Never Let this Go

Chapter One

Undisclosed Desires

Would someone care to classify
Our broken hearts and twisted minds
So I can find someone to rely on
And run to them, to them
Full speed ahead
Oh, you are not useless
We are just

Misguided ghosts
Travelin' endlessly
The ones we trusted the most
Pushed us far away
And there's no one road
We should not be the same
But I'm just a ghost
And still they echo me
They echo me in circles

The end of the war brought a lot out in Hermione. She found out she was stronger than she thought she ever was. She found out that she was more than just a know-it-all-bookworm. She found out that things never seem to last now matter how much you wished and hoped they did. Hermione had made herself out to be a fool, which she rarely was. She knew when they started this relationship—a loose term that he wasn't too pleased with—that things were going to be difficult and damn near impossible, but she did it anyway. She often wondered if it was for the challenge that presented itself or because she was willing to walk through Hell (literally) to be with him.

But she found out that he was willing to walk to the very gate of Hell and then stop. She knew that because when it came down to it, Draco Malfoy was still a coward. The war ended and he didn't even look her way. She knew he was worried about his parents through everything, but he never once wondered about her well-being. And it hurt. It hurt more than she realized it would. Hermione supposed she got her answer then; she had wanted to be with him after all.

There was nothing she could do about it as much as she wanted to at the moment. She wanted to focus on things that she could change, like, finding her parents and hopefully help them regain their memory, help rebuild Hogwarts, and most importantly finish her last year that she had to miss out on. She would keep herself busy so that she didn't have to think about that striking blond hair and grey eyes that haunted her everywhere.

She would be fine.

~-O-~

Hermione had been staying with the Weasleys. They wouldn't let her out of their sight and she didn't want to leave them alone either. After Fred's death, only a few days prior, was devastating to the whole family and the friends that knew Fred. Hermione rarely saw George in the days she was there. He kept himself locked away in their apartment. Molly had been worried sick about him, but Charlie had told her to let him be for the time being. Hermione was heartbroken for the whole family—her second family.

Hermione had tried to postpone her trip to see her parents, but Molly insisted that she not be silly and go find them. Hermione had asked if she was sure several (hundred) times, but every time Molly said to go. Hermione finally took her word for it and got her plane tickets.

Hermione was packing her close in the tiny suitcase she grabbed from her old house when she heard a knock on the doorframe from behind her. She turned her head and saw that Harry was standing there.

"Hey Harry," she said turning back to the pile of things that she was going to put in her bag. She had cast an Undetectable Extension Charm upon it.

"Hey Hermione, leaving tomorrow?"

"Mhmm. Are you going to be okay here?" Hermione asked, concern flooding her voice.

"I'll be fine. I'm sure Ron and Gin and the rest of the family will be ok too, for the most part. Don't worry. Go find your parents," Harry said as he sat on her bed.

Harry and Ron both fought her on bringing both or one of them to go with her, but Hermione knew that she had to do this by herself. Plus, The Weasleys needed Ron by their side through their grieving and Harry had enough traveling to last for a lifetime. He needed time to rest for once, but they fought her every step of the way, but she eventually won with logic. Hermione also had another reason she wanted to go alone. She needed to grieve alone over whatever she had with Draco.

"I know and I will, I hope. I'll write you guys and keep you updated as much as I can."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Harry said with a small smile.

Hermione returned the smile and continued piling things in her suitcase. They were both quiet for a long time until Harry spoke.

"I know that you don't want to leave in a time like this, but I can't help to feel that you need to leave England for a while."

Hermione was quiet as she continued to place books into her bag.

"Hermione…"

She sighed, closed her eyes and looked over at him.

"You're right."

"And I suppose you don't want to talk about it then."

"Not particularly," she said as she turned her head away from him and went back to packing.

"I see. Well, when you do, I'm here."

"I know and I thank you for that. I know I'll eventually want to talk about this. I don't like keeping secrets from you or Ron, but I don't know if I should tell him any time soon with—" She trailed off.

"And I do know, but he'll be even more hurt or angry if you didn't tell him."

"You're right," Hermione sighed. "But we'll cross that bridge when we get there, ok?"

"All right," Harry said getting up from the bed and heading towards the door.

"And Harry thanks again for…understanding even if I haven't told you anything."

"What are best friends for?" He asked giving her another smile and leaving the room.

Hermione sat down where Harry had only seconds ago and laid back. She looked up at the low ceiling that she had come to know very well over the years. Harry always seemed to know what was going on with her even if she didn't say much to him at all. And she was glad he was patient, two qualities that she loved about him.

~-O-~

The next day, Hermione was up extremely early to catch her flight. She slipped into the bathroom, silenced it and proceeded to take a quick shower. When she came out of the bathroom, Ron was standing there in all of his tall, lanky, bed-tousled hair glory. He yawned and rubbed his blue eyes.

"Good morning," he said sleepily.

"Erm…good morning, Ron," Hermione said awkwardly as she wrapped her towel around herself more securely and felt a blush creeping up her neck and cheeks.

"Leaving soon then?"

"Yeah, in about a half hour. What are you doing up?"

"I—erm—wanted to say goodbye."

"Oh ok. Well, let me get dressed and we can go downstairs and have breakfast together."

Hermione saw Ron's eyes widen as he finally realized that she was only had a tiny towel wrapped around her. He stammered an "okay" and headed down the stairs, two at a time. Hermione shook her head and headed quietly as possible into the room that she shared with Ginny.

The youngest redhead was knocked out cold. Hermione swore that she could sleep through any natural disaster. Hermione grabbed her wand and lit the tip as she searched for her clothes. She quickly dressed, grabbed her suitcase, and headed down the stairs. When she got to the foot of the staircase, she dropped her suitcase and quickly blow dried her hair.

Walking into the kitchen she noticed Molly was already up. When Molly heard her enter the kitchen, they exchanged "good mornings" and Hermione sat down in front of Ron, who still seemed to be slightly embarrassed about the state he caught her in a few minutes beforehand.

Molly set down a platter of food in the middle of the table and left Hermione and Ron alone.

"Are you excited to find your parents?" He asked her, the awkwardness he felt creeping into his tone.

"I am. I've missed them a great deal."

"That's good," he said giving her a small smile.

She returned it and started putting food on her plate. They ate in somewhat awkward silence. When Hermione was done, she washed her dish off and checked her bag one more time. Molly came back downstairs.

"Got everything, dear?" She asked kindly. Hermione could see the concern in her eyes. She was touched and also saddened. She knew that by losing Fred she was afraid she'd lose her, too, thus making Hermione feel like she was a part of the family as well.

"I believe so," she said after she got her voice to work again.

"Good. Now you'll write us when you get there, right?" Hermione couldn't deny this woman anything with what she just went through and the hopeful desperation that she would write.

"Of course."

Molly hugged Hermione tightly. Hermione returned the hug, but not as tight. Molly let go and cupped her cheek like any adoring mother would. She wished her a safe trip and disappeared into the kitchen.

Ron came up to her next. He shuffled his feet for a moment and then looked down at her. Hermione looked up into Ron's eyes. She could see the terrible sadness in them from losing his brother. She wanted to do something to help him, but she had no idea what. She wanted to do that for everyone in his family. If she could bring Fred back she would.

Still looking up at Ron she thought about how much he put up a fight when she told him and Harry that she was going to go find her parents. He didn't speak to her for hours after she finally convinced them she needed to this alone. Not wanting to leave mad at each other, Hermione spoke to him and tried to explain why she needed to go, but left out the second reason. He finally conceded.

"Have a safe trip and I'll…miss you," he said as a blush spread over his cheeks and neck.

Hermione placed her arms around Ron's middle and hugged him. After a few seconds he wrapped his long arm around her as well. When Hermione pulled back she gave him a smile.

"I'll miss you too, Ron. I'll write you as much as I can."

Ron nodded and stepped back.

Hermione pushed the button on the top of her suitcase and extended the strap on it so she could pull it behind her. She waved at Molly and Ron and headed past the anti-apparation ward. She pushed the strap back down and held on tight to the suitcase as she apparated away.

~-O-~

Hermione boarded the plane and buckled herself in. She looked out the window at the airport. She hated flying. She had taken a plane a few times with her parents and every time she would close her eyes and breathe shallowly until they were in the air and stabilized. Her father would always poke fun at her for it and her mother would chide him for it, but she missed it.

She had no one to go to Australia with her. No one to hold her hand as they took off into the air. Harry, Ron, and Ginny had all volunteered to go with her, but she declined. Their family needed them more so than she did. She would get over the feeling of rocketing from the ground soon enough. It was momentary, their pain was not.

Hermione wished that one person would be with her. He had promised her after the war was truly over, he would accompany her to get her parents. She had no idea how she got him to promise something so important to her, but she did. She often wondered over the past two weeks if their relationship meant something to him as it did to her, but then she remembered that she hadn't heard from him and she knew the answer to that.

But it still didn't stop her from wishing that he was sitting right next to her complaining about Muggle transportation and how unsafe and slow it was. She could almost hear his voice in her head. She let out a quiet chuckle, but stopped remembering that he wasn't there. He'd never be there. And soon she would in a complete different country away from him for who knows how long. And part of her—the smallest part—was happy to be away from him completely, more so than she already was.

But the biggest part of her ached to see him again. And she felt ridiculous. Why couldn't she be happy to be rid of him like he was? He would have ruined her life if they continued on. She should be thanking him, but she knew she never would. Either way he ruined her life. He was a catch 22. If she stayed with him, her friends and family may have hated her for her choice just as his family and friends would hate him. And without him, she hated him for leaving her.

The pilot started talking over the speaker, interrupting her thoughts and she wanted to thank him too. She didn't have time to dwell upon Draco Malfoy and how he was ruining her life without even being present. Hermione made sure that she was secured in her belt and waited for the unpleasant feeling of lifting from the ground. She closed her eyes and thought about seeing her parents again. The people she missed most in the world. The people she was determined to make remember her once again. The people who would love her and never leave her.

Draco finally felt like he could breathe again. It was a surreal feeling. He was free, completely and utterly free. He could almost throw his arms in the air and whoop and holler, but he refrained. He would never throw away years of training and good breeding for a moment of tomfoolery. But he knew that everything wasn't over just yet. He knew that his family would have to go to court to await their fate. And at the moment, Draco didn't even want to think about that.

He wanted to bask in the freedom he not had, for the moment. He wanted to soak up his freedom like it was the gravy and he was the biscuit. Voldermort was dead. It meant he got his house back. The Manor was far from the warm, inviting homes most people had. It really wasn't a home, but more like a museum. Though it was his home if he liked it or not. He grew up there and it was the only place he knew besides Hogwarts.

As his family entered their home, they stopped in the foyer. It was like they dared not move, like someone had to invite them in. But it was theirs now as it should have always been. But it didn't feel that way. They felt like guests in their own house for a long time and now that it was returned to them, they didn't know how to feel; to act.

Lucius took a tentative step into the hallway. Narcissa and Draco followed suit. They crept through the house until they reached the dining room. The mahogany table gleamed at them menacingly. It reminded them of all the horrors they saw over the years. They all stood in the doorway and continued to look around the room. It still held the sinister feel that Voldermort had invoked with his stay there.

They continued to move from room to room looking at the Manor that was returned to them in worse for wear condition. Draco walked up the stairs quietly as he could, he didn't even want to make a sound. The Manor was eerily quiet and he felt if he made a noise, Voldermort himself would rise from the dead and demand his head. So he made nary a sound as walked to his room.

He opened the door. It glided open and the doorknob hit the wall. Draco winced at the noise. He looked around his dusty room. The only thing that was in usable condition was his bed. It was the only thing that he had used the whole time Voldermort took over his house—that and the bathroom. Dust lying thickly over his drawers and closet. He took out his wand and muttered a quick Scroungify to clear it quickly. It looked almost livable again.

Draco walked past his inviting bed to his en suite. He walked into it and started the hot water in the large, round tub and quickly undressed. He flicked his wand and locked the door so he wouldn't be disturbed. He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink.

He didn't like what he saw. There were blue and purple bags under his eyes and he looked too skinny. He had lost all of the muscle he gained from playing Quidditch. His white blond hair was limp and dirty and longer than he ever wore it. The jagged scar he got from Potter in sixth year seemed more pronounced on his boney chest. He was a mess. He turned away from the mirror, not wanting to see his deteriorated state any longer and stepped into the bath.

The moment his skin touched the warm water, he felt himself relax. His slid into the water until it reached his chin. He closed his eyes and let his mind shut down and just enjoyed the feel of the warm water on his skin. This is what he was looking forward to, relaxing. He hadn't been able to relax since fourth year. That was a bloody long time to be constantly on guard.

He deserved this. But his mind couldn't be quiet for long. He realized once she got in his system that his body wouldn't rest until she was either permanently gone or if he gave into her. And he didn't know what he wanted at the moment. He felt guilty. He knew that their relationship wasn't going to be a walk in the park, none of them are, but theirs would be nothing but a mine field. And he was right.

And that's why he didn't try to find her after the war was over. It wasn't that he didn't want to go find her. That was the problem. He wanted to find her and kiss her in front of everyone now that it didn't matter what his parents thought about them. It was about what she may truly want. He knew in the real world that this thing between them may not work. He had a lot of work to do within himself as well as society. And she was a war hero and he was a former Death Eater. That wouldn't have been good for her. It may have done wonders for him and his family's reputation later, but he didn't want to make her succumb to that. He could see the headline of the Daily Prophet now, "Muggle-born savior and war heroine saves the Malfoys' arses". She was better than that, so he didn't go find her.

And she probably hated him. And he couldn't blame her. A part of him hated himself too. He knew he should have found her regardless and assured her that he wanted to be with her. She would either reject him or would accept him, but now he would never know. He had to let her go and he did. For once Draco Malfoy wasn't a selfish prick. How unslytherin-like of him.

The thing was, was that he didn't care. But he felt the guilt kick him in the ribs once again. He knew that she would be going to go find her parents soon and he had promised her that after the war he would be there to help her. And he had broken that promise. He told her he would disappoint her. He really did. And he had. He didn't understand why she would believe in him so much. It's the Gryffindor in him he had thought many times.

But it felt nice, to have someone believe in him. And she was the only one who truly believed in him. And not just because she thought he was destined to do something great for the "greater good". Even with all of his flaws she thought he was a good person. And that was going new to him. Usually if one thing was out of place, he was a failure, but not to her.

Draco was brought back to reality when there was a knock at his bathroom door.

"Draco?" His mother's voice called timidly from the other side of the door.

"Yes mother?" He said after he cleared his throat.

"When you're done, dinner will be ready and we're all going to have a talk."

Draco wanted to groan at the word talk. He didn't want to talk. He wanted a warm meal and to be left the hell alone. Why didn't they understand that?

"Okay," he answered after a moment.

He heard the click of his mother's heels as she left his room.

Draco sat up and slowly started to wash himself. He wasn't in a hurry. They could wait.

~-O-~

Draco was dressed and felt clean, finally, as he made his way down the grand staircase that wasn't that grand anymore and into the dining room. His father wasn't sitting at the head of the table as he usually was. He was sitting in the seat on the left next to the chair he would have normally taken before the war. Draco thought it odd that his father didn't want to reclaim his rightful chair, but he supposed he was still getting used to the idea that Voldermort wouldn't be taking the chair and breathing down his neck like the rest of them.

He took the chair opposite his mother and waited for this "talk". Their one remaining house elf that managed to escape before Voldermort could kill it was so happy to be serving them again that he made several courses. Draco wasn't particularly that hungry, but he would enjoy as much of it as he could before they started this terrible talk.

"Draco, we just wanted to talk about what's going to be happening to us soon," his father started.

Or not. He was not meant to enjoy his food after all.

"I'm sure we all know what's going to happen, father."

"And in the event of me being put in Azkaban, you know that you'll be the head of the household."

"I know that. I was in sixth year when you were in prison, remember?" He was in no mood for this. When would he ever get a break?

His father gave a curt nod and said nothing more.

Draco ate his soup in silence. He barely paid attention to the taste; just the fact that it was something that would fill his sickly-looking body was enough for him. His mind was off thinking about other things, normal things. He didn't want to think about his father's impending jail sentence or even his possible jail sentence.

He thought back to fourth year before Voldermort was truly back. The night he saw Hermione for the first time all dolled up and different. She truly opened his eyes that night. He never looked at her that way until the night of the Yule Ball. She was absolutely radiant.

And ever since that night, he had tried to deny himself that she did anything for him, but he was wrong. Dead wrong. She had clawed her way into his system. His ruthless attacks slowed down and he wasn't so mean to her, more so to her friends. And in fifth year, that's when he stopped denying that he wasn't attracted to her. It took a lot of time to convince her that he wasn't pulling her leg and was truly attracted to her. Of course it didn't come out that way. He was rather abrasive and kind of rude, but he knew no other way with her.

And she had seen through all of his bullshit and actually wanted to be with him. He still didn't understand it even now, but she did. She had wanted the person that made her life hell only just a year before. It was strange. He always thought that she was pulling his leg. That she would reveal that she was only with him to finally pull a joke on him, but he was wrong. And he should have known. Hermione Granger didn't have a malicious bone in her body.

Draco was brought back from his thoughts of her, always her, when his soup bowl disappeared and the next course appeared on his plate. His mother and father were not looking at each other nor were they talking. He knew that his mother was probably still angry with his father for all the shit he put her through and he couldn't blame her. He was angry at his father as well, but he didn't want to dwell on that right now.

Or ever.

When dinner was over, he excused himself from the table and headed back to his room. He shut and locked the door. He kicked off his shoes and threw off his clothes. He got under his duvet and pulled it to his chin like he was a small child. That's all he really wanted in that moment, to be a small child. No responsibly, no having to constantly think about what the next move needed to be, and especially no consequences to his actions.

Draco closed his eyes. As soon as they were shut he felt the tiredness from years of watching his back wash over him. He felt he could sleep for several months and still be tired. But he would take all the sleep he could get. Tomorrow was another day. Another day to start over. Another day to truly be free. But also another day without her.

Author's Note: And voila! New Dramione story. I feel much better about this one. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews would be lovely!

Disclaimer: I obviously do not own anything. I merely borrow characters and twist them into random plots.