Aching. That's all she seemed to feel lately. An aching so raw, so deep, she wanted to rip the very bones out of her body. She wanted to scream, and protest against this life she was dealt, but all she could do was sit numbly, and silently allow whatever was to come catch her unexpectedly.

She stared out of the window of her room at the Leaky Cauldron, overlooking the people rushing around below to escape the approaching thunder clouds above. A gentle knock sounded at the door. She ignored it.

"Hermione?" Came the voice of her truest friend, Harry Potter. His concern and love for her was unwavering, no matter how hard she pushed him and everyone away, he never gave up on her, like she never had with him during war time. The click of the door unlocking told her that she was not about to keep him out today. She kept her eyes on a portly wizard struggling with several boxes and bags and she briefly wondered why he didnt just shrink them down.

"Hey, Hermione." he said quietly, stepping up to the window. She looked at him blankly. The warmth she used to have had long since vanished. Her eyes did not shimmer as they once did. Her cheeks were no longer rosey.

"Harry." She said. She sounded so tired, so wrung out and depleted of anything remotely human.

"I brought you some lunch. I hope you eat it this time." he said gently, but sternly looked at her. She continued to forego his meal time efforts, leaving whatever trays he brought up just outside her door, completely untouched most times. "Would you like me to stay with you?"

She looked back down at the cobbled street below as the clouds broke open and rain began to stream down on the passersby. She shook her head, and Harry pressed his lips into a tight line to keep from saying anything he would regret later.

"Alright, Hermione. Just please eat. I will check on you later." He left with a soft click of the door behind him and Hermione continued to stare outside as though he'd never been there at all.

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Hermione was rushing out of her office in the Ministry, heading as quickly as she could to St.Marys Hospital. Her heart was hammering in her chest, the adrenaline was coursing through her veins and she felt as though her legs would rip apart under the effort she was exurting to get to the nearest apparition point.

She abruptly turned on the spot and as soon as the hospital came into view, she ran quickly inside. All discretion and civility thrown to the wayside, she burst through the doors of the Emergency area. She whipped past three hallways and around a corner into a waiting area where she unceremoniously crashed into Arthur Weasley. He caught her, both winded, but she clutched his arms, gasping.

"W-where are... where are they!?"

"Your parents are both in surgery. We tried to get here before they could start so we could discreetly move them to St. Mungos, but it seems we were intentionally given misinformation as to the correct muggle hospital-"

Hermione disentangled herself from his arms and threw her disheveled hair out of her face. "What happened to them!?" She demanded, cutting Weasley Sr. off.

Her attention was drawn to the Minister of Magic as he stepped forward, looking rather odd in muggle clothes, and quietly spoke.

"You are well aware that we have yet to find all of You Know Who's sympathizers. Well, it would seem someone has determinedly waited for you to bring your parents out of hiding to ensure an attack."

Hermione felt white hot rage filling her head and heart, and she was trembling, muttering to herself in disbelief. She waited, after all this time, she was so unsure if she should bring them home, memories restored, but finally three years after the war, she did.

And now this.

Now they were forced to fight for their lives for having a daughter born into magic.

"Don't... don't you... have a trace... o-or something to..." She stammered, desperately trying to force back the gasping sobs that surely wanted to erupt from within her.

The Minister shook his head, and finally Harry arrived. Hermione jumped into his arms, squeezing him tightly. Arthur walked off to speak with a nurse about any updates. Hermione let go of Harry and looked expectantly between him and the Minister.

"Hermione," Harry said quietly,"whoever attacked your parents, well, they didn't use any magic. They did things the muggle way. That's why we cannot seem to trace them. We brought in our muggle liaison CSI, so maybe he will be able to figure this out."

Hermione began to shake even more.

"But, then why are they in surgery? Harry, what was done to them?"

She watched the Ministers shoulders sag under an invisible weight, and Harry ran a hand over his face before letting a ragged breath escape his lips.

"I want to refuse to tell you, but we all know you'll never allow me to keep anything from you. Not even this..."

Hermione gasped, Harry's words were slashing away at her heart. She sobbed openly, collapsing to the floor. The pain ravaging her was like fire, but the pain she felt when the surgeon came into the waiting room, a somber expression on his face, that pain was all consuming. It completely engulfed her, tore at her, and dragged her kicking and screaming into the very depths of Hell. Hermione died that day in the hospital with her parents, and the empty shell is what walked out surrounded by her friends.

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Hermione was walking slowly along Diagon Alley. It was late, probably somewhere around eleven p.m. She liked to come out at this time. The air was cool, it was quiet, very few others could be seen on the cobbled path. Harry frequently asked her not to do this, concerned that someone may try to hurt her. She didn't much care anymore. She probably deserved it, anyway. Sometimes she did wonder how she could let this happen. How could she have been so foolish? She was supposed to be the smartest witch of her age.

Indeed. She scoffed. She couldn't even protect her own parents. She couldn't even pull herself together. She couldn't even keep Harry from worrying over her everyday. She went to the Leaky Cauldron to try and get away. She intended to lock herself in her room, swear Tom to secrecy, and live there til she decided to move far away with the overly generous payout from the Ministry for her efforts during the war.

She let out a shaky breath and stopped by one of the street lamps. There was someone standing there, watching her. It was a man, still as a statue, hands in his pockets. She knew she should have been afraid. She should have pulled her wand and demanded he let her pass. She did nothing. Just watched him, watching her. The hood of his cloak was covering any distinctive features, but she could tell he was tall, slender build, and probably was in Slytherin, if the glinting serpent pinned to his cloak was any indication. She wondered if he went to school with her, or if he was a student another time. She watched him slowly lift his hands to his hood. She could see long, slender fingers. He had a ring on one hand. She should probably run. She didn't move. The man pushed the fabric away from his face and watched her intently for any sort of reaction. She gave none.

"Draco Malfoy. Pleasure." She spoke into the silence around them. Her voice hollow, unfeeling and unconcerned.

"Hermione Granger. Care to tell me why you're wondering about at this late hour all alone?" His voice was silky as ever, and slightly deeper, gruffer with his additional age.

"No, I don't care to." She said, simply. She should probably leave. "Goodbye."

She moved to walk passed him. He fell into step beside her. She didn't look his way but could feel his eyes on her.

"I don't recall inviting you to walk with me, Malfoy." She should have snapped at him, yelled at him to leave. She couldn't bring herself to speak with any passion. Passion was tiresome.

"Perhaps we are going in the same direction." was his response. She said nothing. They continued their walk, the sound of their footfalls echoing against the shops of the alley.

They reached the Leaky Cauldron, and she said nothing still when he followed her inside. She turned to him when they neared the staircase and properly looked at him for the first time in years. His features were sharpened now, his hair as strikingly blond as ever and falling gracefully over his face. His eyes were a darker, deeper grey than she had ever remembered them being, which intrigued her. The first time she had been intrigued by anything in over a year.

"Are you staying here, Malfoy?" she asked, disbelieving that anyone from the Malfoy family would stay at the rundown Leaky Cauldron. He was staring at her, mask of a face unreadable. She thought he would not answer, so she was turning to leave.

"I am."

She stopped and watched him, hand on the banister, one foot on the bottom step. He didn't move, didn't look away. Hermione thought she should just turn and walk away, forgetting she'd ever encountered the blond boy, but something inside her made her speak.

"I'm in room 217."

She turned and finally walked away. She didn't know why she told him her room number. She didn't know why there was no annoyance or even fear that coursed through her the way it should have, the way it used to. How could she be so phlegmatic in his presence. It was oddly unsettling, even to her.

She arrived back in her room, and stood by the window again. She could hear movement in the corridor and low mumbling. She heard a lock click, and a door creaked open. More words were exchanged before the gentle thud of a case could be heard and more shuffling sounds before the door clicked shut.

Draco Malfoy is staying across the hall from Hermione Granger.

End Chapter One

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Okay, so this story is clearly on a darker path than my first story was, but I hope you like it. It's an idea I've had for awhile and needed to get it out sooner rather than later. Thanks for reading!