The War is Over

The disclaimer from part one still applies.

An arrow of freedom
Is piercing my heart
Breaking chains of emotion
Given a moment to pray
Lost innocence to find its way

Feelings of sensation
A cry in the dark
Hope is on the horizon
With a reason to stay
And living for a brand new day

In morning dew,
a glorious scene came through,
like war is over now
I feel I'm coming home again


"The War is Over" Sarah Brightman

The shell still stood. Everything else about it had died, but the shell still remained. It was a grim reminder of human life to her as she stood silently gazing at it.

A large hand clapped her shoulder but it hardly phased her. She had known he was there; he always was.

"We're lucky it's still here, aren't we 'Mione?" his query wasn't loud but it seemed to be a shout compared to the silence surrounding them.

'No' her mind whispered traitorously pointing out all of the flaws in the plan. In her mind Hogwarts was no longer a school, it was a graveyard. Every creature understood this but man. Birds weren't cheerily chirping; only the keening wail of the magpie could be heard. The centaurs had left the forest. The giant squid rarely, if ever, moved above the water. Event the Whomping Willow seemed to know; but it may have just died as another explanation as to why it didn't hit people, or other things, anymore.

"We don't have to rebuild, we only have to fix it."

Now she turned to the tall redhead flanking her. "But we do, Ron. We do have to rebuild." Her voice was barely more than a whisper that he either did not her or ignored.

"The people are calling for you to be the Minister of Magic." he murmured rubbing her back, trying to ease the tension he sensed in her.

"I'm no politician. I don't speak any language but English and a handful of phrases in French, Spanish, and Bulgarian; most of them not very nice. I can't negotiate properly and I'm too stubborn. I'd make a very bad Minister of Magic. I'm better suited to be a librarian."

Ron chuckled softly. "You're intelligent, well spoken, and you've lived through the war. Actually you fought your way through it. You're skilled and you have no problem giving people orders. You wouldn't lead our people into another war and they know that. They need a strong leader right now and they see you as that."

"I'm not strong! I would give anything, Anything, to just be allowed to give up, to be able to hide myself from everyone. I don't want to pretend that I'm strong anymore! Not when there is nothing left within me to be strong for." She turned back to her silent survey.

"You don't know how strong you are." Ron enveloped her in a hug from behind. "Just remember, we still have each other." He spoke right into her ear, his breath tickling her.

They stood that way for a while; him holding her gently while she stood still as a stature, never returning the embrace, as she contemplated their situation silently.

"Hermione! Ron! It's time." Neville Longbottom hobbled toward them. He had injured his left leg during the war. He had quickly gotten to someone in time to be able to keep his leg, but, it wasn't quickly enough for his leg to be entirely healed. He'd adjusted wonderfully well to it though, he no longer needed his crutch, although it had been a novelty to see him at the battle a crutch in one hand and a wand in the other. Many Deatheaters had been hit with that crutch, probably more than and been killed in the entire war.

"Already?" Ron breathed softly, straightening up. Hermione felt her heart contract painfully. "How'd you know we were here?"

"A good guess. " At Ron's disbelieving look Neville smiled. "Hermione tole me where she was going. I figured that you would follow her, you always do." Ron blushed tomato red and looked to his feet.

"Let's get this over with." Hermione turned to them and spoke, her only acknowlegement that Neville was there and had spoken. There was a thread of pain in her voice.

She apparated to Hogsmeade, the two boys right behind her, although technically she wasn't supposed to for she didn't have her license. It was something that she was made to learn for the war and had grown used to doing. She straightened her spine and walked purposfully to the roped off grassy area. It had been Ginny's idea, her last request, that the fallen be remembered. Ron had recalled at the end, that Ginny had always liked the simplicity of the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C. and he suggested that they do something like it.

That was where they were going, to open the memorial. Hermione was to give the dedication speech since Ron had chickened out.

The gleaming marble stretched before her, six feet tall and over a city block in length. All of the names were on it, every single one of them and that was Hermione's doing. They may have been on the wrong side of the war but they still had families and it was unfair to erase their existence from all records. She even had Voldemort put on it, however it was as Tomas Marvolo Riddle. Everyone deserved to be remembered, the war needed to be remembered, Voldemort had to be remembered; all to prevent future generations from making the same mistakes that led to such tragedy.

People were already there, a huge crowd all solemnly dressed in black watching her approach. What they saw was a pale, thin woman draped in ebony. Her face was set in grim lines of determination even as tears sparkled in her eyes and dark circles belied her fatigue. Her melancholy was felt by all and it only made them like and admire her more.

She waked straight down the aisle that had formed, parting the crowd, at her approach. Nothing blocked her way to the wall she trudged onward with unseeing eyes right up to it; to the name in the middle. She ran her fingers over the deeply engraved letters. A strangled sob escaped from her and she let her forehead rest against the monument and a few tears slipped.

Ron watched her visibly compose herself, his nerves tying his innards into knots, and turn to face the assembly.

"Thank you all for coming here today." her voice was calm and steady, the only indicator of her nervousness was the pale ivory complexion son many shades under her normal tan. "As you well know, I'm here today to dedicated this memorial, but I think that it speaks for itself. The sheer volume of names engraved upon it tells more than I possibly ever could. These names speak of the horrendous battles that we have fought through. This wall and these names will stand here forever giving testimony that they lived, and as a reminder of one of the most tragic periods in our history. Hopefully generations to follow will come and see these names, remember the Great War, and learn from our mistakes.

"This is what my friend wanted. With her last breath Virginia Weasley, Ginny, asked me to remember everyone and tell their story. All I can do at this moment is to help everyone remember. It is too painful for me to look back just yet." One of her hands fisted over her heart. "We should never forget what they fought for and why they died. It is all we can do for them, remember and prevent it from happening again. Ginny did not want it to reoccur, that is why she asked for this memorial and why it was given to you. The wall is now open for visitors and I dedicate it to the hope for the future that these valiant souls fought for, the future that we have been entrusted with. Thank you." Her head fell as she stepped back. Ron could see her slight frame shaking from head to toe.

The redhead stood up in from of the politely clapping crowd, most had tears in their eyes. He waited for them to become quiet once again.

"That was a wonderful dedication. Now if you will all follow us we have a surprise for you." he turned to the still shaking girl and held out his hand. She just stared at it. "Hermione?" he prompted and she cautiously put her hand in his.

Ron had the fleeting impression that her hand was cold as ice before he moved it to the crook of his arm and strolled off with her in tow. They walked down the main avenue and right on in to the graveyard. Hermione's breath hitched and caught in her throat the second she realized where they were going.

On the top of the grassy knoll were two graves. This graveyard had been picked for its simplicity; Hermione liked that the stones were plat to the ground and that it looked like a field until closer inspection revealed it as the final resting place of so many. The closer they drew to the top of the hill the more she felt like a prisoner being led to execution. Ron was marching her towards the one thing she didn't want to face yet, the one thing she had not yet accepted.

She tried to pull away but Ron only put his other hand on top of hers and held it fast.

"This is a surprise for you to, 'Mione." he told her confidentially. "The public wanted it but they didn't know that we were actually going to do it; and you had no clue either." His voice wasn't cheery but she could tell that he was looking forward to her reaction to his surprise.

The simplicity and solitary beauty of the final resting place of many beloved friends was marred by a cast iron gate and two large erect marble slabs and the large flame burning between them.

Appalled, Hermione gaped at it. Ron tugged her along with him to stand before the garish memorial that had been created as an almost exact replica of the John F. Kennedy memorial in the U.S.A..

"You, the public asked for it. Here it is." Ron spoke to the silent crowd ogling them. Now let me see if I can persuade Hermione to say a few more words."

He turned to her and whispered, "Go on."

"No."

"It doesn't have to be a speech. Just give your opinion." his voice was slightly heated.

"My honest opinion?" something sparked in her eyes that he missed.

"Yes, that's all I'm asking for."

With a smile, that Ron would have called a smirk if he did not equate smirk with the name Malfoy, she turned to face the waiting people. The murmurs stopped.

"I have been asked to give you my honest opinion and so I shall." She paused a minute and looked around. The crowd waited with baited breath. "I hate it." Everything was still after the vehement pronouncement, then there were a few murmurs within the crowd and the expression on Ron's face was priceless.

"This is no way to remember Harry! He was just a man, human like every one of us! Humans do not live forever, not like this eternally burning flame. How can something that never dies represent someone that did? It would be more fitting to light candles in the windows of every one of your houses, on April the 11th, when you wake up and blow them out at 8:38 p.m.. A candle is much more like a human life. It can be buffered, it can be sheltered, it can be bright or dim, it can flicker or flare up, and it can be extinguished at anytime. Some candles last longer, like some live longer, but they can always be blown out by the wind.

"Harry would not have wanted this. He was a simple person. He did not want the fame and the attention. Didn't anyone understand that? He was famous because a mad wizard decided that Harry was a danger to him and had a spell backfire on him. Remember Harry as the sweet, shy, quidditch loving boy that he was; not for the role of Hero that we pushed on him." Hermione shot a glare at Ron and began to stalk off. Her step faltered when someone started to clap. A feeling shot through her that she hadn't felt in years, the electric tingle from being watched by the eyes of a man long gone. She turned and met a pair of storm colored eyes.

There was not an ounce of smugness in his countenance as he clapped, which surprised her. The rest of the crowd had opened around him as they stared at him in shock. To tell the truth, Hermione was in shock too. She hadn't seen Malfoy since the attack on Hogwarts, a little over two years before. No one had known if he had survived the war, but no one had ever found his body so he had not been put on the wall. No one had known which side he was on either.

He walked towards her, stopping just where she had to look up to still see his face. He had grown. He now stood over six feet while she was still at her miniature, in her opinion, five foot five.

"That speech was much better." Off guard, her eyes narrowed and she surveyed him warily. He had changed. He was not the well kempt snot she had known. Shadows and pain now sat undisguised, or too painful to disguise, in the stormy depths of grey. His face was leaner, and he just seemed tired.

"It wasn't a speech." the urge to argue with anything he said returned to her in full force. His eyes closed and he sighed deeply.

"Yes, I suppose it wasn't." Something was wrong with Malfoy, he'd never have agreed with her-the Mudblood. "Speeches are planned and practiced while all of your words came from your heart." Malfoy brushed an escaped tear from Hermione's cheek. "'Do not stand by my grave and cry. I am not there, I did not die'."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "You know that?"

"Only that bit. It know it from my mother's funeral." the pain in his eyes became palpable.

"It was said at Harry's too." She glared at the redhead again, but he was too busy glowering at the icy platinum-haired man speaking to her. "People have forgotten that he was only human with human faults."

"I did not!" Malfoy squawked indignantly, revealing that somewhere the old Malfoy still remained.

"That 's because the two of you did not get along and were constantly after one another." the need to fight with him was dissipating as they were actually speaking like civilized adults and not children. "He never had a moment's peace in life. He deserves some peace now and these people won't give it to him! He had to be their hero, their scapegoat, their Hope! This stupid flame will have people walking over his grave, always coming to see this stupid memorial! That isn't peace! I would think that after all he did for them, what he GAVE for them, they could at least give him a little peace! They owe him that!" Tears welled up in her eyes.

An uncomfortable look crossed Malfoy's aristocratic features. "Shh... It's done." he tried to comfort her awkwardly.

"That's the problem!" tears spilled over. Ron stepped up and embraced her, glaring at Malfoy all the while. "You let me GO!" Hermione ripped herself away from him and smack him right across the face. "IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" Her eyes red rimmed, and her nose red she glared at Ron before she flounced away in a huff.

The tips of Ron's ears, already pink, went redder than his hair as his face went dark in anger. It was still to easy to get his temper to boil. He stomped after the distressed little witch, his long legged stride quickly eating up the distance that she had put between them. He caught up to her, grabbed her by the arm, and forcibly turned her to face him. That is grip was painful was clearly written out by the grimace sitting upon her features.

"MY FAULT?" he roared. "MY FAULT? I would have given my life for him! Maybe if YOU had BEEN THERE Harry wouldn't be DEAD! But YOU weren't even in the same ROOM!"

"BECAUSE YOU MADE ME LEAVE!" she screeched back.

"You didn't fight me! Probably left and ran right into Malfoy's waiting arms, you two are such good friends now. Were you with him while Harry was dying?" Ron's temper, and jealously, had gone too far and the insinuation of his words, that venomous barb, hit its mark and Hermione almost crumpled from his vituperative words.

Her hand shot out but Ron was sent sprawling well before her blow could connect. The crowd that had followed them was silent and a very livid Draco Malfoy stood above the downed Weasley.

"Say that again." the pale man taunted quietly. "You make an accusation that involves me, you say it to MY face because that's my name you're defiling as well as her's!"

The gangly, ginger haired wizard levered himself up to stare down his lean, composed challenger.

"Hermione was fucking you while Harry died." Ron all but spit the words into Draco's mask of indifference.

The right hook delivered to Ron's chin had him seeing stars. "How dare you! How dare you say that about her? You're supposed to know her better than anybody, now that Harry's gone, you're supposed to love her, and yet you can still accuse her of that! How can believe that? Even I know that she's not that kind of girl, and I don't know her! What you just said was a worse blow than if you had beaten her to within and inch of her life! Any real man would know that, and real men don't hit women."

With an animalistic growl Ron launched himself at Malfoy. They rolled about on the ground, like a couple of dogs, trading punches before Hermione was able to stop them. To accomplish that whe had to enlist the help of a few fen from the crowd to pull them apart.

"What did you think you were doing?" her tone was deadly. Neither male answered as they continued to glare at each other. A black eye was blossoming around Ron's right eye, his jaw was bruised and some blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Malfoy had a bloody nose, that looked like it may be broken, and his mouth was bleeding.

"Ronald, I'm only going to say this once an then I do not want to speak to you again. You have NO idea how wrong you are. Firstly, I have not seen Draco" she put emphasis on her use of the other's name, " in over two years and if we had ever had a relationship, which we did not, it would have been none of your business. Secondly I seem to recall breaking your nose fighting to stay in that room. I don't know what you did to the door but I couldn't get back in and I listened to it, to it all. You've never been tortured the way I was in those final moment of Harry's life. And, for your information, though it is again none on for business, I loved Harry. I loved you almost as much but now you've ruined that. There is a fine line between love and hate and it's been crossed. Good-bye Ronald."

She turned to Malfoy. "I don't know why you just did what you did, but thank you. It is nice to see that someone other than me has grown up."

To the men holding them: "Let them go. I'm done talking. If they want to fight like cave men they may."

Released from his bonds, Malfoy stood and straightened his clothing. Ron, still angry, was preparing to fight again. Hermione rolled her eyes and was about to leave when Malfoy offered her his arm.

"May I escort you?"

"Why?"

"I wish to speak with you." With a slightly wary look she placed her hand on his arm, the action mostly to piss off Ron, and they strolled off together.

"Where are we going?"

"To my house so I can clean up." Malfoy's step hardly faltered as she tried to slow down.

"To think I thought the war changed you. God! You're still the pompous arrogant little! You weren't even going to ask" Hermione sputtered to a stop when Malfoy grabbed her shoulders and gave her a little shake.

"Must we always argue?" he snapped.

Hemione's eyes wen wide in shock. "I... I... I guess it is just habit." she was silent for a minute. "It is just too damn easy to argue with you, you're a challenge to argue with and I like to win challenges."

"What makes you think you'd win?" Malfoy cried increduously.

"Ah... There we go into another argument. Let's try not to argue okay? It's a challenge we both can win at."

"Okay. Let's start again. I'd like to go back to my house where I can get cleaned up." He gestured to the blood on his clothes and his face with his free hand. "Then I'll ask the cook to make dinner for two and we can talk. You can ask those questions that you're dying to ask." He watched her, looking for approval.

"How did you know that I have questions?" Hermione mused, taking out a handkerchief and wetting it on her tongue. She began to dab at the line of blood running from the corner of his mouth.

"You always have questions." A smirk slid into its customary place only to be wiped away as he quickly sucked in air when she started to try and clean the blood off of his nose. He pulled away, and took her hanky to clean himself off so that she wouldn't hurt him again by accident.

She laughed softly, amused for the first time in months. "I suppose that's true."

Still wiping blood from his face, Malfoy led the way into the Three Broomsicks where they used the fireplace to floo to his manor.

Hermione stepped from the fireplace coughing madly, how she hated to travel by floo, into a huge room dominated by a large desk almost overflowing with papers. A big green leather chair was behind the mahogany desk and matching drapes framed the windows. The walls, a pale green, had paintings and wizard photos hanging on it. The centerpiece of all was one of Narcissa Malfoy.

"It was my Father's office. I haven't had the heart to change it yet." there was something in his voice that made him sound like a small child and she wanted to just take him into her arms and sooth all his worries away. "Come." He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her down the hall into a large blue sitting room.

Seeing her confused expression Malfoy suppressed a laugh. "It was my mother's room. She was so tired of everything being green so she made a blue room. I actually think that there may be a red room somewhere in this big old house, but my father almost had a coronary upon seeing it so it was shut up."

"You loved him." Hermione observed quietly. Malfoy's shoulders fell.

"Can you ever really hate your parents?" he whispered. He seemed so alone in that moment that she actually felt sorry for him. "I know my father wasn't one of the best of men, but he was still my father. And it's not like he cared that I was his son or treated be better because I was, but I still can't stop."

"You don't have to stop."

"But I didn't like him!"

"You don't have to like someone that you love. Love and like are not the same thing."

"What would you know about it?" he turned his anger at his father into hostility directed towards her.

"I had parents too, you know. Not that I'm saying they're on the same level you father was." She quickly changed tactics at his glare. "But I didn't always like my parents. I fought with my mother a lot and we'd get so mad at each other. She always used to say 'Hun, I love you but I really don't like you at points'. I spent most of my life not liking her, but I always loved her."

"Maybe that is because she was a parent to you. My father wasn't really my parent, he was my drill sergeant. I was born and raised to be his heir, to take his place. I'm supposed to be just like him. Why am I telling you this?" he glowered at her.

"Maybe you need to talk about it."

"Not possible. I've never needed to talk about it before."

"Maybe that's because you knew that they wouldn't listen, and that I will."

"It is not acceptable! Talking to you, needing to tell you would be weakness, and weakness will not me tolerated!" Malfoy turned from her, shaken by what he had said. How many times had his father told him that?

"It is not weakness to have someone life your burden. Sometimes talking about it is the only way to move on. It will fester and rot inside of you until it breaks you."

"This discussion is over." Malfoy commanded imperiously.

"Master Draco?"

"What?" he snapped whirling on the house elf. The poor little thing went scurrying back and the expression sitting on her features reminded him of the face that his mother used to make when Lucius had taken out his anger on the servants; polite distaste mingled with a trace of horror because she had to know that after the elf she would be the next one to feel her husband's temper.

"Can Jane get something for Master and his guest?" the question was stated meekly.

Malfoy counted to three and let out a deep breath. "Get something for us to drink."

"What would master prefer?"

"I don't care!" Malfoy stomped out slamming the door behind him.

Hermione turned to the clearly shaken servant. "Some tea would be nice, and maybe your master's favorite snack, please?"

"Yes miss!" the house elf disappeared with a crack.

In the silence all alone Hermione felt awkward. She surveyed the tall windows made of small panes of glass, and the high white ceilings. The wall color was weird blue at the bottom lightening to white where it met the ceiling. The floor was covered in a lush midnight blue carpet. There was a blue sofa and two love seats around a glass coffee table, facing a large fireplace, which she lit. She walked over to one of the windows and looked out across the verdant expanse of lawn. Trees were strategically positioned across it, the family probably had parties in the summer out there. Hermione could almost see it and thought it would be beautiful.

Malfoy came out of the room and saw her standing silhouetted by the window. The sight of Hermione in his house jolted him as it had before. Her hair was longer than he remembered but as frizzy and fly-away as ever. Her face was older, permanent lines etched where she would furrow her brow, and her eyes melancholy. She never really had left him since he had kissed her that night so long ago. No woman had ever effected him in such a way.

"I apologize." the words came out before he knew what he was saying. Hermione spun around quickly, the action frightened, even while her hand flew for a wand and she gasped.

"Do you always sneak up on people?" she accused with a glare.

"Sneak? I never sneak, it's my house. You're just easy to scare."

She turned away again. There was an uncomfortable silence and then the house elf popped back in bearing a tray. Noticing the tension, she quickly left.

"You told my servant what to bring?"

"You said that you wanted something to drink, I just asked her to bring tea and your favorite snack."

"They're only supposed to listen to me."

"They respond well to a little kindness, you know."

"Pfft." he picked up a cookie and chewed on it staring into the fire.

The silence lasted several movements with each of them staring off into space in different directions. Fed up, Hermione headed for the door.

"Where are you going? Malfoy snapped, not looking at her.

"Somewhere where my head won't be bitten off and I won't be ignored." She put her hand on the door knob. Then Malfoy was beside her, his hand holding the door closed.

"Don't."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Fine, leave then." Malfoy said dejectedly as she walked back and flopped down into a chair.

She stood uncertainly for a few moments.

"I wanted to thank you for putting my parent's names on the wall." he said softly.

With a defeated sigh Hermione walked back to stand in front of him. "They deserved to be remembered. They had family, you, they couldn't be erased solely because they were on the wrong side."

"It was noble of you. I bet Weasley didn't want you to do it."

"Oh, he didn't."

"You always get what you want?"

"No."

"I do." he smirked.

"No you don't."

He shot a look at her. "I don't?" One of his eyebrows rose towards his hair line.

"Nope, you wanted me dead. Well, here I am, alive, nothing missing." she showed him all of the fingers on her hands. He mumbled something. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't want you dead." Hermione started at his declaration. "I didn't like you, but you know how children are. They say and think many things that they do not mean. I may have thought that I wanted you dead, but looking back I did not really want you do die." He refused to look at her now.

"Look at me and say that." she challenged him.

"Why?" his face turned to hers, the expression one of disgust.

"It's just that I do not believe people if they are not looking at me. You don't have to look me in the eyes, just face me."

His slate colored eyes locked on to hers. "I did not want you to die." he enunciated slowly.

"Is that why you saved me that night at Hogwarts?"

"I don't know what I was doing that night. I just reacted. I was working on adrenaline.

Hermione's face fell and she turned away. "You told me you were a traitor. Had you been working with Snape?"

"No, I wasn't a traitor until that night; not until I saved you."

"Why? Why did you do it?"

"I watched the Deatheaters picking off students, not caring at all except that they were in their way. You were petrifying and stunning them, only when you had to, when they were going to hurt you. You were checking on the downed students and helping the little ones escape. They were wrong, I finally saw it. I only helped you and protected myself that night. I could not really turn traitor because of my father. After that I only protected myself in battles that I could not avoid, and I didn't kill.

"I was so confused after the battle at Hogwarts. I did not know myself anymore, I still don't. Men can't really change and if I haven't changed am I still like my father? If I am like my father and haven't changed why did I save you?"

"That is something that you'll have to figure out for yourself. I can't tell you, I've known you for all of four hours. But remember, no one can dictate who you are not even your father." She smiled at him gently. "It is a man's decisions not the lessons that he is taught that make him who he is.

"Harry.." she paused slightly. "Harry was a lot like Voldemort." Malfoy's brow headed toward his hair line again in skepticism.

"Sure..." he rolled his eyes.

"He was." Hermione's temper flared. "If you've ever seen a picture of Tom Riddle from school you can see it, but there are other things. Riddle was also a half-blood and an orphan. Riddle called Hogwarts his home because his childhood was bad. Sound familiar?"

"Are you saying that Potter could have become another Dark Lord?"

"If he had made different choices, it is possible. The situations that men are thrust into do shape their character but only through the decisions that they make in those situations. I could have been placed in Ravenclaw, but I asked for Gryffindor. I would not be the person that I am if I had been put in Ravenclaw then.

"I wouldn't have gotten mixed up with Harry and Ron, fighting a mad man. I wouldn't have been sneaking around the school at night, learning extra spells, brewing extremely complicated potions or leaning how to create patronus."

"So basically, you wouldn't be brave."

"I didn't say that."

"Bravery is facing those things."

"No, bravery is seeing what is to come and being afraid but still going and doing what must be done. I would still have fought, it is just in my nature to fight for what I believe in. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws helped fight the war, it wasn't only Slytherins and Gryffindors. Since when are Gryffindors the only brave ones? I thought that what Snape did was brave, and what you did was brave too."

"I'm not brave."

"You stood up to your father that night. I do not know if you were frightened of him but you had to know what they did to traitors and even knowing that you saved me. In my eyes that was brave."

He moved quickly and Hermione found herself pressed into the plush cushions as his mouth ravaged hers. Taken by surprise, she couldn't stop the torrent of emotions that swamped her and she found herself clutching at him, holding on as if he were her only life line.

When he pulled back both of them were struggling for breath.

"What was that for?" she asked weakly.

"To say thank you."

"For what?" her brain was frazzled.

He grinned at her loss of her train of thought. "For calling me brave." He pushed her hair away from her face, his fingers tracing her cheek.

"Oh." her voice betrayed a little disappointment.

"But this one is to make up for all the times I wished I could have kissed you during those two years." he's breath tickled her face before he claimed her lips again.

It was as if two years had not passed and they were seventeen again to Hermione. All the troubles, the worries, and the burdens she carried slipped away as she fell into the feeling, the delicious feeling, of kissing Draco Malfoy.

Her body went supine in his arms and Draco knew that if he played his cards right he could have all of her and get her out of his system once and for all. She haunted him because she was forbidden and that just made everything all the better. He would get the one thing that he'd always wanted but had been told he couldn't have for various reasons.

He pulled away and she smirked proudly to himself when she made a small noise in protest. He looked at her unfocused eyes and bruised lips and his heart did something funny in his chest.

A frown creased his face as he stood and moved to stand a slight distance away. Why was it her? Why did she affect him the way she did? It wasn't serious, he refused to let it be. He only wanted her because he saw her as a challenge, didn't he?

"Let me guess. You're going to say 'I guess I'll have to come back' and then I won't see you again for another two years." Hermione was straightening her clothing and trying to smooth her hair.

"I'm not stupid enough to walk away again." Draco said seriously. Their eyes met and a silent understanding passed between them. Malfoy walked to the couch, even as she held out her arms for him, picked her up bridal style and carried her into the bedroom.

She was curled up against him with a smile as thoughts swirled through his head.

He wasn't proud of himself now. He'd taken what he wanted but didn't feel that swell fo pride that he normally did after winning a challenge. He didn't feel any differently either. He still wanted her, it wasn't supposed to work that way.

She'd cried out in pain. He'd hurt her. Guilt assaulted him, but he quickly changed it to an emotion that he could handle, anger. He pushed himself out of the bed and began to pull on his pants in a temper, not noticing that Hermione's eyes were open and they were happy although she was curious as to what he was doing.

"Why?" Draco barked, turning on her.

"Why what?" Hermione pulled the covers up to her chin, feeling self conscious.

"Why did you let me do that?" his voice was cold and didn't raise with his temper.

"I thought you wanted..." her voice trailed off as a ball of ice formed in her stomach.

"You thought?" Draco was closing himself off. "Didn't you think that we'd regret this? Aren't you the one that always thinks things through?"

"You regret it?" Hermione's voice was small.

"I'll regret this for the rest of my life." his voice was disgusted.

Hermione felt like crying as she slipped from the bed and began to pull on her clothes.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

Malfoy closed his eyes. "Don't. We need to talk about this."

"What's there to talk about?" she snapped getting angry as well. "You've said it all" Hermione cursed herself as her voice shook.

"Listen. We're both tired and our tempers are thread-bare."

"Obviously."

"Don't do that!" Draco took a step toward her, Hermione flinched back and he stopped abruptly. "I won't touch you, don't worry." he sneered and she huffed. "I can't let you walk away angry. Let's get some sleep and discuss this rationally in the morning."

Hermione sighed and looked out the window.

"Hermione.." Malfoy warned her, his voice raising.

"Fine, we'll talk."

Malfoy nodded his pointy chin and left the room.

"I did not say that we'd talk in the morning, however." She pulled her shirt over her head and finished dressing. She poked her head out the door, looking for any sign of Malfoy. The house was quiet as she snuck back into Lucius Malfoy's study.

Tears stung her eyes as she lit the fire. She grasped the floo powder in her hand, knowing she was too distraught to apparate. She turned to the pictures on the wall. One of Draco quickly caught her eye.

"I hate you, Draco Malfoy." she whispered.

Unbidden a quote from a book popped into her head:

"'I Hate you!'

'You know how that always ends up, right?'

Silence reigned.

'Yeah... Everyone that says that ends up married and living happily ever after'."

"Where's my happy ending?" Hermione choked out as tears cascaded down her cheeks. She flung the floo powder into the fire and disappeared from the Malfoy home, leaving behind only her scent on his pillows.

To be continued...

Author's note:

Well this certainly took a while. I apologize for the long wait. I had some personal issues come up and then my laptop died and had to be sent to California (I go to school in Connecticut). There will be a third part to this, it is not finished yet and I won't promise to get it done soon. Every time I promise about posting quickly I end up forgetting.

If they seem out of character it is because it is two years later and they has been through a war. War changes people, especially those who participate in the fighting as Draco and Hermione did.