Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. I just use them for own amusement and often make them do things JK Rowling would hate me for. Alas I thank her for letting me have my fun. I make no money off these stories. It's purely entertainment and no copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: Post war. Hermione is 23, young and carefree. At least in her spare time. She leads a double life, hiding her true self from her friends and colleagues at work. Deep inside, she's still struggling over the aftermath of the war, the loss of her parents, and a failed romance with Ron. She meets up with someone she didn't expect to meet, who is also fighting their own post war demons. None other than Draco Malfoy. What will happen between them? Can two enemies come together or will they still bear grudges over the past?

Authors note: This story is somewhat similar to another story I started but sadly lost the muse and did not finish. I wanted to tell a somewhat darker tale about loss and self destruction and finding oneself when the world as you once knew it no longer exists. I wanted a story about two people who are in pain and self loathing, coming together in mutual self destruction. I know it might sound terribly depressing, but I do like a happy ending. But I think these two characters need to work for it. So this story is what I really wanted to write. It won't leave my head, so I hope I can stop letting the romantic in me take over and do the story the proper justice. Rated M for a reason. No actual smut, but plenty of sexual situations. Mentions of rough sex and non consensual sex, but no actual non-con takes place. Bad language, drinking, smoking. It's a dark world, but I still believe in redemption. And that's what this story is ultimately about. Lyrics by Alanis Morissette, Three Days Grace, Poe, The Perfect Day, Lifehouse, Simple Plan, Kelly Clarkson and Richard Marx.

We were strangers
On a crazy adventure
Never dreaming
How our dreams would come true
Now here we stand
Unafraid of the future
At the beginning with you

I knew there was somebody somewhere
Like me alone in the dark
Now I know my dream will live on
I've been waiting so long
Nothing's gonna tear us apart

Another week went by and Draco had still not asked Hermione about him moving in. He was scared of her answer, which he knew seemed silly since she'd already promised him forever. This would just be a step towards that goal. And not that much would change since he was at her flat all the time anyway. It would just be official. And he could pay the rent. And he could bring his stuff over and not just some random clothes and toiletries. He wanted to start an actual life with her. He just had no idea how soon normal people did such things. He wished there was some kind of handbook to read, but he was flying blind. But he did have plans to bring it up to her tonight. He was tired of worrying about it. He was just going to do it and see what she thought.

They were lying together on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and she was forcing Draco to watch Dawson's Creek with her. He complained the whole time and she had to keep shushing him or shoving popcorn in his mouth to make him be quiet.

"I still don't get this show. Dawson is a ponce and that other bloke is a total tosser. That girl with the boys name should ditch both of them and find someone better. I'm telling you that Dawson character is gonna turn out gay and become lovers with that other gay bloke. Mark my words. He's got closet case written all over him," Draco gave his commentary to her.

"God, will you be quiet? I happen to like this show! And Dawson is not going to be gay with that girl's brother. That's ridiculous," she told him.

"The whole show is ridiculous. Except I like that blonde party chick. She's hot. But something tells me she's gonna die. I can just feel it. I mean, she's the bad apple who parties too much, so obviously she'll od so that today's kids will learn a lesson to stay Puritans all their lives and never have any fun at all."

"She better not die. She's my favorite. I don't relate to Joey anymore because she's too pure and sweet. She reminds me of the old me. She bugs me. Maybe she'll die instead?"

"Nah, she's the main star. Besides how would she die? Falling off the dock and drowning in two feet of water? She never does anything interesting as far as I can tell. Unless she slips and falls off that stupid ladder going into Dawson's room. That might be a good death scene. Let's hope for that."

Hermione threw popcorn at Draco's head. "You're terrible. You want her to fall to her death off a ladder?"

"Sure. I mean, this show doesn't have Fluke worms to eat you, so it might as well be a ladder accident," he shrugged.

"Now you made me miss the end! What just happened? I wasn't paying attention," she scolded him.

"I don't know, I was too busy plotting the annoying girls death."

Hermione sighed. "Oh well, I'll figure it out next week I guess. But you can stay home next time. I don't wanna hear your comments," she pouted.

"Stay home? You mean my place?" he asked, slightly unnerved that she had uninvited him over the very moment he was about to ask to move in.

"Yes, your place. Don't you still have one? You never leave my sofa, I swear."

"Yeah, about that. Um, I kinda wanted to ask you something," he said tentatively.

"What?"

"Well it's about my place."

"Did you forget to pay the rent? Did you get evicted? Because that would sort of make me laugh given all the money you've got," she giggled.

"No, I paid the rent. It's just why should I? I don't really live there anymore. Wouldn't it make sense for me to move in here?"

"Move in with me? Like officially?" she asked as she put the popcorn on the table and sat up.

"Yeah, officially. It's nice here and homey. And it has a cat. And you. Plus a telly and that DVR thingy. And you've got plants, which I water every day, mind you," he explained.

"I wondered why they weren't dead yet. I always forget about them."

"Well see, you obviously need me around. Otherwise your plants would die and your cat would get depressed. Do you realize he cries every time you leave? I have to shut him up with food and talk to him a lot or else he scratches your furniture and tries to eat your shoes."

"He does?"

"Yes."

"Oh. I wondered why all my shoes had bite marks on them."

"But see, I stop him. He likes me. He listens to me."

"That's because you spoil him with treats. Don't think I didn't notice the bag sitting in the pantry. You bribe him for his affection," she informed him.

"Okay, yeah, there's some bribery involved. But that doesn't negate the issue. I also happen to clean up and do the washing for you. And yes, I use magic, but I still do it! Frankly your place would be a hovel without me and probably covered in cat piss and ripped furniture and dead plants."

"Anything else you'd like to add? You don't cook. Will you cook?"

"Cook? Um, sure. I might need to find a book or something first though. But alright."

"How about daily foot rubs? Or possibly wearing a ripped pillow case like a house elf?"

"Alright, now you're just fucking with me. Am I completely off base here? Are you trying to tell me it's a bad idea?" he asked with a sigh.

She shoved him playfully and ruffled his hair. "Don't be silly, you dolt. Do you think I don't want you moving in? You basically already live here. I was just enjoying you pleading your case. It was adorable," she smirked at him.

"I'm glad I amused you. I was nervous! I didn't know what you'd say. I mean, I am here all the time, but all my shit isn't. How'd I know you'd agree to such a huge step? I've never done this before!" he told her with agitation.

"Just relax. It is a huge step. But I'm not scared. I want to be with you. I adore coming home to you sitting on my sofa. Sometimes you even have wine waiting. It's heavenly. And I don't mind your shit. We'll find somewhere to put it all," she shrugged.

"Really? Just like that? It's cool? I can move in?" he asked curiously.

"Yes!"

"God, I stressed over this for what seemed like ages. And it's not even a big deal. I thought you might panic or something. Or want your space. I mean, you just told me to stay home next week so you can watch your silly soap opera," he reminded her.

"Yeah, well, I'll live. And you could just shut up and watch it. If you do, I'll sit through an episode of your beloved X-Files and I won't even say a word. Promise."

"You will?"

"Sure. Plus that FBI guy is rather handsome. Please tell me there's sex on the show. He's nailing his partner, right?" she wondered.

"No, they're just friends. I think so anyway. They're kind of vague about it. But it's not about sex, it's a supernatural crime show, not a porno, for God's sake."

"Yeah, but I like romance. I wanna see smoochies and crazy sex. It excites me," she admitted.

"Don't I give you enough of that in real life?" he wondered.

"Yes, but I still like to watch the fantasy unfold on the screen. Oh! Have you seen Moulin Rouge? You simply have to watch it with me. I love it," she proclaimed excitedly.

"Moulin Rouge? The red windmill? What the hell is that about?"

"You speak French?"

"Yes. We summered there when I was growing up. But you didn't answer my question. Is it about a windmill?"

"No, it's a nightclub. A risqué one. It's a tragic musical love story."

"A bloody musical? Give me a break. I want to move in, but I still want to keep my balls in my possession," he sighed.

"I'm not stealing your balls. We're compromising. I'll watch your boring crap and you have to watch mine. It's how men and women live together and not kill each other."

"Okay. Moulin Rouge it is. But not until after it's official. I want my crap here and put away and then I'll watch it," he relented.

"Perfect. So when do you want to do it?"

"How about as soon as possible? I don't have a lease and the month ends in a few days. It'd save me the money if I got out fast. But of course I'll pay for this place. I'm not a freeloader."

"I never thought you were. But you don't have to pay it all. We can split it."

"No, let me pay. I insist. Spend your money on other things. I pay for my own home."

"Alright. I won't argue. I don't mind being spoiled. Who knew I'd land a rich bloke? Certainly not me," she laughed.

"I'm gonna take perfect care of everything. Promise. Just leave it all to me from now on," he assured her.

"I trust you. I'm excited. Are you?"

"Yes. Very. You know someday I will do more than just shack up with you. But I'm not there quite yet," he admitted quietly, knowing her desire to eventually marry.

"It's okay. I've got time. This is the first step. A couple of months ago, you'd have a panic episode over this, and now you're the one wanting to move in," she chuckled slightly.

"What can I say? I'm under your spell."

"Good then my Imperius curse is working," she smiled playfully.

"Is that was this is?" he laughed.

"No. But don't be worried. It'll be great. Now lets go to bed, shall we?"

"It's only after nine."

"I never said I wanted to sleep."

"Oh, well then let's get a move on. The bed awaits."

She got up and grabbed his hand and they wandered down the hall together to what was now almost officially their bedroom. And this time Hermione knew she was getting it right. Not like with Ron. This was completely different. This time it was for keeps. She knew that deep down in her heart. She'd finally found the one.

In the next couple of days, Draco gradually emptied out his flat and brought his things to Hermione's place. He was giving up almost all the furniture, except a chair that he loved and refused to part with. But they were having trouble agreeing on where to put it.

"Why can't it just go here?" Draco asked, pointing to a spot where another chair resided.

"Because that's where my chair goes, and it matches the sofa. Your chair is black and my sofa is mauve. It totally clashes," she explained.

"Love, I'm consenting to live with a fucking pink sofa, the least you can do is let me put my bloody chair here. It's a recliner and it's leather and it's fucking comfortable!"

"The sofa is not pink, it's mauve. And where will I put my chair?" she wondered.

"How about over there?" he pointed to an empty alcove by the window.

"Over there? Why would I ever sit in a corner and stare at a wall?"

"You never use this chair anyway. You're always on the sofa."

"So are you!"

"That's because I never had my chair here before," he explained.

"Oh alright. Fine. Put the bloody chair there. I don't care."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I still think it's going to mess up the Fung Shui of the room."

"The what?"

"Fung Shui. It's an ancient Chinese practice of placing items in your home in proper arrangements so your entire life doesn't fly off kilter and chaos ensues."

"You actually believe that nonsense? Where did you learn that?"

"I read it in a book."

"Of course. Is there anything you haven't read?"

"Probably not."

"Well in Fung Shui land, where would the chair not cause chaos to ensue?"

"I don't know. Don't worry about it. I'm sure it's fine. I don't actually believe in Fung Shui anyway, but I figured why tempt fate? So I followed the stupid book."

"Love, I don't think my chair will bring about an apocalypse. It's a bloody chair. And so what if it doesn't match? Throw one of your frilly afghans over it and it'll blend," he told her as he held her shoulders and gave her a kiss.

"You're right. I'm being stubborn. It just reminds me of when I moved in with Ron and he took over the entire flat and didn't let me do anything I wanted. It was all his shit and he gave me a tiny corner of the bedroom to decorate as I wished. So when I moved out and into this place, it was like my sanctuary. I could do whatever I wanted and so I bought a mauve sofa just to be girly. I don't even like mauve that much."

"Look, I don't want to overtake your space. But you just said you detested living in a place where Ron didn't allow you any of your own things. Do you want me to feel that way?" he wondered.

She sighed and sat down on her sofa and shook her head. "No. I want this to be our place. You're absolutely right. I want you to feel at home."

"Alright. And just so you know, I already feel pretty comfy here. I'm not requesting a total overhaul. It's a chair. And perhaps some pictures and well, I think my family sword would look spectacular over the fireplace."

"But what about the picture I already have there?" she pouted.

"It's just a painting of a sunset. Does it really mean that much to you?"

"No. You can put up the sword. I bought the painting in a thrift store. But I'm afraid the sword will make the place look like medieval castle or something. All we'd need is a suit of armor in the corner."

He laughed. "Oh stop. I'm not putting in a dungeon or suggesting we build a moat around the building. I thought you said this was exciting and cool? You said you weren't scared, but now you look a bit like a frightened kitten. Is this a bad move?" he wondered curiously.

"No, it's not. And I'm not scared, I promise. I really want to live with you. It's just I'm particular about my space, that's all. I'm a bit anal retentive, if you hadn't noticed."

"Uh, I sort of noticed that about you twelve years ago. But it doesn't bother me. It's kind of cute. But it works because I'm rather easy to please. I grew up in a palace where I wasn't allowed to touch anything. Certain rooms were strictly forbidden. I had zero input on anything around me. My room was the only place I could do as I wanted, and even then, my father picked out all the furniture and bedding and draperies. I was simply allowed to hang my posters and my little knick knacks. I was never even allowed to pick out my own clothing! So if you really hate the chair, I'll sell it. It's fine," he told her seriously.

"No. Keep it. I mean, I had no idea how controlling your parents were. I certainly don't wish to emulate that sort of life for you. I'm letting you have free range. Do whatever you want to the place. But do not put up a Slytherin banner in any part of this home. I will tear it down," she said with a small smirk.

"Oh come on. Now you've ruined my plans to decorate the bedroom in green and silver and hang a large snake across the ceiling and a portrait of Salazar Slytherin above the bed," he joked.

"Shut up. You were not going to do that."

"Oh yeah, I was. And I was planning to build my own Chamber of Secrets downstairs in the incinerator room. I already ordered a Basilisk from the pet shop."

"You're ridiculous," she shoved him playfully.

"I know. But seriously, I'm not gonna take over. We're just gonna compromise a little and we'll be both feel content. That's all I want. At least you let me buy my own clothes."

"I like your clothes. Most of them. Except that silly old tattered school shirt. It belongs in a bin."

"Never. I will keep that shirt until there's nothing left but a scrap of fabric. It was the last thing I bought before my entire life went to shit. It's sentimental," he explained.

"Oh. I didn't realize. I thought you said it was your lucky shirt? It didn't seem to bring you much luck."

"Sure it did. I didn't die, did I? Everyone thought I would. Hell, it was practically a given. And I knew it. And yet, here I am. Still breathing. I was supposed to die that night on the tower, and I didn't. So that's luck."

"Actually it was love, not luck. You were never going to die that night. Perhaps you could have perished in the battle later, but you weren't going to die that night," she informed him softly.

"What do you mean? Dumbledore was supposed to kill me. I mean, I was supposed to kill him first obviously, but who are we kidding? He would have wiped the floor with me with both hands tied behind his back. That is if he hadn't been so ill and frail at the time."

"Yes, I know. But he was never planning to fight you at all, sick or not. And you were never going to be the one who killed him. It was always going to be Snape. It wasn't luck that put him on that tower with you that night, it was love," she explained.

"Snape loved me?"

"No, your mother did. Do you not know any of this?"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"Well, your mum was terrified for your safety. She knew as well as you did that you'd probably be killed if you fought Dumbledore. So she begged Snape to do it for you. They made the Unbreakable Vow. And along with that, Dumbledore was already dying and he asked Snape to kill him when the moment arrived. Dumbledore wished to save your soul, and your mum wished to spare your life. You honestly didn't know this stuff? No one told you?" she wondered.

He just sat there for a moment and took it all in. He shook his head. "No, no one told me. Why wouldn't someone have told me? Why wasn't it brought up at the trials? I don't understand."

"I don't know why it was never brought to light. I suppose it wasn't necessary with the other evidence."

"How did you know all this? How could you know and not me when it was my life at stake?"

"I found out from Harry. He knows all kinds of things you'd never dream of. He was always with Dumbledore and he had secret meetings with him and Snape all the time. And plus he had access to a pensieve, which showed him all kinds of things no one else would ever know."

"Snape was actually willing to die himself rather than let me die? I mean, you can't break an Unbreakable Vow or you're history."

"Well he knew that he was always going to kill Dumbledore anyway. It wasn't a risk really. He made the vow because the plan was already in place."

"Then what was the bloody point of any of it? Why did I have to do all that work and worry myself to death and have endless panic attacks every night, when everything was already out of my hands? I did it all for nothing!"

"No, you still had to do what you did. You had to carry out the plans or Voldemort would have murdered you and your parents. You did what you were supposed to do and that was vital to your survival. It all happened as it was supposed to. If you had known the truth, you might have blown Snape's cover and ruined everything. He was trying to protect you. So was your mum."

"I guess I just don't understand why no one told me the truth eventually. I should have known about it."

"Perhaps your mum didn't feel you needed to know?"

"I knew she was worried about me, but I didn't know how far she went to make sure I would be okay."

"She may be a bit snobby and priggish, but she's still a mother. And from what I hear, there's nothing stronger than a mother's love for her child. Harry's mum died just to save him. Voldemort was going to let her go, but she refused to give up Harry to him. And your mum lied straight to Voldemort's face and said Harry was dead just so she could leave and find you."

"Yeah, that part I did know. My mother has stones, I'll give her that. I know some people look at her and just assume she's vacuous and nothing but a pretty thing to drape across my father's arm at parties. But she's no shrinking violet, nor a piece of arm candy. She's tough and she's brave and she's smart. Maybe that's why I like women who are the same way? I probably have a fucked up head complex and severe mummy issues that I'd rather not explore," he laughed slightly.

"I don't know about that, but I rather like your mum. I'm not sure how she feels about me, but I like her," Hermione smiled.

"I think she likes you. We'll see how much when I tell my parents I've moved in with you. That should be fun."

"You think they'll mind? Are they really that old fashioned?"

"Eh, not really. I mean, they used to tell me when I was young that a proper woman would never sleep with a man before marriage. And that I should uphold that and wait for my arranged wedding to God knows who, the moment I turned eighteen. But I got the fuck out of that house before that could happen, and I kind of made it clear that I wasn't exactly living a celibate lifestyle. Plus, there were rumors about me all the time. Don't think I didn't know what people said of me. I tried to keep a low profile and stick with Muggles who didn't know me, but somehow someone got wind of something or other and the next thing I knew I was being called a womanizer and a playboy and basically a huge douchebag," he laughed slightly.

"Well you were all of those things, let's be honest," she said with a small smile.

"Alright, you got me there. The rumors were true. But still! Explaining that shit to my parents? My mum thought I was a virgin and I had to break her heart and tell her I'd lost that virtue when I was fifteen. You should have seen her face. But eventually they got over it. I mean, it's not the 1950's anymore. Who gets married as a virgin anymore?"

"I was a bit of a late bloomer. I was nearly eighteen. And then I didn't sleep with anyone for an entire year after Ron and I broke up. But then I sort of went crazy and became the town tramp. I don't know how that happened," she admitted.

"You were just young and having fun. You're not a tramp."

"I was though. I'm not exactly proud of the life I led. It was foolish. And if my parents had been around to see me that way, I would jump off a bridge rather than face them. They didn't raise me that way. And I was always so bloody uptight and sensible. I have no idea what came over me."

"You were escaping. So was I. But none of that matters anymore. The past is dead and gone. And I really wish to keep it that way. For both of us. We've got this new life right now and a home to put together. Let's just focus on that. Besides the sooner we get my shit put away, the sooner we can watch that dumb movie you want me to see. So let's keep unpacking, alright?"

She smiled and nodded her head. "Alright. I've made space in the closet for you. And I also emptied out some drawers in the bedroom. Oh, and please do put out your coffee maker because it's much nicer than mine. Just chuck mine in a bin. Oh and your blender. I don't own one and we could make margaritas with it. Why do you have a blender anyway?"

"I don't know. I simply went to the kitchen accessories shop and said I needed everything they had. I don't even know how to use it. It just sits on my counter all shiny and useless. But if you want it, it's yours," he smiled.

"No, it's ours."

"Right. Ours. I like the sound of that."

She snuggled up next to him and held him tightly. "I'm so excited to start a life with you. It's going to be amazing."

"Yes, it will be. I'll make sure of it," he promised her with a kiss.

They both knew it would be a bit of an adjustment, but they'd muddle through. It was worth it in the end. A few months ago, neither of them had anything or anyone and neither ever even dared to look into the future at all. But now they were both actually excited for whatever came next. They weren't flailing alone in the world anymore. They had each other. Two people who probably couldn't be more wrong for each other, yet they seemed to balance each other out somehow. The truth was, neither of them could envision being with anyone else. No one else would put up with them. They argued almost constantly, but it was always playful. They didn't take it seriously. And it was never mean spirited. Not like when Hermione and Ron would argue. That was always serious and he could be downright mean when he wanted to be. And he couldn't deal with her bossy attitude. But Draco loved it. It challenged him. And in the end, they also shared some very tender moments that neither had ever shared with anyone else before. Their trust in each other was limitless, which made little sense since they spent years detesting one another. But that was part of the attraction, twisted as it seemed. They liked the friction and the sexual tension and the passion. Deep down, they were two halves of the same coin. It didn't matter their history, it only mattered what they saw right now. And what they saw now was a chance at happiness. They'd both given up that hope, but they'd found it in each other. And neither of them were willing to ever let it go.

To be continued…Okay, this one was quite a bit shorter than the last, but it's how I wanted it to be. I hope you enjoy it and please do leave a review! I love hearing your thoughts. Thanks for following along!