Title: And She Will Be Loved

Author Name: Melissa Spitfire

Author email: melissa underscore spitfire at yahoo dot com

Category: Romance

Sub Category: Angst

Keywords: Draco Malfoy Hermione Granger Auror

Rating: R

Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP, a little HBP there but I won't tell where

Summary: She never ever felt that she really belonged; never ever felt that she was really wanted. She is nothing but a shadow. But he is the ground where the shadow was cast, and it is in his deepest desires to make her see herself otherwise.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/n: Highly inspired by Maroon Five's "She Will Be Loved." So I don't suppose I should say that this is a songfic? Anyways... My first ever attempt on a Harry Potter fic, so please take this easy on me! ::grins sheepishly::

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Verse One: Shutting From the Sky

Beauty queen of only eighteen

She had some trouble with herself

He was always there to help her

She always belonged to someone else

Once the doors indicated his departure, Hermione slumped further in her chair. Why did Malfoy have to be so arrogant? Sure, she was partly thankful for the distraction he was supposed to provide; that was why she let him sit with her. Draco Malfoy was supposed to take her mind off of Harry and Ron, of Aurors, of her post-Hogwarts sickness, of everything that seemed so complicated in her present situation. But no, he had to go strike up a conversation regarding what she wanted to forget. 'That insensitive prat...' Can't he be sensitive for once?

Wait. Why was she associating that adjective with him? Of course, ever since first year he was always cold and indifferent when it came to others. What else should she expect? That he came there on purpose to comfort her and, even in the most unimaginative way, make her feel like she was wanted because of who she really was? That she wasn't only Harry's shadow, or the muggle-born genius?

'Argh!' What was she doing? She was supposed to feel vexed at Malfoy, but what was she doing now? And for the second time that day, of all the people to think about...! Why did he have to show up at the wrong time? Why did he have to act like he knew her? What is he trying to do by suddenly entering the picture? And why did he look much taller and much more good-looking than the last time she saw him?

'Get a grip of yourself, Hermione!' She was shocked to find that her thoughts were leading to supposed-to-be not-to-be-breached boundaries, and she felt mortified. Hermione slammed her open palm on the table as she stood and gathered her things, earning a little attention from the neighboring booth. She sent a death glare at the teenager seated there and smirked evilly (Malfoyishly, though she was unaware of it) before walking up to the counter. She dug her hands through her purse to pay for the butterbeers earlier and for the firewhiskeys that the stupid prick left for her to pay. "Here's the payment. Corner booth over there." She gestured to the cashier before slipping the coins across the counter. "That's three sickles and seventeen knuts, right?"

"Oh no," the girl, who was obviously the cashier, pushed the money towards her. "You've already paid."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "No I didn't..."

"Yes you did! Well... Your companion did." The girl giggled. "In fact, he didn't even wait for his change. If you would be so kind, could you please return the change to him?" The girl handed her seven galleons and nine sickles. "And he told me to give this to you, too. Is he your boyfriend?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the girl, who obviously looked giddy all over. She received the change and the thin rectangular card being given to her.

It was obvious that the certain someone who the girl saw was Malfoy. Judging by the amount of money on her hands, the filthy rich Slytherin paid too much again. Ron or Harry wouldn't really pay for those butterbeers they drank if they knew she would pay, and just from the coins in her hands... It wasn't that difficult to figure out.

... And sweet Merlin, he even paid for Harry and Ron's butterbeers! 'Has Malfoy gone nutters?'

She slipped the coins in the back pocket of her purse, gave her thanks to the girl and then headed out of the Three Broomsticks. She figured it best to just walk home instead of apparating or riding a carriage, since her humble flat located at Niveus Estage was only a fifteen-minute walk from Hogsmeade. And besides, she felt like thinking... Walks usually provided her with calmness or even answers to the burning questions she always had in her quote supposedly humongous unquote brain, as Rita Skeeter would always write in her articles.

While walking homeward, she fiddled with the card that Malfoy asked the girl to give her. It was just a card... White, stiff and had absolutely nothing on it -- no numbers, no letters, no doodles or anything on it... Just a card...

'Maybe I'll just have to use a revealing spell later...' She thought while pocketing the card. She walked by briskly; peeved at the fact that wizards and witches were watching her closely, as if expecting Harry or Ron to show up with a pop. She also fought the urge to enter Flourish and Blott's, which she passed on her way to her flat, where a new book called 'Successful Wizards and Witches of the Twentieth Century' was on display. No doubt, she would get much from that. But she convinced herself that she had other... Pressing matters that she had to attend to, like, like... Malfoy?

Ugh. Maybe ::she:: was the one who had gone nutters.

A few minutes later, Hermione stopped in front of a small and low brass gate that had the number 14 on it. She fished out her huge key to unlock the muggle contraption hanging on the chains, and then brought out her oak wand to remove the locking spells she used to bolt the gate. After finally applying every unlocking technique -- both muggle and wizarding -- on the house gates, she walked up to her front step and unlocked the door. Pushing the door open and removing her cloak, she was surprised to see a white owl perched on the counter, a parchment in its grasp and a wrapped package beside it. In the living room, she saw Crookshanks look up from her ever-long nap. It noticed Hermione enter, before it yawned and went back again to his slumber.

She rolled her eyes at her pet before heading towards the counter. "Hedwig, how did you get in?" She asked the owl as she rummaged through her jars for an owl treat. Finding some, she fed the white owl before untying the parchment attached to it, eyed the parcel closely and then unrolled the letter.

'Mione,

I didn't know we were supposed to be here for more than a month, so I'd like to apologize. I know you wouldn't be much busy yet, after all, we're still new, and you would probably miss us, so I guess you could use a little cheering up with this book we bought you from Flourish and Blott's. I figured you would also need some company, since Ginny is still at Hogwarts and shouldn't be moving in with you until she graduates. I hope this will help you feel better. After all, is there not a book my beloved Hermione loves?

And we're really disappointed that we couldn't spend Christmas there with you. It's our first Christmas together outside of Hogwarts, and we still couldn't make it. Push through with the plans on gathering our housemates on Christmas Eve; they'll love that. We'll just be giving you our gifts when we come back.

Do take care of yourself, Hermione. Eat more; you're too thin. I wouldn't want you to end up so thin like my Aunt Petunia. Ron reckons you're having an eating disorder. You should be well when we return, okay?

I'll miss you very much, and right now, I'd describe it as terribly missing you.

All my love,

Harry

PS: You'd take care of Hedwig, right? Pigwidgeon's back at the Burrow, because we know there's only one cage there in your flat. And regards to dear old Crookshanks.

Hermione rolled up the letter and almost crushed it. Was this some kind of incentive for her? Of course, she was easy to read. Practically everyone in Wizarding London knew that Hermione Granger could never resist books. That was something she couldn't deny. But then... Was she just like that? Just the bookworm and nothing else?

She pushed the nagging thoughts away as she reached for the parcel that rested on the counter. One would say that there was something going on between her and Harry by reading the letter, but it was nothing more than words... Words that never really meant anything... She pulled on the strings and tore the wrappings roughly, wishing it were the emotions she desperately wanted to forget, but she can't help but smile through her tears when she saw the book that Harry and Ron bought for her. It was the book at display in Flourish and Blott's she had been eyeing just that afternoon. Somehow, in the back of her mind, she still believed that Harry and Ron actually cared for her, even for just a little.

She moved to place Hedwig on a stand-alone cage near the fireplace that she especially bought for when Harry or Ron would leave their owls to her. She already anticipated that, and the cage wasn't really something she regretted purchasing for she was planning to get herself her own owl too. But for now, Hedwig will do. She placed Hedwig in the cage, sprinkled some owl treats inside the food tray and patted the owl's white furs, before closing it again and sitting on the plush couch across the furnace. Crookshanks immediately jumped up on her lap, and her hand moved through his furs, like she always did whenever she was contemplating.

Crookshanks stretched on her lap languidly, purring in delight as Hermione's long digits treaded through his furs.

Hermione flicked her wand towards the furnace and mumbled 'Incendio,' and instantly a small burst of fire lighted the dark place and slightly warmed the cold flat. She sighed audibly and slumped against the backrest. The autumn rain left a comfortable cold atmosphere in her flat, and it made her feel a little less lonely. Her eyes traveled the space of her living room, and lingered on the top of the furnace. It was filled with frames that contained pictures of her and her parents, but most of the pictures were of her, Ron and Harry. Her gaze especially lingered on the picture hanging on the wall beside the fireplace, where she had a moving picture of her and Harry during Fifth year. He was still dressed in his Quidditch robes after a successful game against Ravenclaw, and she remembered flying down the stairs from the seats to greet him... Only to be scooped into his lanky arms. The feeling was different from their usual embraces with Ron, because then, she had harbored feelings for Harry. But now, it was not like that anymore, and if she hadn't known better Harry became distant when he knew she got over her infatuation with him.

Now she wished she just fell in love with him instead; maybe he'd give her the same attention that he did way back then. But he -- they -- never really thought of her as much as she thought of them -- their whereabouts, their health and their safety. It was always through those hollow kisses, reluctant embraces and meaningless words that they ::show:: their less than meager amount of concern.

"Crookshanks..." She laughed, a hollow, mirthless one. "They would never know..." She stared at the fire listlessly.

The feline emitted an almost-gruff sounding meow before jumping and landing soundlessly on the red Persian rug on the floor.

Hermione sat there for minutes, her eyes straying from the pictures and staring blankly at the tongues of fire licking the walls of the fireplace. She took a shuddering breath, and then slumped forward on her seat, before she whimpered softly, shook visibly and released the long-suppressed tears.

The lack of warmth just made her feel alone, although she wouldn't admit that out loud. However she convinced herself that she wasn't lonely and would go on with life even without Harry and Ron, her loneliness was far more than she could handle. How she wished that she had made more friends in Hogwarts... She should have been friendlier instead of excessively concentrating on her studies, so she would have others who would understand her right now... Like girl friends... Lavender, Parvati, Padma, Mandy, Hannah, Millicent or even Pansy...

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Draco twirled his silver quill on his right hand while he drummed softly on the armrest with the other, his feet propped up on the huge mahogany table. He swiveled his chair here and there, his gaze scanning the viridian and platinum walls of his office in the Malfoy tower.

He abruptly stopped his chair from spinning and stood up, dropping the quill back on the work desk in the process. He walked towards the huge window, drew back the green curtains, and gazed downwards and beyond the gate. The window was foggy; drops of late autumn rain dribbled against the glass barriers, dripping down the smooth surface of the window unhurriedly. The streets were busy, and people were rushing about to and fro, even at the light shower falling from the sky. Horse and Thestral-drawn carriages rode by quickly, not even avoiding puddles of water and splattering mud all over the road...

... Mud...

Draco couldn't help but think about how bad and immature he had been in his years in Hogwarts. He never really outgrew his sarcastic side, but when it comes to how he treated her...

"... Now if someone here would just sign these papers, then he could go back to his sentimental reminiscence at once."

He tore his eyes from the scene before him and looked to where the voice came from. He ran his hand through his short-trimmed hair (which by now wasn't full of gel, mind you) and sighed aloud. "What now, Pansy?"

"Hello to you too, Draco." Pansy smiled softly. "Don't worry, I know you're worried, or pretending to be not, but this will only take a while. Father sent me to make you sign these papers." She handed the folder to him and sat down on the chair in front of the desk.

"What's this about?" He asked as he, too, took a seat on the swivel chair behind the table, grabbed his silver quill, and began to read.

Pansy straightened her deep purple dress robe before answering. "Oh, you know... About those shares you're to buy from our corporation. He's quite excited about that deal. If he wasn't my father I would think he's taken a liking on you, what with all his'Draco this' and'Draco that' that he always babbles during dinner. Honestly, isn't there any other guy out there that he wants to set me up with?"

Draco quickly scanned the papers while Pansy waited. "Well, can't say that I'm the one to be blamed. After all, looks, wit and charm come naturally to all Malfoys." He retorted, smirking at the papers. "I'm the most eligible bachelor to ever walk on earth, don't you agree?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Yeah... Right... Now sign those papers. Your huge ego isn't required for signing that."

Draco lifted his gaze at her, throwing her his most charming smile that he knew wouldn't draw her to him but just irritate her, before he began signing the papers and handing it back to her.

Pansy studied the documents and placed it back on the folder. "That's about it..." She stood and walked around the table, then bent down to give a kiss on Draco's cheek. "You worry too much, Draco."

He feigned a very bored expression. "Really now, Pansy." He squeezed her shoulder in return before
leaning totally at the backrest, drawing his eyebrows together in concentration.

Pansy stood beside the chair, studying her childhood friend's face. She had never seen Draco this troubled, only when Lucius Malfoy was sent to Azkaban in their fifth year and tried in front of the Wizengamot. He was always full of confidence, self-control and composure; he always had a contingency plan in case the other plan failed. He would just dismiss other matters that would have made her fret over. How could she not notice these when they have known each other for almost nineteen years, and went to the same school for twelve of those?

But she wasn't his childhood friend for nothing. In fact, she had inkling as to what -- or who -- was getting him all worked up. "A galleon for your thoughts, Draco?"

Draco looked up at her from staring intently at the intricate carvings of the table. "Higher, Pansy. My thoughts are much more expensive than that." He smirked.

But Pansy saw that his smirk was somehow wistful. "Really? They must be, because I can sense that you lack the usual enthusiasm you have whenever you sneer."

"Go away, Pansy. Your father's waiting for those papers." He told her.

"Not until I know what's bothering my Draco. Come on, you think I don't know you by now? We've been friends ever since we were born." She retorted as she dragged the chair on the other side of the desk to Draco's side.

"It's nothing."

But she being Pansy, she sat on the chair and began to interrogate him. "Nothing? Then surely you could
tell me what this nonsense is all about."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Look, it's nothing, okay?"

"Okay..."

"Good." Draco proceeded to sift through his papers again.

"... Uh, Draco?" Pansy called him a few minutes later.

"Hmmm?" Draco answered, though he didn't look back at her.

"Bet you for fifty galleons I could guess what's bothering you..." She sneered at him, one she learned from hanging out too much with him.

He side glanced at Pansy, but he simply went back to going through his papers. "Nothing's bothering me, Pansy."

"Oh... So, it wouldn't matter if I told you that Granger's ever-loyal bodyguards left her for Germany and she now lives alone in her flat? And that Krum's interest in her is all over Witch Weekly? And that he's probably just using her to become the talk of the town?" She flipped her now long black hair at her back.

Draco's hands froze.

Pansy's sneer couldn't have gone wider. "Oh well, what am I saying anyway? You wouldn't want anything to do with that filthy little mu--"

"Desist, Pansy." He cut her off, his fingers unconsciously crumpling the paper on top of the folder as he balled his fists.

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "And since when did my precious Draco decide to stop me from calling Granger as what I have picked up on him, that she is," she stopped for dramatic effect, "a filthy little mudb--"

"I said ::desist::, Pansy." Draco snarled and glared at her.

"Gotcha." Pansy's eyes danced with mischief as she reached out her hand to straighten Draco's creased collar. "You don't have to deny it, Draco." She shook her head as she patted his shoulder. "I know you far too well. You were following Hermione ever since we came out from Hogwarts. And don't go denying that, I ::know:: it."

Draco sat unmoving, taking in the situation. So, Pansy knew...? Wait, she even called her...

"Since when did you start calling Hermi-- Granger, Hermione?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

She stood up from the chair and walked towards the huge window across the fireplace. "I have a reputation to keep, just like a certain someone out there." She turned her head to look at him briefly before returning her gaze outside. "I've been on... Let's say, friendly terms... With her since Sixth year, when Sinistra asked her to tutor me on Advanced Astronomy. I was lagging behind the class, so he told Hermione to help me." She turned around totally, amused to see Draco frazzled, though only the slightest of it showed. "You're not the only one who is on good terms with her, Draco."

"Well, everything's just for the sake of the old croon Dumbledore's inter-house unity law. And Head duties compelled me to do so. I don't have to associate myself with her after that."

"Oh puh-leeze, Draco. You know for yourself that house rivalries and blood classification were totally pointless." She scoffed. "And... Head duties? Have you ever done yours?"

Draco glared at her from his seat. "I suppose you know the way out, Ms. Parkinson. Feel free to show yourself out of my office."

"Oh, all right... I'll just see you tomorrow then." Pansy shrugged resignedly as she relented, and crossed the room to head towards the door, her purple robes grazing the carpeted floor. She placed her hand on the gold doorknob and turned it open. "Just one more thing, Draco." She stopped to turn around. "Do try to be true to yourself now. No one's dictating what you have to do anymore, and the sad excuse of a Dark Lord has gone to rot in Hell. He couldn't place any horrid mark on you like he did to Uncle Lucius, and we all have been given a second chance. Not everyone gets that." She smiled, this time her face framed by her blond curls, was grazed with a soft smile that made her look more beautiful, and she closed the door behind her.

She didn't see Draco's hand unclench, and his eyes turn a soft hue of gray as her words lingered in the room.

…Do try to be true to yourself… We all have been given a second chance…

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»Some Additional Notes«

Niveus Estage - it is something I made up, (duh -;) because I'm tired of Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, Grimmauld Place, The Burrow, and all those Hogsmeade-Hogwarts stuff. Vaguely, Niveus means "snow-colored," coming from the stem "nix," synonymous to snow in Latin. I'm not someone fluent (or even knowledgeable enough) in the Latin language, so I'm not quite sure. All I know is that the affixes of the nouns are changed depending on the use of the noun. For instance, the Imperius Curse, when thrown, becomes "Imperio" and so with the Patronus, it becomes "Patronum." Gotta love Encarta and my Linguistics professor for that... Actually, you could easily derive this from the English words, since most of it was derived from Latin. Uh, I'm just babbling. -

A/N: Another chapter done here… Review, please?! It's Christmas anyway…