Our Kind of Love

Night Silverose
Nightgate6@yahoo.com
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: JK lalala...
Summary: Hermione tells the story of her and Draco. The love, the hate, the death, pain and insanity.

Sigh. I love him. I, Hermione Granger, am truly in love with Draco Malfoy. What kind of love you ask? I don't know...every kind I guess. Maybe even that fuzzy mushy 'I wuv you' kind when everyone knows the couple is together because of the constant making out in the halls. Where they all say it's gross, but deep down they wished they had a significant other to be romantic with.

Sometimes it was the harsh kind of love. You know, where you love someone so much you would hurt them for their own good, even if it hurts you in the process. When even though the two of you are so furious at each other and not speaking, just one look can tell you what's in their heart. When you can find the words 'I love you' in-between all the 'I hate you's. The many, many 'I hate you's. The dangerous kind of love.

Definitely the sacrificial kind of love. Yes, Romeo and Juliet-esqe. He'd die for me and I would easily die for him. I know you're thinking I'm delusional and wondering why the Draco you know would give a damn about me, but seven years can change feelings. Although unfortunately the first five were wasted in childish name-calling and family prejudices, my darling and I overcame it all.

Our love survived the looks of our classmates. Our love survived the scorn of our friends. Our love survived all the laughs and taunts. Our love survived the hate of our families. Our love survived the rise of Voldemort. Our love survived against the death of everyone we held dear. You see, we had strong love.

Lucius hated me of course. Him and his idealistic world of wizard power. I don't see how a man like that could have had such a wonderful son. It's not like we had to tell him about us. Draco seemed to admire his father, but he wasn't stupid. We kept our passion to ourselves, but it didn't matter. Lucius just knew everything. Always had eyes everywhere.

Since Voldemort came in power, the streets were dark. You needn't ask why the dreary faces, because you knew it was because every other person was dead. I didn't see why the living felt the need to mourn the dead at this time. I mean, it wasn't personal. Voldemort and his supporters killed almost everyone they came across. They should be happy for themselves for being alive.

When I went home and found my parents drowned in their own pool of blood, I just felt so happy to be alive. It wasn't anything special. There were nameless bodies on the streets, but my mum and dad were in their own cozy home. Others should be able to be this privileged.

It was pretty nice, really. Lucius stopped by and said he was sorry for my loss. Deep down, I suppose he's a sweet man. I mean, he spent the whole time comforting me. He even told me they didn't scream too loudly. What a darling man.

The rest of that day, I was in a daze. The only thing that put a smile on my face was the sight of my Draco. I kissed him and hugged him and felt so content. The whole world faded, and it was just us. I hated Lucius to the core of my being, but I knew I couldn't do anything. There was no way I was strong enough to kill him and besides, I couldn't hurt Draco like that. I loved him too much.

I loved him so much, I couldn't bear knowing he was forever bound to his father. I love Draco with my whole bleeding heart and soul. With every painful breath and sharp minute. It probably hurt me more than it hurt him. That knife went through my heart just as it did his. He loves me so much, I know he understood. I freed him.

You'd think with all the chaos happening, the Ministry wouldn't care about something as trivial as this. They took me anyway, with Dumbledore saying something about me being safer. It didn't matter either way. Lucius couldn't hurt us now.

Sometimes, I wished I were in Azkaban. Except the fact it was Voldemort's territory, it could make me feel cold all the time and I could slam my head into the concrete wall. Not like this place. It's a mockery. A fake homey feeling covered with a shitty pure oblivioness. It's so lonely here. I wonder where Draco is? He makes everything all right. I love him so.

Ugh, he has to come get me out. I can't stand it. Who the hell thought of making soft walls, anyway?

Broken Winter