She knew who it was before the door opened. She always knew.

This was the first time that he dared approach her after the quote unquote incident. He was smarter than most gave him credit for and he could read her like a book. Well, a book with incredibly blurred pages filled with plot holes. Still, he understood, though not any more or less than Harry or Ron.

But they were gone, one forever, and the other until he felt the need or inclination to show up. Who knew when it would happen, after defeating the great Lord Voldemort Harry was a reclusive, the occasional letter reaching her to promise his safety? She knew that he was all right, with or without the infrequent post that trickled her way. They had a connection, something inexplicable, but no less real all the same. She had had it with Ron, as well.

No tears formed as she recalled her lost love. She had shed useless buckets of salt water, but that changed nothing. Hermione Granger was not the type to do something for nothing. Logic was her safety blanket, but she did not use it for the first five months after his death.

It had been unfair, in a word. The end had been cruel and brief and somewhat underhanded, no shock given the antagonists. No great battle to commemorate his nobility. No climactic buildup, no great last words, just cold, harsh death. It had happened after the Great War, after Harry defeated one of the greatest, and most evil, wizards of all time, while Ron was asleep. Some cowardly Death Eater exacted his revenge on an unconscious victim. He had been murdered by a coward.

Harry attended the funeral, crawling out of his secret world for a day's time before plummeting back into the darkness and isolation. This was where he dwelled now, his new home. He had seen too much, but Hermione did not pity him as much as most. She knew his strength, knew his heart. He was just tired of fighting, and it did not matter that he could win the battle. He had defeated his arch nemesis and that seemed to be enough. Hermione did not try to argue with him. She knew all to well that he was quite as stubborn as she.

Life returned to normal. Well, as normal as life could be in the wizarding world after such a traumatic event. And then came him, Malfoy with his I-don't-care-what-you-think attitude and irritatingly endearing sarcasm.

They did not fall head over heels in love. Their relationship did not spark with wild animal sex and mutual attraction; their years of spite and hatred were too thick for something as simple and raucous as that. Years after being forced together did, eventually take a toll on them. It had taken eight years for him to admit it.

She did not even turn as he came from behind her. "What do you want?" This was no time for formalities.

She could practically see his sneer as he spoke, "Nice to see you as well, Granger. I'm doing spectacular, but now you've been so courteous, it's the least I can do to ask how you are." His voice was dripping with sarcasm but she could sense the innuendo beneath it.

The sun was midway through the sky and though she had not checked the time for hours she estimated that it was nearly three o'clock. "I could repeat the question for the hard of hearing."

He leaned forward and pressed his weight on the railing of the balcony, looking at her. She refused to reciprocate his glare. "Just wanted to talk, is all. Is that a sin?" She did not speak, forcing him to continue, "We can pretend that I didn't say anything. Of course, we both know that it'll do no good. The tension would be enough to kill us."

She frowned slightly. "Unless I do the deed."

"As witty as ever, Granger."

"Eight years of being my partner and I'm still 'Granger?' Seems stupid."

"I'm still Malfoy."

"That's different. You don't look like a 'Draco.'"

"Maybe you don't look like a 'Hermione.'"

"Who are you kidding? The name fits."

"Well, I had no control over what my mother decided to name me."

"You look more like a William or something of the sort. More English, less Italian."

"Maybe you'd prefer the name Wilma or Elsie."

"I don't look like an Elsie."

"How would you know?"

"I just do."

"Know-it-all."

"You think you can bait me into a fight? Nearly a decade with Ron and Harry would teach me better."

"It was worth a try."

"No it wasn't."

"Must you be so insufferable?"

"No," she answered honestly.

"Then why are you?"

"It's amusing to see you try to analyze every word that comes out of my mouth."

"You're the mistress of double-meanings."

"Maybe you should just accept that."

"Not in my nature, Granger."

"Not in my nature to compromise." The wily witch had baited him.

"Damn."

"I'm good."

"You are," he admitted.

She was taken aback by this startling answer, "Admitting defeat are we?"

"Never. Just recognizing your talent in a battle of wits."

"One of my many talents."

"Name another."

"The ability to come up with ridiculous acronyms."

"You are ingenious in that practice."

"What can I say?"

"That you'll marry me."

A beat and a pause greeted this request that was phrased as a demand. "You should learn from past mistakes. You can't trick me."

"I don't want to trick you." He licked his lips. "Well, perhaps I do, if that would make you consent to being my wife."

"I think all those years being hit by a bludger did serious brain damage."

"I'd be more worried about Potter."

"I know for a fact that he has suffered such ailments." She informed him before continuing. "What is it that brought on your infatuation? Our invigorating arguments?"

"No."

"My stunning beauty?"

He laughed.

"Not a good answer," she warned.

"It's only about looks when you're young."

"We're not even thirty."

"We are coming dangerously close."

"Was Pansy a conquest for attraction's sake?"

"And blood."

"We all bleed red."

"We're not all pure."

"We don't all marry our distant cousins."

"Someday someone will disprove that and it will be widely accepted that all Muggles are interrelated as well."

"When it is I will marry you."

"That could be centuries."

"Exactly."

"You like holding this over my head, don't you?"

"It's better than Christmas."

"What about Halloween?"

"Never cared much for the holiday before Hogwarts."

"What about after?"

"It was a day for good food and a surprise or two."

"There was always a surprise or two in Hogwarts."

"Or three."

"Or eleven, who knows."

"Who cares?" she asked.

"Maybe I do."

"Then I definitely don't."

"You are insufferable."

"You've already said that."

"And you admitted it."

"I acknowledged it, not admitted."

"Is there a difference, Miss Nit-picker?"

"Look it up."

"In our entire conversation have you answered any question with more than one sentence?"

She paused. "I'm not quite sure. My memory's not what it used to be. There, that was two. No make that three sentences."

"Your memory is still better than mine ever was."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Oh, it has to get me somewhere."

"Fine, it won't get you far."

"You are bitter."

"According to you I'm old."

"We're not even thirty!"

"That's what I said." She looked at him strangely.

"You are bitter and old."

"One is a result of another."

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes," she agreed with a slight smile.

"Do you love me?"

"I'm not sure."

"I love you."

"That sounds strange coming from you."

"I practice in front of the mirror every night. You have to know if you love me."

"Maybe I'm confused."

"You?"

"I'm not perfect." He smiled, but kept the biting insult to himself.

"I never claimed you were."

"You implied it."

"I've known you for nearly twenty years."

"Nearly."

"I've loved you for half that time."

"Before we were reunited against the odds and forced to overcome our hate for the greater good, as I'm sure some lame author will put it when our 'story' is published in the Prophet?"

"You would be a good tabloid writer."

"I'm too 'old' to start a new career," she replied scathingly.

"You take everything too personally."

"And you shake everything off."

"This just makes me enjoyable and you crabby."

"And yet you are the one begging for me to marry you."

"Practically begging. I have not gotten down on one knee and lost all of my pride and dignity yet. But if that what it takes, so be it."

"Why do you care so much?"

"Why don't you care at all?" he asked.

"I do care...a lot."

"So this is all for show?"

"I'm not teasing, I'm just confused."

"Do you still think that you would be betraying Weasley?"

"No. He died nine years ago, a year before you happened."

"I 'happened'? What am I, a cataclysmic event?"

"I suppose, at least in some ways."

"And I did love you before then-"

"But you were confused, too?"

"Somewhat."

"Unwilling to admit the truth?"

"Perhaps-"

"Afraid that you would disgrace your family?"

"The sentence finishing habit you seem to have picked up is irritating."

"I find it endearing."

"You would."

"You're a child."

"I thought that we covered that I'm practically half-dead, old and withered?"

"You're not even thirty."

"Neither are you."

"I have a few weeks."

"September nineteenth?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"I'm not a complete imbecile."

"Well, you fooled me."

"And I'm the child."

"I'm the spinster."

"I'm the bachelor."

"But you don't want to be one. A bachelor, that is."

"And you want to be a spinster?"

"I prefer the term single."

"May I remind you that you are the one who used the expression spinster?"

"I was being sardonic."

"I couldn't tell. Your sarcasm and serious tones are so similar that I am often confused."

"Now you know the feeling."

"I knew it before."

"From what?"

"Must you torture me?"

"Yes."

"It becomes quite drab."

"I never grow sick of it."

"You are a sadist."

"And you, sir, are a sucker for punishment."

"I do like you, so I suppose that your interpretation, while radical, is not entirely incorrect."

"Love, I believe, is the term that you used."

"I'm tired."

"Overly tired?"

"No, just regularly tired."

"I can't tell."

"I'm shocked. I thought that you might have commented on the bags under my eyes."

"Now that you mention it-"

"Don't make me toss you off this balcony."

She smiled. "Like to see you try."

"Really?"

"Well, now I am a bit scared."

"Glad to see that I terrify you."

"That's a bit of an overstatement."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Do you realize that we have spoken until the sun set about absolutely nothing-"

"And everything at the same time."

"I told you that the sentence finishing is annoying."

"When is the last time I took a suggestion of yours?"

"I wish you would have taken one when I told you to jump off a bridge or do something else rather unpleasant to yourself."

"No, you would like it if I had accepted your proposition."

"You make it sound like a business offer."

"It was hardly romantic."

"It was the best I could manage. What did you want, sunset with roses and candles?"

"We have sunset."

"I could conjure some doves."

"Not necessary, but it's the thought that counts."

"That's just what people who are unsatisfied with a gift say."

"Not always. Sometimes people who are unsatisfied by someone's clichéd attempt at proposing say 'it's the thought that counts.'"

"True."

"I won't marry you." He was silent. "But I will give you a chance."

"Good to know."

"Oh, don't pretend like you're not somewhat pleased with my decision."

"It was inevitable."

"It was improbable."

"A decade ago you would have said impossible."

"Yes. Times change."

"People change."

"Circumstances change."

"Are we going to go through a list of all the things that change or are we going to snog?" Hermione laughed at his suggestion.

"Not on the first date."

What'd you think? Have u ever started writing something that was supposed to be kind of sad and had it end up like this? Please, review. I kind of like my new style of dialogue.