Hey everyone! I'm Autumn, here with what I hope will be a nice, long story. Dramione's always been one of my favorite ships, and since I've recently read a few really great realistic fics with them, I've fallen even more in love with them.

I've spent weeks trying to think up of my own realistic setting for a Dramione fic, and actually began this one with the intention that it would be the start of the time/setting of the entire fic, but as I wrote it, I realized it was much better as the sort-of-prologue. So here it is: the sort-of-prologue of "We Remain".

I sincerely hope you enjoy this!

It was the night of September 19, and the Leaky Cauldron was, as usual, bustling with pretty waitresses and rowdy men that stank of sweat, alcohol, and vomit.

Tables of drunk men and women filled the pub to its brim. The very interesting thing about the Leaky Cauldron was that nearly everyone came to the pub alone but ended up among others who were alike in the desire to drown misery or celebrate joy or relieve stress. Nearly everyone was with another.

But this particular night found a person who entered the pub alone and would exit the pub alone.

In the corner sat a woman dressed in dark clothing who was neither drinking nor speaking with anyone else. In fact, she appeared to be immune to the rowdiness of the pub and the "Can I get you somethin', miss?"s that she received from waiters and drunk men alike. To these, she politely declined with no more than a slight shake of her head.

She was a young woman of the age of twenty-three wearing muggle clothes and a scarf that covered her mouth. Discreet, that was what she was, a few waiters nervously thought as they eyed her, discreet and shady. In fact, one employee whispered to the others if they ought to kick the woman out since she was not buying anything and did not appear to be meeting anyone else. This some of the workers thought was an excellent idea but nobody dared approach the woman, simply because she exuded strength and something almost sinister.

If they had known who she was, they would not think her to be sinister at all, because Hermione Granger was known as a war hero and was Harry Potter's best friend and a role model to all women, no matter the fact that she did not like to think about it, and that Hermione Granger was the same Hermione Granger that sat in the shady corner of the Leaky Cauldron.

Had the waiters and waitresses known her identity, they would not be scheming how to remove her from the pub - they would be scheming how to shake her hand or get her autograph. But Hermione Granger did not want to be found by anyone, and so the waitresses continued murmuring suspicions under their breath, unaware that Hermione could hear every word they were saying.

"You know,"whispered one of the waitresses to her friend as they washed tankards, "she really does look strange."

"Certainly," her friend agreed. "I wonder what she wants to hide."

"I'd tell her to leave, but you never know what kind of people come here…" The waitress trailed off, her breath hitching as the object of her attention appeared to look straight at her. "Oh!" the waitress whispered quickly, averting her eyes and returning to her work, silent.

Ten feet away, Hermione tried to suppress a smile. She was perfectly aware that not a single server trusted her dark appearance - she would not trust herself, if she were them - but it was important, so, so important, that she stay hidden.

But although she did not know it, it was too late.

Across the pub sat a lone man, similar to the woman in every aspect of solitude but the fact that he had two empty bottles in front of him and that he was watching Hermione Granger very carefully, because he had seen the way she'd walked into the pub and seen the way her eyes had darted around the room before relaxing and eyeing the dark, empty corner. He had seen the tenseness in her shoulders and watched it fade as she slipped further into the darkness and solitude.

He hadn't known that Hermione Granger had come back to England, and he was willing to bet that close to no one else did either.

It had come as a shock, two years ago, when Hermione Granger abruptly left England without her two bodyguards and without, it seemed, reason. Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley appeared to be the only ones to know why she had left, but refused to disclose any information.

Draco wondered just how much they actually knew about her departure. There was only one other person in the world who knew why Hermione Granger had left the country, and that person knew it had little to do with a "fallout with the Golden Trio".

Just as Draco was raising his hand for another bottle (he was at the pub for his own reasons as well), the pub door opened and a hush fell over the room as people - despite their drunken states - stared at the figures in the doorway.

Tom the bartender was the first to react, immediately bustling towards the door with a large grin on his face. "Mr. Potter! How do you do?"

"Fine, Tom, thanks. You have room for four?"

Well, even if there wasn't room, people would fall over the Boy Who Lived and give him room for ten if he wanted.

Draco, who was not interested in seeing Harry Potter with a third of the Weasley family in tow (he saw them enough times at work), turned back to his empty bottles and moodily barked at the waitress nearest him, "Get me another bottle." His eyes remained fixed on Hermione Granger.

Chatter began to refill the room, and Harry Potter's words were eventually drowned out, much to Draco's satisfaction. This satisfaction was short-lived, however, because as he sipped his drink, Potter and the Weasels stepped into view and sat at the table closest to Draco's stool.

"Five bottles of Firewhisky, please," said George Weasley loudly.

"I'm not sure Hermione would approve," said the Weaslette.

She wouldn't, especially since they were drinking for her birthday. A similar reason for Draco's drinking, but so different, so, so different.

He scrutinized the shadowy form of Granger. Could she see him, he wondered? He could only see her through the murky darkness because he knew she was there. Could she see him, or was she only watching her friends drink for her birthday?

"To Hermione!" the four were saying, clinking their glasses together.

"Happy birthday," Draco heard the Weasel - oh, how his voice filled him with contempt - say quietly. If she could hear him, Draco thought as he took a large gulp of his own drink, what would she say?

This continued in a similar manner until perhaps an hour later, when the four finished their drinks with a solemn last, "I hope she comes back soon," and got up to leave the bar. Draco leaned back and watched Hermione from the other side of the room.

Was she going to get up, he wondered? Was she going to show herself to them?

Potter and the Weasleys left the bar uninterrupted, walking straight past the corner their supposedly best friend sat, eyeing their every movement just as Draco eyed hers. But as soon as they swept through the doors, Hermione got up and strode out of the pub, leaving a wake of relieved waiters and waitresses behind her.

Draco tried to restrain. He really did.

But eventually curiosity beat even two and a half bottles' worth of liquor, and he found himself slapping money down on the counter and stumbling out of the bar. It was cold outside, but he was warm from the alcohol burning in his stomach.

Two and a half bottles. Last year, on this same day, he had finished off three. The year before that, he'd had four bottles. The year before that… well, there hadn't been any need for him to drink.

He lit up his wand, eyes searching for her familiar mane of brown chaotic curls, wondering if she would be searching for him if their positions were reversed - but she wasn't here anymore, she wasn't anywhere, she must have Disapparated like she had that night -

"Dra - Malfoy?"

Her voice cut through his hazy state, and he stopped stumbling, stopped breathing, stopped anything and everything - and turned around.

She stood in front of him, just the same height she'd been two years ago. Her cheeks were flushed red - that black scarf she had had slipped from her face, revealing her lips and her chin - her eyes, they were still brown and warm without the influence of alcohol, but he could not look at them - her hair was still untameable and so wretchedly messy - but she was there. Two years, and she was here, an abyssal five feet from him.

He opened his mouth, unsure what he should say because he could see it in her eyes that she regretted saying anything - but he would not make the same mistake she did, no, he would not slip up and say her name - "Granger," he mustered out as coolly as he could as a drunk.

She kept staring at him, her mouth parted. She looked healthy. She looked better than she had two years ago. "Malfoy," she said again, still stunned.

"Granger."

And they were back on square one, just as they had been four years ago.

And that's a wrap for the sort-of-prologue! The entire story will basically take place before this particular event even happens, so keep that in mind when then next chapter comes out, which will hopefully be soon! ;)

Thank you so much,

xo Autumn