Author's Note: Yay, one-shot! It's a Dramione, obviously. Sorry if it's kind of dark, but I had this idea while looking through one of my brother's letters to one of his old girlfriends. I wasn't really being nosy, I was cleaning his closet out since he moved out. Also, just because I got the inspiration from his letter, it's actually nothing like this. His letter was about how he had joined the army. Anyway, this thing is pretty freaking long, and I hope you like it. I actually did work hard on this one. If you see any mistakes, please tell me. I don't have a beta so there might be a lot.

Disclaimer: if I owned the Harry Potter series, I highly doubt that Hermione would have married Ron. Also, I definitely would have made sure Ginny didn't look so much like Lily Evans. It's kind of creepy.

Pathetic

Hermione took a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves as Luna Lovegood, one of her only friends from Hogwarts, assured her that everything would be fine. She wanted to believe her, she did, but she was so filled with her conflicting emotions that she just couldn't help it. But she was determined to go through with it. They had already gone through so much, that to turn back- well, that wasn't possible.

No, after doing so much for each other, walking away like nothing had happened would kill them both.

After the war, all of the students from her year that had survived returned to Hogwarts for another year- if only for a calm year to recuperate before having to face the outside world. Hermione was made Head Girl (of course), with Kevin Entwhistle as Head Boy. Apparently, he was a Ravenclaw student in her year who had attended Hogwarts the whole time, but she could honestly say that she hadn't a clue who he was until that year.

As Head Girl, Hermione had many jobs. The most important one being: ensure the safety of all students of Hogwarts. Since the war was finally over, Hermione figured she wouldn't have to worry about that particular chore too much. As luck would have it, the first student's safety to be compromised just so happened to be a certain Draco Malfoy.

It was a quarter after curfew and Hermione was patrolling the higher levels of the school while Kevin patrolled the lower levels. As she steadily made her way to the sixth floor, she heard voices filtering in from the seventh. Skipping the sixth, she was met with a sight she never thought she'd see.

Malfoy was being bullied. He was backed into a wall, holding his wand out in defense, surrounded by two sixth year Gryffindors, one fifth year Gryffindor, and a seventh year Ravenclaw. Malfoy was clutching his wand arm with his other one, his face paler than usual as a small yet noticeable trail of red flowed between his fingers. The blood stained his hand, dripping down to the ground nearly inaudibly.

Hermione's hand flew to her own wand, anger clear on her face. She wasn't mad because she cared that Malfoy was being attacked. Rather, she was furious that, at a time where most were mourning their losses because of ridiculous prejudices, these goddamn morons were here picking a fight because of said ridiculous prejudices. In a flash, Hermione had sent three consecutive Full Body Binding Curses, followed up by a Stunner when the Ravenclaw whipped around to face her.

Breathing heavily from her rage, Hermione turned to the Ferret, not expecting any sort of gratitude from him at all.

She was right, of course.

Malfoy was inspecting his bleeding arm, then swept his cold gaze over his most recent tormentors, sneering at their helpless bodies before finally glancing at the still pissed off witch in front of him. Without so much as a word to her, he focused his attention back at his wounded appendage, and muttered a quick healing spell with a flick of his wrist. Hermione blinked, surprised that the Ferret knew some wandless magic, but chose to keep her thoughts to herself.

She wondered briefly how he was the one being backed into a corner, but brushed that thought aside. After all, she supposed it was still four against one, and even the most skilled wizards would have difficulty in that type of unfair duel. She was only able to win due to the element of surprise. Plus, she noted absentmindedly, Malfoy seemed exhausted after just that one spell.

Malfoy's gaze caught hers once more, cold and unfeeling, before he turned on his heel and walked away, toward the dungeons presumably, not even sparing her a backwards glance. Hermione huffed irritably at his retreating figure, blowing a curly strand of brown hair that had fallen onto her face out of the way. She faced the still petrified and stunned figures, wondering what to do with them. In the end, she decided to bring them to the Hospital Wing, going to the Headmistress' office to report what had happened. Omitting the fact that it was Malfoy, though. She figured he wouldn't particularly appreciate her making him seem like some kind of weakling unable to hold his own- he was a very prideful creature, he was. Usually, Hermione wouldn't give a damn about his feelings, but pissing off the oh-so-mighty Ferret wasn't what she considered the best start to a nice year of normalcy.

A few months following the incident, Hermione would still occasionally feel the intense gaze of a certain Draco Malfoy following her, but he would never show any indication of doing so when she turned. It scared and angered her that, wherever she turned, she would always feel his cold stare boring into her. It continued like that for a while, until Hermione decided it was time to confront him.

"What the hell is your problem, Ferret?" Hermione demanded when she caught Malfoy leaning against the wall next to the door of the Potions' classroom, poking him hard in the chest.

"I don't know what you mean, Granger," he sneered, looking as if it physical hurt him to refer to her by her name. "I'm only standing here, waiting to be let into class. You're the one intruding on my personal space, yelling at me for no reason."

"You know exactly what I mean, Ferret. I decide to put our past differences behind us and save your life, and what do I get in return?" Hermione asked rhetorically, "Nothing! Nothing but you and your annoying stares for months! If you have something to say to me, just say it rather than stalk me for the rest of your pathetic life!"

"My pathetic life? What about you? What the hell do you have, huh? Two best friends that have moved on with their lives, leaving you behind? Parents that have no idea who you are? I bet the best thing in your life right now is that stupid little Head Girl badge you wear so proudly. Isn't that right, Granger?" Malfoy jeered cruelly.

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she aimed her wand at him, her grip deathly, fighting the urge to just hex him then and there. With the anger she felt at him right now, she could probably cast the Cruciatus on him a hundred times over. Malfoy whipped out his wand as well, directing it at her, his face hard.

"You don't know anything," she said, her voice low and threatening.

"Hit a nerve, have I? I know a lot more than one would think," Malfoy flicked his gaze to her wand, smirking tauntingly, "And what do you plan on doing with that, Granger? Send a flock of canaries at me?" He took a threatening step closer to her, towering over her short stature with his height. "I'm not afraid of you, Mudblood."

"You should be, Death Eater," she shot back, "Sectumsem-"

"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy, lower your wands at once!" McGonagall, who had been heading to Slughorn's office to request he make a couple more Pepper-up Potion for Madam Pomfrey- that walrus was always too 'busy' to come to her office and never seemed to reply to her notes- demanded, her own anger rising at the scene. "I have never seen such blatant disregard for school rules from such fine students in my whole career! You are Seventh Years, you're supposed to be good role models for the younger students, and yet here you both are, fighting like a bunch of barbarians! I am very disappointed in the both of you. Especially you, Miss Granger. I expected more from our Head Girl- the one whose job it is to ensure the safety of students, not compromise."

Hermione hung her head in shame from the scolding she received. She never liked getting reprimanded by authority figures. Malfoy, on the other hand, just looked annoyed. At her, McGonagall, or just the world in general, she didn't know.

"Two months' detention for the both of you. I surely hope you two try harder to reconcile your differences. Otherwise, your punishments will be much harsher, I assure you. Miss Granger, you may just be stripped of your Head Girl status if I ever catch you in such a position again. Have I made myself clear?" She stared at them sternly. Hermione muttered an ashamed, "Yes, ma'am," while Malfoy gave her a curt nod. Accepting their acknowledgments, she swept into the classroom to continue what she had been trying to do in the first place.

As soon as she left, both teenagers turned to glare at each other before ignoring the other's existence. The detentions had gone quite the same way. No matter what they were assigned to do, they'd bicker, getting close to pulling their wands out, before deciding better of it and just completely snubbing one another.

Except for one.

It was perhaps two weeks into their punishments that their first fight had once again arisen. But this time, without the supervision, it continued much further than the first time. No, they did not duel, but the battle of words was harsh and unforgiving, leaving room for much more damage than any physical fight would ever leave.

"All you ever do is- is strut around like the arrogant, pompous arse you are!" Hermione cried, her job of cleaning Potion cauldrons long forgotten. "You think you can do whatever you want, but, guess what, you can't! I don't even understand how you got out of going to Azkaban! Did your mummy manage to pay the ministry off?"

"Do not talk that way about my mother, Mudblood! I'm not in Azkaban because I didn't do anything," Malfoy emphasized. "You can't put an innocent person in jail," he said pointedly.

"That's just low, Malfoy. Haven't you ever heard the expression, 'don't talk ill of the dead'?"

"Of course not, it's probably a filthy muggle saying. Besides, I think I can speak of my cousin in any manner that I wish," Malfoy smirked when Hermione seemed speechless, "Oh, you forgot that I was related to your precious Sirius, huh? Yes, that kind felon that you, Scarhead, and Weasel loved so much was born into a dark family as well. How does that make you feel, Mudblood?" Malfoy asked in mock-concern.

"It doesn't bother me in the slightest, Death Eater!" Hermione snapped, recovering. "Unlike you and the rest of your revolting family, Sirius at least had something called kindness. Honor. Courage. Generosity. He had plenty of positive traits that you and the rest of your posse will never have!"

"Oh? Hating your own family is considered kindness these days, is it? Abandoning them as soon as he could is called honor? Hiding behind the Light while most of us were forced to follow the orders of that damned snake man is courage? Or how about when his brother Regulus begged him for help out of the Death Eaters and Sirius turned him away, saying that he was already too far in? Is that generosity, Granger?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, you didn't know about that last part, did you Granger? Well, I'm not surprised. Not many people do. But did you honestly believe that Regulus just woke up one morning and said, 'This is a bunch of shit, I think I'll help destroy Voldemort'? I'm sorry, but that just doesn't happen. No, Regulus grew up in the same household as Sirius, and realized the same things as he did, especially after living alone with his family for a year after Sirius ran away. With his family's attention now focused on him, he was able to find out what drove his brother away. When he was eighteen, he went to his brother for help, and obviously you know how that turned out. He was resigned to his fate until he learned of the Horcruxes."

"How would you know, Malfoy?"

"Like all great pureblood wizards, Regulus kept a journal of his accomplishments, starting from the time he started school. I just so happened upon it when I was nine. It turns out he was quite close with my mother and left it in her possession. She never had the chance to read it, however. Eventually, I suppose she just forgot about it. Perhaps she was too afraid to read it. After all, she was never a Death Eater like my father, she probably didn't wish to find out what happens behind closed doors."

"How should I believe you? You're nothing but a lying Ferret."

"I never said you had to believe me," Malfoy walked closer to her until he was about a foot from her. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I only wanted you to know, that we're not all as bad as you'd like to think." With that, Malfoy stood up, leaving the Potions' classroom gracefully. It was then that Hermione noticed that their detention had already been over for the past fifteen minutes.

That conversation left Hermione reeling for the following week. The detentions had gone from constant fighting to dead silence. She'd find herself glancing at Malfoy every so often, wondering what the purpose of that particular part of the 'conversation' was. More importantly, what the relevance of telling her was. Hermione found her natural curiosity was piqued. Even once the detentions were finished, she couldn't help but look over Malfoy during random points in the day. Each and every time, Malfoy would sense her gaze immediately and stare back blankly.

They hadn't spoken again, seemingly content with the stolen glances of inquiry. Often, when either Harry or Ron caught her staring distractedly at the Slytherin table during meals, she'd dismiss their questions with a wave of her hand and focus her attention to her own table. Hermione wasn't completely sure why she didn't tell them about what had happened with Malfoy, but she just couldn't find it in herself to do so. Deep down, however, she knew it was because, as Malfoy had said, they had basically abandoned her. Physically, yes, they were still there, but they were too caught up in their own lives and relationships now that the only times they really talked to her was for help with homework. They kept their own secrets now, not thinking of telling her, and she wanted a secret of her own. Even if that meant sharing it with Draco Malfoy.

It was a Tuesday during lunch when a single, majestic black owl came swooping into the Great Hall. Everyone stopped what they were doing, wondering what was going on. Owl post only ever came during breakfast, so this was a rare occurrence. All eyes fell on the sight of Draco Malfoy staring at the owl with dread as it landed directly in front of him. They watched as he cautiously retrieved his letter, read through it quickly, and slammed his fist onto the table angrily. He glared at all the prying eyes, daring them to speak up. Immediately, all eyes turned back to their previous activities, quietly gossiping about what had happened, whispers following Malfoy as he rushed out of the Great Hall. Without thinking about it, Hermione got up as well and left without another word, for some reason hoping to catch Malfoy before it was too late. Seeing as everyone else was too preoccupied with their own affairs, she was able to slip out unnoticed.

She found him in an alcove hidden behind the tapestry by the library, sitting with his knees bent, back against the wall. She moved the tapestry aside, revealing her person, but he didn't acknowledge her in the slightest. He merely continued to look forward, his eyes unfocused as he appeared deep in thought.

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked hesitantly, not even sure why she was there. Damn her incessant curiosity.

He remained silent for a while before responding quietly, "I don't need any pity, Granger. Especially any from you."

"Huh?" Was her intelligent reply. Why should she pity him?

"I know you saw that performance in the Great Hall. Come to gloat? Turns out, my life is no less pathetic than yours. The Ministry has agreed to allow my mother to take my punishment of five years in Azkaban," he said in a strange mix of anger and resignation.

"Malfoy, I only came because… Actually, I don't know why I came. I guess I was just curious, is all. What would the point in gloating be? I would be sinking to your level," she said, surprisingly in a non-malicious way. Truthfully, if she hadn't known better, she would have thought that she was teasing him to lighten the mood. But she didn't care about whatever the hell was wrong with Malfoy.

"Hmm… My level? I could have sworn that you were already there," he said, finally looking her in the eyes. She had crouched down before him, so they technically were already on the same level.

It scared her, though. Did he really mean that? Looking into his haunted emotionless eyes, she didn't want to believe that they were anything alike. She didn't want people to see the same things in her that they saw in him. She wanted to believe that she was doing just fine, that she was strong and healthy enough to move on from the war. But… was that her just kidding herself? Was she just like Malfoy, living and brooding about the past, about things that she couldn't change?

Yes. She was. And she knew that now. She was just like him. The reason she had let Malfoy get to her all year was because she was living in the past- berating herself for all the lives she wasn't able to save. He was right when he called her life pathetic, because it truly was. She was pathetic. She took her own hatred of herself out on Malfoy, without even realizing it. She had spent the whole year hating herself because, as the brightest witch of her year, she wasn't able to keep her friends alive. She wasn't even able to keep the ones that survived as her friends. She hated herself for making her parents forget her, and not being able to find them immediately afterwards. She hated herself for all of her mistakes- all of her flaws. She hated herself for being… human.

She was pathetic.

But then again, so was he.

"I suppose you're right," she finally whispered back, sitting across from him, having to squeeze her knees to her chest so that she would fit. The toes of their shoes touched, but neither cared. They sat in their own deafening silence, taking comfort in the fact that they weren't completely alone. They couldn't stand each other, but they were all the other had at the moment. And, strangely enough, they didn't mind.

As the rest of the year flew by, they found themselves drawn to one another. It started with subtle hints of acknowledgement, then went to short brushes of physical contact, to sitting in the same vicinity without fighting. They weren't friends, and even acquaintances would be a bit of a stretch- they were just there.

They had come to an unspoken truce.

No one really noticed the change. After a war as deadly and heartbreaking as the one they had gone through, no one would notice such an imperceptible change in two people that had no reason to be connected besides angry taunts that hadn't happened as far as they knew.

Hermione didn't know what was happening. She didn't hate Malfoy anymore, but she sure as hell didn't like him. She guessed she could say she was rather indifferent to his presence now, but she knew that wasn't right. To be indifferent would mean to not care. But she did, in a sense. He was her temporary comfort, her stability that kept her grounded. Their…relationship was unconventional, unbelievable, but it was there. It was exactly what they needed.

Before she knew it, their connection changed into something more. Much more. At first, just a glance, a touch, an upward curve of the lip was enough for them. But soon, they found themselves craving more. Soon, they left lingering touches, caresses- they'd begun to depend on each other. They knew it was dangerous, engaging in such a dangerously unhealthy relationship like this, but they couldn't stop themselves. It wasn't possible- they had gone too far already.

Besides, it wasn't as if they even wanted to stop any time soon, anyway.

It was again, a quarter after curfew, that Hermione found herself experiencing something she never thought she would. This time, however, she wasn't so much as witnessing, as she was participating.

She had been patrolling, just like last time, when suddenly she was the one being backed into a wall. Backed into the wall by Malfoy, the one who had been against the very wall she felt herself being pushed up against. He had his hands pressed onto the wall on either side of her head, boxing her in. They stared at each other for the longest time, not saying a word, knowing words could only convey so much. She reached up with her right hand, and caressed his cheek ever so softly as if making sure he was really there. They both had the same look in their eyes, but it wasn't one of lust as most would think. Nor was it even love. It was more of a longing, a need for each other that glowed behind the depths of their gaze.

Soon, but not soon enough, their bodies were pressed together as their lips crashed passionately into each other. Her arms had wound their way around his neck, his own trying to press her body more into his, trying to mold them together. Their tongues had begun to explore the other's mouths, sounds of contentment escaping their linked lips, unable to contain themselves. The fire in their chests burned achingly, and the two continued to attempt to eliminate any space between them as if it would quench the heat.

"You know," Hermione spoke breathlessly as they broke away, "this situation seems oddly familiar."

"I agree," Malfoy responded, pressing their lips together once more shortly, "but I must say I prefer this than the last time."

"I can," their lips met again, "see why. After all, you stood where I do now, completely and utterly defenseless against four other students. Not exactly a good time, if you ask me."

"Defenseless? As if, Granger," he took this time to steal a much longer kiss until they ran out of breath again. "My family and I already had one too many strikes- I couldn't afford to have another one with a fatally injured student on my hands."

"I guess it's a good thing I arrived when I did," she said huskily before all conversation was forgotten, choosing in favor to continue with their activities.

They maintained their secret meetings, amazed that their hunger only steadily grew rather than dull. They didn't know how long it would last, how long they would last, but it didn't stop them from keeping it up. They had no plan, no strategy- which, secretly, frightened Hermione- but they still didn't stop. They craved the togetherness that they found in one another and weren't willing to let it go. Not yet, not ever.

What they felt towards one another, they still weren't quite sure. Love, lust, need, longing- they had all blended collectively into a powerful passion that would never leave.

Draco was going to shock the whole Wizarding World. He was anxious, nervous, afraid, and excited all at the same time. He knew it was the right thing to do, and graduation was definitely the time to do it, but that didn't make his decision any less nerve-wracking. After all, asking the woman you loved to marry you wasn't the easiest thing in the world.

Draco paused in his thoughts, the word 'love' popping to the forefront of his mind. Did he love Granger?

Yes, he supposed he did.

As Headmistress McGonagall finished reading off the last graduate of the year, Draco stood. As everyone was sitting in the Great Hall, and he stood in the first row, immediately all eyes turned to him. He plastered his usual smirk on his face, managing to keep it there no matter how fake it felt, and made his way to where Granger sat. She looked at him curiously, Scarhead and Weasel glared at him when they noticed where he was headed. They stood as well, obviously thinking he was going to torment them. Why he would do so at Graduation before all of these witnesses and teachers, he didn't know, and he had to keep down a snort at their idiotic actions. He moved swiftly passed all of the people, until he stood directly in front of a certain bushy haired muggle-born.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" demanded the prideful Potty, his glare hard and angry.

"Why should I tell you, Pothead? Not everything revolves around you, you know," Draco shot back immediately, already annoyed at the stupid Saint Potter and his sidekick Weaselbee.

"If not for Harry, then why the hell are you here, Ferret?" the Weasel spat, his face twisted in disgust.

"I'm here for Granger, not you two dunderheads."

"Hey, leave Hermione alone!"

"You have no authority over me, Potter." Draco knelt down on one knee before Hermione, pulling out a small box from his pocket. He vaguely heard a few gasps from the people that recognized the position, but he deftly ignored them. "Will you, Hermione Jean Granger, marry me?"

Hermione was speechless- not the first time Malfoy had been able to elicit such a reaction from her. She, too, noticed when people gasped once again as their suspicions were confirmed with Malfoy's question, but she ignored them as well. The only person that mattered to her at the moment was right in front of her, looking sincerely into her eyes, asking for her hand in marriage. She allowed her body to move on its own, throwing her arms around him as she nuzzled his neck with her face, continually whispering a happy, "Yes," wholeheartedly. Even unsure of their exact feelings, she knew she wanted this.

Cries of shock echoed through the entire hall, not sure how to react to what had happened. They had all grown up there together in Hogwarts, knowing of the deep hatred that had gone on between the Golden Trio and Draco Malfoy, yet here was the brightest witch of her year, the Gryffindor know-it-all, the Bookworm Princess, saying yes to marriage to the Slytherin Prince. What was more, they seemed happy together. The Great Hall was filled with dropped jaws, wide eyes, and heads shaking as if they were only seeing a mirage.

But it was definitely real.

News of their engagement spread like wildfire. No one could believe the intriguing turn of events, newspapers printing their own theories on the beginning of their getting together- all ending up completely ridiculous, but neither bothered to correct them. They didn't give a damn what other people thought.

Hermione was upset, however. Harry and Ron- all the Weasley's, actually- refused to talk to her anymore. But, she mused, it wasn't as if they really had much communication going on in the first place after the war. They were opposed to, and slightly disgusted by, her feelings for their childhood enemy. They didn't understand the meaning of love well enough, in her eyes, if they thought she could control it.

Love… She had said she loved Malfoy, she realized. Perhaps…

Perhaps she did love Mal- Draco. Yes, she supposed she did.

"It will be fine, Hermione," Luna said softly, her voice still dreamy, but still so honest at the same time.

Hermione finally managed to smile slightly at her close friend, knowing she was only trying to help. "I know," she said just as softly, though lacking the dreamy quality.

"I'll believe you, for now, even though I know you don't even believe yourself. Just remember to say, 'I do'," Luna grinned slightly.

"I know," Hermione repeated, this time with more confidence.

It was pathetic- worrying over such a thing. She was still pathetic. But, once again, so was he.

And that's why they fit so well together.

She had walked in as the pathetic Hermione Granger that refused to accept her own humanity, but would soon walk out the pathetic Hermione Malfoy that was just as dependent on her husband as he was to her. But, sometimes, pathetic might not be all that bad.

At least they'd still have each other.

AN: Okay, so they have been slightly OOC, but I tried my best. I'm not Rowling, I can't perfect them. Besides, it's a Dramione. That's already pretty OOC. Tell me what you think and if there's something I need to improve. Oh, and in case you didn't realize it, the stuff about Regulus and Sirius was made up. I'm sorry if I made it seem like Sirius was a bad guy, but it was really mostly Draco's opinion.