A/N: Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything of the Harry Potter brand.

She was beautiful when she fell.

She fell so slowly it seemed like someone had taken her in their arms and was gently letting her down to the ground. Time seemed to warp like syrup spreading over a surface. My body didn't register the ice and snow melting under my body heat and soaking my clothes. I forgot that I couldn't feel my legs. Her eyes were still fierce and determined but yet there was a hint of surprise in them. She was so used to every idea she came up working out perfectly, but she would never let anyone see anything other than that Gryffindor courage. Even though she put up a good show I knew her eyes always gave her away. I remember once thinking I could spend a day just looking into her eyes but I suppose that'll never happen now.

It was father that attacked her.

If I had to take a guess I think he rather liked her honestly. She was everything a pureblood should be: smart, clever, and beautiful. He respected her and that was why he was always so harsh to muggle borns. During his whole life he saw muggle borns that held up his expectations of what he thought they were until Hermione. She was the one ace muggle borns had against the arguement that muggle borns didn't belong in the magical world. She went against everything he had been told was right. She was something the purebloods could never match in quality.

He also hated her because she reminded him of someone from his past. During the summer I would grow lonely in the mansion and I would look through father's desk to learn about any part of him so I would feel closer to him. He doesn't know I found the articles he clipped out of newpapers about her accomplishments and the dozens of pictures of them together under heavy lock and key. He still clipped out articles about her even though they were so much older now. A clipping of her engagement announcement and a full page story of her wedding to a weathly pureblood. Her picture with her daugther as she was selected to be a part of the ministry was also in the stack. Under a false bottom in the drawer were a pile of letters with the happiest letters at the top and then the eventual letters leading up to their break up at the bottom. She must've been quite a woman for him to continue to still love her after all the time that has past. My father didn't regret, he told me that on many occasions but I think he wondered. What if he had tried harder to make the relationship work? What if he had her as his wife, would he be dead right now? Would she have been a better mother? Would they've had children? How different would his life have been?

I would've loved her.

I had a plan. After the war I would wait a couple years. She would have the right amount of grieveing time and I would have the time to rebuild the Malfoy name. Things would be on their way to healing and I would find her usual haunts. Nothing would be forced though, I wanted to be sure it was meant to be. So I would pick odd days to go to one of the places hoping she would be there. Maybe it would work on the first attempt going to the places but I would've kept trying. This would probably go on so long that I would want to give up and move on but then we would met. She would be surprised to find me there but do her best to ignore me. When I would attempt to talk to her she would be cold despite the fact I fought along her best friends for the side of good. She would try leave but I would put my Malfoy charm to good use. She would see in my eyes that something about me had changed and she couldn't resist a puzzle that she didn't know the answer to. After freezing for a moment to think she would give in. We would have that short meeting and then we would have lunch, nothing serious. Then she would realize how much we really did have in common and she would see the real me. We would progress to having dinner and we would begin dating. I would've married her somewhere down the line.

The world just seems to be falling.

I'm laying low on the ground. The snow seems to fill all my pores and it's ironic that something so pure would be on the ground on a night like this. The red in the snow isn't a cherry frozen treat but something more sicker. I'm hit but it's just a flesh wound. I am a coward. I don't want to die. I don't want anyone to die for that matter. But I'm playing dead as the muggles say. I can't fight. I'm not brilliant I just have money.

She's having trouble breathing, it's freezing out here. I can't feel my arms anymore. She must not feel anything on her body now. She won't surrender though. She'll keep on breathing, that's what I love about her.

She fights.

For what she believes, for what's right, for her own life. She's very good at it too, she even had me going for that S.P.E.W she was rambling about years ago. And now here she is in the snow, probably praying for her life. Possibly she was thinking about the flaws in her plan and how they could've happened. Only a few hours ago we all were warm and comfortable as we took in our last few moments of pretending this war wasn't about to come to a climax. People were silently panicking and pacing while orders tried to lighten the mood with jokes. She seemed so calm though. The wheels in her head were obviously turning at the speed of light, she had a plan. Finally it was time to face reality and orders were given as to our positions. It didn't surprise me she went off in a different direction than she was instructed. She was going into dangerous territory and I followed her to make sure she ended up okay. She was going to hide in the Forbidden Forrest, behind the trees, where we had predicted Voldemort and the Death Eaters would come through. The predicting paid off and a swarm of Death Eaters made their way silently through the forrest. She raised her wand ready and she hestitated before uttering the killing curse. She didn't want to be a murderer but circumstances required her to be. After the first one went down her eyes became determined and detached. If she started to care about killing then she wouldn't kill enough Death Eaters to make it easier for the ones defending at the front line. Killing the ones in the back was smart, they wouldn't be missed.

That damn Gryffindor courage.

Three had fallen before father noticed something was amiss. He most likely heard her whispering the curses. I could see he was purposely letting people get ahead of him. He let the other Death Eaters go on without him and I wanted to warn her he knew. He knew and he was going to kill her. If I did warn her though I would not only most definitely compromise her but compromise myself. It was a train wreck waiting to happen, you knew you couldn't watch it but you couldn't pull your glaze away. When she aimed her wand at him he turned around and they screamed curses at each other at the same time. Part of their curses nicked me, causing my wound and I fell to the ground while being hidden by a tree. She had dunked and only received half of the spell's force. Father was hit straight on and fell with a thud that echoed throughout the forrest.

He always found a way to break my heart.

It makes me sound like a pansy but guys get their hearts broken too. We are humans just as much as girls. No girl has ever broken my heart though. I never let myself fall that deep but my father...he was my father. I was imprinted to love him but he was a Death Eater. He didn't have a heart, much less a soul. By now he's in hell I hope. He was a wicked man but he was my father and there wasn't any way I could stop loving him. He was my father, half of the reason I am here. Alcohol, greed, lust, and power ruled his mind. He was a depressed man, making the best out of a life that never went the way he wanted. He was forced to settle for an arranged marriage to mother instead of marrying the woman in the articles. Being a pureblood has perks: a historic family tree, money, and respect but it comes with little freedom and many expectations which my father didn't meet. Alcohol numbed the pain. Greed made it worthwhile. Lust made him forget. Power made him love. Power meant control over something, anything, in a life where every moment and move was dictated to him by Pureblood conduct.

It was an addiction.

I understand addiction now. She's my addiction. I fell for her, how could I not? Now she's given me the greatest gift, removing the one man in my life who caused me the most pain, father. She's saved my life. His eyes are still open, still piercing, as though he could still see what was going on.

It finally hits me.

He doesn't control me anymore.

I could do anything. It was Christmas morning in the middle of a battlefield to me. I could blow all the family money. I could be whoever I wanted.

Damn society, who I wanted to be right now was the person who did something right for once.

I slowly dragged myself across the snow, keeping close to the ground, fearing there could other Death Eaters on the prowl. I took her hand mine and I savored finally any kind of contact with her that wasn't an insult. She turned her head and her eyes widen in surprise when she saw me, most likely expecting anyone other than me to find her. I brushed back hair from her face and her eyes became unreadable, wondering what to do next. Then I saw it. Her decision was made.

Acceptance.

She smiled and tightened the hold on my hand as she tipped her up and began to cough. When she stopped she closed her eyes and sighed. I could see that she had tears in her eyes.

She had accepted that she was going to die here.

Not if I had anything to do with it. Ignoring the burning sensation my wound sent up and down my left side whenever I moved, I picked her up as she was too weak to stand on her own and carried her in my arms back to the castle.

The war was over.

I had been expecting to dunk and hide from various curses but the grounds had a chilling silence over it. I didn't want to see the full extent of the damage and I hurried her to the Hospital Wing. Someone pulled her out of my arms almost immediately when I stepped inside. I could see a feeling of being lost in her eyes when she realized I was gone. My hand still felt imprint of her hand. She had been holding my hand even when I was holding her. I didn't know how that was possible but she always did find a way to do anything. While I was being treated I kept my eye on her, making sure that she was still alive. No one was talking about whether we had won or not. From what I could see Potter wasn't there so he was probably duking it out with Voldemort. From pieces of conversation I found out that most of the Death Eaters had been killed with the surviving ones detained. Potter, along with others, were fighting Voldemort.

All we could do was wait.

That's exactly what I did. I waited till the news came in that we had won. Until news reached us that Potter and the others had survived but was moved elsewhere for treatment from the battle. I waited until everyone was distracted with happiness that the magical world was free and then I came by her bed.

She still looked beautiful.

Her lips were tinged with a blue color but I had heard them say she was going to live.

She was going to live.

I bent down, kissed her, and then turned to leave, I couldn't stay. My wound would heal within the week and I knew no one wanted a Malfoy to sour their Golden Trio party. I had done my job. It was time for me to leave and to really heal. I got one last glance of her and then I walked out of the hospital wing and disappeared.

Hermione Granger.

She is my broken angel.