No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter One

Don't Go

"You're leaving."

It was two words, but they sent daggers into Hermione's breaking heart. She stood from Draco's bed dressing in her clothes that had been tossed to the floor. She didn't answer him, there was nothing to answer. It wasn't a question.

"Stay."

"I can't."

Draco held out his hand. She contemplated taking it, feeling the smoothness of his pale skin that hadn't worked a day in its life. No, she wouldn't. He would pull her back into the bed, and if by some slim chance he didnt' she might never let go. And she had to. She had to go. For good that time.

"Please, Hermione."

She faced the wall showing her weakness as he was showing his. She knew this because Malfoy's never begged. But Draco had a frosty exterior; if only people saw who he really was. If only they used 'ex' in front of his old title as a Death Eater. They would never see him as nothing but, and they were risking enough danger just sleeping together. By just falling in love... How she cursed the day they saw each other. It seemed so long ago... In another life... Where they were happy. Secretive, but happy. Now they were secretive and miserable.

"I have to go," she said, but she didn't move. A few more seconds with him. Then she would go. She promised herself.

"No," he spat furiously, "you don't. You can stay here with me."

"Don't make this harder." She felt like crying, but her eyes were sore with it. She couldn't cry ever again for surely she would die.

"Harder?" Draco laughed coldly without humour. "Every morning that you leave you take my heart with you, do you know that? I can't do this much longer. How can you?"

She closed her eyes. Hermione wasn't going to answer that last question. It was too complicated. It hurt too much. "You don't want me to come back?"

"I want you to stay. Look, I know I don't deserve you, you can do better than me. I've led a horrible life that I can't make up for, but you make me feel like I'm almost worth something. I'm astounded I could sweep you off your feet, and I'll do anything to keep you. I'll do better if that's what it takes, but don't leave me again."

"You'll be all right."

"I won't. I won't be all right, and don't tell me I'll be okay on my own, because I can never be."

"You'll find someone else." She was sure of that, and the thought of someone earning his attention was salt in her wounds. She couldn't, however, dispute. She rightfully deserved whatever pain she got.

His voice cracked. "Don't leave me, Hermione. Not again. Please. I'll do whatever it takes. Don't leave me tonight."

Hermione left the remainder of her broken heart, and the hopeless tears she shed, and silently walked out of that bedroom to Floo home. Like she did every night. Only this time it would be her last, because she couldn't do it anymore either. It was one thing if she was to be in pain but she wouldn't do it to anyone else. She could no longer take it out on Draco.

Who were they kidding? They could never be together.

Eight years. Eight blasted years found Hermione - one third of the Golden trio - in a pub. Every anniversary of... Them... What happened... That incident that was far from being an incident she was there in a dingy pub. This one with grimy windows and a glittering floor covered in broken glass from past fights. What was worse? The owner knew her name.

"Go home, Miss Granger," the yellow-toothed bartender urged as he washed a foggy glass with a stained cloth. "Every year you sit in that chair making yourself sad."

She hiccuped. "Correction: I was sad when I came in." She saw her own half-filled glass swim in front of her. Dipping her head back she drained the rest of it. She banished the memory of her last night with Draco with more vengeance. It was becoming fuzzier as the hours passed. "More, please."

"No more, I'm cutting ya off."

"I have the money."

"I know you have the money, ma'am. It's no longer good here. Now out with ya. Don't come back."

Hermione teared up, but she didn't noticed. She could hardly feel anything anymore. Just the way she wanted it. It was the exact reason she started drinking. It burned her throat, warmed whatever insides she had. She fell in love with the dark-colored bottles with their own magic. The magic she had could never fix her. She resented that.

She stumbled from the bar, and left the pub. It was cold outside, freezing even. There was snow an inch high, but she didn't so much as carry a coat. She didn't care if she died a Popsicle. She was the last person on Earth to fear death. She welcomed it.

She staggered unsure where she was going to go. Every year she visited the pub, but it was the first that Ginny or Luna, or anyone for that matter didn't come to take her home. Of course that was a year ago when she visited the same pub. When she hadn't moved. When she had people to lean on. How could she stay in a place that was moving on when she wasn't? She had to leave them. They didn't need her as a reminder to what happened.

One step... two steps... Three... Four... Five... Hiccup... Six... Her steps were uneasy but as far as she could tell she was the most graceful person on Earth.

Then the sidewalk ended and she was on a quiet street. Right in the middle of it. She noticed many beats late that she was no longer in the snow that her legs, and shoes were soaked. She closed her eyes thinking of the chills that had to be going through her, but she didn't so much as had goosebumps.

Night had swallowed the street whole. Lights were turning off in the businesses surrounding her. The noise was cut off from the pub she exited. She wondered how late it was then decided it didn't matter. She didn't have a job to go to. She had plenty of money. She was rich. She had no life. No friends. No love. Nothing. Crookshanks, her beloved orange cat died a decade ago. She was as alone as she wished herself to be all those years ago. No. Not alone. She had the bartender. The alcohol. She needed no more than that and the air it took to breathe.

At least it was quiet. For a moment, but that was the thing about being drunk, time was irrevelant, and your senses were off, like how she couldn't see or walk straight, and how she didn't feel the icy winter air. That was why she didn't know a moment had been three minutes, and that was why she didn't hear the engine, or see the bright headlights racing toward her.