DISCLAIMER: I don't own what J.K. Does. Also, the song I used to pull inspiration from is not mine. Don't sue me.

A/N: Here we go again! I put the wrong dates on the author's note last time:) Thanks, HermioneSelene11 and winterwood11 for reviewing! Hope that you'll stick with the story!

Schedule of Posting: Thursdays and Saturdays =)

Last Kiss

Draco Malfoy looked towards the gray Italian sky. It seems to be reflecting his mood these past few weeks. He had been distraught after Astoria Greengrass left him for Theodore Nott. She left him for Nott. Nott was not lacking in the looks department, of course, but he and his family name and his family fortune was not as abundant or humungous as the Malfoy fortune. So of course, Draco could not understand why a girl like Astoria – whom he had loved and showered with gifts – would runaway with that middle class pureblood.

But of course, life was never easy on Draco. He had, after all, lived with an abusive father and a depressed mother for the better part of his 22 years.

Draco looked at the sky again and around the room. His eyes strayed on the mahogany desk which contained a clutser of letters. His eyes averted them for a moment before, once again drawn by his inexplicable need to woo the traitor back.

And then, with nothing else to do, Draco Malfoy started to write.

Dear Astoria,

Your act of treason can be subsequently ignored and minimally punished if you come back. All you need to do is come back, and I, for one, am tired of waiting. I waited and waited and waited for you in this rabid chair for days, just waiting for you to return to me and abandon that bloody idiot. I've already written 156 – or was it 157? – unsent letters to you, and for some reason, I can't seem to give them to you. Why is that? I've wasted a mountain of ink and parchment – and I'm pretty sure that I had exhausted the Malfoy supplies about six times – , but something stops me.

I want you back.

You know, even now, almost two months after you left, I can still remember that night clearly. The look on your face was something... I hate remembering it. You were beautiful back then too.

We sat on the balcony. The midnight air was crisp and chilly – I remember because you complained about it twice. Your blonde hair was up in a messy bun – something that you would never be seen in in public – and you were irritated at me for waking you. Your lips were in a slight frown and your face looked disconcerted, but your eyes showed what you really felt. You were annoyed that I woke you up at one in the morning to, as I recall you saying 'wander outside in this morbid weather to hear birds wake each other up.'. You were not the Queen of Kindness, but I was fine with it – you were the Queen of Beauty, so I didn't mind. I laughed and whispered, 'I love you,' and you smiled at me. I should have noticed your lack of reply. I should have noticed your expression – that it was not of love but of sadness, of regret, of...pity. I should have known back then that you were already turning to him. You already lost that sparkle – however cliché that may sound – in your eyes and you looked at me with that look. The patronizing look of a person who was heavy with deceit.

Come back.

I want you back.

Draco reread the letter, then deciding that it was too clingy, he chucked it into the bin with the rest of the parchment.

Actually, as much as he liked to believe, he didn't have a clue on what to do. It was always him who did the dumping, not the other way around. And he actually grew fond Astoria. She was not the epitome of a perfect girlfriend, yes, but she wasn't one to pry on his business – he hated people who pried; she wasn't one to bake cakes or pastries on his birthday, but he didn't mind; she wasn't one who would rescue innocent little creatures, but he himself wasn't like that too; she wasn't one who would make him do anything, but he actually wanted that. Astoria was far from the perfect girlfriend – but in Draco's Point of view, she was the Perfect Malfoy Bride.

Yes, he had already thought of proposing to her, but he had decided to wait until bloody Thanksgiving. He felt as if she would be perfect for the position, even his mother wasn't adverse to it. But obviously, Narcissa had an inkling of the horrid and appalling things that Astoria did before she run off with Nott. His mother never even batted an eye when he told her the news.

He was messed up – his surroundings were a testament of his current state of mind. Astoria's perfume lingered in the air, making it stuffy and the smell was quite overpowering. Her clothes – or what was left of it – was in a burn bag. An elf was even waiting outside with a lit fire, but he couldn't bring himself to even bring the stupid bag down. Her things were strewn around – hats, shoes, shawls, everything that was hers.

Most of the things were clothes and jewelry, things that Astoria loves showing off in parties. She really loved them, you know – the parties. Every single one of the parties we held here would involve her looking like a Greek goddess and me stuck in my study.

Draco stood up, heading towards the stack of newspapers that had accumulated during his lurking and all around sulking. It was full of crap and bull about Astoria and their relationship. But when the owl flew in this morning, it was not his sullen face that graced the cover, but rather, it had been of a very familiar girl.

He pushed the month-old old issues and looked for the new-looking one. After about five minutes of cursing himself for knocking down the pile earlier in the morning and messing up the order of the dates, he finally pulled out the paper.

The headline read : 'A THIRD OF THE GOLDEN TRIO; MISSING'. Intrigued, he gazed at the girl and horror upon horrors fell upon him when he had realized that it was Granger. The Hermione Granger. The girl who beat him in every subject. The girl who managed to jab him with the sharpened stick people call wit every time they were in speaking radius. The girl who had punched him.

The girl, or should we say woman, on the front page picture showed a pale indifferent face. She was very pretty, with her smooth skin, soulful eyes, shapely nose and almost aristocratic semi-full lips – far from the bucktoothed, freckle-infested, scrawny face that was framed with frigid curls that he had known from school. Her hair was the most prominent change. It was a little bit straighter at the top and toned down at the bottom.

But her eyes could have passed for normal ones if Draco didn't know for certain that Hermione Granger could never pull off a face of indifference. It was his pride. So something was definitely wrong with the slightly still and subtly moving picture. Then he looked at her eyes again and saw it.

There was a sadness in there... just a hint. It was laced with fury, confusion and regret. It was the eyes of a depressed person. He knew because he looked at the same type of eyes everyday in the morning when he looked into the mirror.

Quickly, he turned towards the Caption. It read;

Hermione Jane Granger, revered Fashion photographer, owner of various bookstores in the country, and 1/3 of the Golden Trio was reported missing on November 25th. Reports say that she was last seen in a fight carrying numerous bags in the middle of the night near her shared apartment with Ronald Weasley and that she was heading towards muggle London... read the rest of the story on pages 5 to 7.

Then he turned to the pages and continued to read the first paragraphs.

"Hermione Granger just needs privacy." Harry Potter, saviour and head Auror, commented to an interview from the Daily Prophet once he was asked about his long-time bestfriend's where abouts. "Hermione needs a break. She wouldn't have just disappeared without a reason. So don't you all worry. She is safe and the decision was hers to make alone."

Her location is still deemed a mystery, as well as the cause for her disappearance is still unknown but sources say that she may very well be in the muggle World. The...

Draco shook his head. It seemed that he wasn't the only onewho dealt with the disaster that other people call life.

Maybe he should follow Granger's steps, he mused. He could escape it all. He could leave behind his wretched past and find someone better than Astoria – someone he couldn't even compare her to. He wouldn't even need to work. Money would never be a problem – his bank account accumulated thousands daily. He could always buy what he would need.

It was brilliant. He could escape. The muggle world would never know who he was and they would never need to know. He could build another empire. He could runaway without being chased there.

"Milly!" He shouted. And he heard a loud pop signalling the arrival of his personal house elf. "Pack my things. We're going for a trip."

A/n: There you go! I hope you liked it!

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