Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters featured in this story. This story also may contain dark themes as it goes on and may include mild smut. Read with caution.

Chapter 1: The uninvited guest.

"Time may change me, but you can't trace time."

-David Bowie

Black.

She opened her eyes and she saw white.

Black.

Her eyes squeezed until she felt faint.

Red. Her arm laying in a pool of her own blood.

Black.

She couldn't look anymore.

There were screams. Not from fear. From anger. Her eardrums were ringing, begging for her to move away from the loud noise.

Pressure. So much god-damn pressure! Her chest could just barely rise and fall from the weight on top of her. She needed to move, to be strong, to-

The pain worsened and all she could focus on were the whimpers and pleas coming from her own mouth. How small they were compared to the deranged screams she was competing with. Weak. She was so incredibly weak; it made her sick.

"Look at me mudblood!" she spat the last word and Hermione whimpered again, trying with all her might to not give into what the woman demanded of her. But she was scared – no – she was weak and her eyelids fluttered open.

It was worse than she feared, her eyes first focusing on the blade, coloured crimson with her blood. Then to the face of the woman who looked more like a beast with her teeth pulled back in a snarl and eyes that screamed 'danger'.

She needed to keep looking, her eyes trained on the beast like woman. Of course, you can't, you always look away. No, not this time. She was strong, she could resist, she didn't have to-

Her head turned against her will until her tear-stained cheek came into contact with the cold stone. There she met those eyes, those eyes she needed to help her. 'please' she begged silently, her eyes glassy as she searched those grey orbs, looking for any sign that he would help her and that maybe this time it would be different.

He won't help you.

Yes, he will.

He never does, do you know why that is?

He will, she could feel it this time. This time something would change.

It's because you're weak. He will never help such a weak, disgusting human.

No. He will, he will.

His head turned, breaking away from the contact they had shared and he left. Just like he always did. He left her alone, he left her to die. If only she had been stronger, then maybe he would have decided to-

Darkness. Cold, cold darkness.

She felt as though she were suffocating, unable to breathe. Her head wanted to explode.

She was under water, only just able to see the light above the surface. She couldn't move.

She needed air. She was going to die. Pressure kept her unable to push herself up, a hand. Her vision was going in and out of darkness and all she was able to focus on were the eyes she saw just above the water.

Eyes the colour of stone and colder than anything she had felt before.

Silly, silly girl. Who would ever help someone as weak as you?

She tried once more to push herself up, make herself known. If he knew she was there maybe he would-

He knows you're there. He knows it's you. That's why he isn't helping. Because you're-

"Draco…. Please" Her mouth had opened and the water filled her lungs.

Weak.

Hermione jolted awake, she was cold and drenched in what could only be presumed was her own sweat. She could faintly make out the outline of her bed posts thanks to the moonlight.

Thank merlin she thought. It had been just another nightmare. She was safe and in her own bed.

It had been happening every night for the past two years. And every night was the same, she was back on the drawing room floor in the Malfoy Manor feeling the pain and torment she had that night as though it were happening again. And then she would turn her head, meet his eyes and find herself in another helpless scenario. Every time he would turn away from her, every time he would stare at her just as he had done that night, watching her suffer and doing nothing.

She hated him with every fibre in her being for leaving her. But she hated herself more for allowing herself to become as weak as she was in that moment. She would have left herself to die too if she were him. She had acted pathetic. She had acted weak.

She never went back to sleep after she awoke from a nightmare. She was too frightened. Frightened of seeing what she could only guess was disgust in his eyes at the sight of her.

She breathed in.

Then out.

It was only a matter of time before she would lose the strength to get over her night terrors.

Silly girl. You have no strength.

She was out of bed and heading to the kitchen, she needed coffee and perhaps a drop of one of her potions. Harry had scolded her more times than she could count about her unhealthy potion habits.

To hell with him.

She resented that about Harry. How he could so easily carry on with each day and scolded other people who didn't have that strength.

It had been three years since they won the war and the wounds that pained her heart still felt as painful now as they had back then. The day they 'won', a 'victory' the daily prophet had called it. They couldn't have been farther from the truth. No one gained anything from winning the war besides the right to live. They had lost everything. She had lost everything.

The first year had been fine, she had returned to Hogwarts to complete her N.E. in order to secure her a job in the ministry. She did just that, allowing herself to delve into her studies just as she had done before the war. She almost believed things had never changed, that she was happy now.

Almost.

Then she had graduated and found that that all changed so very quickly. The reality that she would not be returning to Hogwarts, that her friends were still dead, had stung almost as bad as when she had seen Ron's cold, lifeless-

She had almost allowed her mind to wander to the place she vowed never to go. She wouldn't think of it, not if her life depended on it. It was better just to pretend she had moved on than to remember.

She shook her head, ridding her mind of the thoughts that made her heart feel as though it were being strangled. In doing this sudden head movement her attention was captured by the mirror that hung in her hallway.

She caught sight of her reflection and she immediately regretted ever looking. She looked like she had been dragged through several bushes and then perhaps a few birds decided to make their nest out of her hair. Her skin was pale, a huge contrast to its usual warm caramel colour and she may as well have smudged mascara under her eyes with how prominent her bags were.

She slept as little as she could, staying up into the late hours of the night working and awaking in the early hours of the morning before the sun awoke. She was stuck in an unhealthy routine, keeping herself occupied with work as an excuse to stay alone. She used to go out with her friends often, meeting up every afternoon she could. Now it seemed she used any excuse to keep to herself, only ever seeing them Sunday nights when she had dinner at the burrow.

Her routine was met with disapproval from all her close friends, but Hermione Granger was far too stubborn to ever seek out help. The last thing she needed was to appear weak like the night when-

Her nightgown was plastered to her skin, hugging every curve of her body due to the cold sweat that had drenched the cotton dress. She would have to take a cold shower.

But first, coffee.

The kettle was on and she was rummaging in her cupboards. Potion after useless potion, the young witch seeking desperately for the one that would put her at ease. The one that would numb it all.

Where the hell is the blasted potion? I swear if Harry has nicked it again, I'll-

Knock Knock Knock. Her hands froze at the three simple pounds on wood. Her ears strained, wondering if perhaps she had imagined the noise.

Knocknockknockknockknock.

The banging grew louder and faster, almost desperate. She knew it wasn't Harry or Ginny, they always came in through the floo network she had set up in her home. Perhaps it was Luna? No, Hermione doubted the petit blonde had the strength to create such loud noises. Then maybe it was Neville, or Dean? One of the Weasleys? By why in Merlin's name would someone be at her front door at this late hour, maybe they-

Knocknockknockknockknockknocknockknockknockknock.

The pounding grew more intense and she found herself moving out of her kitchen and towards the door instinctively. Damn her Gryffindor courage, if only she could allow herself to contact someone rather than always feeling as though she needs to face every situation by herself.

Damn damn damn you Hermione! What if there's a deranged murderer out there?!

She very much hoped she wouldn't be greeted by her death. She would be sorely embarrassed to have one of her friends find her corpse looking so dishevelled.

Her hand was around the door knob, the door itself seeming to shake in its frame from the continuous banging coming from the other side. Before she even thought about the fact that her wand was still sitting on her bedside table, she wrenched the door open.

A tall figure stood before her and the first thing she saw were the eyes.

Grey eyes.

Screaming.

Blood.

Begging.

Abandoned.

Hermione stumbled back, suddenly she was finding it difficult to breath. It felt as though a tonne of bricks were weighing her chest down, preventing her from drawing in sweet breaths of air. Merlin, it can't be him. Not here. Not now.

She refused to believe it; it was simply her mind playing tricks on her again. She was hallucinating, that was all. It wasn't as though she hadn't experienced that before, it only made sense it would be him after all, it was his eyes she saw every time she closed her eyes. His cold, beautiful, loving eyes. The ones that had once made her heart skip a beat when they met her own.

No. Those were different than the eyes she saw every night. Those eyes belonged to someone she had cared for, the ones that haunted her dreams belonged to a filthy traitor. They weren't the same eyes, no matter how similar they seemed. She just knew they weren't; her Draco's eyes would never ignore her plea; he would never betray her.

"You're not real. You're not real. You're not real." She repeated these words to herself over and over under her breath as she squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't bear to look at him, not with the panic shown across his features and the helplessness she found behind his eyes. Her mind was so cruel. She hated herself for doing this to her, making her see the man-

"Hermione…" The word came out as a deep croak, desperation dripping from the three syllables that hung between them in the air. He hadn't called her Hermione in four years, the word was enough to snap her eyes open, tears threatening to fall. "Hermione… please…. I need your help…" His voice was so…. So weak. It frightened her.

She had only seen Draco Malfoy like this twice in her life. Her mind was obviously just trying to torment her, make her believe she was back to a time when things made sense. Back to a time before he hurt her, before he left her, when he loved her and she loved-

She didn't love him. She loathed him. And always had. It was startling how many times she had to remind herself of that. He meant nothing to her… nothing.

She knew she must have been imagining him. Draco Malfoy would know better than to show up at the door of her flat after their last encounter in his manner three years ago. He would know she wouldn't take kindly to seeing him, if only she had had her wand on her then she could have-

Her thoughts were interrupted once more as a groan left the man's lips; his face contorted in pain. Her eyes flickered down and it was only then that she saw him clutching his side. He was wearing smart black trousers, with rather expensive looking shoes. She almost laughed at the sight of seeing him wearing braces to hold up his trousers but whatever amusement she found in the image quickly disappeared when her eyes focused on his white oxford shirt.

It clung to him, she presumed he had to be sweating, his hair appeared damp too. But more startling than the sweat was the deep red stain that covered the left side of his shirt, the blood around his left breast appeared dry but she found that where he was clutching seemed to still be bleeding. It was clear he was losing blood, and quickly, he was even paler than he normally was. The deep red contrasted so beautifully with the lightness of his skin, it reminded her of a story her mother had read to her as a child. Snow White. She imagined Snow white's mother feeling the same amazement at the contrast between her blood and the snow. After all, this had been why she wanted her daughter's lips to be so red and her skin so white. It was simply beautiful.

She was tempted just to let him bleed after what he had done to her. Maybe then it would be him having the nightmares of her eyes rather than her, maybe then he would understand her pain and suffering. Maybe then he might approach her with an apology and a reason as to why he betrayed her trust.

He was shaking a little, as though his legs were unable to hold his weight much longer. He looked pathetic. Never had she seen such a pathetic looking Draco Malfoy- such a frail and weak death eater. A cruel laugh tempted to escape her lips, but she resisted the urge. Instead, she decided to finally speak. If he was real, which she doubted he was, but if he was then she was going to get the answers from him that had plagued her mind for four years.

He was going to explain himself to her. And then she would make him apologize.

"What are you doing here Malfoy?" she spat the last word as though it were venom in her mouth, her face twisting into disgust at the two nasty syllables. It had been years since she had said that name, she had never allowed herself to even speak of him out loud. She would have been giving into her demons by doing that. "You're lucky I haven't killed you already or called the authorities on you, death eater."

She had expected him to come up with some snarky retort, after all that's what Malfoy did best. He always seemed up to argue with her, usually taking it too far in the end and leaving her even more broken than she already was. But he didn't. She was met with a shaky exhale of breath as he tried to keep himself from tumbling to the ground, one of his bloody hands gripping onto her door frame, her pristine, beautiful doorframe. She was sure it would take a good few hours to scrub off the red mark his hand left behind on the white wood; she certainly wouldn't treat him any kinder for that.

"help me… please" He had spoken so quietly she wondered if perhaps she had imagined it. But the desperation she saw within him when she met his eyes made her sure he had spoken.

She swallowed, averting her gaze and looking anywhere but at him. What the hell did he expect her to do? Was she just supposed to forgive and forget? Did he really think she would help him when he would have just killed her had the roles been reversed? She should kill him. That would be the right thing to do, he was a death eater and the ministry had been trying to get a hold of him for years now. She would be doing the wizarding world a favour; they may give her a medal just like they had done after Voldemort's defeat and there would be a dinner held in her honour. That would be nice, to have more than only a few people notice her.

There was a small voice in her head telling her she couldn't kill him. It was the same voice that taunted her, reminded her of how utterly worthless she was to everyone around her. She knew that voice was right. It always was. She wouldn't kill him. She couldn't kill him, not even if it cost her her life.

And so, she knew she would help him, she was Hermione Granger, muggleborn heroine and Hogwarts's golden girl. Perhaps that was why he had come to her; he knew she was too weak to say no.

"And so the days float through my eyes, but still the days seem the same"

- David Bowie

Author's note: Hi! This is my first ever attempt at a fanfiction, I'm not sure how long this story will be as I only have a rough idea of the direction I'm taking it in. I've only written short stories in the past, not like this story that I will attempt. I've read other people's dramione fanfictions for so long I decided it was about time I wrote one of my own. Hopefully you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.