Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the wonderful Draco && Hermione. It all belongs to JK Rowling. I just love DRAMIONE!!!!! aaahhh!!!!!!! I really liked writing this story, it just came. So hope you enjoy D

Setting: This is seventh year. Draco & Hermione are Head Boy && Head Girl-- hence the living together. Through Draco's point of view.

Broken

There she goes again. Broken. Broken on the inside, strong on the out. How can people not notice, I'm not sure. Why I notice, I'm not sure.

In a way, she's a lot like me. So broken, yet too proud to show it. So much in pain, yet too stubborn to let anyone help. So there she goes, as strong as she can manage to look.

It's funny how she always hesitates at the door. I've noticed. She's probably talking to herself. Mentally preparing herself to face the next crowd. She has no idea how she will manage. I have no idea how she manages. I have no idea how I manage.

It's so familiar how she looks at herself in the mirror on her way out. Again, probably like me, she is looking at her reflection, making sure nothing looks wrong. Then she breathes in and walks out. I do the same. Day after day, I look at myself whenever I get the chance and smirk. People think it's because I'm conceited. In reality, I'm just making sure my façade is still in place. She does the same.

People are so oblivious to her. So oblivious to me. They don't notice how broken she is. How broken I am. Then again, it's not like we wear a banner displaying it. Instead, we cover it up. Her with her smile. Me with my smirk. And no one knows. At least we hope.

I am sure she is sick of this life, sick of everything. So am I. I am sure she wants to leave and never look back. So do I. I am sure she is fed up with everyone's crap. So am I. I am sure she thinks life is unfair, yet sucks it up and keeps going, her head held high. So do I.

Late at night, I hear her cry. I hear her yell, and yet, I pretend to be asleep. Finally, it becomes quiet—she has gone to sleep. Then the rustling in her bed starts. It only makes me assume her nightmares have begun. They have resurfaced even in her unconscious self. I drift to sleep, and my nightmares, too, begin. We are so different, yet so much the same.

I've been living with her for 3 months now. Nothing's changed from that first week. We fight. And fight. And fight. She leaves, and I'm left here. She carries on, broken as always. Yet people still think she's strong. Not once letting anyone see her cry. Never. For us, being weak is not an option.

I am sitting here, reading. She walks in, and I notice something's wrong. Something besides the usual. I wish I could say something, but I can't. I have to keep my façade, just like she keeps hers. She goes into her room, and I hear her throw herself on her bed. I shudder.

Calling it a night, I walk into my own room. After an hour of silence, she has assumed me to be asleep. And so it starts. She breaks down crying. I hear her through the wall. She starts screaming. My heart is throbbing. I want to comfort her. But I can't. I want to help her. But I can't. I know she won't let me. I lie there, mentally giving her words of comfort. Suddenly, the noises stop. She has fallen asleep. So do I.

The next morning, she wakes up, ready to go to class. Her eyes are puffy, there's dark circles under them. Her friends ask her about it. She says she is sick. She says she had no sleep. She says lie, after lie. Lies they believe. How stupid are they?

That night, she comes home. I know she's been crying during the day. She walks into her room, just like last night. Starts crying and screaming, when she thinks I'm asleep. I'm not. She stops and goes into her nightmare phase. Unable to handle it, I rise to my feet, and head for my door.

I stop just as I'm about to walk into her room. Maybe she'll hate me. I doubt it. Like me, she wants someone to see through her fake exterior. I have. Whether she wants to admit it or not, that is what she wants. That is what I want.

I walk into her room and sit on the floor, next to her bed. I grab her hand. It feels so warm in my cold grasp. Immediately, she is calm. She stops moving and her eyelids flutter. She has gone completely still, and I fall asleep.

I wake up the next morning, and her hand is still in mine. I let her go and return to my room. Right before leaving, I glance one more time at her. She looks at peace.

I get ready for class and leave. The next afternoon, she returns. Again, broken. She is falling apart and no one knows. I watch her walk into her room, yet she doesn't see me. She's beautiful. I want to talk to her, but I can't. Don't know how. I don't know what to do. I'll never be with her.

Before stepping through her door, she glances back at me. She catches me watching her. She goes on, closing the door behind her. I return to my room. The crying begins. It stops, giving way for the nightmares to start. They do. Without hesitation, I walk into her room.

I take my seat beside her, and it feels normal. I grab her hand, and am surprised to see she is holding onto it in return. This, too, feels normal. It feels right. I wake up, leaving her room as if nothing happened.

A week has passed by. I still visit. She still has her puffy eyes. Her friends still think she's sick. I cannot believe them. They call themselves her friends, yet they don't know her at all. They just care about her helping them. And that's it.

She has returned to our room. However, she doesn't shut herself out. She stays there, sitting in the couch. I think she wants some space. I get up and leave. I hear her sigh, but I keep walking. If I stay down here, I might do something dumb.

It's Friday night. I should be out having some fun. But I'm not. I'm worried about her, and she doesn't even know. She doesn't know how much I know about her. How much I care about her. How much I love her. No. She doesn't know. She never will.

I wake up the next morning and realize she is nowhere in sight. She is probably sleeping. I get ready for the day, and quietly slip out. I have nothing to do. Actually, I want nothing to do. I go to the lake and sit there for the rest of the day. I fall asleep.

As I open my eyes, it is already starting to get dark. I walk into our room, and she's there. She looks furious. I don't want to fight. Not today. We haven't for the last week, and I don't want to anymore. However, she's on a different page.

"What the hell?!" she yells at me, just as I'm heading to my room.

"What?" I reply.

"What the fuck do you think you were doing?!" she screams, still infuriated.

"What are you talking about?" I ask. I really have no clue.

"Why the fuck were you in my room?!" I freeze. There is no way she could have seen me.

"I don't know what you are talking about," I reply, as coolly as I can. I already feel myself start to heat up.

"Did you fucking think I wouldn't fucking notice?! What the fuck is your problem?!" I am extremely hot. My temper has risen. "What the fuck were you fucking doing?!" She is yelling at the top of her lungs.

I decide I won't win this one. "Fine. So what if I went in? I heard you scream. Walked in. Saw you were fine. Then walked out."

"Yeah fucking right, you fucking asshole! Like you would do something like that! I am fucking sick and tired of all your fucking bullshit! You are a fucking cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch!" That's it. She's gone too far.

"Look, you fucking ungrateful bitch! I was just checking you were okay. And you know what?! Now I fucking regret it! I knew someone like you couldn't fucking understand shit! And people say you are the smartest witch in our year?! Yeah fucking right! You are nothing but a filthy Mudblood!" Oh oh. Maybe now Iwent too far. Great.

I see the color drain from her face and she begins walking towards me. Then tears start streaming down her cheeks, as she starts insulting me. "You fucking bastard! How fucking dare you, you asshole?! I fucking hate you! You deserve to fucking die! You always think you're better than fucking everyone. I can't fucking stand you. Why the fuck do I have to fucking get stuck with you?! You fucking bitch ass, self-absorbed, conceited, piece of trash!"

She is only a few feet away. "You're such a fucking pompous jerk! Everything has to fucking revolve around you!" That's when she slaps me. I feel my face redden, but I don't move.

She is still crying, but she continues. "You always fucking belittle everyone around you, not fucking caring about their fucking feelings!" She begins hitting my chest. "Others feel like shit and you just make them feel fucking worse! Never fucking acknowledging them. Just looking down on us with your fucking smirk! You cold-ass bastard! You fucking asshole!"

For some reason, my anger has dissolved. It started to as she began hitting me. The tears on her face making her look so weak, so vulnerable. I wrap my arms around her and she breaks down. "I hate you, Malfoy," she says.

I don't care. I don't listen. Instead, I just hold her tightly. Never once had I held her like this. "Shh, it's going to be okay," I tell her. "Don't worry, it's okay. I'm here. I'll help you," I whisper into her hair.

She fits so perfectly in my arms. I never want this moment to end. I just hold on to her, as if holding her together. After a few minutes, she stops crying. She has recomposed. She looks up at me, confused, and frees herself from my hold. She looks down and goes to her room.

Unaware of what has just happened, I make my way to my room as well. I lie on my bed and try to figure it out. I can't. I then try to listen to her. There is not a sound. I close my eyes, and after a while, I hear her door open. No. I imagined it. I dismiss this thought, for there is no other sound.

I am almost asleep, when I hear my door open. Instead of sitting up, I pretend to be asleep. She comes closer and closer. I can hear her steps. Suddenly, I feel her sit on my bed, then get under the covers with me.

My mind starts racing and I don't know what to do. She simply lies there, with her arm across my stomach. I make myself turn to face her, and when I do, she smiles. Suddenly, she reaches up and presses her lips softly against mine, quickly removing them.

She then looks at me sheepishly, and I realize what it means. She does return the feelings I have for her. I turn my body to face hers and I wrap my arms around her, for the second time tonight.

I kiss her inviting lips, and she kisses back. The kiss is soft at first, but it quickly starts to fire up. I lick her bottom lip, asking her for entrance, and she accepts. The kiss depends as I hold her tighter. Her hands immediately tangle in my hair, and I know I will never part from her. When we separate, she simply lies in my arms. I rest my chin on her hair.

"I love you, Draco Malfoy," she whispers to me.

"I love you, too, Hermione Granger," I whisper in return.