Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: This story is based off of a dream I just had, actually, about an hour ago. Since it was a depressing, emotional dream, this story is going to be as fluff-less as possible. Some of the characters have been changed, but that's only because a few of the characters were people I actually know, including me, so I can't exactly put them in there, now can I? Oh yeah, and I've edited it a lot, so it's understandable. But it's still based off of my dream. This is my first try at a story that takes place more in the future than Harry's seventh year, so bear with me if it's not perfect, please. Read the background information below to find out what's happened; it should explain a lot of weird stuff. R&R.

BACKGROUND INFORMATION In their sixth year, Hermione and Draco had a strong relationship, which was ended during their seventh year when Draco's father forced him into the ranks of the Death Eaters, because Lucius refused to see his only son tortured by the Dark Lord. Hermione hasn't spoken to him since, though she loved him dearly. Years later, Harry defeated the Dark Lord, and exiled himself because he couldn't stand the guilt at taking another's life, even if it was the most feared Dark wizard for a century, and he saved thousands of lives, at least, by his act. Lucius Malfoy, though once more escaped conviction, became extremely paranoid, permanently convinced that "The Boogeyman" (not a Lethifold or Dementor) came out at exactly sunset every night and brutally murdered anyone who was outside at that time; he set up a magical lock on his door that would not open after sunset, in case the Boogeyman wanted to come inside specifically for him. Ron, sadly, was killed during the final battle between Harry and Lord Voldemort. With Ron and her parents dead (killed during a muggle torture), Harry gone, and Draco evil, Hermione had no one left. She fell into a deep depression, which is where we find her.

Hermione Jane Granger didn't want to answer her door. She didn't want to get off her couch, where she had laid for several days, getting up only to use the bathroom. She wanted to lay there forever, in the dark, until she died. Only then would she be happy.

But the knock at the door was incessant; whoever it was wouldn't give up. They obviously knew she was home, which was strange; as far as she knew, no one even knew where she lived. After the disappearance of everything she held dear, she had almost no contact with anyone. Her phone was generally left disconnected and the lights were always off. There were no signs that anyone lived there, except the cash that appeared in the apartment super's mailbox once a month and occasional packages of food that were delivered to her door, and she demanded that they were only brought in the dark of night. There was no name on the apartment; she had offered such funds that the super was willing to skip the formalities of a contract and such. She demanded privacy, at any price.

The knock at the door got louder and louder, until it seemed the door was about to come off the hinges. She pulled herself up off the couch grudgingly and stumbled clumsily to the door. She fumbled with the several locks, mostly stuck in position from underuse, and managed to pull the door open. She put her hand up to shield her eyes from the blinding sunlight that was now in her home. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice rusty. She hadn't spoken since she ordered her food last week.

"Are you Hermione Granger?" asked the visitor, trying not to look eager and failing.

"Who wants to know?" she asked, suspiciously.

"An old friend," he said mysteriously, and a bit sadly. Surely, Hermione couldn't have changed that much since he last saw her; it had been a while, ten years at least, but Hermione Granger could never become a paranoid shut-in. His source must have been wrong.

No, it can't be, thought Hermione. I thought he was dead! Not even the Quibbler's claimed to have seen him since…She didn't like to think about what had happened. But, if someone had seen him, I wouldn't know about it. I stopped getting the paper years ago. Maybe it's true. "It's me." She nodded.

He rushed to her and embraced her. She stood stiffly. "I thought I'd never see you again! It's me. It's Harry!"

"I know who you are!" she screamed, angry. "I know exactly who you are! You're someone I once loved like a brother! You're someone who promised to always be there for me! But you left! You didn't say a word to me before you took off! You wrote a letter, yes, a letter that doesn't mention me once! When you left, there was nothing for me anymore! Ron died, watching your back during the Final Battle! You probably didn't even know that, did you? He died to save you, Harry! He took a curse in the chest, so it wouldn't hit you! But I almost wish it had! Because then, at least I would still have someone!" Harry was stunned. This was not at all the happy reunion he had imagined. "How dare you come back! You think you can just show up at my doorstep, and everything will be the same again, like you had never left? NOTHING is the same anymore, and it never will be!" She breathed hard, trying to restrain the tears.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I-I didn't know about Ron. I thought you'd be okay. I had no idea that any of this was going to happen."

"Of course you didn't! Ron had the Sight, not you. He knew what was going to happen. But he went with you, anyway." She was getting emotional again. The tears were flowing freely. This time, she didn't care. "All his life, Ron was playing second fiddle to you, Harry! But he went anyway, knowing full well that he was going to die and you were going to live! And how did you repay him? You leave! You go run off, without a word to any of us!"

Harry had never seen such anger from Hermione, and he felt guilty. He had spent ten years wandering around the world, feeling sorry for himself, trying to escape the terrible feeling he had; but Hermione, his best friend, had been stuck here, back in London, completely alone. Thanks to him, Harry, Hermione had lived years as a shut in. No family, no friends, just herself. "I'm sorry, Hermione. If I knew what had happened, I would have stayed with you. I thought he was still here, that he would be here for you. I was wrong. But I came back. I still feel terrible for taking a life, but I've realized that, if I hadn't, the world would be under the control of Voldemort, and I wouldn't be able to handle that guilt, either.

"You said that I never mentioned you in my letter, and you're right. I didn't mention you or Ron, because the thought of leaving you was too painful. But I felt like I had to do it.

"I know you hate me right now, and I don't blame you. But I came back, and that should count for something. I'm not asking for immediate forgiveness, Hermione. But what I am asking for is a chance, a chance to earn your forgiveness, a chance to prove that I deserve it. I know that will take a while. But I'm willing to do my best." Harry sounded apologetic, and looked embarrassed at his bad judgment.

"You're right. I do hate you right now. When I needed you most, you were gone. Not a word from you for over ten years! If you really want my forgiveness, Harry, you will have to earn it. And it won't be easy. I trusted you. And you broke that trust when you left. But I'm willing to let you earn it back." There was an awkward silence while the two former friends contemplated what this would mean for the both of them.

"Why did you come, Harry? I know there has to be some reason why, after ten years, you'd come back."

"You mean you haven't heard?" asked Harry incredulously.

"Heard what?"

"I really don't want to be the one to tell you this. But I guess I have to. Just – don't shoot the messenger, okay?"

Hermione wondered what could be so terrible that he came back for. She nodded, worried.

He thought hard about how to word it. "I was traveling Europe, remember, and I stopped here for a day or so; I've been gone so long, you know, I thought I might let everyone know I'm okay, see how everyone's doing. I sent an owl to you, but she couldn't find you.

"Well, I got a hold of Neville Longbottom, you remember him, and I was asking him about where everyone is now, since it's been so long. He said he didn't know much about what had happened right after the battle, and he hadn't really kept in touch with anybody; he's been busy with trying to cure his parents. But he told me that he had read in The Daily Prophet a few weeks ago that… a body was found."

"Who's was it?" Hermione asked, voice shaking; just because she hadn't spoken to anyone didn't mean she didn't care for them all dearly.

"Neville showed me the article; he had kept it for – er – sentimental value. You know that the Death Eaters have never formally disbanded, right? Most of them are in Azkaban, but some got lighter sentences. Even without Voldemort, they're still active. And powerful. Well, he was trying to leave the Death Eaters. They've kept the tradition of not letting anyone quit. He was killed, Hermione. I – I know how much you loved him. And how much he loved you. I'm sorry."

"Please, tell me it's not –"

"It's Malfoy." She was in shock. Ron gone, Harry gone, her parents gone; but even though Draco was on the other side, the side that wanted Harry dead, she had never realized that he could be any more gone than he already was. She collapsed onto her couch, slightly uncomfortable because of the shape that had been imprinted into it.

"So you tracked me down here just to tell me that the only man I've ever loved is – is - " She finished the sentence with a soft sob.

"No. I tracked you down because I knew, even if Ron were here, that you would need me. I came to see if I could do anything to make you feel better. I didn't want to have to tell you; I thought you already knew."

"Thank you for coming, Harry. Almost no one knows where I am. If you hadn't come, I would have probably died not knowing what had happened." The only sound was Hermione crying. Harry stood there, uncomfortable, trying to look comforting.

"Is there anything I can get you?" He asked, wanting to be helpful.

Hermione knew that only one thing could make her feel any better right now. "Can I see the body?" she asked suddenly.

"It's at his manor. But I don't know if you want to go there."

"Why not? I need to see him, one last time."

"It's his father. According to Neville, he's gone fairly insane these past years. Screams about creatures sent to kill him. Won't step outside after dark. He's not a Death Eater anymore; they won't let in anyone of his… condition. That was the final straw for him; he just snapped."

"I need to go. It doesn't matter how mad his father is. The only reason Draco became a Death Eater was because his father forced him into it. He had no choice. So he went to the Dark side, and he promised me that as soon as he could, he would come back. He would take himself off the radar completely, and we would be together. But it never happened. I knew that if I went looking for him, I would find him with the Death Eaters. And he would have to either kill me or be killed. I owe it to him to go see him, just one last time. If I don't, I'll never be able to forgive myself." Hermione had never told anyone about Draco's true loyalties, or their promise. If it had gotten out, he would have been killed. That didn't matter anymore. She hoped every Death Eater in the world knew that Draco had never been loyal.

Harry nodded. "I'll go with you, then. I can't risk anything happening to you. I've lost you once already, and that's not something I'm willing to go through again."

She wasn't surprised that he wanted to go with her, but she had planned on going again. Still, without Harry, she wouldn't even be going. And she didn't know where the Malfoy manor was.

"Okay."