Chapter inspired by Sarah McLachlan's wonderful song, "Fallen" (and partly by Lifehouse's equally wonderful song, "Everything.")
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He'd been home for hours. Sitting in front of the fireplace and staring into the scorching flames with a faraway gaze, the globular glass in his hand still full with brandy. Just thinking.

He should've been warmed up by then, but he wasn't. He'd couldn't remember ever feeling so cold before.

It wasn't supposed to hurt like this. He'd been prepared. For weeks, while he was with her, laughing and loving and touching and whispering, he'd tried to envision what would happen when he'd let her go. He'd looked at her when she was deeply engrossed in one of her books or singing to herself as she was preparing lunch or when she was just sleeping soundly at night, and had started to piece together whatever speech he would give her when the day arrived.

It won't work out. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending that I'm okay with this. That I'm okay with being scared all the time.

But then she'd turned to him and smiled and all he'd been thinking about was forgotten.

And in the end, nothing had turned out as he'd thought it would. He never thought he could feel … this. This kind of darkness. He didn't think it would be so unbearable and … empty, at the same time. He wanted to cry – God, he just wanted to feel something – but he couldn't. So he remained as collected as always. Maybe even more so.

Perhaps he needed her to be able to do all of those … ordinary things. To tell him that yes, it was okay to get angry sometimes, it was okay for him to have a horrible day and just be quiet for a while. It was okay to cry a little, sometimes, if he needed it. He never did cry, but he knew that if it ever would happen, it would be all right as long as he was with her while he did it.

She'd told him all those things, told him it was okay to let go every once in a while, and she was one of the few people who'd ever seen him laugh so hard that his sides ached and his eyes watered.

He swirled the dark liquid in his glass absentmindedly, his gaze still fixed on the fire as his father appeared in the doorway. Not bothering to feign any kind of emotion upon his sudden presence, he simply raised the glass and let a bit of liquor wet his lips. "Evening, father."

"Evening, Draco." Lucius walked calmly across the room – taking his time, as usual. Draco knew he had sought him out for a reason – after all, he wasn't the type of person who would come up to anyone just to talk for the sake of catching up – but he also knew that it would only be revealed when his father was good and ready. "I didn't hear you come back. How long have you been home?"

Draco finally tore his gaze from the fireplace and was momentarily blinded when he looked at his father who was now getting comfortable in the plush chair across from him. "A couple of hours ago, I think," he said noncommittally. He didn't know. He didn't care.

He was still so cold.

Lucius nodded and leaned back in his seat, his long, white hair settling over his shoulders in an almost majestic motion. Sometimes Draco wanted to be him. "I thought we could talk for a moment," he said slowly, each word seemingly only slipping out after much deliberation. "About your future, Draco. Your education is over now. Have you given any consideration as to what you want to do now that you've graduated from Hogwarts?"

Run away. Be with her. Make her see. Apologize. Apologize. Apologize.

"I'm not sure yet," he replied, placing the brandy glass back on the living room table, virtually untouched. "There's still so many options. And I have time to figure it out."

His father frowned, his fingers lightly drumming on the arm of his chair. "I'll speak to some of my friends first thing tomorrow, see what I can do. Harold could probably get you a good job at the Observer. Not as a journalist, of course, but you'll be able to work your way up the ladder."

Draco simply closed his eyes and nodded. He wasn't up for a discussion. Not tonight. He just wanted his father to leave so he could be alone and think. Or maybe slip out of the manor unnoticed and run to her, as fast as humanly possible, and make her take him back. It didn't really matter which.

"We also need to talk about a family of your own." Lucius had the gift of being able to change the subject before you could blink. "It's about time, don't you think? Settle down, take a wife…"

Draco was sure he was gonna get sick at any moment.

"It will only improve your social status once you start your new job," Lucius continued, visibly unaffected with the fact that he was single-handedly mapping out his son's future without needing any kind of consent from the younger man. "People are more comfortable hiring a man with a family, Draco. They are more reliable, 'cause they have more to lose." His eyes scanned the room like he was inspecting a humid dungeon. "Your wife would have to be someone from an important family, of course. That miss Parkinson seems like a delightful creature. Have you ever considered-"

"What if I've already found someone?" Draco blurted out, stopping his father's one-sided conversation. He had to ask. Maybe he would understand…

Lucius' eyebrow raised in surprise. "You have? Well, that's … marvelous. Saves us both some trouble, doesn't it?" He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. "What family is she from? Have they ever been over for dinner? It wouldn't happen to be miss Parkinson, would it? I say, Draco, that would be a fine choice for a wife."

Draco's heart plummeted at his father's words. "No," he replied, his voice etched with only the slightest bit of tension. "There's no one. I was just wondering if I could find a bride of my own, if the opportunity should ever arise."

"Why, of course." Lucius frowned a little. "Surely that would be the best solution. Son, are you okay? You don't seem like yourself today."

Draco almost winced at the inquiry. No, he wasn't fine. How could he be fine? He needed her back, he couldn't function otherwise, and now his father was practically promising him off to any random girl who had enough Pure blood in her veins to be considered worthy. Just as he had told Hermione. How was that for bloody irony?

"I think it might be something I've eaten," he said instead, turning his gaze back to the fireplace. "Sorry, father. I'll be better in the morning."

Lucius remained silent for a moment, studying his son who was seemingly so far away. "I see more than you think I do, son," he said calmly, holding the younger man's gaze when he looked back at him in wonder. "A proper wife would be good for you. Think about it." He stood up from his seat and was about to walk out of the room, but hesitated and turned around again. "You need to learn to distinguish the good from the bad, Draco. Clearly whatever you've…" He paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Eaten … is not good for you. The best thing would probably be to stay away from it in the future, don't you think?"

Draco's eyes widened as Lucius turned back around and walked out of the room as calmly as he'd entered it. He drew in a shaky breath and fell back in his seat, closing his eyes when his head hit the back of the couch.

He knew. What was even worse was, he was right. His father was bloody right and he hated it. He'd known right from the start how bad it was for him, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. Everything had been so exciting at first, so new and forbidden and it had intoxicated him. But soon it grew into this inescapable need, this deep fear of losing and hundreds, thousands of tiny little bubbles of happiness tickling in his stomach.

And now this freezing cold from his afternoon outside in the snow that he couldn't seem to shake off.

A fast decision coming over him, he got up from his seat and strode across the room, peeking outside the door to see if anyone was around. He wasn't surprised when he found the hallway empty – his parents slept in the other end of the mansion and had never noticed when he snuck out at night. Still, he tiptoed towards the coat rack beside the front door where his cape hung. Once he'd slipped into it, he glanced over his shoulder one last time and opened the door to the cold night outside.

He needed to see her … just one more time.

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She wasn't sure how she'd gotten home. She'd wandered around for hours, not really going anywhere, but never stopping. She'd cried one moment, yelled out in anger the next, and always, always wondered if he was behind her. If he was trying to catch up to her, trying to stop her from walking away. So she'd slowed down more than once, even though she hated herself for it. She didn't want him to come after her, she wasn't interested in hearing whatever explanation he would make up. But God, did she need him to do just that.

And all of a sudden, she was standing in front of her home, feeling cold and frail and completely exhausted. Most of all she was just drained. There was nothing in the world that could affect her right then. Nothing at all.

She walked the few steps up the driveway and opened the door, immediately greeted with the sight of her roommate. Ginny was curled up on the couch situated in the living room, reading what Hermione only could assume was homework. She looked up and smiled when she saw her friend stand in the hallway. "Hey. How'd it go?"

Hermione didn't answer. Didn't even look up as she kicked her boots off and threw her cape on the floor, walking into her room and closing the door silently behind her. Ginny sat up, confusion showing on her young face. Soon after though, her expression changed into one of sympathy. She could only guess what had happened, and judging from her friend's behavior just then, it had to be bad.

Throwing her blanket aside and getting up from the couch, she padded barefoot across the room to Hermione's door and knocked quietly. When she got no answer, she opened the door and stepped inside. She sighed sympathetically when she saw her friend, already clad in her cotton pajamas, sit on her bed, hunched over and her legs curled up underneath herself. Her arms hugging herself tightly. "Honey," Ginny said gently, walking the last few steps to the bed and sitting down next to Hermione. "What happened? Did he say something to-"

"It's over," Hermione whispered, the words hitting her harder than she thought they would. She rocked back and forth in her hunched over position, her hair hiding her face from the world and she fought against the fear that gripped her at the sound of those two, small words.

Ginny sat still, dumbfounded. "What?"

Hermione shook her head, still rocking back and forth. "Don't make me say it again."

"No, of course not," Ginny assured quietly, pulling her friend into her arms and following her rocking rhythm. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she whispered, planting a small kiss on top of Hermione's head. "I didn't know you-"

"He's engaged," Hermione croaked, almost unable to get the words out. "He says his father found a fiancé for him. There's nothing he can do."

Ginny resisted the urge to roll her eyes and settled for a quiet huff. "That family," she mumbled, shaking her head to herself. "Do you need anything? I could make you a cup of tea if you'd like."

Hermione was quiet for a moment, her body still and her breathing uneven. "No thanks," she declined, sitting up straight again and pulling out of the embrace. Ginny was a bit surprised not to see a single tear streak on her cheeks. "I just need to … process this." She buried her head in her hands and let out a shaky sigh, relaxing a bit when Ginny's hand rubbed her back in a soothing motion. "He was so … cold," she continued quietly, her words muffled in her hands. "He hasn't been like that when we're alone in a long time. I couldn't … for a moment I couldn't even recognize him."

Ginny had known about her friend's relationship with Draco since the two girls had moved in together a year earlier. As far as she knew, she was the only person who'd ever been told. Draco even knew about it and hadn't objected. Perhaps he'd understood that, despite the thrill their secret gave them both, Hermione needed to talk to someone every once in a while.

That, as far as Ginny was concerned, was probably one of the few decent things he'd done for her during the past two years.

He'd made her happy, sure. He'd also made her sacrifice more things than any girl her age should be allowed to. It wasn't that Draco hadn't sacrificed a lot for this relationship as well, because he had, and she could recognize a man in love when she saw one, so perhaps he wasn't all despicable and the serpent she'd considered him to be for years on end. Still, he hadn't been willing to sacrifice enough, and now her friend was left behind without a single warning beforehand so she could've been prepared.

At that moment, Ginny could honestly say that she hated Draco Malfoy. And even so, also knew that Hermione didn't and never would.

"Maybe … it was for the best," she said softly, knowing she was treading on dangerous ground. "It couldn't go on like this, Hermione. All this secrecy. You already know that he wouldn't…"

Hermione's head flew up before Ginny could finish her sentence. "Wouldn't what?" she snapped. "Wouldn't give up his reputation for me? His father's bloody precious esteem? You know, the last thing I need right now is to be reminded of that."

"I know," Ginny replied quickly, remorsefully. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

"I know you don't like him, but-"

"I don't know him like you do," Ginny interrupted, placing her hand on top of her friend's in an effort to calm her. "I don't," she repeated firmly. "So don't you start caring what I think. I'm just trying to look out for you, that's all."

Hermione hesitated for a moment and was about to reply when a clanking sound resonated on the window next to the bed. Both girls jumped in shock, and Ginny almost fell onto the floor before she managed to pick herself back up. Another clank on the window and Hermione turned back to her friend, her eyes widened.

"It's him," she said, the words coming out in a form of suppressed gasp. "He … he always does this when it's late and we don't wanna wake you. I-I don't-"

Ginny couldn't help but grin at her friend's sudden loss for words and patted her arm gently. "I know, sweetie. I do have ears, you know? Even when you guys think I'm asleep."

Hermione was too distracted to get embarrassed, and flinched when a third clank echoed through the room. Three pebbles on the window. He always did that.

Oh God.

She turned back to her friend, who was now smiling softly. "It's okay," she said quietly, giving her hand a small squeeze before standing and heading for the door. "I'll be in the living room if you need me."

The door closed behind her before Hermione could even blink. Turning back towards the window where the curtains were still drawn, she bit her lower lip in contemplation and tried to decide what to do. What did he want? Was he coming over to rub it in her face again? To see how affected she was by this? He wouldn't do something that cruel, would he?

She wrung her hands nervously, glancing back and forth between the window and the door. Then again, she hadn't thought he would break it off as cruelly as he had done this afternoon either. Maybe if she just let him stand outside and say what he had to say, she wouldn't be as hurt if all he came for was to gloat. In any case, she could always slam the window shut in his face.

Decision made, she jumped off the bed and turned towards the window. Her hands shaking, she pulled the curtains aside and opened the window so the glass wouldn't reflect her own image back at her.

Suddenly face to face with him. She would've gasped, had she felt like there was any air left in her lungs. His hair was whiter than usual from the snowflakes quietly falling from the sky, making his unruly bangs cling slightly to his forehead. It wasn't slicked back, which was more than a little unusual. He was shivering, not enough for anyone to notice unless you really looked for it and his eyes seemed drawn in their sockets. They pleaded with her, even if he hadn't spoken a word and she'd already forgotten that she was supposed to be angry.

His voice was hoarse and hesitant when he finally spoke. "Can I-"

"Yeah," she breathed, stepping back so he could crawl inside and close the window again.

He turned around afterwards, facing her again and both of them seemed frozen in their place for a long minute. Finally he took a step forward, causing her to take a step back. "I'm sorry," he whispered, taking another step.

"It's okay," she said quietly, not remembering until it was too late that it was her turn to take a step back. Suddenly he was right in front of her, not trying to touch her or pull her to him. She gulped, wondering for a second why that fact bothered her.

"I'm sorry," he said again. His voice as soft as velvet. He had her frozen in her spot, his eyes once again filling with more than he ever knew he was letting her see.

"There's nothing you can do about it, right?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly. He sighed and his eyes fell closed. She wanted nothing more than to reach up and caress that frown away.

"I didn't want this," he whispered. "You know that, don't you? I don't want this. I need you."

She wasn't sure if she wanted to cry or yell at him to get out right then. He'd never told her that before. She knew how hard it was for him, knew how hard it was for him to open up to anyone. He'd never looked her in the eye when he told her loved her. He wasn't looking at her this time either, but he'd said it and it meant so much, filled her to the rim with something she couldn't quite put her finger on. All she knew was that she needed him closer.

Linking her arms around his neck, she pulled him to her and buried her head in the crook of his neck. "I need you, too," she whispered back, afraid of letting go, afraid that he would push her away and run out of the room as fast as possible.

He didn't. His arms wrapped around her waist and he held her so close she wasn't sure she could breathe. She didn't care. He nuzzled her neck affectionately and sighed again, this time the sound much more shaky. "Don't let go," he muttered, his lips faintly brushing over her skin as he spoke.

She merely shook her head and held him tighter, closing her eyes when he began planting small kisses on her neck, trailing them up to her jaw line and over her cheek. He kissed the corner of her mouth, drawing back when a small whimper escaped her throat. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I'll stop."

He didn't get a chance to pull away before her lips were on his, her hand running through his hair and her body suddenly closer, somehow. He didn't know they could get much closer than before. He fell into her, relaxed in her embrace and allowed a small moan to escape as their lips explored, an overwhelming sense of familiarity washing over both of them.

He hadn't been sure of what he was doing, wasn't even sure that she would let him inside. He'd already gotten much more than he deserved, but he couldn't bring himself to stop it. He needed this, needed her so badly.

God, how was he going to live without her?

He pulled away from the kiss when she began opening the buttons on his cape, and gasped for air. "Hermione," he breathed, pressing his forehead against hers. "This doesn't mean that … anything's changed. Do you understand? I want this, I want you so much, but I don't … I don't want you to do this and think that … I couldn't bear it if…"

She opened her eyes dazedly and realized he had her pinned up against the door. When had they moved? "I know," she whispered, cupping his face in her hands. "I know, love. It's fine. One last time, okay?"

Her voice cracked as she said the words and she fought against the feeling of panic that washed over her. He was here now. She knew what he was here for and she understood. She needed to say goodbye this way, too. She could cry later.

A small whimper escaped his throat and he pulled her closer to him, their bodies touching almost from top to bottom. He knew it was true, had known all along, but she'd been the one brave enough to say it out loud. Now that she had, he just wanted to force the words back, make it so they were never said. Never even thought by either of them.

He bent his head to her neck again and began planting butterfly kisses and some longer lasting ones all over her soft skin. "I love you," he whispered, desperately needing her to hear it. He never wanted her to doubt that. Not ever.

She closed her eyes and sighed, her fingers weaving through his hair as his lips brushed over a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. "I love you, too, Draco."

He lifted his head again and looked her. Studied her in all her glory. Her eyes were still closed, her lips were moist and swollen, and her face was slightly flushed. Not taking his eyes off her for one second, he gently ran his fingers over her jaw line, his thumb brushing her lips as they went past. Her eyes were big and hooded when she opened them and looked at him. He smiled ever so softly, his thumbs running over her cheeks before cupping her face in his hands. He kissed her forehead, her nose and her cheeks before finally landing on her lips where he softly nipped and tasted, savoring every moment for as long as he could.

When her fingers began working on the buttons of his cape again, he didn't object. He let her slide it over his shoulders and fall onto the floor with a small rippling sound. Before she could get any further, he pulled away from the kiss and took both her hands in his. "Come on," he said huskily, leading her back towards the bed. "Let's get you out of those clothes."

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He buttoned up his cape and looked at her again. It was impossible to take his eyes off of her. She was still sleeping, her curly hair covering the entire pillow and her body exposed from the waist up. Smiling softly, he reached down and pulled the sheet up to cover her fully. He lingered for a moment, his hand brushing a few stray hairs off her cheeks and out of her eyes. "I love you, Hermione," he whispered, kissing her lips softly before standing up again.

He had to walk away. He knew it. He just didn't know it was gonna be so hard.

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out the letter he'd had so carefully close to him all day. Sighing softly, he placed it on her nightstand and immediately walked towards the door. He wouldn't look back. That would positively break him.

His hand rested on the door handle and he cursed under his breath. He just had to open it. It wasn't that difficult. Just press the handle down and he would be gone.

It wasn't that difficult.

He pressed his forehead against the door and closed his eyes in frustration. "Goddamn coward, Draco," he whispered. "You chose this. You bloody finish it."

He heard sheets rustle behind him and made his decision. Quickly pulling the handle, he rushed out of the door and closed it behind him with a click of finality and seemed to echo inside his head for minutes.

He had to get out of there as fast as possible. Turning around, he didn't expect to find Ginny sitting on the living room couch, looking at him with a mix of disgust and wonder in her eyes. Nothing he wasn't used to.

"Still up?" he muttered noncommittally and began heading for the hallway.

"I was waiting for you actually," she replied dryly.

He stopped and turned around again, his eyes cold and uncaring. "Well, what can I do for you?"

"What, no witty comeback today?" Ginny said in mock-surprise. "I have to say, I'm a little disappointed."

He smirked snidely. "Go pester someone else then. I'm not in the mood."

"Well, I'll get right to it then," she indulged, getting up from her seat and walking towards him. "Don't come near her again, Malfoy. I'm not even close to kidding."

"Not a problem."

She paused, momentarily taken back. "What?"

"I said, that's not gonna be a problem. Anything else?"

She stood still for a minute longer, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "You know, the second I think you might actually be half-decent and that you actually care about her-"

"You don't have the faintest idea of how I feel about her, Weasley," Draco snapped defiantly, turning around again to get to the door. "So save your speech for someone who'll degrade themselves to listen."

"I know she means a lot to you," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I also know that you're engaged to someone else. What kind of respect do you show her by coming here and letting her think she can get you back? None of us are living in a dream world, Malfoy. Least of all you. So don't come near her again unless you really do want her back, 'cause I have to be here and pick up the pieces long after you're gone."

Draco's hand was on the doorknob. He wet his lips and took in a deep breath, taking in what the young Weasley had said. "Like I said, you don't have to worry about that," he finally replied before walking out the door, leaving a rather bemused Ginny behind him.

He dug his hands into his pockets and let out a long breath of air as he walked down the driveway and into the open street.

It was true, he usually didn't live in a dream world. None of them did. They'd both known all along what this night would end with and they'd both accepted that long before anything else was done.

But for a moment, he'd been there. In a dream world. And she'd been right there with him.