Disclaimer: All recognised characters from this chapter unto the end belong to JK Rowling & her delightful magical world.

Warning: This fic contains dark themes and as a responsible adult I feel it is my duty to inform you of such. Therefore proceed with caution if themes such as but not limited to: self mutilation (cutting), suicidal tendencies and domestic violence cause personal upset as that is not my wish.

Author's Note: I can't promise regular updates as this particular fic is close to my heart for many reasons which I'm not willing to delve into currently. Lets simply say it is a difficult write and updates will probably be sporadic at best.

As always - while I appreciate those who have taken the time to read, I have had less than stellar experiences with despicable guest reviews, therefore guest reviews shall be deleted. And if you feel a scathing review is necessary, by all means send me a PM and we can discuss your opinions, though I make no guarantee your opinions shall alter mine.

Chapter 1 – Twenty - H

They say everyone has a defining moment in their lives. That one moment that allows them to see exactly who they are or even who they should become. I'm not sure I believe such things, not anymore. I can't recall a single defining moment. No, I recall numerous moments that have led me to exactly where I am. I can't say I'm happy here, but how many people are actually happy with their lives? It would be easy to say my friends, my family had these delightful lives and everything was sunshine and daisies, but I wouldn't want to lie. I'd been lying for entirely too long.

I kept trying to forget the day it really began. It had been easy throughout my schooling. It was easy to be the brilliant one, the intelligent one, the bright one, the forgotten one, the ignored one and I had grown used to that persona. It wasn't difficult to be that girl. She didn't need much, not really, just her books and a little companionship. The companionship left a lot to be desired, but it could have been worse. It could always be worse. At least I learned that lesson.

I'd love to able to say it was the war that changed everything; that changed me, but like I said, I wouldn't want to lie. It was afterwards. I had been going so hard for so long, I didn't know how to take care of myself, not anymore. It wasn't something I had to dwell upon. It was my job to care for those around me and in that fashion I flourished. When the tumultuousness was over, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't function. They were fine, of course they were. I had practically handed them the necessary tools in order to thrive. They smiled, they laughed, they danced, and they moved on. I was the only one left in the dust. If you asked them, they'd blame me. It was my fault I didn't adjust. It was my fault I couldn't let go. It was my fault I was floundering because they were doing just fine. There had to be something wrong with me.

I believed them. Of course I did, how could I not? They were all I had really. It's not as if I could speak to my parents about such things. They wouldn't understand. Sure, they'd try and I would appreciate their efforts but at the end of the day, I'd feel empty. I was alone and I realised, I had always been alone.

The first day, the first time, the first defining moment, I hadn't intended to cut as deeply as I had. It was curiosity more than anything. I was slicing veggies and I missed. It wasn't painful and I found myself just watching the dark red blood drip from the tip of my finger into the sink basin. It was mesmerising. I couldn't tear my eyes away and I didn't want too. When it finally began to sting, I felt alive. It was terrifying, of course it was terrifying yet it was also empowering. This was something I could control after spiraling for so long. I was taking me back. I wasn't looking toward outside sources to help me define myself. I was finding me, in the drips into the basin.

I needed something; I just didn't know what it was yet. I knew I was fragile, of course I was fragile. I think I always was in some way, shape or form, but no one ever noticed. It's hard to sense fragility when the face presented is set in stubborn stone. I understand that and I don't blame them. I don't blame anyone. It wasn't long after that first accidental slice that I discovered pills. They took away the pain and let me float away. It was calm and peaceful. I didn't have to be me or even rise to the expectation of me. I stopped visiting my faux friends. I stopped checking the post. I was determinedly swirling the drain of my own volition.

My mum found me, I suppose. I don't remember and I never wished to remember. The stupid bitch of a nurse had the gall to tell my mum I was ashamed when I woke up crying. I was thankful that mum was smarter than her. I never felt like my mum stood up for me, encouraged me or even really loved me when I was a child. In that moment, she was a roaring lioness daring the wolf to insult her young. I vaguely remember her daring the nurse to step foot into my room again before drifting off to sleep. I remember smiling and feeling warm. It made me wonder if that's what love felt like, if that was what it was supposed to feel like.

I wound up in a facility. It's not that it's especially surprising. I could have disappeared from the facility quite easily, but I had nothing to return too. What did it matter if I spent a few weeks amongst some fucked up individuals. It was obvious I was fucked up too. We could all be fucked up together. I didn't even care anymore. I spent most of my time sleeping and they hated that. The staff or whatever they called themselves wanted me to bare my soul to a bunch of strangers who didn't give a shit about me. It's not as if I could tell them who I really was. I'd never see the outside of the facility if I talked about that. Its taboo, which made me taboo. I'm the thing that shouldn't exist. I'm the anomaly they couldn't truly understand. It had always been that way; I just didn't want to admit it.

I couldn't believe it when I saw him walk through the door. I tried to make myself as small as possible. I didn't waste my time wondering why he was there. It didn't matter to me. I didn't care. In the end, he didn't even notice my presence. He stared at the floor and said as much as I did, which was nothing. They might be able to force me into their little meetings, but they couldn't force me to speak. I wasn't delusional. I knew I needed help but I also knew I couldn't receive it there. At least I stopped popping pills and carving into my skin. That's something I suppose.

I lost track of the days, but eventually I earned garden privileges. It really was lovely to be able to sit outside underneath the trees and smell the rain in the air. I spent every afternoon beneath that tree, watching the clouds float on by. It was peaceful and I needed a reprieve from the constant whisperings which had taken residence inside my head.

I remember the day he joined me. He didn't say a word, he simply laid beside me in the cool grass and I didn't mind.

He had to know who I was. It's not as if I had changed that much. I was the same boring, uninteresting, unattractive girl I had always been. He hadn't changed much either. His hair was just as long, just as blonde and just as perfect. I'd never admit I thought it was perfect, but in comparison to mine, how could it be any different? There was a bit of sadness around his eyes, but the colour was the same. It wasn't the sort of colour you could forget. His eyes were the sky on a stormy day. The kind of day where the horizon is the darkest of blues but the sky is a muddled sort of gray. I would be embarrassed to admit I had studied his eyes so thoroughly, but it's not as if he noticed and I didn't expect him too. I wasn't anyone of importance to him, I never had been.

"I know who you are." He said one day. His voice wasn't biting and angry. Frankly, I had expected that. His face wasn't contorted in a sneer of hatred either and I found that surprising as well. I studied his profile carefully before answering him. What could I say really?

"Ten points for Slytherin." Not my most brilliant moment, I'll admit that, but it was the least facetious thing I could think to say. He laughed. I'd never heard him laugh before, not really. I'd seen him laugh, but I'd never actually heard it before then. It was a beautiful sound. Not because it was his laughter, but because it was laughter in general and I hadn't heard it in so long, I had almost forgotten what it sounded like.

"Why aren't you with your visitors? It is visiting day." I had almost forgotten he was beside me when he broke the silence. I had closed my eyes, listening to the wind blow through the leaves and pretend I was alright. I had been pretending for so long I didn't know how to stop and I wasn't sure I wanted to. Pretending was safe and at this point it was easy.

"I haven't any." I felt him move closer to me. I didn't open my eyes and I didn't bolt. There was no place to go anyway. What did it matter if I held a civil conversation with a school enemy? We weren't in school anymore and no one here was going to give a shit.

"I find it hard to believe the Idiot Brigade wouldn't come visit their favourite member." I ignored the trace of bitterness in his words and shrugged against the blades of grass.

"I haven't talked to them since I went back for seventh year." That wasn't exactly true, but it wasn't an outright lie either.

Harry and Ron had sent a few owls which I returned unopened. It was Ginny; she was whom I clung too. She knew where I was and respected me enough to adhere to my pleadings to stay away. She knew it was to protect myself. She knew I didn't want her git of a brother nor his inconsiderate best friend. I knew she had married Harry and I was happy for her, truly I was. He was her peaceful place. I didn't have a peaceful place. She understood what they didn't and I loved her for it.

I must have fallen asleep not long after our incredibly short conversation. When I opened my eyes it was black as pitch outside and I was covered in a blanket. I didn't want to read more into the gesture than was necessary but I appreciated it. I also wondered why the staff didn't come looking for me, but I supposed he took care of that as well.

The next few weeks passed much in the same way. I had grown used to the company. I didn't resent it and he seemed to need something from me. Perhaps we needed something from each other. He didn't receive visitors either. I wondered about his mum more than his father, but I didn't want to pry. He, on the other hand, had no such qualms.

"Favourite colour?" Today's episode was laced with questions. It was like he was trying to sift through my soul to get to the little bits of me. I didn't mind as much as I should have.

"Earth tones. I adore earth tones."

"That's bloody boring."

"Yes, I'm aware. I've heard that my entire life."

"I didn't mean anything by it. I prefer bright colours myself. Cerulean blues, grass greens, blood reds and sunshine yellows."

"And yet you always wear black. Shame, really. The lighter colours would look quite nice on you." I bit my tongue. I hadn't meant to inadvertently compliment him. It was just an observation.

"What are you going to do when they finally let you out of here?" I breathed a sigh of relief when he hadn't made one of his customary snide remarks.

"I'm leaving. I'm going to change my entire bloody life. What about you then?"

"Me?" The shock was evident. I had never really asked anything of him, but there's a first time for everything; or so I've heard. "I'll be going home of course. As if I've really got a choice in the matter. My mum expects me home."

"I suppose my mum expects me home as well and I'll have to disappoint her." I snorted with a bit of derision. Sure, my mum would want me home and she'd watch over me every moment and it wouldn't take long before I was exactly where I started. No, I needed to do something for me. Like I said, there's a first time for everything.

We were sitting side by side like most every day, except this time the rough bark of the wide tree braced our backs. I noticed how close he was sitting. Normally there was practically an arm's length between us, but not that day. Our shoulders brushed and if I moved the fingers of my left hand, I could touch his wrist. I didn't move, yet I stared at his long fingers threading through the blades of grass.

"Clouds are like constellations." He said suddenly. I frowned, trying to piece together his train of thought. "They move across the sky and they're unique." He nodded repeatedly as if trying to convince himself.

"You have a thing for constellations." It was easy to tease him, but he didn't rise to the occasion like he did when we were children.

"Of course I do. My name is a constellation; my entire family…except my mother is named for…"

"I know. Do you have favourites?" A piece of my hair blew across his face. I expected some sort of scathing remark about the bushiness or the filthiness or something. He surprised me once more by simply twirling the piece around his finger and giving me a half smile. It was a beautiful smile.

"Favourite constellations? Well, that would be silly wouldn't it? I'll tell you this much, I've spent many hours contemplating which constellations are worthy for my future children's names." His finger brushed my cheek when he twirled the curl too tightly, but neither of us commented on it. Strange as it was, it was familiar in its awkwardness.

"Oh, do tell." I laughed then and it felt foreign. It was a strange sensation, though not unwelcome.

"Scorpius of course. That's at the top of the list. Leo…" He stopped when I snorted and I almost felt bad. Almost. "What's wrong with Leo?"

"Nothing, nothing at all, though I suppose you are aware that the brightest star of Leo is Regulus which was one of your cousins or some relative."

"Don't ruin it for me, Hermione." He'd never said my name before. I didn't hate it. I didn't love it, but I definitely didn't hate it. His fingertip lightly touched my jaw and I didn't hate that either.

"You're assuming all your children will be boys."

"No, I'd quite like to have a daughter. Carina. She'd be spunky and of course she'd have my hair but she'd have her mother's eyes." He tugged on my curl, his breath tickling my cheek.

"You've really thought about it." I could feel him inching closer, his hair tickling my forehead, but I didn't turn my head. I didn't look at him. I was afraid of what I would see, in his eyes and mine.

"Yes, yes I have. I'm…I'm going to kiss you now." I wasn't expecting that. How could I? I turned to him with a gasp on my lips and before I could blink, his lips were on mine. I don't know why he did it. We'd barely touched before that moment.

I want to be able to say that I pushed him away angrily and shouted obscenities at him, but fact is I didn't. I'd never been kissed before. I had kissed before, but I hadn't been kissed, if you can follow. I had kissed Viktor and it was disappointing. I had kissed Ron, just once, after the final battle. I hadn't meant to kiss his lips, I was aiming for his cheek but he turned to say something and it just happened. We were both horrified, which is sort of amusing I suppose. This was the first kiss in which I was the recipient and I liked it.

I lost track of the moments beneath the willow tree. I was lost in him and for a little while, I didn't hate myself. The boy that all the girls desperately sought and mooned over, was kissing me. His soft, plump lips were on mine. His teeth were pulling on my lip. His tongue was swirling with mine and the little pants? Those were mine as well. I didn't care about anything or anyone. I was lost in our moment. I didn't even care when his trembling hand slipped under my blouse and stroked my breast.

No one had ever desired me. They tolerated me, but desire, no that was reserved for other girls, never for me. I would have given him the world if he'd asked for it. Not that the world was mine to give, but I would have found a way. It was lunacy in its finest and I welcomed it. I knew it never had a chance of leading anywhere, but that didn't matter, not really. Eventually I would have to learn to let go, to stop planning every single moment of my life. I had rejected such theories, but right then, in that moment, I thought…what was the harm? The worst that could happen is we leave this place together, yet alone before moving on with our lives. It would be lovely to make a beautiful memory, the sort that's worth remembering when I'm old and gray and completely alone.

His fingers worked the buttons of blouse and the cool afternoon air floated across my hot skin and it was divine. He dragged me down into the grass beside him, attacking my neck with a fervor I never knew existed. It didn't matter it wasn't going to last. It didn't matter that it wasn't real. It was the moment, a defining moment if you will. The thoughts weren't swirling through my brain so quickly I couldn't keep up. I wasn't holding conversations with myself while compiling lists of books I needed for my library, while wondering what Ginny was doing and how my mum was fairing and what I was going to do with the rest of my life. It was calm. It was peaceful. It was home.

"Mr. Malfoy, you've a visitor." Well shit. He tore his lips from mine, his thumb still brushing across my erect nipple and looked directly into the eyes of his mother. I had never truly wanted to die, until that moment.

"Fuck, I've got to speak with her. Meet me here, after dinner. They'll never notice, I won't take no for an answer." He shielded me from his mother's disapproving glare, and whispered in my ear. He pulled my shirt closed and kissed me quickly, as if I mattered, before walking away with his mother. I knew I would meet him.

He wasn't the boy I remembered. He wasn't the angry, sneering, pompous git. He wasn't the crying, terrified yet angry arse. He was a man, just like every other man and I liked this man. My faux friends wouldn't understand and honestly, I wouldn't expect them too. Ginny would though, if it came down to it, because that's what the people you love do. They accept all of you; the good, the bad and the hideously ugly. If there happens to be something that makes you feel the pull of life once more after years of simply surviving, they smile and tell you it's wonderful.

I could see him in the distance and he didn't look happy. I'd come to learn his nuances well over the past few days, weeks and even months. He was determined to remain in control, but the tic in his cheek jumped furiously and his fists were clenched. His mother on the other hand, looked positively thrilled. She was all smiles, patting his shoulder absently. I felt a cloud of melancholy cover me and realised it was for him. His own mother didn't know him, not the way I did and I was no one. Instead of watching them further, I went inside. I didn't want to see him retreat into the boy I had once seen. I couldn't say I had known him then, I hadn't, but I had seen him. I had seen the fear in his eyes belying the angry shouts of his rough voice. I suppose we were alike in that fashion. We both had our secrets then and now from the looks of it.

I barely tasted my dinner. It was not as if it were gourmet fare. It was barely palatable most days. I ate alone. I had forgotten what it was like to eat alone. We ate together. We sat together during the absolutely horrid meetings and snickered at the patients who droned on and on about things no one cared about. It might sound cruel, but you'd understand if you were ever in such a facility. He got me through the moments I wished to shout at them, telling them how inconsequential their petty little issues really were in the grand scheme of things. He didn't come to dinner.

I took a shower and put on a pretty white and blue paisley skirt. Ginny had insisted I purchase it. She said it would make me feel feminine and it did. The kerchief bottom swirled around my legs and I loved it. I paired it with a long sleeve white shirt and a pair of trainers. I thought my hair would never dry and for the first time since my arrival, I missed my wand. I pulled my damp curls back into a ponytail. I couldn't be bothered to do more and snuck out the backdoor the moment the sun set.

He was already waiting for me beneath what I had come to think of 'our tree'. I looked over my shoulder and realised we couldn't be seen from the building. No wonder they'd never come looking for me. They'd never seen me. I sat beside him, studying his pensive profile. He looked pained and I didn't like it. I didn't like the flutter of anxiety under my ribs and I felt my hands tremble slightly. I couldn't explain why it was affecting me as much as it was. This was it, the moment I'd been dreading. I hadn't realised I'd been dreading it, but my heart fought valiantly with my brain as they often did and the consensus was the same. It was difficult to breathe through the realization, through the pain of it all, but I managed. I had always been the strong one and it seemed as if this time was no different. He needed me to be strong. I could see it in the slouch of his shoulders, the way his fingers danced across his forehead, shoving those locks I knew so well.

He drew me into his side and sighed. I felt an overwhelming sense of peace shroud me and I never wanted the moment to end. I wanted to savor it, every breath, every nuance, every whisper. I knew what he was going to say before he said it and I willed myself not to crumble.

"I'm leaving tomorrow." He sniffed my hair and I could feel the tension coming off him in waves. I wanted to ask a million questions, but I didn't want to press him. "Don't ask me why. Let's just…let's just have tonight. Can we do that Hermione?" He cupped my face in his hands, his stormy eyes desperately searching mine and I couldn't refuse him.

"Of course." My voice didn't sound like my own, but he didn't seem to mind. It didn't take long for his lips to find mine. It wasn't the soft, sweet kiss from that afternoon. It was needy, pressing and even a little desperate. I needed it just as much as he. It was our hello. It was our goodbye. It was ours.

I clutched his biceps when he pulled me into his lap. He groaned at the contact, which made me feel empowered. He adjusted our bodies until he was pressed against the rough bark of our tree and I was straddling his lap. His fingers dug into my thighs, his teeth nipping my neck. I didn't expect this frenzy. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. I didn't mind, not really. I rocked against him, smiling against the torrent of kisses and my shirt was on the ground. I hoped it didn't fly away, but I was lost in sensations. I was lost in him.

I went from never been kissed to completely starkers on sharp blades of grass with him above me, paying tribute to my nudity. I don't know why he was different. I don't know why I was willing to allow him to take all of me, but I was. Perhaps it was…he knew me in ways I didn't know myself. He understood me in the comfortable silences as much as the disjointed conversations. He wasn't interested in returning to his childhood anymore than I was and yet we were bound by that which we were and it wasn't possible to change it. Perhaps it was simply because he made me feel alive.

When he lay on top of me, I thought that was the epitome of heaven. I'd never felt anything like it before nor since. His chest against mine, his lips, oh those lips, teasing and nibbling. His hand shimmied between our bodies and he touched me, growling deep in his throat. He stroked and probed places that had never been touched. I was a piano and he plucked all the right keys to create a beautiful melody. I wasn't aware of what my body was capable of doing until that night. When I felt him thrust into me, I wasn't overcome with pain, I was finally complete. We moved in perfect rhythm, beneath the starry, starry night, littering the night sky with the sounds of our symphony.

Afterwards he fingered the rubber purple bracelet I kept on my left wrist. I always wore long sleeves so he'd never seen it before. The sliver of moon provided the only speck of light as he kissed me slow. It was a silly bracelet. My mum had given it to me. I didn't really give it much thought, but it was comforting. It was always there. It was as much a part of me as he was now.

We dressed in a cacophony of whispers and giggling before heading back into the facility. The moment we stepped through the door it hit me. He was leaving. He was leaving the facility. He was leaving. He was leaving me. I wasn't familiar with the immobilising constriction of my chest. I crashed into the wall as he walked me back to my room. I couldn't walk. I couldn't breathe. I felt myself folding in half, grappling for scraps to keep myself intact. The boisterous canvas constantly splashed with blots of colours and shapes was blank. I didn't know how to function without it, not anymore. It was always there, always demanding, always highlighting my flaws and coveting the specks of sunshine until now. The overachieving brain which had always served me well, too well, had failed.

He carried me then. He didn't ask. He cradled me as if I mattered, as if I were something precious. He didn't whisper false words of encouragement. He didn't tell me it would be alright. He placed me on his narrow bed, wrapping me in his duvet and climbed in beside me.

He fingered my bracelet again and I was embarrassed now. I didn't want him to ask me about the rubber letters. It was silly, but it was mine. I felt him hold my hair off my neck and something cool hit my collarbone. I couldn't make myself open my eyes. He was leaving. He was leaving the facility. He was leaving me…and I didn't want to watch him go. He slipped my bracelet off my wrist and I let him.

"I'm leaving tomorrow." He whispered into my hair, holding me so tightly against him I almost couldn't breathe but I didn't care. I clung to him as if he was the only real thing in my life and perhaps he was.

"I know." My voice broke and I hated it.

"You'll leave soon as well. You should go, Hermione and do everything you talked about. You should recreate yourself and build a beautiful, beautiful life. I wish I could see it. I bet it would be brilliant." He kissed my forehead and I hated how defeated he sounded. I hated how much it felt like goodbye.

"Why can't you?" I didn't want to know. I didn't want to beg. I didn't want to be weak. I was afraid of the answer, but the long dormant part of me, the resilient me, demanded I give her a voice.

"We loved a lifetime." I heard his breath hitch and I fought against my clouded mind. My body was demanding sleep, but I couldn't, I couldn't. I had to spend every moment with him until there weren't any more.

"It isn't enough." I mumbled against the side of his neck, lifting my weary head and kissing him hard.

"I know." I heard him whisper as I drifted off to sleep in his arms.