Disclaimer: I own nothing. sigh

Reflections

The knight bus was tall in front of her. A gleaming mass of steel, its normal bright purple paintwork looked black under the light of the moon. The conductor was unfamiliar; she had not ridden the bus since Stan's death. Stan had been murdered at the hands of a death eater-which one, she had no idea-two days before Harry had finally defeated Voldemort.

That had been a year ago. The Wizarding world had moved on, and all was well with the world. Harry and Ginny had gotten back together the second the war ended, and were married within a month. They were expecting their first child this December. She and Ron had tried to make a go of it after a few nudges from their friends-but it couldn't last. She had been distant, and grouchy, and didn't put any effort into the relationship at all.

How could she?

Her thoughts were plagued by Draco Malfoy; her body ached for his touch on her skin, the light brush of his lips against hers. No one knew of their illicit affair during the war. They were both utterly ashamed of themselves-she knew he couldn't abide the fact that he was so attracted to a muggle-born, and she was embarrassed to be remotely interested in such a pig-headed idiot.

After he was unable to kill Dumbledore in their sixth year, he was forced to seek out the Order and beg for their protection. They had no real way of trusting him-they had lost their best legilimens' with Dumbledore dead and Snape with the death eaters-but the completely lost, confused and pleading look in his eyes even made Moody feel sympathy for him.

Draco was an invaluable asset for the order-he was able to provide them with locations of some death eater hideouts, and he was an excellent wizard and very handy to have at your side in one of the many duels that occurred with the death eaters.

They had come back from a Park in Oxford when it happened. The death eaters were doing some muggle baiting for sport, and she and Draco were sent to the scene to stop it. They had come back with their adrenaline pumping, faces flushed, hearts racing. They were going to bed when they found themselves in yet another argument about nothing in particular, and as the tension rised, as her chest rose and fell in front of him, as her eyes narrowed as she looked at his cocky face, the heat of the moment overcame them both and their lips had come crashing together.

Neither knew who initiated that first kiss-both insisted it was the other-but it didn't matter-there were second kisses, and thirds, and fourths…They would meet whenever they could, sneaking into each others rooms, or travelling into dark woodland to make love against a tree.

She knew she was stupid to call it making love-she knew that to him it was purely fucking. But she was in love with him; she realised that the moment he disappeared. After the war finished, a huge celebration took place in the ministry, a massive party that covered every floor of the building, with wizards from all over the world coming to celebrate the passing of dark times.

She had been laughing with Harry when she saw his figure standing in the doorway. His blonde hair was sweeping into his grey eyes; his lips were set firmly, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes bore into hers, penetrating into her very soul. Normally when he looked at her like that, she could sense the lust radiating off him, but this time…it was different.

And then she understood.

He was leaving.

She opened her mouth to protest, to sweep across the floor towards him, to hold him in her arms and tell him to stay. The glass in her hand smashed to the floor as if in slow-motion as she hurried towards him. By the time she got to the door, he was gone. That night she had kissed Ron, told him she loved him, her heart aching as she said the words to the wrong person.

Thus began that train wreck of a relationship. It lasted a month. A month of arguments, of crying, of screaming, with about as much passion as a wet fish. She had travelled for a while after it ended. She'd seen the sights around all of Europe, of America, of Russia. But everywhere she went she was plagued by the thoughts of her Draco. She could see his pointed face wherever she went, could almost feel his gaze at the back of the head. When she turned around, he was never there. She knew she was imagining it, but sometimes the hope she would see him again was all that could keep her going, all that could stop her from just lying down somewhere and never getting up again.

She'd given up hope yesterday. She was going to return to London, to settle down, get a reasonable job in the ministry, maybe patch things up with Ron if she could make the effort to pretend she was happy.

She'd decided on the knight bus as her travelling method this time-she wanted time to consider her decision rather than apparating and having to deal with her old friends so soon. She boarded the bus, handing over a few coins to the conductor. She walked to the back of the bus absentmindedly, lost in thought. She paid no attention to the other passengers on the bus. They were of no significance to her anymore. She had lost all interest in other people.

She was about to settle on her chosen bed- a four-poster which seemed more solid with possibly less chance of moving around all over the place when the knight bus jerked itself around-when a voice startled her from the bed next to it.

"Hermione?" The voice sounded surprised and almost hopeful, and oddly familiar.

She turned around to stare into the shocked face of Draco Malfoy.

- - -

Yeah, this kind of sucked. I just wanted to post something on here, so you all knew I was still alive. For those of you waiting for the next chapter 'Draco Malfoy is evil and still gets the girl'-don't give up hope! I've actually written some stuff. It may appear soon.

Anyway, on that note: REVIEW!