The monotonous tick of the oblivious clock barely managed to break the heavy silence in the small living room of flat number 27. The room was meticulously clean, everything was obnoxiously tidy and had a place. It was incredibly still and quiet except for the insistent ticking of the clock and Hermione Granger's agitated behaviour. At first she was running slender fingers through her immaculate hair (yes, immaculate), but when that did little to soothe the increasing anxiousness in her stomach she allowed herself to retreat to the nirvana of nicotine, the dirty habit she had tried ferociously to kick. And she had. Almost. Perhaps if Draco Malfoy wasn't such a notorious bad boy and the cause of her distress, she would have kicked the thing up the arse by now, in fact its likely she wouldn't have even started the foul habit. Even as she exhaled and tapped the filter persistently, the ache of worry sat in her heart. Hermione attempted to tell herself that he was doing was he promised her, which was definitely not other women, but Hermione was not an idiot. In fact Hermione Granger was absolutely perfect in every way. As she inhaled and relished the smoke she thought about how Draco Malfoy could not ask for more, she had it all. She stubbed the cigarette out, a kind of anger replacing the sinking feeling she had felt previously. She began to think furiously that she was indeed the best girlfriend anyone could possibly want, and she began to wonder did she love him enough to talk some sense in to him? And then she began to think why doesn't he love me? When I make myself so fucking easy to love? Hermione could make it so difficult for him, but never did she endlessly question him or his careless disappearances and never did she fight with him about it. She wasn't boring or lacking in subject, she just didn't feel the need to jump down his throat about something he'd never admit to anyway. They're relationship wasn't dull, and neither was the sex, in fact if it wasn't for his tactlessness she would say their relationship would need no improvements. Maybe he'd bumped his head, or perhaps he needed to look around and see just what he had with her. She started to list the things off, counting on her fingers all the qualities she possessed. She has beauty, albeit not it the obvious sort of way, but the way she moved was graceful, she had an English rose complexion and a neat figure and if she could appreciate herself, why couldn't he? Plenty of other people did, what was she missing, did Draco Malfoy not have a thing for attractive brunettes that owned a brain? Maybe Malfoy still wasn't over the fact that she bested him at everything, he was so very used to being the best. In fact, the only thing he came close to beating Hermione at was fucking her brains out, something he continuously achieved O's in. She had class, that was for sure, in the demure sort of way. She never got it all out, something that she thought should gain respect not the cold shoulder, wasn't it a good thing that she had it all but didn't choose to showcase it? What sort of man enjoyed a women with next to no clothing escorting him to all sort of events? It would only cause embarrassment. In fact Draco himself sneered at the desperate tendencies of some women. However this didn't stop him from getting some of it on the side. She wasn't lacking in the assets department yet he barely noticed the fact that her body was a temple, she was positive she had more than enough. It couldn't be boredom, surely, no man it that self righteous. Draco Malfoy needed to open his eyes before he turned around and the best thing he had walked right out of the door branded number 27. She was so close to doing it to, she was positive she could do so much better. Even his friends said she was the perfect girl, in fact she'd just have to click her fingers and she'd have anyone of them attempting to court her. Surely he couldn't be blind, perhaps he was just dumb? It would be possible, if he wasn't to devastatingly clever. And then she asked herself again, why doesn't he love me? I am so fucking easy to love. She wasn't short of heart, passion and courage thanks to her gryffindor tendencies, she put everything in to everything, including their relationship and was never short of things to throw herself in to, not even to mention how intelligent she was. Hermione was pacing the room now, she was clever but no longer in the know-it-all way, she was sarcastic and witty and smart and had a response for whatever he threw at her, but that was originally part of the attraction, the ability to think on her feet and fling words back and forth with him, he used to love that about her. Hermione was one hell of a girl in bed and most definitely not a bore, and no more a prude than Malfoy himself. She made herself so easy to love, and yet he didn't even care to notice that. There was nothing not to need about her and it was beginning to grate on her nerves that he didn't have the ability to keep her from slipping through his fingers. As Hermione came to rest at the window to see her boyfriend stepping out of a taxi in the midst of straightening his tie, she came to the conclusion that maybe Draco Malfoy just wasn't the one, or possibly just plain dumb.