Hermione stared up at Ron in shock. She was feeling so many things right now; for once she could not put it into words.

"What do you mean it's over?" she had asked the red-head. He in turn stared at the ground, searching for the words that would save their friendship.

"I just don't think that we belong together…like that," he gave as an answer. Hermione was hurt and spurted out, "I'm not good enough for you? Is that it?"

Ron violently shook his head. "No, no. You're great Hermione. I just need some time to think. There's a lot going on in my life right now, and I think we should take a break, at least."

"There's a lot going on in your life?!? You think my life is going along swimmingly? I have to continue my auror training, and I have to rake up some cash for that too, and I have to deal with my dying mother and trying to cope with that. Yet, I still have time for you."

Ron looked down at his feet, hoping they would have an answer for him this time. "I'm sorry Hermione…" he repeated.

Hermione remembered this exchange like it was yesterday, well okay, it was yesterday, which made it all the worse. She now sat alone at the Hog's Head, in a bright red cocktail dress. She had no idea why she was wearing a cocktail dress, for she had no occasion to do so; but then again her head had been a little funny since yesterday, and it was Saturday night, so why not?

"Would you like another Butterbeer, Miss?" the bartender asked Hermione. Hermione, feeling gutsy, slapped her hand on the bar and said, "Why not? The night is young!"

The bartender merely gave her an approving nod, and the second she looked away, gave her a sideways glance, and widened his eyes, mentally correcting her that it was actually near midnight.

Hermione was feeling rather impatient, and began strumming her fingers on the bar, trying to keep her mind preoccupied. She was afraid if she kept to herself and had nothing to do for too long, her mind would wander, and she did not want to think of yesterday's events at all, ever.

"Nice weather, we're having isn't it?" She offered to the bartender, who was finishing pouring her her butterbeer. "I've never been a fan of rain, actually," he responded, sliding her butterbeer across the counter to her. "Really?" Hermione honestly questioned. "I've always enjoyed it. It reminds me of happier times, where it was the three of us, and there was no drama."

Hermione slightly winced at the slight, subtle mention of Ron. "I can't imagine what you would be doing that is memorable in the rain," The bartender returned. Hermione shrugged, not willing to go into detail.

Instead, she took again to watching outside of the pub, where the rain would fall fast, and seemed to be in a hurry. At least someone, or rather something, had a purpose today. Oh, how she wished to have a life again.

Suddenly, a man got in the way of her watching the rain. The door was fifty feet away, but she immediately recognized the intruder as Draco Malfoy. Who knows what gave him away so easily. Perhaps it was his shock of platinum blonde hair, or the way he walked as if he owned the world, or maybe it was those unmistakable grey eyes. But it was probably because her subconscious had been expecting him, for so many years, it had been waiting for this night.

She reflexively looked away, and casually began drinking her butterbeer, as if she had never noticed him arrive. For a second, she had really thought he would pass her up, and go meet an expecting Pansy Parkinson at the other end of the pub. But Pansy was not here.

Alternatively, he sat right next to Hermione. She could see out of her peripheral vision that he was wearing a dress shirt and black pants. "Rufus," Draco greeted who Hermione guessed was the bartender she had been conversing with. "I would like a butterbeer, pronto," he ordered.

Rufus smiled at him and uttered, "Of course, Mr. Malfoy. As always, the first one is on the house."

Draco smiled at him approvingly, and Hermione, unable to keep quiet any longer, shouted, "What? How come he gets one for free?" Draco slowly turned towards Hermione, shocked to have actually heard her voice, one he had not heard in years. Rufus, taken aback, answered, "Miss, he is my most valued customer. I assure you he will be paying for much more than one tonight, anyways."

Hermione slid back from the counter, because she had thrown her body forward in a rage at his comment. "Oh, yes I forgot who we were dealing with here. Of course Malfoy is a drunk," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Granger?" Draco asked, looking at the woman in question intently, as if she would disappear if he took his eyes off of her.

Hermione, who had given herself away, turned to look at Draco at last. "Yes, yes. It's me," she confirmed.

Hermione took a good look at Draco. He looked as if he had matured in the past few years since they had graduated Hogwarts. His hair was clean cut, he had stunning biceps, and his eyes looked as if they were about to purge into her soul. But if one as perceptive as Hermione really looked into them, and she did, they would find he looked as lost as she felt.

Draco finally blinked, convinced it was her by the tone of her voice. "I haven't seen you since school. The last place I would expect to find you is in a bar, alone," then his eyes slowly scanned her body and he continued, "in a cocktail dress."

"Well, maybe I've changed a lot since you last talked to me," Hermione shot back. "I'd like another butterbeer, Rufus," she said, using his new name.

Beside her, Draco laughed. "Granger, are you drunk?"

On cue, Hermione nearly fell off her stool for no apparent reason. Nevertheless, she answered him, "I am not drunk. Smart, composed people do not get 'drunk'".

Draco could not contain himself; he let out a quick, harsh laugh. "You're drunk. Butterbeer only has enough alcohol content to get a house elf intoxicated, and yet here you are, a mess. Or perhaps you spent so much time trying to save their rights; you've finally become one yourself."

Hermione did not want to call attention to her lack of self control, so she instead pretended to be insulted. "Are you comparing me to a house elf? Do you not know who I am?"

"So, you consider being compared to the being you are constantly saying should be treated as equals an insult?"

Hermione was taken aback that he had outsmarted her there. "What…no… I mean," She stuttered. Draco smirked the smirk that Hermione had somehow missed since she had last seen him. "You do consider it an insult, because you know you're better than that," he stated, and it wasn't posed as a question.

"Did you just compliment me?" Hermione asked for reassurance, completely convinced that Draco was not capable of processing compliments in his brain.

Draco clicked his tongue together two times, took a sip of his butterbeer and said, "Wouldn't you like to know?" very deliberately and slowly.

Hermione tried to ignore the goose bumps riding up her arms, but found it hard to do so. So, she did the thing she did a lot of lately, she avoided the subject. "So, what are you doing here on a Saturday night? Wouldn't the oh-so-great Draco Malfoy be out with a date?" She said, sarcasm dripping from her voice when she called him great.

Draco shrugged, "I don't need a woman. I fly solo." Hermione couldn't help herself but to laugh at that one. "Oh, I'm sorry I wasn't aware you had turned into a bird," Hermione replied jokingly.

"I've always been a bird, babe. You were just busy thinking you were so cool with you Potter posse, you never noticed."

Hermione rolled her eyes and said on a more serious note, "But what about Pansy, last time I checked you were with her. Then again, I never followed your every move so closely."

This, of course, was a lie. Hermione had always felt drawn to Draco, attracted even. However, it was something she planned to take to her grave, and she wouldn't even tell Ginny. But lying, normally not acceptable on Hermione's standards, would have to do tonight. She was already breaking all the other rules.

"Pansy and I had been off and on for a few years. But it doesn't matter now. It's all over. She's marrying Goyle next month," Draco told, though he didn't look that hurt.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up," Hermione apologized, just in case.

Draco just smiled, and ordered another butterbeer. In just a few moments, it was right in front of him and he began downing it. Hermione was immediately jealous. "I'll have another one too," Hermione told Rufus expectantly. She was feeling a need for it now.

Rufus laughed at her this time, "Coming right up."

"How many is that for you?" Draco asked Hermione, bewildered. Hermione didn't know; Why count?

Rufus, however, had been counting, "Her 23rd."

"Holy Merlin, Granger! How long have you been sitting here?" Draco asked the loosened up Hermione. The lady in question shrugged, "Longer than I should have been."

The butterbeer slid smoothly across the table and fit into Hermione's hands perfectly now. She wasted no time getting started again. The curious boy beside her wasted no time prodding information out of her again.

"So what brought you here? Where's the weasel?"

Hermione shot him a glare and said, "He is not a weasel. A little misguided and confused at time, completely. But, he's not a weasel."

"He dumped you, huh?" Draco asked her bluntly, never one to beat around the bush. "Yes," Hermione answered immediately, dropping her shoulders. "And for no good reason. He said he needed some time to think, like what the heck? I think all the time but do you see me dumping him? No, you don't, because I have maturity, unlike him," Hermione finished in a huff.

Draco raised his eyebrows and let out a breath. "Whoo. That's a mouthful. But that is a stupid reason; then again I didn't expect anything more from the weasel. But you don't need him. I bet you've got quite a career going."

Hermione let her loose curls fall in front of her face as she continued to pour her heart out to Draco Malfoy, "No, not yet. I'm going through my auror training, but Harry is so much better at it than me, and well, it's an odd feeling."

"What feeling is that?"

"The feeling of not being the best," Hermione told him as she blushed. "I should have known," Draco smirked as he looked at the beautiful, blushing Hermione.

"You don't need to be the best at everything. You should just loosen up more, you know, go to pubs in cocktail dresses and get drunk off of butterbeer more," Draco suggested as the two shared a secret smile.

"Well," the brunette began, "I like having my life together sometimes, you know? You should try it."

Draco found this rather funny, "No, I don't think so. I don't want to become ninety while I'm still twenty-one."

Hermione shook her head in mock disbelief, but it didn't stop Draco from continuing.

"Why don't you come with me somewhere?" Draco proposed to a surprised Hermione.

"I'm surprised you're even talking to me. Wouldn't you be embarrassed to go somewhere with a mudblood?"

Draco let out a huge, fake gasp, "Granger, how dare you utter such a derogatory name. I would never call you such a thing."

Hermione threw her hands up to prove a point, "You called me that all the time, and you know it," but she didn't feel like arguing so she continued, "Where would we go anyway?"

Draco looked her straight in the eyes and said, "Anywhere but here."

This sounded like an adventure to Hermione, and her younger self yearned for it so bad. After all, what did she have left to lose? She had already lost everything, or at least she thought so. But something deep inside her thought that maybe, just maybe, this was fate.

The brunette stared up into the blonde's eyes that she had told herself she should hate for so long, and gave in.

"Okay. Take me away from here," Hermione told him as she got up. Draco joined her, saying, "Well, now that was easy. Maybe you're more willing to live than I thought."

She took his hand in hers and breathed, "We'll see." And with that they apparated out of the pub to only Draco knows where.

The pair wound up on the sandy shores of a beach in northern England. The water was washing right up to their feet, so that they got wet, but not uncomfortably so. All was silent except for the sound of the rushing waves, and Hermione could see the moon's glistening reflection in the crystal-clear ocean.

Hermione let out a gasp in shock. She had not expected Draco to take her someplace so beautiful and magnificent. "How did you even find this place?"

Draco smirked, delighted with her amazement and said, "I used to come up here and think for about as long as I can remember. I always snuck out of Hogwarts and came here too, especially when my parents were pressuring me to become a death eater, well mainly my father."

"You never wanted to? I was always under the impression that you were born evil and therefore, you would naturally aspire to following Voldemort."

"Ha," Draco laughed. "You thought you could fit me into one category? I am many different things, Granger. Purely evil, is not one of them, but neither am I purely good."

"Ha," it was Hermione's turn to laugh. "I could figure that last one out by myself." But before she could finish her sentence, snow began to fall.

"Snow? On the beach?" Hermione questioned as she naturally began to shiver.

"Oh, it always snows here; did I forget to warn you?" Draco joked, as if he had no intention to warn her in the first place.

Hermione, picking up his tone, began to repeatedly punch him on the arm lightly, yet still making him flinch. "Watch it, girl. Let's not have a repeat of our third year."

"You deserved that, too." Hermione defended herself. Draco shook his head, blowing her off when she stopped. "But you know, no one's watching. I can fight back."

Hermione crossed her arms and stood before him, saying, "I'd like you to see you try." In a matter of seconds, Draco kept true to his threat, picked the light girl up, and ran her into the ocean, but not before tumbling in with her.

She let out a scream, though no one was around to hear. They both went under into the cold, yet refreshing water. Hermione was the first to come up, choking up water. Draco surfaced shortly after, with a huge grin on his face, "Ever been in the ocean in the snow, doll?"

Hermione just stared at him in shock, then coming to her senses (or perhaps losing them), she began to grin along with him, and shook her head, "Never."

"And how does it feel?" Draco inquired.

"Freezing!" Hermione practically shouted at him.

"And…?" Draco asked again, expecting more, and he wasn't disappointed.

"Exhilarating!" and with that Hermione let her hair down, and she let her guard down as she began to swim around.

Hermione hadn't felt so free in ages, like she didn't have a care in the world. She began to do back flips in the water, as Draco watched her. She was slightly restricted in her dress, but she made the best of it. Draco soon joined her, and before they knew it, it was well past two in the morning.

"We've been at this for hours!" Hermione shouted at Draco.

"Yeah, I know. I'll race you back to shore?" Draco proposed.

"Sure. On three. One, two," and Hermione fled toward land before she said three.

Draco, quick on his reflexes, and faster than Hermione, was gaining on the cheating Hermione and finally caught up to her right at the shoreline. There, he tackled her and stood over her as he pinned her to the ground. They both started huffing and puffing and stared into each other's eyes for about a second, when Draco leaned down and forcefully started kissing Hermione on the lips.

She wasted no time in kissing back, their tongues wrestling, and their competitive nature coming out. They kissed each other as if they had been wanting to for years, and if one were being completely truthful, they had. Draco finished it off by gently grabbing her face and planting a quick peck on her lips.

He then fell down beside her, holding her hand. "That was…" he began.

"Amazing," she finished for him.

He nodded his head in agreement. "So does this mean, that maybe, you want to try a relationship?" he asked, looking over to her.

She thought about all that had happened in the past few hours since she first saw Draco again, and all that had happened with Ron, and about their past, but more importantly their future.

So what was there left to do? What was there left to say? She replied with the thing she had been telling herself all night, and it hadn't been wrong yet.

"Why not?"