A/N: "Always" by Saliva; originally written for The Final Battle

Requirements:

a Ship

Pretty much a love/hate relationship, but they hate each other so much they love each other

Post Hogwarts

"Don't be so blind . . ." She smiled, and his stomach lurched.

"Blind to what Granger?" He smirked, but his smirk did not get the desired effect; she simply sighed.

"Malfoy . . . It's telling me all these things . . . It's not like you! I think maybe . . . ."

A frustrated look crossed her face, and he realized that his actions of late have been confusing her. And why wouldn't they? he thought. It's not like, in any part of their "relationship," he had ever shown a desire to confide in her. Malfoy didn't even confide in himself sometimes, preferring to leave forbidden thoughts lurking in the back of his mind as vague feelings.

There was one vague feeling, however, that intruded upon his consciousness: annoyance.

It was her hair, wild as fire that annoyed him. Her kind smile, like the spreading of an angel's wings, made him want to throw something. The nonchalant way she waved her wand,made his fingers itch for his own and his lips yearn for two words to flit across them: Avada Kedavra.

He knew what hate felt like; after all, Draco Malfoy was no stranger to it. Hate formed like a wall in front of him – in front of her – and he found that his wall had slowly evolved into flesh and life, and disgusting brown eyes. The distinction between words and feelings and people had faded, and hate became her.

Perhaps he had been the hate to begin with, and now she was him?Why else did he find her on his mind constantly? Why else did he look up every time she walked into The Leaky Cauldron? They were never there together; their meetings were designed by chance, and their conversations by alcohol (that he had consumed; she never drank enough to be reduced to quite utterings of her heart's desires, like he seemed to be).

"I think maybe I should find another pub to have meals at . . . ." She smiled softly, and he wanted to wipe the pity from her face; for her smile betrayed a hint of it, and he knew it was deserved. Draco Malfoy was a blubbering drunk.

"I feel . . . like you don't want me around . . . Granger," he slurred.

"I wonder why," she said harshly. "Malfoy, you need to switch your preferred beverage to something more like tea. These . . . conversations are not right Malfoy. You're . . . Malfoy!And I'm just a 'filthy little Mudblood' right?"

He sighed very un-Malfoy-like and lifted up his glass. "I hate you Granger, I really do. And I toast you . . . because I love you." He took a swig of his drink, grabbed his cloak, and walked out of the pub.

"Malfoy, wait!"

He stopped, not necessarily because she called after him, but because the street lights were much brighter than he had anticipated, and he found it difficult to see where he was going.

"Malfoy . . . You . . . love me?"

"I love you . . ." he repeated. "And I hate you. Now will you please move? I can't get around you . . ."

"No . . . Draco. I won't move. I demand an answer!"

"An answer to what? To why I love you? Or to why I hate you? Because I haven't got an answer for either of those questions. If you happen to find any, please feel free to tell me. And now that I've gotten myself into this predicament–"

"Love is not a predicament, Malfoy."Her arms were folded across her chest – not that he was looking at her chest or anything.

The alcohol that flowed through his veins had affected his brain, because he started rambling about his "feelings" again. "I breathe you . . . I taste you . . . I can't live without you . . . I just can't take anymore . . ." This last part was uttered in annoyance and frustration, as he ran his hands through his hair."Listen, Hermione, can we forget this . . . conversation?"

She looked like she was about to say "yes" for a second; but her countenance changedvery suddenly, and she said, "No. Because I love you too . . . And I hate you too!"

He stumbled; he hadn't been expecting that. "Wha–?"

Her smile returned to her face, a smile completely devoid of pity, and he grabbed her hand.

And then quickly dropped it.

"See you tomorrow then? Same time?"

"Sure Draco." His name was a foreign word upon her lips, but she felt that, with time, the syllables would roll off her tongue much more smoothly.

"Right then." He nodded in her direction and started off down the street, leaving her staring at his back.

"Right then," she repeated, and walked back into the pub.

fin.