Hello!

I know... it's horrible for me to be starting another story when I have SO many others to finish. This one, however, is different. It's my own original story with my own characters and all that I changed up to fit into the Harry Potter world. Not to worry, the magic that is Harry Potter and the characters you still love, like Draco and Hermione, are in here. They're playing the part of my characters for your enjoyment!

I hope you enjoy it!

One

The old bar stool creaked under her small form as she shifted from side to side, patiently waiting for her drink. Her brown eyes scanned the room she was in, studying the people around her. Most of them looked happy, or too drunk to have a valid emotion besides trashed beyond the legal limit. She chuckled to herself. That should be her right now, too drunk to be nothing but wasted. Instead, she was stuck at a bar in muggle London, about three blocks from Kings Cross Station. She never really pictured herself coming to this bar, especially alone… the night before her wedding.

Some bachelorette party, huh?

The sudden clanking of glass on wood forced her curly brown hair to whip her in the face as the bartender placed her dink on the table. "Thanks." She murmured under her breath before wrapping her manicured hands, perfect for her wedding, around the glass. The bartender nodded in response before attending to more waiting bar patrons.

She spun the glass on the wood of the counter several times before lifting it into the air to study the amber liquid. Tequila. She wasn't a fan, especially after all the underage drinking she did at parties in the common room, ones where firewhiskey was a frequent occurrence. But then again, so were nights when you spent hours with you head stuck in a toilet and a headache to prove it in the morning.

She brought the tequila to her nose and inhaled, her body immediately rejecting the smell due to the memories, or lack thereof. Maybe that was why she ordered this drink, to not remember this night in the morning. Who would want to remember spending the night before your wedding, a night that should be reserved with your friends as you have rebellious fun and drink until you can no longer stand, with your parents as you went over your plans for the future and nerves for the wedding? She sure as hell didn't.

She downed the shot before she could have a second thought, slamming the empty glass on the table. She immediately wanted to vomit, putting her hand over her mouth as she tried to get the disgusting taste from her it. She looked up, clearing her throat sub-consciously as she noticed the bartender approaching her, the bottle of tequila in his hand.

"Another?" He asked, nodding towards her glass.

She nodded. "Please." He poured it with a smile, then left her with a full shot glass again. She didn't think this time, only brought the tequila to her lips and tilted her head back. Just a couple more shots and she would sleep well tonight. She sighed, placing her glass on the table.

"Hermione?" She froze, her eyes going wide. She knew the voice. Oh, did she know that voice.

She turned to face the man she knew was already standing there, forcing a small smile as they made eye contact. "Hello Draco." He practically melted into her gaze, and she wanted to melt into his more than anything, but she couldn't. She was getting married tomorrow, to a different man.

His smile faltered slightly, obviously noticing how restrained she was in her hello. He couldn't really blame her however, not after the way their last conversation had done years ago. "H-How have you been?" He asked, moving towards her and taking a seat next to her at the bar.

Her hands fidgeted nervously. He was so close to her that she could touch him. "What are you doing here Draco?" She didn't look at him when she spoke, instead just stared at her empty shot glass.

She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn't look at him, she simply couldn't. One look and her heart would break into pieces again. "Tequila please." At the sound of Draco's voice, she looked up, the bartender nodding at him before grabbing the bottle to give Draco a drink identical to her own. She watched as he quickly took the shot with ease, smacking his lips together before placing the empty shot glass on the table.

Now she remembered why she hated tequila. It wasn't just the combination of a night in the toilet or a terrible hangover the next day, it was the face she pictured in her mind with every shot that ran down her throat, burning on the way. It was his face. Suddenly… she hated him. She hated him for reminding her of how much she really did miss him, hated him for staying so close to her heart even though he was miles away from it, hated him for seeing her sitting at the bar and instead of just turning the other way without saying a word to her, approached her. She hated him with every fiber of her being.

"You ignored my question." She suddenly snapped, glaring at him. "Why are you here?"

He smiled at her nervously, chuckling slightly, before looking around the bar. "It's a public place Hermione."

"I know that." She snapped again. Did he think she was stupid? No. He knew better. "And there are plenty of other seats in this 'public place' for you to choose from, yet you chose to sit here… net to me."

He just stared back at her, nervously licking his lips. "Hermione, I-." He sighed. "I just wanted to sit by a friend."

"I'm not your friend." She said quietly as she glared at him. "I'm just the dumb bookworm you fell in love with back at Hogwarts, remember?" Draco's face fell as a sudden case of déjà vu hit him. Hermione didn't care, he deserved to hear those words. Now he knew how she had felt. "I'm replaceable, remember?"

"Hermione-."

She grabbed her purse and threw it over her shoulder, turning towards the door. "I should leave."

As she took a step, she felt his hand latch onto her wrist. "Hermione." She closed her eyes and bit her lips together, Draco's hand still wrapped around her wrist. "Please… don't go."

She inhaled deeply and turned to face him. "I'm getting married tomorrow."

Draco stood up from his stood and slowly approached her, hand still on her wrist, preventing her from doing what she wanted to do most at the moment; run. His free hand moved to her upper arm, grazing the skin there before he brought it to her cheek, caressing the side of her face with the pad of his thumb. Her brown eyes locked with his grey before he released her wrist to run his fingers through her curls.

She closed her eyes, not believing she was feeling his touch again. She almost seemed to re-awaken at that moment, feeling a touch she only felt in her dreams nowadays. She could say that she hated him all she wanted, but the truth was she needed him. She needed him to fill the empty hole in her heart he had created, even if it would only be empty again come morning. At least for tonight, she could fall asleep to his heartbeat one more time.

Slowly, Draco leaned in towards her, lightly brushing his lips against hers before whispering into her ear. "I'm already married."

Her eyes shot open and met his. Instantly, she realized he was going through the same thing she was. He may have pushed her away years ago, but he needed her now, only if it was for one night. They were both willing to take what they could get.

"This is wrong." She whispered, licking her lips nervously.

"Then why does it feel so right?" He asked, smiling at her slightly.

She couldn't answer. In twenty four hours she would be married, and in about an hour she would be laying next to another man, not matter how wrong or right it felt. And at that moment, she didn't care. She needed this.

She needed to be back in Draco's arm. It was where she belonged.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open, landing on the small ceiling fan above her. The morning sun was just peeking through the shades in the window, shining its rays onto the fans blades so they casted a shadow on the ceiling. She kept her eyes focused on one of the blades, watching as it spun in circles, for a couple minutes.

When she was able to peel her eyes away, she sighed quietly through her nostrils, turning her head to the side and glancing at the clock on the bedside table. It was 5:45 a.m.. Her alarm wasn't set to go off for another 45 minutes. She didn't know why she bothered to look. She knew the alarm wasn't what woke her up, or even her internal clock, but her dreams. It was her dreams, or nightmares, she wasn't sure what they were, that had been preventing her from getting a good night's sleep.

She turned her head back on the pillow, eyes on the fan again, still spinning in circles. Her dreams weren't real dreams, not ones that most people have anyway. She didn't dream about things she imaged or wanted to happen, or even things that were impossible. Most of the time she dreamed about things that had already happened to her, replaying over and over again in her mind as she slept.

She sighed through her nose again, turning her head to stare at her husband sleeping next to her. He was due to wake up in fifteen minutes, and right now, she couldn't stand to look him in the eye. She never could really, not after her sleep was interrupted by him. Her heart took a sudden leap as his face popped into her mind again, and she quickly threw the covers off her, careful not to wake up her husband. She couldn't lay there and pretend to be asleep with his face pictured in her head as her husband got up to go to work. She needed a shower… a cold shower, where her body would be focused on the ice cold water that would trickle down her body and nothing else.

She shut the bathroom door quickly, immediately starting the water, turning the cold dial as far as it would go. She undressed, tossing her clothes in the laundry basket before pulling back the shower curtain and jumping in. She squealed slightly when the ice cold water touched her skin, but the cold soon vanished as she ducked her head under the stream. She stayed under it, allowing the water to run down her hair and over her face, quickly reaching the rest of her body. Closing her eyes, she let out a small cry before pleading under her breath. "Please." She begged to no-one. "Please make him leave my dreams. Please."

She cried silently under the shower, her warm tears mixing with the ice cold water, until she heard the alarm in her bedroom go off. Quickly composing herself, she turned the water off, goose bumps lining her skin, and stepped out of the shower. Just as she wrapped the towel around her body, she heard a faint knock on the door. ""Mione?" Her husband's voice sounded confused and concerned. She was never up this early, at least not to his knowledge. She woke up from her dreams at this time every morning, lying in bed and pretending to be fast asleep. But this morning was different. She had dreamed of the night that had been haunting her every day for the last 13 years, a night she now had to live with.

"Hermione?" He called again.

She cleared her throat and pulled the door open, making eye contact for a split second before they darted to her towel as she pretended to adjust it. "Good morning." She greeted as he stared at her, eyebrow raised.

"…Good morning." He paused, looking her up and down. "Are you okay? You're never up this early."

She nodded. "I just had a nightmare is all." Well, it wasn't a lie, not really.

"You don't look good Hermione." He brought his hand up and placed it on her cheek, flinching slightly when his warm hand touched her cold skin. "Merlin, Hermione! You're cold as ice!" He cried, quickly stepping towards her and wrapping her arms around her, rubbing her back. "You need to get back in bed and stay there, you must be ill. Rose can go one a day without seeing James."

"No." Hermione looked up at Ron as he continued to warm her with his body heat, one hand now on the back of her head. "That's not fair, Ron. They had plans already."

"They'll live. You're sick." Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Ron cut her off. "Don't argue with me." She couldn't help but smile slightly. He knew her so well. "You need to rest. You look terrible."

He smiled at her reassuringly as she smiled back, shaking her head. It hurt in a way to smile at him while she was frowning on the inside. He loved her so much, more then she loved him, and telling him the truth about everything would only break his heart in the end. It would shatter it into a million pieces, and Hermione knew that once it was, nobody, especially her, could fix it. "I'm fine Ron… really." She stood on her toes to give him a quick kiss. "You need to go get ready for work."

He studied her for a few more seconds. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." She said as he released her. "I'll even make a big breakfast since I'm up earlier than usual."

Ron laughed slightly. Hermione was never one to want to cook, especially early in the morning. "You are ill." He teased as he kissed her forehead. "I'm just going to freshen up for work then I'll be down."

"Okay." Hermione said before going to get changed, then making her way down the hall towards her daughters room. Turning the handle on the door, she peered into the room to see her daughter already awake. She was standing in the closet, her back to Hermione, as she looked for an outfit to wear. "Rose?" Rose turned at the sound of her name, her blonde hair whipping her in the face. Hermione's heart beat against her chest harder than usual as she glanced as Rose's hair for a few split seconds. She shook her head slightly to clear her mind and smiled at her daughter.

"Good morning, mum." Rose said, smiling back.

"You're up early." Hermione pointed out, walking inside the room and shutting the door.

Rose shrugged, turning to her closet and pulling out her outfit for the day. "So are you." She retorted. Hermione couldn't help but smile back. Rose had her brains for sure. It was probably the only thing she inherited from her. Everything else came from her father. Her sarcasm, her attitude, her skinny and tall form, her grey eyes, and yes… even her blonde hair.

"I was going to make some breakfast since I'm up early." Hermione said, watching her daughter smirk back. It was a well known fact that Hermione couldn't cook all that well. "What kind of eggs would you like?"

"Scrambled, please." Rose said, putting her clothes on her bed. "Want me to help?"

"Sure honey." Hermione said, turning back towards the door and pulling it open. "Get changed and then if I'm not already done, you can help me, alright?" Rose nodded and Hermione made her exit. She sighed as she made it into the kitchen starting the tea pot and getting the eggs out. Scrambled for Rose, like always. While Ron and Hermione couldn't stand the taste of scrambled eggs, their preference sunny side up, Rose loved them. So Hermione was forced to make them, knowing well in the bottom of her heart why her daughter loved something her and Ron didn't.

"Something smells good." She turned to see Ron entering the kitchen, his robes on. He smiled at her before walking over to the front door and opening it to retrieve the newspaper the owl had dropped off earlier, then taking a seat at the kitchen table to read. "Rose's still sleeping, I guess?"

"No." Hermione said, placing Ron's tea in front of him. "She was already awake when I went in there."

Ron looked up at Hermione from his newspaper in confusion. "That's strange for her, isn't it?"

Hermione shrugged as she put Ron's eggs on a plate and passed them to him. "Maybe she didn't sleep well."

Ron nodded, still looking unconvinced. Just then, Rose entered the room. "Morning, dad." She said when she saw him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"I heard you were an early riser today." Ron said, putting down the paper to eat his eggs. "Why'd you wake up so early?"

"I got an owl from James early this morning. You know how much he's like Uncle Harry. He has some big scheme for today." She said as she sat down at the table. Hermione followed suit, placing Rose's eggs in front of her, and her own place in front of herself.

"What kind of scheme?" Hermione asked.

"He didn't say. He never does." Rose said, taking a bite.

"Sounds like Harry." Ron said with a laugh.

"Well, don't go getting into too much trouble while you're over there, alright?" Hermione said sternly.

"Do I ever get into trouble, mum?" Rose asked, a smirk on her lips. Ron laughed, not taking his eyes from the paper. "I'm going to take my broom with me though. James said to bring it."

Hermione sighed. "Just don't stay out to late tonight, alright? We're having dinner here with your grandparents tonight."

"We are?" Ron questioned.

Hermione sighed. "We've been planning this all week Ron."

"Well I wasn't informed." He defended.

"It's my father's birthday." Hermione fought back. "You didn't make plans, did you?"

"I'll cancel them."

"Ron-."

"It's fine Hermione." He said, smiling, then standing up from the table. "My family's more important. But I have to go to work." He walked behind Rose and gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head. "You're mothers right. Don't get into too much trouble."

"Yes dad." She whined.

"Bye." Ron said when he reached Hermione, bending down to give her a quick , chaste kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too." She watched as he walked out of the kitchen and to the living room where he quickly flooed to work, disappearing from sight.

"I'm going to go get my broom." Rose announced, getting up from the table and running to her room.

Hermione said nothing, to lost in her own thoughts and lies. She had said "I love you" to Ron probably thousands of times by now and it still affected her the same way ever time. It wasn't the biggest lie she had ever told, not by a long shot, and she didn't even know if she considered it a lie.

Of course, it really was. She did love Ron, but after all these years she came to realize that she loved him like someone would love their brother.

She held no romantic feelings for him and she wondered now if she ever did. When he said "I love you", he meant it. He's been crazy in love with her since fourth year at Hogwarts, maybe sooner, and it only made her feel guiltier for leading him on for all these years. She often wondered if he knew deep down that she didn't love him the same way. He had to hear it in her voice, had to hear how restrained and quiet it was when she said it. But, no, she doubted it. He was oblivious to everything, even her lies.

Sometimes she would watch him when him, her, and Rose all ate dinner, and his eyes would travel to Rose, staying in her hair longer than anywhere else. He would look at it curiously, and she wondered if he was questioning her reasoning, her lie, behind the bright blonde locks. She thought it was a good lie, one that wasn't really retraceable. He great Aunt Margaret had had blonde hair, but even then, it was more of a dirty blonde then Rose's shade of white blonde. Regardless, when Ron questioned Rose's hair once she had become a toddler, she had her answer ready.

"You know how traits often skip a couple of generations in a family." She said, avoiding eye contact with her husband. "She must have gotten it from my Aunt."

Ron didn't question it. In a way, Hermione wished her had. Everything might be easier now, less complicated. Ron would know the truth about Rose, Hermione would most likely end up breaking his heart sooner than later, Rose wouldn't be Hermione's biggest and most precious lie, and the man with the blonde hair identical to her daughters, the man she loved, would finally know the secret Hermione had been keeping from him.

Draco would know that he, not Ron, was Rose's father.