelled audibly, dropping her sweater to the ground and stomping sadistically on it- everyone turned to look at him. He cast them a fuming look, picked up the sweater, and took off walking again; leaving diminutive chasms behind him in the snow.

There was only one way to get her out of his head, and that was to get rid of everything that reminded him of her. He'd start with her ring and sweater. Yes, it was time to pay her apartment a visit

oOoOoOo.

So don't go worrying about me,

It's not like I think about this constantly

So maybe I do, but that shouldn't affect

You're life anymore

I knew it the moment you walked in the door

oOoOoOo

Draco was looming on her door, walking down the grimy apartment hallway.

What should I say? What should I do?

His mind was racing so fast that it was threatening to make him pass out.

She's probably with him, screwing his living brains out. Just like before…

This is all his fault...

"Stupid idiot!" he yelled, venting his anger, as he finally came to a halt in front of her room—number 66

"This room number would suit her perfectly if it had an extra six in it," he muttered inaudibly under his breath, laughing at his reference to the devil. He pulled a small silver key from his pocket; Hermione's room key. But should he open her door? What if she was home? This wouldn't be nearly as dramatic. As he began thinking of ways to carry out his mission, he pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open.

The undersized buttons clicked quietly under his large fingers as he dialed Hermione's home phone number. It sadly rang... and rang... and rang...

He swiftly flicked his phone shut and put it away, brining the key closer to the lock. The sterile sound of metal on metal greeted him as the key slipped into the lock. A clicking sound told him that the pins inside lined up.

Here I go, he told himself. Gathering a deep breath, he swung the door open.

Everything was just as he remembered it: small and bland. The walls were white, but so were most of her things. There were white tables, white kitchen, white linens and white bathrooms. The only thing that wasn't white was the fading black couches. They stood like monotonous boulders in the middle of the room.

The apartment reminded him of one of those muggle hospital rooms; too sterile, reeking of ammonia. It all made him dizzy.

He walked further in the entrance hallway, took off his coat, and threw it on the nearby couch. Crossing into the kitchen, he opened her cutlery drawer and drew out a large slicing knife. He ran a finger along it; a thin line of sticky blood formed as the gleaming blade bit into his skin. Satisfied he grabbed another, duller knife and slid the drawer closed.

Draco now began rummaging for a lighter or box of matches of some kind. He did not have to look long, finding them in a cupboard beside her microwave. He lay his finds out on her counter and set to work.

oOoOoOo

So tonight I'll sit and pick apart your pictures

And over-analyze your words

But the truth is I've never fallen so hard

It's taking everything in me

Just to forget you sweater so far

oOoOoOo

"Thank you for dinner, babe, it was wonderful," Hermione said, attaching herself to her new boyfriend.

"No problem, love, it was my pleasure," he replied, the slightest hint of fatigue in his voice. It had been, after all, a very long Christmas Eve; long and eventful. He smiled sultrily to himself.

"My, my, it's late," Hermione said, rubbing her swollen eyes with her liberated hand. He didn't say anything, quickly slipping his key into her door, but stopped when he realized that it was already open.

"What the hell?" he voiced aloud.

"Hm?" Hermione spoke.

"The door's already unlocked." He turned the handle suspiciously, thinking that they had been robbed. He held a hand up to Hermione, signaling for her to wait in the hallway while he checked the house.

She waited patiently in the hallway, slumping against the dirty wall ad slightly dozing off.

Her boyfriend returned a good 5 minutes later, and told her to come back in.

"There's something that you should see," he said, his expression unreadable in the dim hallway lighting.

Taking her hand, he led her through the majority of the house- which seemed in order- and to her bedroom door.

Hermione let out a frightened screech when she saw the long knife sticking out of the blemished oak. It was stuck a good three inches into the door, piercing a slashed piece of pink cloth and an ashen envelope. Hermione's name was scrawled out on the envelope in a careless script, slightly blotched, as if it had been written hastily.

"What the hell is this?" Her boyfriend asked, once again voicing his thoughts. Hermione moved slowly toward the immaculate blade and placed her hands on its hilt. Pulling hard, she managed to withdraw the knife from her door; hands shaky as she placed it on a nearby table.

Slipping her finger into the crevice of the note, she silently slit it open with unease wrestling in her stomach. As she retrieved the letter, a small glittering object fell out, but she paid no attention to it, her eyes were fixed in the parchment.

Hermione,

I thought I'd take a minute to tell you how much I love you. I wanted to let you know how much I gave up just being with you. How I abandoned my dying mother because she didn't approve, how I chewed out my best friend for calling you a filthy mudblood and lost his trust, how I contaminated my pure body by making love to you, but managed to look past it.

I thought I'd take a minute to tell you how you mean the world to me. How everything is accomplished when I get to see you smile, how my every thought and movement is dedicated to you, how my entire life is reflected in your eyes.

I also thought I'd take a minute to tell you how much you absolutely disgust me. How you've filled my head with your poison words, how you ever thought yourself good enough for a pure blood life myself, how you possibly thought that I'd let you cheat on me and then comfort you when you came crawling back.

Inside this letter is a promise; a ring. It's a promise that we've made to each other, a beautiful thing that has now been catastrophically dismantled.

I took the liberty of breaking this flawless circle of love, seeing as how it should reflect the condition of our vows: undoubtedly destroyed. Don't speak, nothing you can say will ever be able to amend things; this is entirely and utterly your fault.

I thought I'd take a minute to tell you that I'm not mad at you; how I still love you. How I completely forgive you, but also how I'm going to relish the thought of you crying when you've realized what you've done and how I'll laugh because you'll never be able to apologize.

I thought you'd enjoy knowing that you were the source of my suicide; how I realized that the only way to purge myself of you was to be rid of my entire being. I thought you'd like to savor that thought every night before you fall into a restless slumber, where you know I'll haunt you.

I thought you'd like to know that I still love you.

Happy Christmas,

Draco

P.S. Be sure to tell Harry Potter that he's finally better than me. He's taken everything; including my wife.

Hermione stood there in revulsion, completely absorbed of all deliberation and emotion, face as alabaster as delicate porcelain. She continued to gape at the letter, hoping that if she didn't look away, everything would be fine, that she'd eventually wake up from this nightmare to find herself sleeping soundly next to Harry.

Somewhere behind her she could faintly hear the clock chime midnight, marking the start of Christmas; the worst Christmas she'd ever live to see.

A small sparkle caught in the corner of her eye, ungraciously drawing her horror-struck gaze: a mutilated band of silver lay helplessly heaped upon her floor; a small emerald beached inches beside it.

I thought you'd like to know that I still love you. His words were still pounding their way through her thoughts as she bent down to pick the wrecked ring.

As she examined the silver, she realized exactly how upset Draco must have been, how he must've poured all he had into destroying this ring; there was not a single square inch of the metal that had not been battered beyond recondition.

He was right; she now understood the magnitude of what she had done. She'd never even thought twice about cheating on Draco; it had been something she had wanted to do, so she had done it. It was just as straightforward as that.

Burning, salty tears singed their way from her eyes, staining her pale face as they fell to the dusty floor. How was she ever going to live with this guilt that was going to forever eat at her soul? There was no possible way that she could clear her conscious of her horrible mistake; there was no possible way to apologize.

He had no idea what to do. Turning idly to a terror stricken Harry, she asked the big question with her eyes: "what should I do?" But Harry wasn't paying attention to her, his gaze was fixed on the door in front of him, which was slightly ajar. Following her intuition, Hermione knew that Harry had already seen what lie behind that door.

Slowly, she turned to face the door. Her movements felt like marmalade; like she was in a slow motion clip of a movie. Her heart raced in terrible fear. Taking the last step, she thrust open the door and stepped over the threshold. What lie before her sent her into shock.

Her beautiful ex-fiancée lay on the bed, no signs of life about him. One of her dirty old kitchen knives lay imbedded in his well-chiseled chest. Her white sheets were an ocean of blood, stained the rusty color. Blood flaked his chest too, disrupting the cold pallor of his skin. The scent of iron was so strong that she had to cover her mouth not to gag. It was like a CSI murder scene.

Desperately, feebly, Hermione tried to wrench her eyes from the shiver-educing plot before her. Her gaze blurred and became edged with tears, her stomach rose, forming bile in her mouth. Pathetically, she tried to swallow it down. She tried to stop the vehemence of salty water that was burning her eyes with a swipe of her arm, but it was too late. The flood gates had opened. There would be no stopping until she could fix this. But how she could fix this, she didn't know.

For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger- the smartest girl in school, valedictorian, the craftiest witch that had ever graced this earth with her presence, Harry Potter's know-it-all best friend- didn't know the answer.

oOoOoOo

I'll let you get the best of me

Because there's nothing else I do well

I'll let you get the best of me

Because there's nothing else I do well

Yeah, you'll be the giver and I'll be the taker

I guess that's how this one's gonna go

I'll be the giver and you'll be the taker

You've got me down on my knees and I proclaim

All hail the heartbreaker!

AN: Aw man, I really do hoped that you liked that. I tried really hard to make it better. Well, if you have any comments/criticizm, then leave me a review!

love,

Shwee