Summary: "You could have been something. You could have been someone. But you blew it."-When Hermione Granger finds Draco Malfoy crying in the girls' bathroom, she decides to find out what's wrong. With only the girl who he despises willing to help him, things are going to change. DM/HG. Compliant up to Order of the Phoenix

Mature content and themes, explicit language.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really, I don't. Haha, bad joke, I know, but really, I own nothing, everything belongs to the queen, Ms. Rowling.

Chapter 1: Close Ones

People often say that in times of turbulence, all one has to do is remain positive, and everything will slowly come together on its own.

Bullshit.

Over the past few years, all Hermione Granger had done was remain positive. Whenever something had gone wrong, Hermione had been the one to console and support her friends. Whenever anyone needed help, she had been the one to help them. Whenever people had lost hope, she had been the one to tell them to keep trying, and that it would be okay. Now it seemed like all her efforts were fruitless. What help had it done?

Now, in her sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, everyone to pass her in the halls would see the same girl, best friend of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, brightest witch of her age, with a smile that stretched from cheek to cheek, a constant hunger for knowledge etched in her features, yet, Hermione Granger was no longer the same. Her fifth year had changed her, and sobered her like a blast of chilly wind. After the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, it came to her like she had been slapped in the face: they were in war. This was it, it had officially begun, although Voldemort had been back from the end of fourth year, when Harry returned from Little Hangleton, clutching the limp body of Cedric Diggory.

After countless years of remaining positive, Hermione Granger could now say that it had done her no good. After countless years of putting on fake smiles, and giving false hope, she had finally realized that it was time for her to give up being an optimist, and become a realist.

Things were not looking good. Voldemort had been back for almost two years, yet the public had just acknowledged his existence last year. Countless prisoners had escaped from Azkaban, a feat that had previously been considered almost impossible. News was that he was off recruiting giants, and that he already had the support of the werewolf community. He was getting stronger day by day, and could make his move at any moment. Fuck the stereotypes that came with her red and gold colours, the truth was, that Hermione Granger was scared. Yes, she was scared, more so than she cared to admit. This was a war in which people like her were victims. After Harry Potter himself, people like her were the ones Voldemort wanted to get his hands on the most, people they called mudbloods.

It shocked Hermione how to this day, certain wizards and witches still believed in blood supremacy. To this day, they still believed that they were superior to her, solely because of her blood. During her younger days, thanks to relentless bullying, she had sometimes even come to believe that she was in some way inferior. Her insecurities were sky high, and the only thing that distracted her from them were her friends.

Her friends. Her family. Her everything.

Even she herself couldn't comprehend how great her true level of affection for them was. When she had thought she had nothing, they gave her everything. On days she felt like she had nobody, they came bouncing in to make her smile. They'd give their own lives up for her, and she would do the same for them. They were so protective about her, which made Hermione smile. They were a constant in her life. Hermione Granger had seen much more in her short life than most witches and wizards did ever, and through everything, through her ups and downs, the bad days and the good days, the rainy days and the sunny, they were always there. Her boys, Harry and Ron.

Harry, regardless of what that scum Rita Skeeter wrote about him, was one of the kindest and most selfless wizards she knew. For him, it had always been others before himself. He to her was the brother she never had. Their relationship was one that Hermione hoped she would cherish until the moment she took her last breath, regardless of whatever would happen with her and Ron.

Ron…

Her crush since third year, the boy she had come to love, the boy she pictured herself with 20 years from now. She had always harboured feelings for the youngest male Weasley, and she had thought he had also returned her feelings, until recently. Hermione has always thought she had her entire life planned out. She would top all of her classes, follow a career path that would bring a change to the wizarding world, and marry her best friend, Ronald Weasley. Now, she didn't have a damn clue of where she was going with her life.

When she had seen Ron snogging Lavender Brown in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, she had felt like she had been stabbed with a thousand knives. She continuously told herself that she had no right to feel hurt or betrayed, because Ron wasn't even her boyfriend. Yet, she couldn't help but cry on Harry's shoulder that night, like the heartbroken teenage girl she was.

She had thought he liked her back...that he would make a move...that he also loved her…

But alas, after the show he put up in the common room, it was safe to say Hermione's feelings were only one sided.

So yes, at the moment, her life was pretty shit.

"Hermione," called Harry, "let's head down to dinner, shall we?"

"Coming." Replied Hermione.

Putting her books to the side, with her nose up, she managed to walk through the common room, without glancing at Ron and Lavender.

"C'mon mate, we've got to go down to the great hall for dinner."

"Yes Blaise...give me a minute. You go, I'll join you in a bit."

"Are you sure?" Questioned the dark skinned wizard.

"Yes, positive. You go, I'll be down in a bit. I have something to finish up."

"Okay then."

Draco Malfoy was left alone in his dormitory as Blaise Zabini left. The pale, young, blond lifted himself up from his four poster bed, and walked over to the mirror in the room, to analyze the young man in front of him.

The wizard he saw was no longer the wizard that existed just a few short years ago. That young wizard had been destroyed, demolished, and killed, alongside his childhood innocence. What remained was a mere corpse of the boy that once existed. His ashen skin was a ghostly pale, bags formed under his eyes, deprivation of sleep etched across his face. His grey eyes that once twinkled now looked as dull as mud, and his once toned body was now almost just bones.

He looked like absolute shit.

Draco Malfoy's life had always been full of the greatest luxuries imaginable. He had been given the best of everything. The best robes, the best toys, the best food, everything. His childhood had been a happy one, full of wonderful memories of him playing in the Malfoy gardens, his mother telling him stories, and his family being...happy.

Regardless of what people said about her, Narcissa Malfoy was an amazing mother. She would do anything for her son, and cross any limits to keep him happy. The same could not be said for his husband.

Draco remembered that at one time, his father too had been...decent. Those days seemed so long ago, yet they were etched in his memories like a clear motion picture. Now, Lucius was nothing more than a slave, and Narcissa was nothing more than his wife.

He wished...he wished so badly that he could go back to those days. Those days when he began to do magic, and his father would look at him with a sense of pride. Or those days, when he'd lay in his mother's lap while she read him stories from The Tales of Beedle and the Bard. Or those days, when he strutted around this very castle, with his nose up, with a sense of mischief and innocence that he would never get back.

Draco Malfoy was completely different from the boy he was a mere year ago. Just a year ago, he was happily serving his duties as head of the Inquisitorial Squad, his largest problem being Potter's happiness. Now...hadn't a clue of what he was.

It hurt so fucking much.

He was no more than a puppet, whose strings were being controlled by the Dark Lord.

How badly he wanted to end it all...to wipe his existence from this world...to be gone to somewhere far away...somewhere better…

But no. This was not just about him. If he failed his mission, the Dark Lord would kill not only him, but his family too. He needed to do this for them. For his mother.

Snapping out of his trance, he ran his fingers through his hair and put on the mask of indifference he had learned to master throughout all these years, and with one last look at the mirror, he was off to the great hall.

"Hey, Hermione, are you okay?"

"Sorry?"

"You're being a bit distant."

"Oh, sorry Harry, just got distracted."

"Listen, Hermione, if you want to talk about Ron, we can-"

"No. I just...don't want to speak about him right now. I don't know why I'm overreacting, I have no right to feel upset."

"Listen Hermione, I know how you feel about Ron, and I'm sure he feels the same way about you. Just watch, this...thing with Lavender will be over soon."

"I can't just sit here waiting for Ronald to break up with Lavender, Harry. Don't you see how pathetic that is? I just…don't want to talk about him right now. Can we discuss something else?"

"Of course, sorry Hermione. Did you hear about…"

Whatever Harry had said, Hermione didn't listen, because she had been distracted by someone sitting on the Slytherin table, on the other side of the great hall.

Draco Malfoy.

The boy she despised since her first year. She had come to Hogwarts with such great dreams, and he had been the one to make her feel like shit. He had been the one to always ruin her day with that awful word. He had been the one she had hated since day one, the one who had relentlessly bullied her from when she was an eleven year old girl.

He looked...awfully pale, even paler than his usual complexion. He looked almost sick, and it seemed like he hadn't had sleep in days. It made her think back to September, when they had arrived at Hogwarts on the Hogwarts Express. When Harry had suspected he had taken the mark.

Back then it seemed impossible to her. It seemed almost foolish of Voldemort to give a 16 year old the dark mark. But after a lot of thinking, she now had doubts.

It would certainly explain why he looked like a body tethering on the edge of life and death.

But no, how could he have taken the mark? She was certainly overthinking things. With that, she snapped back into reality, and turned back to her best friend.

After eating two spoonfuls of his dinner, Draco excused himself and rushed off to the Room of Requirement. In a rush to leave the great hall, he bumped into a petite form, causing the witch to lose her balance. Out of impulse, Draco extended his arm to balance her.

"I'm terribly sorry, thanks for...oh, it's you." The witch said with a tone of disgust.

He looked up and saw a very familiar face. A face he had grown to loathe over all his years at Hogwarts.

Hermione Granger.

With a look of repulse, he let go of her roughly and wiped his hand off on his robes to get rid of any diseases he may have contracted.

"Filthy little mudblood, watch where you are going next time, wouldn't want your diseases to be spreading."

And with that, before the witch could say anything else, he turned on his heel and was off.

a/n: And so begins a new journey! This is my very first fanfic EVER and I'm super excited to be writing it! After countless years of browsing this website, I've finally plucked up the courage (took a lot of convincing from my lovely friends, mind you) and opened an account. This will be a very dark fic, with mature themes and explicit language. I know this was a very short chapter, but I promise the ones coming will be longer!

Shoutouts to TakeAnotherPieceOfMyHeart and Walkinginawinterwonderland for being my very first reviews! I literally squealed this morning when I saw them! I love you guys so much, you guys are the ones that are motivating me to write more.

I give out my heartfelt condolences for the victims of the Beirut explosion last week. God bless their souls.

Remember to leave a review after reading, they really do mean a lot. Happy reading!