Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the J.K. Rowling... Unfortunately.

Author's note: Alright, let's get down to business... again! This fic is slightly AU. I wrote it on a whim and it's a one shot. It's not a sequel to Things Tend To Change or Wanderer, but it's in the same vein as my other DracoHermione stories. It's a dark and it's supposed to be short and kinda choppy and the end is rushed for good reasons... as a fine arts student, I know how to like find crazy meaning in the simplest of things.

It's best to listen to Full of Grace by Sarah McLachlan when reading this story... it sets the mood perfectly and the song was made for this.

Pairing: Draco/Hermione

Rating: PG-13 for character death and psychological, pathological problems.

Summary: Sometimes the things you do are out of your control... Sometimes they are Catch-22s.

Unhinged

She felt a hand on her shoulder. The slight pressure of a strong palm, the light contact of spidery fingers: comforting, soothing. His warm touch chilled slowly by her frigid body. She'd not intended to cool him just like, weeks ago, she'd not intended to do him harm.

The day was uncharacteristically cheery for such somber times. In the belly of the Forbidden Forest, as a lone figure she stood: unsympathetic and aloof. For the first time since the beginning of the war, she was starting to doubt her ability to go through with her mission. It was as much a slap in the face as it was a Catch-22. If she didn't go through with it people suffered; if she went through with it people suffered. As fate would have it, she was part of the latter. Suddenly, her mind jerked from her worries. In the distance, she could have sworn she'd heard the rustling of clothes.

She felt the wind rage – angry gusts that blew her skirt to and fro. She moved her hand to her shoulder placing it over his, unbothered by the storm. A lightning bolt flashed, heavy pellets of water beat down on them and all she could think of was how blessed she was. He'd come back to her despite all the things she'd done. Her heart swelled happily.

She heard it again – the rustling of clothes – only this time it wasn't in the distance…it was behind her. Her mind discarded her reservations and slammed into a force-fed survival mode. She pivoted on her heels, wand at the ready and teeth bared. "Avad – " The green light never flashed, the sound never left her lips and never had her heart beat so fast.

She realized how war had a way of bringing together the two unlikeliest of people. She pressed her back lightly against his chest. Unfortunately, it also had a way of pitting the two likeliest of people against one an other. Her grief had stretched without measure and she'd rendered herself sick on more than one occasion. She still wasn't sure if it was harder living without him or harder living with the fact that she'd hurt him just to win the war. She smiled.

"I'm glad your back, love," she whispered.

He was standing there, tall, broad shouldered and masked. She was standing there, feeling small, childish and decidedly unmasked. He took of his disguise, reveling a face she all too well and bore into her eyes. She didn't bother trying to look away, he had her entranced and she knew he now had the upper hand.

"I've been looking for you everywhere. You told me to meet you on the outskirts of the forest, not smack in the middle of it," he said a tad indignant. "I've been running like a madman."

She pushed a lock of her drenched hair away from her eyes. Her free hand found his cheek, but she still didn't turn around. She'd yet to work up the courage to face him. Nameless faces had told her he was dead and she'd believed them for the longest time. She'd come to the cemetery religiously, she'd buy him flowers and she'd weep for him. Nonetheless, throughout the whole ordeal, in the back of her mind, she'd had the fervent hope he'd come back to her. And lo and behold, hope had finally turned to reality.

"I visit your gravestone every day," she explained. "And every day I think of what we could have done differently. What I could have down differently. But that doesn't matter anymore, because you're back… just like I told myself. I know you'd never leave me."

He approached her, inquiring calmly if she was all right. She looked under the weather. She averted her eyes and waited for him to get closer. Unable to talk. He placed a hand under her chin and kissed her softly. He'd always loved kissing her. "I don't have long, Voldemort needs me back," he muttered into her ear.

"I don't have long, Dumbledore needs me back," she muttered back, a sob escaping her lips. She needed to do this for the greater good… the fucking greater good of the world… not for the greater good of her life.

"What's wrong?" he queried, concern evident in his voice. He wondered if she was still bothered by their places on opposite sides. He'd told her he wouldn't let any one of the Death Eaters hurt her.

She back away, head bowed. She had to do this, she had to do this. She repeated it obsessively. "Forgive me."

"For what?" he asked confused, an edge to his voice. He was put-off.

"Petrificus Totalus."

She no longer felt the pain in her heart. She was blissful for once. Embraced by the man she loved, the past behind her and everything was at long last looking up. "You're not very talkative, today," she commented. He didn't answer and she shivered. The wind howled eerily and thunder crashed.

"Love," she hiccoughed, her sobs increasing. "If you'd just given me the choice." She let the knife slip from her grasp. It embedded itself firmly in his chest. He gasped. His eyes widened in astonishment as he coughed, moaning in shocked pain. She'd never seen such stormy gray eyes look so betrayed.

"Please, close your eyes," she pleaded, unable to break his now vacant gaze. She cursed her life and cried out in agony. The heartbreak was too painful. Her breath hitching, she spun round as emotionally vacant as his blank gaze. She walked away and felt… empty.

She cast one last somber glance at the gravestone, spun round, happy to finally lay eyes on him and saw… nothing. The wind blew and howled, her hair whipped her face and she struggled to see something… anything. Her eyes widened in distress, a sick realization hitting her painfully.

Hermione Granger had been alone the whole time. Draco Malfoy hadn't come back after all.

-Finis-