I Turn To You

A DM/HG Story

A/N: Set two years after the war ended. Consider the events of DH to be accurate, save the epilogue. May take some liberties, but they will be explained if there is a significant divergence from the canon.

Story title comes from the Christina Aguliera song of the same name. Don't judge. :P

Disclaimer: The wonderful J.K. Rowling owns everything. I just use her characters for my own twisted pleasure.

PROLOUGE

Hermione jumped when a series of loud bangs interrupted her reading. It took her a moment to realize that the sound was someone knocking repeatedly on the front door of her flat. She set her book aside and called out, "Coming!" as she headed towards the foyer. But the knocking did not cease. If anything, it became more insistent. When Hermione reached the door, she peered out of the peep-hole and was startled to see a pair of gray eyes, darting around wildly under a fringe of blonde hair. Hermione felt a moment's hesitation before unlocking the deadbolt.

Draco barreled into the room, nearly knocking Hermione off her feet. He slammed the door behind him, locking it hastily. Hermione could not help but be frightened; she had never seen Draco in such a state. He looked like an animal, panicking, running from something...

"Draco... what's the matter? What's happened?" Hermione questioned nervously.

He did not seem to hear her. He dashed around the flat, glancing out the windows, checking every corner for some unknown threat.

"Draco!" She called again. Standing in the middle of her living room with her hands on her hips, she looked ever so much like Molly Weasley.

Draco stopped moving abruptly, as if he had just realized she was in the room. He quickly closed the distance between them, and grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. She looked questioningly into his eyes. Normally cool and almost emotionless at times, his eyes were instead wide with fear and a desperation she had rarely seen there before. Hermione was scared now.

"Hermione, you must listen to me. You have to get out of here. I – I need you to trust me." He looked at her so intensely then that she felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Why? What's going on?" She demanded. Hermione was never one to take things without question.

Draco removed a hand from her shoulder and raked it through his hair. "No time to explain. We have to leave now!"

"But–"

"Hermione, please!" Draco pleaded.

Hermione stood still for a moment. If it wasn't for the complete shock of his disheveled appearance, the urgency in his voice, and that haunted look in his eyes, she would have crossed her arms and demanded a satisfactory explanation. But she knew that this was serious.

"I'll need to pack a few things," she said simply.

Draco sagged with relief. "Thank you for understanding. Please hurry."

Hermione immediately headed to her bedroom and grabbed a large canvas bag off the back of her desk chair. She quickly stuffed clothing and underthings in along with the few necessities she thought she might need; toothbrush, some money–both Muggle and not–and her small potions satchel. Stuffing her wand into her jeans pocket, Hermione grabbed a cloak off the back of her door and returned to the living room.

Draco was pacing furiously. When she entered the room, he looked up at her, and the faintest of smiles graced his lips. He rushed over to her and pulled her into a tight embrace. He pulled back slightly, cupping her cheek with his hand. He had a hopeless look in his eyes.

"Hermione... whatever you may hear, I beg you not to believe it. No matter what, please remember that you know me better than anyone, and trust your own judgements. Promise me that," Draco pleaded.

Hermione was confused. "What am I going to hear? What sort of–" Draco cut her off once more.

"Please, just promise me this. I need to hear it." His tone became more urgent, as if the rest of his life was hanging on her response.

"Draco, I'm confused..."

"Hermione! Please!" Tears were forming in the corners of exquisite gray eyes. Hermione felt weak. She could count on one hand the number of times she had seen Draco Malfoy cry, and did not take that lightly.

"Okay, Draco. I promise."

He smiled, and for that fleeting instant, his eyes retained a joyful warmth that was almost as rare as his tears. "I love you, Hermione."

As Draco pressed his soft lips to hers, a blinding flash of light erupted from the hallway.

Hermione screamed.