A/N: What has it been, five months? I've no valid excuse (except my mental health rollercoaster, but I won't bore you with those details).

Draco and Hermione were fighting about Ron for one reason; this fighting/break-up helps Ron and Harry to see just how valid the relationship is. Later on, they will support Draco and Hermione more (tolerate, I suppose is a better word).

I hope you like this chapter. Review to tell me if you did! A simple ":)" makes my day.

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Hermione was choking on her sorrow, praising Merlin for silencing charms as she ran down the hallway. She fisted Harry's cloak in her hands, terrified of it slipping. Occasionally she wiped her tears away with it.

She forgot to be gentle with the door when she got to the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey came running out of her office. She stopped when she saw no one there, frowning. Hermione was frozen in fear, but thawed her hand out so she could send a confundus Pomfrey's way.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head and complained about the drafty, old castle as she stiffly walked back to her office. Hermione put up silencing charms, and closed the curtains around Malfoy's bed, sighing in relief.

Malfoy was propped up by his elbows, glaring into the darkness. His voice was scratchy and taunt. "Who's there?"

Hermione shed Harry's cloak, sniffling when she saw the bandages across his chest. Malfoy's features softened, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Oh," he muttered. Hermione held Harry's cloak in a bundle across her upper body like she would a textbook. She couldn't stop looking at the bandages.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her body tilting forward as if she wanted to be closer but couldn't will her feet to move. Malfoy patted the space beside him and tried to sit up, his face becoming pained with the effort.

"No!" Hermione said, gently pushing him to remain flat on the bed. "I'll come to you."

She laid down next to him, her nose an inch away from his. Draco's hand reached between them to push her hair out of her face, but he hesitated. Hermione grabbed his hand before he could stash it back by his side. She kissed his knuckles; he rested his palm on her cheek.

"There's a note in the outside pocket of my robes," Malfoy said, his fingers crawling into Hermione's hair. "Give it to Weasley for me, yeah?"

Hermione placed her forehead on his and smiled. "How long have you had an apology note ready?"

"I wrote it the next morning-after I saw you sulking into your porridge in the Great Hall," he responded.

Hermione wrapped her arms gingerly around Malfoy and smiled into the comfortable silence that had settled around them. His breathing became even and rhythmic; Hermione fell asleep with Malfoy's fingertips dancing across her scalp.

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Hermione awoke to the loud voices of Harry and Ron calling for Madam Pomfrey. She groaned and rolled over, which caused her to fall flat on her arse on the ground. She looked around wildly, suddenly remembering where she was. She threw the cloak over her head and grabbed the note from Malfoy's robes, thankful for her friends' wake up call.

Malfoy opened his curtains with his wand. "Oi! I'm trying to sleep here!"

That was all it took for Madam Pomfrey to grab Ron and Harry by their ears and throw them out. "Patients need rest," she hissed, glaring and slamming the door behind them.

"Blimey," Ron muttered. "What's eating her?"

Hermione came out from under the cloak then, and attacked Harry and Ron with a hug. "Thank you, really, thank you," she said.

"You didn't come back, so we assumed that, you know..." Ron trailed off, rubbing his neck.

"We thought it'd be best if Pomfrey didn't find you disturbing her patient," Harry said for Ron, grinning at Hermione in a teasing way.

Hermione smacked his arm. "Oh, shut it." She held out a folded square of parchment to Ron. "Ron, Malfoy's written you an apology letter."

Ron's eyebrows came together in confusion. "What for?"

"That fight you two had after you found out about us," Hermione said, her voice growing quiet as a thought struck her. "Didn't it bother you?"

Ron turned his head away from Hermione, hoping she wouldn't see his blush. "Yeah, I suppose...It doesn't matter."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Harry beat her to it. "Who else is hungry? I'm famished." Harry hooked his arm through Hermione's on one side, Ron on the other. He pulled them down the corridor, giving Hermione a look that clearly read drop it.

Hermione bit her lip as she wondered what Malfoy and Ron could possibly have said to each other in that cupboard nearly two weeks ago. A heavy weight tugged at her ribcage when she realized that she would most likely never know.

Hermione Granger hated not knowing.

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The closer Draco was to mending the cabinet, the further away he felt from Hermione.

"Granger," he said one night, holding a camera he'd just asked the Room for. "Smile."

Hermione looked up from her essay, her lips slightly parted and her eyebrows slightly drawn together. The flash made her blink and rub at her eyes.

Hermione laughed through her words. "You tosspot!" She grabbed at him, reaching for the picture. Draco, miraculously, held the picture and the camera above her head with one hand. His other was on Hermione's forehead. He snapped pictures as she flailed her arms at him, fake threats sliding past her lips as Draco sent dashing smiles in the camera's direction.

Eventually her laughter got the best of her and, as Hermione attacked Malfoy's stomach with her tickling, the flash of the camera annoyed her less and less.

Malfoy's arm wavered above his head. "Oi! Slytherins don't get tickled."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "They do when they date Gryffindors," she said with an evil grin.

Draco and Hermione split the pictures among themselves. Draco hid them in the binding of his textbooks; Hermione shrunk them and transfigured the backs of them to look like the inside of her trunk, where she taped them backs-up.

Hermione also kept one hidden within the stitching of a handmade pillow she kept on her bed. It was her favorite; Malfoy's laughter played on loop in the tiny square as Hermione's fingers swarmed his abdomen. His head fell on top of hers when the ferocity of his laughter caused his neck to lose the ability to hold his head up. Their faces meshed together, eyes shut tight with joy. They were happy; Draco was happy.

Hermione kept it so close that the image was ingrained in her memory. The curve of his lip and the rare instance of color flooding his face-it was so real that if Hermione closed her eyes and really focused, it was as if she were there with him again, laughing like there wasn't a war looming over her head; laughing like a normal teenager should have been.

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There was an invisible hand squeezing Draco's heart. Its fingernails dug into his flesh, causing spasms of pain to shoot throughout his veins. His thoughts were violently throwing themselves against each other in his brain, but one stood above the rest.

Hermione, Hermione, Hermione…

He had to find her. He needed his hands in her hair, her body pressed against his. He needed her to soothe the pain of his existence before his anxiety ate away at his sanity.

Draco was wandering the halls aimlessly, not knowing where Hermione would be at seven o'clock on a Tuesday night. He'd already checked the library five times, and was heading back up when he saw her, walking with Potter and Weasley, all three of them talking in hushed voices. When they saw him, they froze, and the four teenagers stared at each other.

Malfoy swallowed hard, eyeing Hermione. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't make the words leave. A strangled, retched sound left his lips instead, and Hermione shoved her bag into Harry's arms.

She looked between Harry and Ron, hollow, meaningless words falling out her mouth as she ran to Malfoy. "Sorry, Harry...Ron...I just-I'll be-" But she had turned the corner, leaving Ron and Harry to stare at each other as Draco's hand-wrapped painfully around her wrist-pulled her along.

"Draco," she said once he'd pulled her into the Room. He had slammed her back against the door, his body so close she could feel him shaking. "Draco, what's-"

"Please don't speak," he managed to say, the stars in his eyes on the verge of dying. Hermione thought of Muggle space terminology, how "ordinary" stars morphed into red supergiants, shining brilliantly before dying out and leaving meager white dwarfs in their place.

Hermione's jaw jutted with her soundless disapproval before she reluctantly nodded and ran a hand over the side of his face, letting it rest on the back of his neck.

"Make me forget," Malfoy begged suddenly, his forehead leaning down to press against Hermione's, almost painfully. "Please, make me forget."

Malfoy desperately needed to escape. Hermione licked her lips and angled her face so they'd be closer. She was unaware of the terror that slapped him awake when he was drifting off to sleep, of the guilt that set his nerves on fire. She was unaware of his demons, but that didn't mean she was unable to block them out.

"You are brilliant," she said, her lips feathering over his. "You are cunning."

Draco shuddered. Hermione ran her hands up his back and bit at his throat. He hissed into her hair. "You are strong," Hermione said as Draco lifted her by the thighs, and Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist almost on reflex.

His mouth came down onto hers and, between kisses, Hermione raggedly said, "You are handsome."

She undid the buttons on her shirt, and Draco groaned into her neck. The vibrancy in his eyes was increasing, and Hermione pulled his chin up so it was parallel with hers; she wanted to watch the stars in his eyes explode. The heat from his gaze inched into the rest of his face, and Hermione marveled at how alive he was. "You are determined."

Their hands were roaming over each other roughly, as if they were competing to see how many noises they could get each other to make involuntarily.

"You are capable," Hermione said, biting her lip as Draco rolled his hips against hers.

She tore off his shirt, her fingers brushing his arm as she said, "You are brave."

Draco's mouth was indecisive, sliding from Hermione's collarbone to her lips, resting for a few moments in several spots before continuing its journey. Hermione ceased his wandering, holding his face in her delicate hands and staring into his volatile eyes.

"You are caring," she whispered. "You are loved."

Draco growled, picked her up and threw her onto the bed the Room had provided for them. Draco looked into her eyes, his hands on his belt and an unspoken question in the air. Hermione nodded, her eyes dark with need.

They gripped onto each other desperately and, for one blissful night, Draco Malfoy forgot about the pain that made his head throb. He forgot about the Dark Lord, the cabinet, and his probable death.

He didn't think at all as the stars in his eyes exploded, leaving a supernova in their wake.

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Draco stared in disbelief at the bird flying above him in the Room of Requirement. The cabinet worked. His plan was working. Maybe-just maybe-he wouldn't die at the hand of the Dark Lord. The elation had already passed-blasting Professor Trelawney back into the hallway had sobered him considerably.

Now he could only think about the freckles that peppered the bridge of Hermione's nose, how they scrunched when she frowned and how the life died in her eyes when she became disappointed.

God, he didn't want to disappoint her.

But his mother; the Dark Lord; his mission; death. His hands shook as he buried his palms into his eye sockets, trying and failing to hold his tears inside. Malfoy screamed, every muscle in his body burning as he forced himself to stay still.

He was terrified of himself. In his irrational state, he dreamt hazily of pulling out his wand and blasting the cabinet to an unidentifiable pile of ash. They may as well be the ashes of my mother, he thought with bile rising in his throat. If I side publicly with Granger, my mother is dead. If I follow through with my mission, Granger could die.

Malfoy bit his lip until he drew blood. He slammed his hands on the ground as he stood up, confidently walking out of the room and throughout the hallways of Hogwarts.

He had to find Granger; he had to make her understand.

Or, he at least had to try.

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Hermione had just drank her share of Felix Felicis, causing all the stress that she'd been harboring since the beginning of the year to melt away. A large smile took over her features, and she knew exactly what to do.

She parted ways with Ginny and Ron to find Draco Malfoy. She only had a few minutes before the rest of Dumbledore's Army started patrolling the corridors.

Hermione grinned as she descended Gryffindor's tower. Haven't visited Lachlan the Lanky in quite a while…

Hermione and Draco froze when their gaze met, but then Draco was running at her, his eyes shut tight as he engulfed her in a hug and sighed into her hair.

"I was afraid I wouldn't find you in time…" Draco said, the baggage underneath his eyes looking heavier than ever.

Felix stopped Hermione from blurting out, "Time for what?" in an unconsciously accusing tone. Instead, Hermione was encouraged to let her fingertips lightly massage the base of Draco's neck. His muscles unclenched, and Hermione allowed him to cradle her face in his hands.

She was convinced that no one would find them embracing in the hallway-well, Felix was, anyway.

"Hermione," Draco said, his gaze painfully focused onto hers. "Words cannot express my guilt, my shame-I'm about to do something unimaginable-"

Hermione lightly pressed her lips to his to silence his self-hatred. "I'll still love you," she whispered, her breath tickling his chin.

Malfoy took a few shuddering breaths before speaking again. "You need to stay in your tower tonight. I can't stand the thought of losing you, please, Hermione."

His fingers were gently gripping the hair at the base of her skull, rooting her in place in a vain attempt to alleviate Draco Malfoy's fear of Hermione Granger slipping through his fingers.

"Draco," Hermione said gently. "I have to fight. We both know this."

His eyes scanned her face, his mind searching for a counterargument. "I hate it when you're right," Malfoy grumbled, his finger sliding down her cheek. He pressed his lips firmly over hers and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Hermione groaned into his mouth and wondered if he could feel her heart attempting to jump out her chest.

They were lost in each other, neither wanting to be found. Draco unenthusiastically pulled back, his face downcast and his hands soft as he ran them through her hair one last time. His lips feathered over hers, one last unspoken apology hanging in the air before he vanished down the corridor.

Hermione shut her eyes tight, temporarily forcing Draco out of her mind and focusing on the task Harry had entrusted her with.

The war was beginning.

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Hermione stood with her forearms resting on the railing of the Astronomy Tower, mute from shock. She tried to respond when she was spoken to, but half the time she didn't hear Harry or Ron's words in the first place.

Dumbledore was dead. Draco had let Death Eaters into the castle. Bill was maimed. Hagrid's hut was destroyed.

Hermione struggled to breathe. A hand was rubbing awkwardly at her back, then, and Hermione could see Harry's messy, black hair out of the corner of her eye.

"Malfoy lowered his wand," Harry whispered. "He wasn't going to kill Dumbledore."

Hermione rested her head on her arms to hide her tears. Her heart hurt-no, her soul hurt.

Ron came to her other side, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "It's alright, Hermione," he said with a half-smile. "You'll get over him soon."

Hermione looked up at Ron in disbelief. She was amazed at how much he'd misread the situation. "Get over him?"

Ron's cheeks flushed at the venom in her words. "Hermione, surely you still aren't-"

"It would be wise to close your mouth now, Ronald," Hermione said quietly, her teeth aching from the ferocity of her jaw clenching.

The redness on Ron's face transitioned from embarrassed to angry, and Hermione flared her nostrils at the fight she sensed hanging in the air above them. "He let Death Eaters inside the castle-he was going to kill-"

"Harry," Hermione suddenly said, causing Harry to jump at his sudden inclusion. Her voice was demanding, and he knew he had no choice but to comply. "What was that you said earlier?"

Harry pressed his lips together, not looking at Ron as he spoke. "I don't think Malfoy had it in him to kill Dumbledore; he lowered his wand…"

Ron jutted out his jaw and looked away from his friends. A tense silence covered them like a musty old blanket, making the air hot and harder to breathe. "Sorry, Hermione," Ron muttered. "I just thought-well, I wasn't thinking."

Hermione's eyes tiredly searched his face. "It's alright, Ron," Hermione said, squeezing his hand. Hermione frowned at the silence that ensued, an uneasy feeling settling deep inside her. Ron doesn't still have feelings for me, Hermione thought skeptically, does he? She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and resisted the urge to scoot closer to Harry.

It would be typical of him to want her now that he knows he can't have her.

Hermione was uneasy in the silence, Harry thoughtful, and Ron frustrated. The three friends stood looking out over the grounds of Hogwarts, knowing that they wouldn't be returning for a very long time.

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Hermione felt like she was suffocating. Her whole life-her Muggle life-was vanishing before her eyes. Her bedroom was bare, and her face was dissolving from all the photographs in her house. She gave her parents foreign names and a burning desire to live in Australia.

However, Monica and Wendell Wilkins had no daughter.

Hermione threw her head back onto the wall she was leaning on as she cried, the wheels of her parents' car screeching away as they drove out of her life, having no recollection of it whatsoever. She banged her head against the wall, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists as the empty picture frames rattled and threatened to fall.

Hermione would help Harry defeat Voldemort out of sheer spite, and nothing could possibly change her mind now that she was theoretically an orphan.

Voldemort would pay, Hermione Granger would make sure of it.

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Word Count: 3,133

A/N: So there's that. Honestly, I don't know how many chapters this fic will get to. I'm thinking about writing a bit about them adjusting to life after war, but I'm not sure. I was also thinking about starting a completely new fic, one that starts out post-war, so I don't know if I just want to continue this or if I want to start a new concept.

Feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Until next time,

-GG222