A/N: After many many months, and quite a few requests, I've finally released an Epilogue for this one. I do hope it meets the standards of all those who requested one. Please, if you've ever done one thing for me, do let me know what you think. Yours eternaly, Sway

Last chapter

As she walked nearer to the door she said, "I've left the potion on your table. Drink that goblet full every hour for the next six hours and you will be fine." Upon reaching the door, she opened it and exited without another word.

Draco couldn't believe what had just happened. So many emotions pumped through his veins, emotions he couldn't control. He'd given into what his heart was telling him to do and all she wanted was for him to call her by her first name. Every bad thing he had ever done or said to her flooded his mind and quickly became too much for him to handle. Just as the tears filled his eyes the grabbed the goblet off his bedside table and threw it at the steadily closing door. When the goblet hit the door it smashed into a million tiny fragments of glass and he yelled, "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT HERMION?!"

Hermione paused when the goblet hit the door and listened to its pieces scatter as they hit the ground. Draco's words echoed in her ears and covered the melodic sound of the scattering glass. Her eyes filled with tears and she finally came to terms with what exactly it was she wanted. Finding her voice was harder than she had ever anticipated but she knew it was there. Her tears clung to her black eye lashes and continued to stream down her face as she tried to answer him.

She spoke only loud enough for him to hear her words through the small crack in the door, "You, Draco, I want you." She sealed the small crack in the door and instantly appirated out of Malfoy Manor.

Epilogue

Years passed since the day Hermione left Malfoy Manor, four of them actually, and every day Draco thought about her, wished he could have said something, done something, anything to make her stay.

On the very day, just after she left Malfoy Manor and returned to her flat, Hermione owled the Minister and informed him that she would no longer be able to work under Draco at the Ministry of Magic. Minister Scrimgeour suggested that he simply transfer her to another department, perhaps one across the building from Draco where she wouldn't have to deal with him but he asked no questions. With a smile, she jotted down her reply to him. The reply was a simple: 'No thank you Minister Scrimgeour.'

At the time she wasn't at all sure how she was going to go about making money, but it didn't matter to her just then. All she knew was that she couldn't bear to have to look into those damned grey eyes every day. Not with the feeling she always got, not with all of the bad memories they brought. She was done.

And so four years later, Hermione sat down on her shabby brown couch with a warm cup of tea, and opened up her leather bound diary. Propping the diary in her lap she opened it to a fresh white page and began to write.

'Things have changed so. I miss those people everyday, mum, dad, Harry, Ginny, even Ron sometimes. I can't change the things that happened, I know this, but I do wish everything had gone along differently. I was thinking today about the time after the war, about how much we all cared for those who had fallen, even the ones we'd killed. It had an effect on all of us, though some let it show more than others…

I thought about him today. I can't help missing the times we shared, and if that makes me crazy, then so be it. I suppose I'm crazy now. It's better to be crazy and alone than to just be alone, I think. I won't forget the look on his face the last time I saw him. I don't know what exactly the look was saying, but I have my theories. I sometimes hear him when I sleep, hear his words inside my head, and feel the warmth only he could give. I don't want to miss him anymore. I deserve so much better. I am a woman, not some toy to be used and abused, then discarded…'

It was then; just after she'd written that last word 'discarded' that she realized at last, it was she who discarded him, not the other way around. She'd won his game, and had never seen it that way. Hermione Granger walked away from Draco Malfoy. As far as anyone knew, no female in Malfoy history had ever gotten away on their own free will. Sure some had simply been dumped off somewhere, and some disappeared, but not a single one had walked off freely.

A smile crossed her lips, one she hadn't noticed at the time, and she began to laugh. "I won! I beat the master at his own game!" Her laughing continued, though there was no one around to hear it.

Draco Malfoy had had many women, and many more in the last four years. Even at the age of twenty six, he was highly respected by the male population and highly desired by the female populations. Life for Draco Malfoy couldn't possibly be any better, could it? Every night, if he desired, he had a different woman, one he could say or do anything to and she would never complain, a woman whom he could completely dominate. Still, something was missing. Something inside him told him to stop playing these childish games, and find one woman to occupy his time. Since she left he never gave another woman the satisfaction of ever being with him more than once. He wasn't one to make the same mistake twice.

The one thing Draco couldn't let go was the fact that she did actually leave him. After all the time they'd been participating in that little game, after all the times he'd seen her quiver under his words, and every time he watched her eyes shatter as he stared at her, she walked out. She seemed so weak, so frail and easily manipulated, but he was wrong. What he saw those almost five years ago when their relationship began, and what he was shown four years ago when she left, those were two different women. He wasn't sure what had caused her to change, or why it happened, and as much as it angers him to admit it, he was glad it did happen. He couldn't hurt her anymore.

Draco's POV

Another day, another damned case to be investigated, another report, another meeting with the Minister. Do things ever change? How is all of this going to help me with my life? How does any of this help me find sense of self? It's rubbish, complete and total rubbish. I don't have to be here, but then why am I? If I have the option to not work because I don't have to, why do I keep doing it?

Ah, the answer is stupid, I know the answer though. It's out of hope, anticipation, dreaming, wanting, yearning, wishing. Wishing that she will return, yearning for her touch, wanting to see her face one more time, dreaming about what could have been, anticipating the ending she deserves, and hoping she's forgiven me.

Why do I care? Why, heh that's easy, I care because it was my game and I lost. If I keep telling myself that, maybe I will start to believe it.

I stood up from my desk and began pacing my office, remembering every moment she'd been in here, remembering all of those fights, all of her tears, my yelling, and every time I'd hit her. I hate myself for being such an arse to her.

I need to get to work on that damned report; my new secretary isn't as easily pushed around as she was. No, Trista is definitely not as easily convinced, I have the sneaking suspicion that she may not play Quidditch on the right team if you know what I mean. I'm a handsome guy, I know this, almost irresistible even, and she hasn't given me the slightest bit of recognition. Usually, I would have already shagged her senseless and been done with it… So I've decided she's one of those witches who likes her own kind. But what do I know about any of that?

Knocking on my door awoke me from my mind, I grimaced, "What?"

A husky voice sounded from outside my office door, "I have these papers from the Minister, Mr. Malfoy." It was Trista.

Shaking my head I opened the door and extended my arm staring as far away from her face as I could. She's not exactly unattractive, but with a voice like the one she's got, you just don't want to look at her. "Just hand them here then."

I took the papers and closed the door as quickly as I could then cringed at the thought of Trista. Guh! She's really something, and I don't mean a good something.

What I wouldn't give to have Hermione out there instead of that beast. If I could just see her one more time, I'd apologize for everything I've ever done, everything I said… And the one thing I couldn't say.

End Draco's POV

Hermione's POV

I finished writing my journal entry hours before, but at the moment I'm caught up in rereading a few of my older entries. It's astonishing, the things I've written, the things I'd been thinking when I wrote these entries, and all the emotion my writing shows. I didn't know I was capable of feeling so many different things at once.

When an entry, or even part of one catches my attention, I read it aloud, simply to help myself understand the words better.

"I've been gone now for three months and I haven't told anyone where I am. I don't think they care anyway. None of them could see just how badly I was hurting, either that or they just didn't want to have to deal with it. I won't forget the look on Ginny's face when I told her I was leaving. I gave no answers; it's none of their business anyway. I hope she's doing well. Or, better than I am. I sometimes wish Voldemort had killed me with my family, or that it was me who died instead of so many of my friends. Life would be better if I didn't have one anymore. Life. I don't have one now, what am I talking about? Malfoy made sure of that. As much as I wish I could hate him, I can't. The simple fact remains… I love…"

I laughed a bit at the last two words, even back when I first left him and all of my friends behind, I wouldn't say it. I still can't. It all seems so childish, so useless. There is no point in all of these written words if there's no one around to read them. Why did I waste my time, why do I still?

Skimming through another few pages, another entry catches my attention.

"I left him. I walked out because I knew there was nothing he could do, not from his place on that bed. I could have left him where I found him, could have watched him die. Why did I try so very hard for him? Why did I insist upon saving him? I could have stood there and watched him bleed, watched the great Malfoy die. But… I didn't. I couldn't. I know he wouldn't have done the same thing for me, but I think fooling myself into thinking that he would helps. At least it does for now."

Merlin! What was I thinking? I couldn't have just stood there and watched him die, that would have been the Malfoy thing to do, and I'm nothing like him. Okay, so maybe I was at one time, when I was with him, but I'm not now. I'm so much stronger than I ever thought I was. Sure, it still hurts to think about all of the nasty dirty things I did for him and with him, even before that, but seeing as how I'm past all of that now, I think I'm doing well. Though I'm sure there are a few people in the world who would beg to differ simply because I moved away and quit my job… But that's all in the past, I could move back if I wanted to. I just don't want to that's all.

I do miss Harry and Ginny, even Ron sometimes. I haven't seen them in ages. I should be well over all of the things Malfoy put me through, I should go back. I shouldn't have to stay in hiding, it doesn't help really. All my being alone gets me is bitterness and alone. Maybe a day trip is in order.

Draco arrived to his usual pub at a quarter past seven in the evening. He'd long ago gotten out of his office, bathed, dressed, and now he was standing in a dimly lit, smoke filled room. The crowd was the same as it always is on Friday nights, women all dolled up in clothes which are too tight, even for his liking, men with entirely too much product in their hair, and then the group of those who are looking for something particular. Draco tonight, was not a part of that group, so he decided to take a seat at the end of the bar, closest to the door. Once he sat down, he ordered himself a few shots of fire whisky and downed them quickly. The stinging feeling didn't affect him so much anymore, not in a very long time. He'd become used to the sensation and welcomed it often times. Draco, you see, is a creature of habit. He attends the same pub every chance he gets, talks to the same people, orders the same drink, and wishes that same tired wish.

About six shots of fire whisky later, Draco decided he'd better slow down, he wasn't willing to forget just yet. He turned himself on his stool and rested his back against the bar behind him so that he could survey the crowd dancing behind him. A sneer made its self visible as he gazed from faceless woman to faceless woman. None of them really mattered. They all looked the same really. Their tops too tight, their skirts too short, too much make-up, too little brains. Then dancing only a few meters away from him, he saw the back of a woman who resembled someone he couldn't quite place a name with.

The woman had bong curly dark hair and wore a scarlet dancing dress. Those curls seemed a bit farmiliar to him. Not thinking he stood from his seat, staggered a bit before straightening up and crossed the room to where the woman danced. Quickly he grabbed her by the arm and spin her around.

Right there in front of him stood that woman, her eyes doe like, in shock, and she simply stared at him, as he did her.

"Can I help you?" The woman asked.

Draco shook his head several times, "I apologize, I thought you were someone else."

The woman cocked an eyebrow at him and gave a saucy grin, "for the right price, honey, I can be anyone you want me to be."

Inside Draco vomited a little, the woman was ghastly, he wasn't sure she was even a woman now that he could see her face properly. "Thanks, but no thanks."

As he turned and walked away he heard her call something that sounded like, "your touch luck then," but really didn't think he was missing out on anything important.

Deciding he'd seen way too much for the night, he paid his tab, took one more shot, and left the pub. Sighing to himself, once outside the pub he thought, 'The things people do today.'

It didn't seem to take long before he reached the front door of his empty mansion, immediately he regretted ever deciding to keep the house. He should have sold it, taken the money and moved far, far away.

By midnight, Draco was fast asleep in his usual armchair, beside his usual fire, with an empty bottle of fire whisky lying at his feet. Even now, his nights were mostly spent alone, he just didn't feel the need to have anyone any where near him. On those occasions when he did bring a woman home with him, he shagged her, thanked her, and showed her the door. That's just how things were. There was no connection, no interest really, only need. He needed to feel like he was needed, if that made any sense to anyone except him. That's all he ever wanted really.

The morning dawned bright and annoying for Draco. The light stung his eyes, blinded him even, and yet he stayed in his chair. It wasn't that he was unable to move, it was more that he was simply being lazy.

Knowing good and well he reeked of smoke and sweat, he finally decided to get up and ready himself for his day. There were actually a few things he needed to do. For one, he desperately needed to send out a few owls, and that was something he had to leave his house to do. When sending numerous letters and packages, it's best to visit an owlry.

He showered quickly and dressed in his traditional black slacks and black collared shirt. Tousling his blond locks he glanced in the mirror before him and smirked at himself. He was still as devilishly handsome as he remembered.

Draco hurried down the street, not really caring to apologize for bumping into people, or even look at the faces around him. No one mattered, why would he care to apologize to them, or notice them for that matter. He had already entered and left the owlry, visited his tailor, bought a pair of new dragon skin boots, and finally realized he hadn't eaten anything since lunch time the day before.

Glancing down the street on both sides, he settled on a small deli on the other side he often visited. That was one of the only places he ever gave a thought and the only reason for that as their rye bread. He crossed the street quickly and entered the deli which caused a faint tinkling noise somewhere behind the counter.

Quickly a small older witch appeared and smiled up at him. "Ah yes, Mr. Malfoy, what can I do for you today?"

Draco couldn't be sure but he thought he heard a gasp somewhere behind him, though at the time he could have cared less. He returned the old witches smile, "I'll take the usual."

She chuckled a bit, "you know we do offer other things."

"I know, but I'd like the usual, if you please." He retorted.

The witch shrugged and turned to the counter behind her to prepare his sandwich. Draco was familiar with the ways of this place and turned to take a seat at a table in the back corner of the place. Again, he saw a head of curly brown hair but this time, having learned from his experience in the pub, he decided to let it go, thinking, Not every female with curly brown hair is her, idiot.'

He sat himself down with his back almost in the corner of the walls behind him and quickly hid his face with his copy of The Daily Profit. Several minutes later he sensed, the way many people do, that someone had approached him and assumed it was the old witch with his sandwich. He folded his paper and placed it in him lap before looking up.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw at that very moment. Hermione Granger was sitting directly across from him, staring at him with the blankest look he'd ever seen. For what seemed like an eternity he simply sat there, staring at her, his mouth hanging slightly open, unable to say or think of much of anything.

It was she who broke the silence. "Hello Malfoy."

He gave a slight nod and finally realized how ridiculous he looked at that very moment. He quickly shut his mouth and replaced his vacant expression with the signature Malfoy smirk. Quirking an eyebrow he replied, "Granger."

Hermione swallowed hard. "I don't want this to be strange."

He didn't answer, he simply sat, smirking at her. Even when his plate floated through the air and landed on the table in front of him, he still said nothing. Hermione thought for a moment or two that he'd been frozen in time.

"I didn't mean to barge in on you like this." She said with a slight frown.

He shook his head. "Of course not."

"You know," she shifted in her seat, avoiding looking at him now, "I've only just come back into town, today was my first day back."

He scoffed slightly. "What brought you back here?"

Hermione dropped her head, "I was thinking about things in the past." She took his silence as a gesture to go on, "and I had something I thought I needed to say."

Draco nodded and placed his hands on the table in front of him, "Go on."

Finally she brought her eyes up to meet his. "Malfoy… Draco, I'm sorry."

His smirk faded, his eyes softened a bit, and his heart fell a bit. "Sorry? Sorry for what?"

"For never thanking you for helping me realize who I am." She smiled a genuine smile at him, and possibly for the first time in her life, did not fear the man sitting across from her, she admired him for everything he'd done to her. She admired him because without him she would never have ventured so far in her life, she would not be the woman she was sitting right there with him.

He grunted a bit, "Oh, is that all?"

Again she smiled, "No, that isn't all. Draco I…" This was where he cut her off.

"No… Hermione, I'm sorry. Everything I did, everything I said… I'm" he rubbed his hand from his forehead back through his hair then continued, "I'm sorry."

Hermione extended her hand across the table and placed it lightly atop his. "No," she grabbed his hand and tugged on it slightly, "look at me." When he complied she continued, "if it wasn't for you, I don't know where I'd be, probably dead. Draco, you showed me what it meant to live. You taught me that even when bad things happen in life, we all have ways of coping with them, ways of getting over the hurt. I forgive you for everything you've done. And I can only hope you forgive me as well."

This time, it was Draco who smiled. Had she really said that? Hell yes she had. But it wasn't over, not just yet.

She laced her fingers in his and gazed deep into his grey eyes. "I love you."