Author's Note: One-shot inspired by "Life After You" by Daughtry. :D Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series. Rub it in, will ya?

Draco Malfoy was sitting on the side of the road, a cigarette on one hand. His platinum hair was in disarray, his silvery-grey eyes lifeless. He knew smoking is bad for his health, Hermione had literally told him that a million times or so… but he guessed this didn't count. His car was broken down, and he was too tired and full of pride to Disapparate to her flat to say he was wrong. Besides, she might've put anti-Apparating spells on he flat, and her fireplace was now cut off from the Floo Network. But what was the point, really? She already knows that he was wrong. He stood up, dropped his cigarette, stepped on it and ran. Ran towards her flat. Moreover, he was running toward her. Hermione.

Believe me, Hermione, Draco thought, determined to get her back. I won't stop at nothing to see you.

Memories of their relationship flashed through his mind. Picnics by the lake, walks down moonlit trails with the moon's light splashing all over her face, she'd look at him, laugh and say that he looks like a ghost, and he'd laugh along with her. He stopped, shuddering at the thought that he'd never – ever – hear her laugh again. And surely, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, maybe even all the Weasleys, won't ever let him talk to her, neither let him get less than 20 feet close to her. But it didn't matter; nothing matters anymore, except for them. Hermione and Draco. He ran again, gathering up speed.

His mind flashed back to the last tie they talked, the night that Draco had walked out, which burns like and iron at the back of his mind.

I must've been high that night, he thought ruefully. He'd mercilessly yelled at her, saying that they weren't meant to be and that she was just wasting his time, just because he saw her hugging her best friend. Why did I ever doubt her? I know that I couldn't live without her.

His tripped and his face collided with the rough pavement. He stood up though it stung. He was to full of adrenaline to care, anyway. He looked around and saw a bicycle in a bike rack. Realizing that he was too exhausted to run for… approximately 8 more miles, he had no other choice.

He silently prayed that no one will see him as he mounted the bike. Usually, he'd make a face every time he'd see any – for him, anyway – Muggle contraption, but now, he was thanking God – if he really was there – for the blue mountain bike. He pushed forward and pedaled as if his life depended on it. Well, actually, his life did depend on this flimsy piece of not-flying metal. His eyes were irritated because of the dirt that had flown to it when he tripped, but he needed to keep going.

If you really knew him, you'd normally ask how he'd managed to learn how to use it, and his simple answer would be: 'Hermione.' Plain and simple. Right now, it seemed like it was the only answer to all the questions.

He remembered everything about her. Her smile, her laugh, her hair, her eyes and the way she rolls them, her lips that always – always – fel t so soft against his. He remembers their stupid arguments, and even the small wrinkle between her eyebrows when she furrows them in anger. He remembers her face so clearly… especially the last time he saw her, tears flowing down her cheeks and, as if someone punched him in the gut, it probably hurt him more than her. The wind was whistling in his ears.

Beeeep! a car honked as it almost killed the blonde. "Watch where you're going!" the driver yelled at him. He hung his head and murmured a quick, "Sorry," and he was off again. 1 more mile. Just a little bit more and he'll be there. And he'll get his – yes, his – Hermione back. Well, he hoped. At long last, he was there; he dismounted the bike, leaving it there in the bushes, silently thanking it.

A small clinking sound was heard as he pushed the glass doors of the apartment building. The front desk person – Matt, he noted seeing his nameplate – was there and he looked slightly alarmed at the appearance of the dirt-covered blonde haired man.

"May I help you, sir?" he asked, nonetheless. Draco had a slightly mad smile pasted on his face, his sweat mixing with dirt and blood.

"Yes, I'm here to see Ms. Hermione Granger, apartment 24D, if I'm not mistaken." He knew he wasn't mistaken, but he was too desperate to be cocky.

"I'll inform—" the man – Matt – began, but was cut off when Draco raised his hand.

"No need for that," he said. "It's kind of a… surprise." And with that he went to the staircase and started running up before the man told him that they had an elevator.

In less than 5 minutes, he was there, standing in front of the door, terrified to ring the doorbell. What if she tells me she won't take me? he thought, making his blood run cold.

Well, you told her she was a waste of time, it is quite expected, a voice reminded him in his head. Just press the damn button and get on with it, will you? There's only one way to find out, anyway.

He rang the doorbell hesitantly, with shaking fingers. The door swiftly opened and the first thing he saw was a brilliant shade of red. Ginny. Apparently, she wasn't looking at his face, but rather his shoes, and was talking fast. "Oh, Harry, why are your shoes dirty, and your jeans are covered with dirt, as well as your shirt? I thought you'd be better dressed, since – " Then she looked at who she really was talking to. "You," she said with malice in her voice. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

His composure faltered a bit and his cheeks had a tinge of pink in them, from embarrassment. "I – I came to see her."

Her brown eyes narrowed to slits. "She doesn't want to see you, Malfoy, so I reckon you should leave."

"No, Ginny, please – please listen! I need to see her, I want to apologize!" The desperation was evident in his voice, and his usually composed features were gone, now replaced by anxious ones.

"Ginny?" Hermione's shaking voice asked. "Is that Harry? I told you not to bring him here to worry… Why are you blocking the door?"

Ginny turned around, still blocking the door. "No – no, Hermione, I swear you don't – Hermione, no!" Too late, the door was wide open, and Hermione saw the last person she wanted to see. Draco Lucius Malfoy. But this was a different one, this one was covered in grime from head to toe, his usually-perfect hair was completely disheveled, windblown. There was blood trickling down his forehead and it was mixing with sweat and dirt. He had dark circles under his eyes and his clothes were dirty, and it looked like it was slept-in. He looked positively demented.

"D-draco, what?" she spluttered. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was wrong, stupid and a right git. I'm sorry for saying those things about you. I know that you'll never forgive me, but – "

The rest of his sentence was cut off as he crumpled on the ground, unconscious, when a red light flashed. Harry stood there, his green eyes flashing in anger. Hermione was instantly by his side, holding him up.

"Hermione, how are you?" he asked his wand still pointed at Draco's back. "Want me to kill him now?"

Hermione's eyes widened as she heard the word 'kill.' "No, Harry, don't…" she said feebly.

"No, Hermione!" Harry roared. "I will not take your reason of 'everyone deserves a second chance' crap, okay? I'm sick of it! You know he doesn't deserve it! You, out of all people, do. Just look at what he did to you!"

"I – I know, Harry. But he doesn't deserve to die. He has a right to live, just like any of us. You should know! You saved Peter Pettigrew in third year!"

"That was – that was different," Harry said uncomfortably.

"Well, I'm bringing him to my room, and don't you dare go in, understand?" She levitated Draco's body and moved him toward her room. As soon as she came in, she locked the door with a spell.

She pointed her wand toward his chest and muttered, "Rennervate."

Draco stirred and slowly opened his eyes. His head was throbbing, his arms and legs felt numb. The gash on his forehead was stinging. As his gaze focused, he thought he was in heaven. "Hermione," he whispered. "Hermione, I – "

"Why are you here?" she hissed, sounding angrier than she felt. Truth was, she wasn't angry at all. From the time she saw him crumpled on the floor, she had forgiven him. "Why are you still wasting your time?"

"Hermione, listen to me, please," Draco pleaded. As Hermione opened her mouth to interrupt, he held up his hand. "No, don't interrupt me now. I need you to listen. I – I was wrong, alright? I was stupid, I was an arrogant prick, but you already know that. But I was an idiot for getting jealous over such a silly thing. I was stupid to say we weren't meant to be and that I was wasting my time, when in fact, you were the one wasting your time, because I'm not worth it. I must've been on crazy when I walked away from one thing I wasn't ready to lose. I missed you, and I love you. I missed your antics, I missed our arguments, and I missed everything that we had together. I love you and I know you hate me by now, but I just thought you should know." He was expecting her to tell him to leave but she did something out of the ordinary.

"Why do you have a gash on your head?" she asked.

"Oh, Merlin, Hermione," Draco sighed. "I went so far as to be totally open with my feelings and you ask why I have a gash on my head? Fine, I'll tell you. I fell."

Hermione laughed outright. "You – you fell?"

The blonde looked affronted. "Yes, I did," he said when her giggles subsided. "I fell in love with you."

This made the girl laugh more. "Oh my God, that is sooooo corny! I bet everyone in the world has said that line – "

She was cut in midsentence as Draco kissed her. How he loved hearing her laugh again. Too bad he was impatient.

All that I'm after is a life full of laughter
As long as I'm laughing with you.

PS: To the readers of I Won't Say I'm in Love. The next chapter is almost up, and I'm sorry its taking soooo long. Please don't hate me. Review?