Never Meant to be

Summary: Draco and Hermione know they can't see each other, but despite the odds, they still do…Oneshot. Slightly dark.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is mine, all mine! ….in my dreams.

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A door clicked softly in the darkness, as did the sound of shuffling. Draco did not grope blindly into the darkness as most people did. He felt comfortable, used to the atmosphere. And he waited, and waited.

Waited for her.

He knew he was an hour early; he didn't need to look at his watch to see that. His trip had not been wasted. He knew that she would come.

Minutes later, a cloaked, slender figure entered the same room. The cloak ruffled at the edges, very wrinkled and ripped from constant use. Draco could see her usual muggle clothing through the rips, white and bright in the darkness. However, Draco didn't cringe.

He was used to her. Her purity.

Her first response to him was not a kiss, not even a hello. "I hate this, Draco," murmured Hermione, pushing back her hood. "Why can't we just go to restaurants and go out in public, like everybody else?" For reasons unknown to her, she laughed at the thought.

"You know perfectly well why," Draco's voice was unusually cold.

"How have you been, Draco?"

"Perfectly fucking great, thanks," muttered Draco.

"You're welcome," replied Hermione sarcastically.

Draco grinned this time, a genuine smile gracing his features. He held out his arms and hugged Hermione. "I've missed you," whispered Draco into her ear.

"…Me too, Draco." Hermione smiled.

In the dark, two students stood in silence, hugging each other. They both sought comfort in each other's lives, away from their daily stress. In times like this, they could relax and trust each other. Anywhere else they had to feign hatred for each other. In fact, it would have been normal for them if they had not been a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. An enemy and an enemy.

But what about a lover and a lover?

Not that either.

"Draco…" murmured Hermione, gently cupping Draco's face. "I don't want to hide anymore."

"Me either." Draco said, realizing that he really wanted it.

"I don't care what Harry and Ron say, I just want us to be able to be together, to be happy." explained Hermione.

Draco smirked. "I don't care what they have to say either."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Draco looked straight into Hermione's face, his features contorted with worry. "But…I'm afraid of my father. What if…he does something to try to hurt you?"

"You think he could hurt me?" said Hermione, an eyebrow raised.

Draco said nothing, but turned away from Hermione.

Hermione clutched Draco's arm. "Don't worry, Draco. We can face your father together. We can face the whole world together, if we want to."

"But I want to stay in the dark a while longer."

Hermione's face grew hardened and stubborn. "I'm going out; I don't care. I'm not doing this anymore – I can't take it!" her voice grew more hysteric with every sentence.

Draco said nothing, but carefully pondered her words.

Hermione continued on. "I'm going out, where everybody can see me and where I stand – even if you can't come with me. I'm tired of hiding our relationship, Draco…" her voice now grew weary.

Draco's gray eyes stared into Hermione's cool, calm brown eyes. "You do realize that our lives will forever be changed if we tell everybody about us?"

"It won't matter, if you can tell me this." Hermione looked deep into Draco's eyes. "…Do you love me, Draco?" she hoped for one answer, and one answer only.

Draco paused.

Tears brimming on the edge of her eyes, Hermione turned to leave the room.

Before she walked out the door, she looked at Draco again, one lone tear crawling down her cheek. "Well, even if you don't love me….I do." She whispered.

Draco stood silently, doing nothing but listening until her footsteps had gone away.

He felt weak, sobbing into his thin fingers. But he couldn't do anything else. He couldn't take the chance of hurting somebody he….he loved.

Draco wanted to sprint out of the building, catch Hermione, and never let her go. He wanted to cry in that tattered robe Hermione always wore to see him, for it symbolized his pain. He wanted to tell her over and over again that he loved her, and do anything – everything for her. He'd give everything he had, his body and soul just to be with her.

But he hadn't done any of those things. Not yet.

He rose up, his cheeks and hands tear-stained. He walked up to the door, tentatively; he opened the door, its hinges squeaking in protest, but he didn't mind.

He knew what he had to do.

Draco grasped his wand in his hand, and stepped out into the pale moonlight. The night was calm, sad and lonely, just like him. Street lights in Diagon Alley led the way out.

Draco and Hermione were never supposed to be; but if he got rid of his father, if he could stand up to him, they would have a chance of being able to love each other fully.

They would have a chance.

The End

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A/N: I felt bored, so I wrote this oneshot. I hope it doesn't confuse you. :)