A/N: What can I say? I love a bit of Dramione angst.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The bell at the front door of the shop jingled as a petite brunette rushed in out of the cold. She shook her wavy hair out of a hat and observed the space around her, quickly pinpointing her area of interest.

Hermione Granger missed the muggle world sometimes, and it was at those times that she made her way to a small bookshop on the west end of London. Dabney's Fine Used Books was a place her father used to take her as a child when they went into the city, and the familiarity of the cluttered bookshop was an unfailing comfort to her.

The war had ended five years ago, and by and large things in the wizarding world had returned to normal. The ministry had rebuilt itself, the intense feelings of loss faded a little more every day, and everyone was going about their lives. Hermione was just beginning her work as a Healer at St. Mungo's, and Ron and Harry were working as Aurors. It worried her sometimes, knowing they were putting themselves in the path of danger, but she knew there was no other way they could ever really be. Thick as thieves, taking on dark wizards together. Hermione smiled to herself a little bit. Those were her boys.

Just then, the bell at the door jingled again. Hermione turned, and felt every muscle in her body tense up when she recognized Draco Malfoy.

No one was entirely sure what had become of Draco after the war. His parents were sent to Azkaban, but he was spared for testifying about the activities that had gone on inside of Malfoy Manor. The last Hermione heard, he had been put under supervised house arrest for three years. There was a small note in the Daily Prophet when his sentence ended, but not a word about him after that.

Looking at him, Hermione found herself feeling something like pity. He looked worn, older than his 22 years. There was a faint stubble growing on his face, and his once perfectly coifed platinum hair stuck out in disarray. She wondered what he was doing here – she wondered if she should ask, or simply hope he didn't notice her.

Soon enough, she found it was too late for the latter.

"Granger?" Hermione poked her head around from the bookshelf that she had thought concealed her from Malfoy.

"Malfoy," she replied, politely acknowledging him, "I'm surprised to see you here."

Malfoy shrugged, as though his appearance in a muggle bookshop was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Something to do," he replied, sticking his hands in his pockets and walking over to her. "So, um, how are you?"

The question struck Hermione has completely ludicrous. The last time they'd seen each other, it had been in the middle of the final battle of the war, curses flying and people falling dead all around them. And now here they stood, perfectly civilized, and Draco Malfoy was asking her how she was.

"I'm … well, thank you. Working as a Healer at St. Mungo's. And yourself?"

"I'm all right, thanks for asking," Malfoy ran a hand through his hair and added a little more quietly, "No one ever asks."

The feeling of pity once again welled up in Hermione. She tried to squash it. He just looked so lost. So different from the cocky boy she'd known in school. But at the same time … Hermione had seen this version of Draco once before. Only once, for a few moments, one night in the Astronomy tower six years ago.

"Well," she said, trying to ignore the vivid memory that had just bloomed in her mind, "No one's really heard anything about you for awhile. What have you been doing?"

Malfoy shrugged, "A little of this, a little of that. It's hard to get work, you know, having my last name. And all of our assets were frozen after the trials … the only thing that's really left is Malfoy Manor," he gave a short laugh, "But what use do I have for a giant old mansion? It was nothing but a prison to me, even before the house arrest."

"Well," Hermione began, struggling to find something to say, "You could always sell, I suppose."

Malfoy looked her in the eye, "And who would want to buy it?"

Hermione swallowed hard. Draco was right, of course. Who would want to buy the former home of Voldemort's right hand man? Even if they simply tore it down, there would be no real use for the land.

"Fair point," she managed to say.

Malfoy was still looking at her intently, and Hermione was entirely unsure of what to do. The two of them, alone in this little bookshop, hidden in between the shelves … it felt strangely intimate. And she hated herself for not simply being disgusted. She should just walk out – Draco Malfoy was not good company to keep. And who knows what he is still capable of? But even as that thought crossed her mind, she knew she was only trying to talk herself into something she didn't believe. Draco would never hurt her, not after that night. He'd promised.

Hermione shook herself. He wasn't Draco. He was Malfoy. Just Malfoy.

"Are you thinking about it?" Draco asked quietly, eyes still on hers.

"Thinking about what?" Hermione asked. But the hoarse tone of her voice betrayed her – of course she was thinking about it.

"That night, sixth year. In the Astronomy tower," Draco moved slightly closer, "I … I think about it all the time," he shook his head, "Pathetic, isn't it? One night six years ago, and I keep thinking about it. It's the last good memory I had, before everything went wrong. And you …" He paused, and his body language changed in an instant.

Straightening up, Draco took a few steps back, "I'm sorry, Hermione. We haven't seen each other in years – and the last time we did most of the people I knew were trying to kill you. I … this is absurd. I'm sorry. I should go."

He turned to leave, and Hermione watched him walk out the door. She couldn't surpress the memories that came flooding back.

llllllll

It was sixth year. Hermione sat alone in the Astronomy tower, trying to do her homework but finding it difficult with the tears in her eyes. It was because of Ron, of course. She couldn't seem to make herself stop caring. Harry did his best to be comforting, but Hermione hated putting him in the middle of all of this. So she had taken to doing her work in the Astronomy tower, a place where she could feel free to cry and know that no one would interrupt her. A place to let herself feel all of the hurt that she kept hidden throughout the day, forcing herself to pretend that Ron and Lavender didn't bother her too much. That she could handle it.

Hermione was starting to wonder if she could really handle anything at all.

The sound of the door opening startled her. Scrambling, Hermione picked up her books and parchment and prepared for a hasty exit. She could just excuse herself and scamper past the newcomer without them even realizing who she was.

"Granger?"

Too late for that.

But the voice surprised her, and immediately put her on her guard. Wand in hand, she turned to face Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy," she said, nodding curtly, "I'll just be going."

He was blocking the only exit, though, down the spiral staircase, and Hermione couldn't get out unless he chose to move. He didn't choose to move.

"What are you doing up here? Crying over weasel?"

"I was doing my homework, Malfoy. I focus better alone, but seeing as that's ruined now." She took another step closer to him, "Move."

The face she saw in the moonlight, though, was a shock to her. Malfoy wasn't his usual self. His eyes were red, his regularly perfect hair out of sorts. Everything about him looked wrong.

"Got some crying of your own to do?" Hermione asked coldly. It was a mistake to say that, she knew. She was egging him on.

But instead of spitting an insult or raising his wand, Malfoy simply stepped out of her way.

"Just get out of here," he said simply, his voice sounding dead.

Hermione was about to do just that, and was halfway down the stairs when she heard a strange choking noise. Pausing, she listened intently. There was only silence.

"I know you're still here, Granger," Malfoy called, his voice sounding strange, "I never heard the door shut."

Hermione sighed, thinking she must be out of her mind as she turned to walk back up the stairs. Setting her things on the ground, she walked over to Malfoy, careful to keep her wand ready just in case.

"Well I heard that noise," she said simply, "I thought you may have been choking to death. If you were, I figured I would want to be around for it."

Malfoy gave a cold laugh, "It'd be better for me if I were dead."

"Well, we can agree on that."

Malfoy shook his head, leaning against the stone wall, "You don't get it, Granger. If you Avada Kedavra'd me right now, I would thank you."

"Sorry, but you're out of luck on that one."

"I know. You're too decent, or something like that. But …" his eyes locked on hers, and Hermione couldn't look away, "Like I said, I would thank you."

He slid down to a sitting position, putting his head in his hands. Hermione stayed where she was, unsure of what to do, "Draco, I –"

"I won't let them hurt you, you know," he said, looking up at her again, "Not if I can help it. You're … you're not anything, Granger. You're a mudblood and I shouldn't give a damn. You're an insufferable know-it-all and I hate you, and you must know that. You must know that I hate you."

Malfoy stood up and walked over to her. Hermione remained frozen to the spot, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

"I hate you," he repeated quietly, his face so close to hers, "But I promise I won't let them hurt you. I need you in this world."

In an instant, his lips were on hers. Hermione's brain went into overdrive. What the hell was Draco Malfoy doing kissing her? This made no sense. It was wrong. He'd gone mad.

She put her hands against his chest, trying to push him away, but he only wrapped his arms more tightly around her, pushing her against the wall. Hermione knew she should keep struggling. Grab her wand and try a nonverbal hex, if she could manage. She knew what she should do … but she didn't want to do it.

Malfoy was rough, demanding. Part of Hermione wanted to fight it, but that part was growing smaller and smaller. Because something was terribly wrong in his life, and he needed her. Hermione could tell that he needed her. And perhaps, on some level, she needed him too. It seemed impossible, but she couldn't ignore what she felt with his lips on hers.

So Hermione gave in. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him as close as she could. For just a few moments, they were everything to each other.

llllll

It wasn't until much later, when the war really began and everyone knew what side Draco Malfoy was on, that Hermione realized what he'd meant when he promised he wouldn't let them hurt her. And she wondered if he had meant that. If somehow he cared for her. On the day of the final battle, she stopped wondering.

Separated from Ron and Harry, Hermione was on her own, fighting with everything she had on the staircase by the great hall. Every part of her body screamed with a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline, and she knew that resting for even a second could mean death.

It was there that it happened. She was battling a death eater, throwing curses and dodging them as fast as she could. But she tripped on some loose rubble, and quickly found herself with the large man on top of her, holding her by the collar of her shirt with his wand pointed at her head.

"Should've gone home to Mummy and Daddy," he said, "You wouldn't have died today."

"Let her go, Laredo."

The voice was loud, commanding. Hermione recognized it in an instant.

"Says who?"

"I do. Let her go. She's mine."

The death eater named Laredo gave Hermione a disgusted look and threw her back to the ground.

"Now get out of here," Draco's voice was harsh, and Laredo was gone in an instant.

He looked down at Hermione, and their eyes locked. He did nothing to help her up, but he didn't raise his wand against her either.

"I promised," he said simply, "I need you in this world."

That was the last time she'd seen him.

llllllll

Hermione gave herself a mental shake, forcing her mind back into the present. Within seconds, she was out the door and down the street.

"Draco!" she called after his retreating figure, "Draco!"

He heard her and turned around, sidling off into a small alley to wait for her to catch up.

"I think about it," Hermione blurted out when she got to him, gasping for breath, "I think about it all the time. I think about you, and what you did, and how we felt together, and how you saved my life and I never even got to thank you, and I … I don't want you to think that I've forgotten."

A ghost of Draco's old cocky grin crossed his face, "You? Forget me? You couldn't if you tried."

Hermione smiled, "Of course not. How silly of me."

Draco looked at her for a moment before gently running his hand along the curve of her face. "I'm glad you're still in this world."

"I'm glad you are, too."

Hermione closed the small distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him gently.

"Keep it that way," she added softly.

A/N: So, what did you think? Reviews are lovely!