Hi all! This is my first Dramione FF which consists of a bit 1st person and letters exchanged by Draco and Hermione, without them knowing the other one. The letters are simply just signed H.G and D.M but they have no clue what the letters stands for. ^_^
It switches between Hermione's POV and Draco's POV, but it should be pretty obvious when it does, and I've marked it with a horizontal line as well.
And it's based on a Dramione FF challenge :3 Enjoy!

The sun was beaming through the windows, blinding my eyes for a brief moment. I took cover with my hands until the Hogwarts Express continued it's road along some conifers, concealing the sun so I finally could relax. I took a look at Harry and Ron, both discussing enthusiastic about Quidditch – this gave me no hope whatsover in joining the conversation. With a mournfully sigh I found my book and opened it at the first page. A blank piece of parchment fell out, onto my lap. I discretly raised my eyebrow and took the parchment in my hands. They were trembling a bit, but it had been like that all summer – I felt like something had changed. Sitting there, distanced from Ron and Harry, who didn't even seem to notice me at all, made me feel more lonely than I thought I could ever feel. I'd expected the return to Hogwarts to be uplifting and peaceful. Not depressing and devastated.

I took a deep breath and found my quill. Somehow I knew that I had to take the top of the iceberg, otherwise I would fall down and drown very soon. It had been going on for too long – all summer none of them had written me, and when I sent an owl to the Burrow asking if I could come join Ron and Harry for the last days of vacation, Ron simply replied: "Oh, sorry, Hermione, I forgot about you."
So here I was, facing the truth. We were falling apart. Us, the trio that was invincible. We had stuck together for as long as I could remember, fighting all sorts of threats, but now I felt like I was air to them. With tears held back I began to write on the blank parchment.

Dear whoever is reading this,

I feel lost. I don't know what to do with myself. It's like I'm trapped in some kind of maze without any way out.
I desperately need someone by my side. But, unfortunately, the only two I can rely on doesn't have a clue of what's going on inside my head. The first one is awfully stuck-up and sometimes I feel like he can't see past his own existence. The other one is just hopeless.
So here I am. Sitting in the Hogwarts Express, waiting for someone to come save me. Please, if you are reading this, give me a sign that you're listening. I can't take it anymore, not a single day longer.
Best regards,
H.G.

With a sigh I put down my quill, wondering what I should do with this letter. I looked at Ron and Harry, stood up and left the compartment. They didn't notice.
With a nervous glance I walked down the train until I found a place somewhat silent and empty. I put the parchment down on a seat and left, feeling a bit relieved but still broken.

"Goyle, you idiot! I can't stand you!"

I stood up and sent him a disgusted look. How was it possible to be so ridiculous and useless? I shook my head, mostly to clear my thoughts, but it didn't help a single bit. I sent Crabbe a harsh look and left the compartment. I needed to get away, away from those thumpers. With quick steps I walked down the train, looking as indifferent as possible.
When I found a lonely and quiet compartment, I went inside it and sat down. I closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the silence. After some time I opened them again, shortly getting blinded by the damn sun, and then I saw it.
A letter. Lying there, right in front of me. Was it there before I entered? I didn't know.
With a snort I took the letter and opened it. I couldn't help but smile taunting – what kind of an idiot would put a letter on an empty seat on the Hogwarts Express? Whoever it was must have been foolish to believe that someone would actually read it. I began crumpling it together, but then it hit me. It couldn't hurt to take a look. I glanced around – there wasn't anybody. Why not?
I folded out the letter again, and with a sceptical look I began reading.
When I had finished reading I somewhat felt … different. Like something had changed inside of me. And what scared me the most was that … I could recognize those feelings. "I don't know what to do with myself … I desperately need someone by my side … The only two I can rely on doesn't have a clue of what's going on inside my head. The first one is awfully stuck-up and sometimes I feel like he can't see past his own existence. The other one is just hopeless … So here I am, waiting for someone to come save me ..."
I took my quill from my pocket and played a bit with it in my hand. Was I stupid if I answered? I, who at first thought this person was an idiot for actually expecting someone to feel with them?
My instincts took over once again – why not? I didn't like embracing this insecure part of me, but I too felt like I couldn't handle it much longer. With a sigh of my egoism I began to write, responding the letter on the back of the parchment.

Dear H.G.
Well, here I am – the whoever that was reading your letter. First off, I'd like to say that I find it a bit humorous that you left this piece of parchment on the Hogwarts Express. How stupid is that?
And how stupid am I, to either way be responding to this?
I can't believe I am actually writing this, but I too feel lost. I understand what you're going through. It's like what you wrote has been written by myself. Like you've read my mind or something.
I am in big problems. Problems so big that I feel like they're going to overwhelm me soon, suffocating me until I have no breath left.
My father has been sent to Azkaban. But he is absolutely innocent. I am not saying this as his son, I am saying this as a third person. He has nothing to do with the Dark Lord. Or so I'd like to believe.
I can't face the fact that my own father has left me and my mum, leaving us alone in the dark. I can't face the fact that he is gone, surrounded by those damn dementors, who is gonna take all that's left of him, until he's begging for mercy – begging for death.
I … am not going to write more. What am I even doing?

The two last sentences was written down precisely from my mind. What was I doing anyway? Quickly I signed the letter 'D.M.' and left it where I found it, hoping that noone would come and read it. Noone but the mysterious person, H.G.
With my mind full of more thoughts than I'd entered with, I left the compartment, wondering who on earth H.G might be.