Title: All of these things
Chapter 1: The things we tell ourselves
Parings: LM/HG, RW/HG (implied)
Rating: M
Disclaimer: All rights to their rightful owners. I am not making any money writing this.
Summary: It's been two years since the war finished. And Ron and Hermione are still together happy as can be. Just as they should be. Just as everyone said they would be. It was expected. They are happy together. They really are. Aren't they? Hermione find herself wondering if after all they've been through, after two years together if this is all there really is to 'Love'. Isn't that what she truly feels about Ron? But then, from the person she least expected to see again, a seed of doubt is planted. She loves Ron, but she is not in love with him. How will she react when that seed begins to grow, into a forbidden love of such magnitude she had never imagined it possible?

He put it on me
I put it on
Like there was nothing wrong
It didn't fit,
It wasn't right
Wasn't just the size,
They say you know when you know
I don't know
I didn't feel the fairytale feeling,
Am I just a stupid girl for even dreaming?

Not like the movies- Katy Perry

Hermione held back a groan as the assistant to Twilfitt's and Tattings' owner explained that her dress order had been delayed by another hour, at least, due to a certain rich client who had an emergency repair come in just that morning, and they had had to put aside her dress and take care of one of their main benefactor's needs first and foremost.

She couldn't blame them, really. She did understand, but that meant she would have to wait for at least an hour before getting back to work at the Ministry.

She asked if she might borrow their owl to send a note to her boss. Irving Rathmoor was not an understanding boss and she was not looking forward to explaining that she would be late for the meeting that afternoon.

The assistant suggested that while she wait, she go across the road and enjoy at cup of coffee at the book store and coffee shop, The Cat's Tale.

She thanked the man and hurried over to the shop. A cup of coffee was just what she needed.

She sat down in a window seat just as it began to rain. Hermione quickly selected a book and sat down with a peppermint mocha latte in hand. She tried to read the book she had chosen and for a while she was engrossed in the world of Hungarian horntails and they're histories, and that held her attention for the better part of 45 minutes, but then the rain really began to poor down and she despaired at having to cross the street once again.

Hermione huffed annoyed that she had to be here getting this stupid dress for the Ministry's celebration in a few weeks' time. Ron had been ordered by his boss at the Ministry to attend of all things, the Minister of Magic's celebration of two years in office successfully free of war.

All the important members of the resistance were required to attend and seeing as she was part of what had become known as the Golden Trio, she had also been subjected to the summons. Which explained why she was here, waiting for a silly dress, instead of at work in the Misuse and Abuse and Defence of Magical Creatures department at the Ministry.

She glanced at her watch and noticed that she still had about 10 minutes to wait before it was supposed to be ready, but she figured it would be better to wait for it at Twilfitt and Tattings'

She pulled out her wand and transfigured her empty paper coffee cup into an umbrella. She used it to get across the street hurrying to get out of the cold and wet weather. It was late October in the UK after all.

She pulled her red trench coat tighter around her feeling the cold wind biting at her neck and seeping into her fingers through the leather gloves she wore.

As she reached the door of the shop it was pulled open just as she was about to push through and she stumbled, into the arms of a stranger.

She was about to apologize when she found herself looking straight into the eyes of someone she had hoped to never see again.

She gasped audibly, and flinched in the man's strong arms.

Blonde almost white hair, grey eyes that chilled the soul, high cheekbones, and a straight aristocratic nose tapering down towards a chiselled mouth. At the moment, the face that had haunted her nightmares for the past two years, was glaring at her with pursed lips.

Lucius Malfoy was looking down at her clearly annoyed to find a 'mudblood' in his arms.

"Miss Granger." The smooth voice drawled, "I trust you won't make a habit of knocking into people without provocation or warning."

For all appearances he appeared displeased, but some small part of Hermione's self-conscious noted that he had not released her.

"I—n-no." She stuttered. Hermione found it increasingly hard to form coherent sentences. The last time she had seen Lucius Malfoy it had been when Bellatrix Lestrange had been torturing her in the dining room of his home. She could still hear her own screams in her ears, feel the knife as it dug in, she could still smell the blood as it dripped down her arm onto the hardwood floor of Malfoy Manor.

And the pain— Bellatrix had used the Cruciatus curse again and again and again until she'd lost count— she shuddered. The pain was unforgettable.

The sound of a voice being cleared pulled her back to the present. "I was distracted. Please, excuse me." She murmured, her voice trembling almost inaudibly. She pulled out of his grip all at once and walked past him.

"Miss Granger?" His voice made her stop in her tracks. She turned around slowly, trying very hard to school her features and her voice to keep the fear and pain from them. "Yes Mr. Malfoy?"

"I believe you forgot this." He held out her umbrella. She must have dropped it when they collided without noticing.

"Oh. Yes. Thank you." The words sounded wooden and said through clenched teeth. She took the umbrella from his gloved hand, reluctantly.

He reached out to touch her arm and she instinctively pulled back cringing into herself.

"Miss Granger, are you quite alright?" A familiar sneer of contempt on his mouth.

Suddenly she felt all her old hatred of him boiling to the surface again.

"Mr. Malfoy. Do you recall the last time we saw each other?" She paused letting her words wipe the smirk off his face.

"But I've been remiss in my manners," She continued, her anger making her voice tremble with emotion, "Have the bloodstains come out of the dining room floor yet?" She hissed at him.

He said nothing. But he didn't need to. His eyes conveyed deep sense of hatred, deprecation, and resentment

"So Mr. Malfoy," She nearly spat the words at him, "Ask me again if I'm 'alright'?"

He looked her up and down once assessing her form, as if truly seeing her for the first time.

"Are you alright Miss Granger? Truly?" He asked with no trace of pretentiousness.

Rather she detected a look of what might have been sincerity in his cold grey eyes. In anyone else she might have believed it. But not from him. What did he want from her? For some inexplicable reason it made her feel guilty for bringing up the past.

"I— yes of course I'm fi— " she paused, ready to spout the usual platitudes but looking at the blonde man in front of her again she asked herself 'What's the point? He would see through the lie.' Somehow she knew he of all people would see right through her.

"I don't know…" She paused to draw in a shaky breath, seriously considering his question.

And for some unknown reason she was truthful in her answer, "No. I don't think I am." A small breathless laugh escaped her.

The sound held no mirth and sounded brittle and forced even to her own ears.

The nightmares had continued to haunt her for the past two years, faces of people who she had seen die, the screams of those she loved. She hadn't talked to anyone about it. Not once had she ever disclosed all of remaining agony left inside of her caused by the war.

Yet here she was admitting to a man she professed to hate, that she was still damaged by the past events.

"Ah." He breathed, managing to make the sound remorseful. "That is unfortunate."

"And you?" She asked the words out of her mouth before she could sensor herself.

"Excuse me?" His usually smooth expression creased into one of puzzlement.

Something unknown pushed her to ask the dangerous question on her lips.

"Are you alright Mr. Malfoy?"

Why had she asked that? She didn't care…did she? She tried to persuade herself that it was only out of politeness that she had bothered to ask.

He frowned also considering her words. "No, Miss Granger." He sighed and she noted his shoulders fell slightly as he spoke, "I don't believe that I am 'alright' either."

"Oh." She breathed the word falling from her lips almost inaudibly. "That is unfortunate."

Her repetition of his earlier statement made the corners of his mouth quirk just slightly. Hermione thought she might be detecting a slight hint of amusement in his stormy grey eyes.

For a moment neither party spoke. He continued to look into her eyes and Hermione found herself lost in the sea of grey, blue and silver streaks of his irises.

She couldn't look away.

What were they doing?

She didn't know, but she knew she didn't want to look away.

This time when he reached out for her, she didn't pull away. He took her hand in his own, and pressed a kiss to the top of it. Despite the glove Hermione felt the heat of his mouth and the pressure of his lips as if it had burned her.

She pulled her hand away swiftly her eyes flashing with indignation and confusion.

Why had he done such a thing? To her? A 'mudblood'? Why would he offer her such a sign of respect?

"Goodbye Miss Granger." He murmured and then he walked off into the rain.

She couldn't help watching his retreating back as he made his way to the corner of the street then turned out of her line of sight.

"Miss? Miss is everything alright?" The shop attendant asked when he noticed her still standing in the doorway staring after the disappearing form of Lucius Malfoy. "What? Oh yes, I'm alright." Her voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

That was a lie. She was most definitely not 'alright.'

As soon as she had the damned dress in hand, she apparated back to her flat. Ron was out at work for the Quidditch match in Berlin, thank Merlin. She sent an owl to the ministry calling in sick. She didn't feel like she could go back to work today.

The encounter with Lucius Malfoy had disturbed previously dormant memories. She went up to her room to lie down. Maybe sleep could block out the faces, the screams, the death. She shut her eyes and saw flashes of green, and dead faces floating behind her closed eyelids.

She wept then, bitter tears of confusion, hatred, anger and resentment but above all pain. The old memories saw to that.

Of all the people to die, of all the ones who lived why had she been allowed to survive?

Why had he?

When so many others who only sought to do good had died.

She sighed heavily, the tears constricting her throat. She looked around the room she shared with Ron. It wasn't much but it was— no. It was not 'home.' She did not feel relieved to return here every night. She did not feel happy at the thought of sleeping beside her boyfriend. She did not want to live here. Things between her and Ron had been tense lately. They seemed to always be arguing and the things they wanted, no longer seemed the same. The sex had become awkward and was a wholly unsatisfactory experience for Hermione.

She wondered why they were still together. The answer was rather obvious wasn't it? It was expected. They were good together. Weren't they? She loved him... Didn't she? Is that what she felt? Is that all love truly was?

If that was true then why did she feel so hollow?

She could feel a headache beginning in the back of her skull and temples. She groaned and rubbed the back of her neck.

Closing her eyes once again, she tried to sleep. It took her the better part of an hour before Morpheus' arms greeted her.

And in her sleep, she dreamt.

She dreamed of clear grey eyes. And in her dream, she saw something that had been there in Lucius Malfoy's eyes that she had not been able to see while awake.

She saw the flicker of regret.

~TBC~

(A/n: Oh dear, they still have a long way to go. So am I off to a good start? – Tell me what you think in the comments!)