Author's Note: I do not own the characters.

This is only a short piece, will not be continued. AU, up til sixth book, some of seventh book applies, but obviously a lot comes from my own mind.

Summery: In the end, all that mattered was him.

Hermione loved Ron, she swore it. Told everyone that it was true; the crimson-haired boy was her world. It was accepted as truth. Everyone was proud of the pair, everyone said it was a perfect match. Harry couldn't have been happier, Ginny was overly triumphant.

But what no one knew was that this was an outright lie. Hermione did not love Ron, at least not the way he thought she did. Maybe more like a brother. But definitely not as a lover, no, she hadn't thought of him that way since she was sixteen. Of course, her sixteenth birthday was a turning point for everything; that was the day that everything in her life was turned upside down.

She had no idea how he found out her birthday, but after awhile it no longer mattered who had given him such information. What mattered was the beautiful necklace she'd received in the post. It was an intricately wrought silver chain with the most delicate snake and lion pendants she'd ever seen. She had never owned anything like it, and now, it was hers.

She had written a reply of course, though it had been more reproachful than thankful. Soon after however, the letters started flowing daily as they wrote to each other, never speaking of their opposite sides in the war, but just about everyday struggles. He explained and let loose his feelings towards his father, never mentioning anything about evil tasks or the darkness looming around him, but more about his abandonment and how things had been before the world had "muddied up." And she more or less divulged her desires to be more than a know-it all prude, and her problems with the boys. He had never once judged or chastised her behaviors or worries, and only gave her genuine, sincere encouragement; the likes of which she had been craving her whole life, and in this she found great comfort. For him, she became his gentle confident, someone with a kind heart who sought to understand him, and often he reminded her of how much that meant to him.

In time, it became more than clear to the two teenagers that there was something deep growing between them. At first, they tried to deny it, at night she'd lie awake thinking about him, because while she wanted sleep to overtake her, she worried that her roommates would be alerted to anything fishy. So she waited for them all to be sound asleep before she'd allow herself to sink into her dreams that almost always were consumed by his presence. He, on the other hand, had far greater concerns to attend to, and lay awake worrying more about his future than about her, however she managed to creep her way into his mind, and soon he found himself on the verge of a breakdown from the pressure surrounding him.

In the great castle they called home, they attempted to sneak away and find time together, but as it was their sixth year, they had many duties and a great workload to attend to outside of their other, more personal problems, so they hardly had time to see each other. When they could coordinate a time to meet, it was often thwarted by friends or greater concerns, so indeed their budding romance suffered through the school year. More and more Hermione had trouble hiding her worries about Draco, as she knew there was something big that he was hiding from her. But she could not deny the agreement they had made as soon as they had arrived back at the school: they were never to discuss his position in the Dark Army, and she could hardly find the courage to confront him.

So she found herself in a dire situation: watching Ron happily wasting away the hours with none other than Lavender Brown constantly by his side and more horridly, enduring endless nights alone, in the darkness of her room pining for the Slytherin that held her heart. It was scary being in her situation, and it was even scarier when he would find a way to see her, and they would end up curled in a dark corner of the castle, either high in a tower or down in the un-looked after dungeons, clutching each other for what seemed like dear life. She allowed him to sob quietly against his chest, holding him physically together as he emotionally fell apart. She didn't have to ask what caused him such heartache, it was written all over his face.

One night when her world had caved in and she had truly realized that she loved him; the night she had had to endure Ron and Lavender and she had just been unable to take it any longer. They had already made plans to meet up, but when she found herself face to face with him, she had broken down, throwing herself into his arms. He had responded by lifting her into his arms and kissing her. They had kissed before in the passing months, but it had never been anything like this. This time their feelings were allowed out of their restraints; this time she thought they might have taken it too far. There had been no time to conjure anything better than a blanket, so they made due, allowing their bodies to combine and express themselves thoroughly. After, she lay in his arms, overwhelmed by what had happened and the feelings flowing freely in her heart. For awhile he just held her, kissing her hair, and she was well aware he had no idea what to say to her. But he had eventually broken the silence by explaining that he loved her, and that he was sorry for everything. She'd told him she loved him, but he ended up quickly dressing and very soon after he bid her farewell.

Days later, he had only written once, and as weeks turned into months, their correspondence dwindled into nothing. She couldn't understand why this was happening, was consumed by guilt and pain almost to the point she thought she'd go crazy from it all. The whole time, however, she kept her cool in public, hiding everything from everyone. His appearance again took a turn for the worst, and before she knew it the fateful day that Dumbledore died was upon her. She only saw him once in the mess at the castle, and he glanced into her eyes as he took off running across the grounds, fumbling towards safety. She could have stopped him, could have pulled him to the side one last time, but she didn't.

The year after that was a long blur of desperation, and she spent it trying to destroy Voldemort. When they finally won and Harry emerged from the battlefield, triumphant, she knew she had lost him. Something felt off, felt wrong about the world, and she had every inkling in her mind screaming at her that he was missing. There was no time to search for him, and at any rate, there was nothing to be found. For a very long time, no one had any idea what had become of Draco Malfoy, except that he was identified as being missing from what looked like the face of the earth. Privately, Hermione conducted her own search for him, but in the end, came up with nothing.

So she did all she could do to forget and forgive him. She married Ron, and tried to be happy. They had children, and friends and her career was successful. However, she kept every single letter he had ever sent her, locked away in a box in the attic. From time to time, she would go up there, and sit with a steaming mug of tea, and she would read through them, allowing herself to relive the memories. It was impossible to forget her true love, she reckoned, so she only pretended to herself that she had.

And the day that his body finally was found, she had nothing to say to herself. She and Ron attended the funeral, but she couldn't force back the tears that sprang forth. Ron made no effort to ignore them, said nothing about her reaction, but silently stood by her as she grieved her loss. He said nothing besides a few words of surprise when they were notified that a small amount of money and a few large shelves of books were left to her in a letter will they found in his London apartment. Hermione took them and the letter he'd written to her, but refused the money, instead donated it to local charity. And she obeyed his wishes not to read the letter until the day she felt she were on her death bed.

That day came many years after his funeral, her children were grown and successful, and Ron had peacefully passed away before her.

In the end, he said, she was all that mattered. In the end, their love was all he had ever had, meant everything to him.

But, in the end, for Hermione, all that mattered was him.

A/N: Reviews please? I know it was just a short jumbled drabble, but I had to write it!