She never cared about you.

The words echoed in Draco's mind. Ever since seeing her again at that damned ball, he couldn't get the image of her out of his head. It was burned into his memory; her dancing in the arms of that wanker, Macmillan, smiling up into his face, his hands on her waist, in her hair…

The quill he had been holding in his hand snapped in half, the feather dangling uselessly, ink splattering on the paper. He growled and Evanesco'ed the mess, pulling out a clean sheaf of parchment and trying to remember what he had been going to write.

He balled the ruined parchment up in his fist.

His father had mentioned in passing that he had spoken to Hermione at the ball, although how and why they had met he would not say, only that she had said those horrible words that were now banging around the inside of his tortured skull.

Never cared.

A very small part of him hoped his father wasn't telling the truth. It was extremely possible he was lying, twisting the knife in Draco's chest for no other reason than for the simple pleasure of it.

But most of him knew that it made far too much sense; that somewhere in his mind he always knew it was too good to be true that she should love him.

Who could blame her? Hadn't he been over this so many times in his own mind? It made no sense for someone as good as she always had been to want to be with him, with his history and his bad blood (oh, the irony) and his past alliance with the darkness. Perhaps she had only been with him before out of pity, and now she had finally found someone who fit her, who was good enough and smart enough and…

"Fuck," he spat as the new quill he had picked up broke under the pressure of his fist. He tossed it aside and gave it all up as a bad job. He honestly couldn't remember what he had been going to write. Some sort of owl to Astoria, he remembered vaguely.

Hah. Like any of it mattered, really. Astoria would make his father and grandmother happy. She fit the bill for the next perfect Malfoy bride. She would give him sons, heirs to the Malfoy name. He would be miserable, of course, but then, wasn't that was marriage was all about?

Love was for commoners.

Fuck.

Funny how it never used to bother him when he was younger. He always assumed that he would marry one day; a suitable pureblooded witch whom he would respect for giving him heirs, but would not love. He thought perhaps he would have several mistresses on the side as well, but he would not love them, either.

Love made people weak. And to Draco, it hadn't even seemed necessary.

Damn Hermione Granger for turning his world upside down and ruining his chances of ever being happy with his lot in life!

It was as if she had never appeared in his life at all, only now he knew what he had been missing. Now it was hell scraping through the days, forcing himself to go through the motions of tasks he would have reveled in if he'd never held her.

Damn her.

Every moment was hell because he had fallen from heaven.

Another month passed.

Hermione locked herself in her apartment for the duration of it, riding out the end of February and on into the month of March without stepping foot outside its doors, taking the Floo Network directly to the Ministry and back again every weekday, then hiding in the shadows of her darkened living room on the weekends.

Well, not hiding, certainly. She just preferred not to actually have to see the sunlight these days, that was all. It was too…bright.

And the more that she avoided contact with the outside world – no longer receiving the Prophet, for instance – the less she would have to deal with the rumors that were circulating about a certain person, rumors that almost always involved him being engaged and extremely, disgustingly happy.

Horrifyingly happy.

This – although she wouldn't have admitted it to anyone – was the reason she didn't go outside anymore. The sunlight hurt when her heart was so dark. The laughter of people on the streets sounded to her like screaming.

In short, she was slowly losing her mind. So slowly, in fact, that she didn't even notice as it slipped away.

"I know, Ducky."

Draco started. He had been bent over his shoelace and hadn't noticed his mother even entering the room. Now he looked up and sighed as he settled back onto the couch he was sitting on, leaning back and shading his eyes with his hand. He stretched, feeling the slight pressure in his spine let go with a series of quiet pops.

"What is it that you know, Mother?" he asked, dragging his hand down over his face as he spoke so the words came out slightly muffled.

He felt movement on the couch next to him, the slight dipping in the cushion as she sat down.

"You don't want to do this."

Draco fought the urge to jump up from the couch and throw a temper tantrum right there in the middle of his parents' sitting room. Of course he didn't. He had been protesting all along, hadn't he?

That thought brought him up short, though.

Had he been protesting? He thought about it. No, he decided he hadn't. He had been going along with the ride, trying not to make waves. Just breathing in and out and trying to make it through the day without jumping off any buildings.

He couldn't stop himself from uttering a dry chuckle at that.

Now he turned his attention to his mother, who was looking at him as if deeply concerned. Hell, she probably was concerned. He tried to think back to his recent behavior to see if he had done anything to warrant concern.

In truth, he couldn't remember.

When you were just existing from one day to the next, time became kind of a sketchy thing.

So instead of throwing that temper tantrum like he had been tempted to do, he shifted his weight on the couch, looked his mother in the eyes, and put on his best, brightest I'm-completely-fine-and-not-suicidal-or-anything-like-that-so-please-don't-worry-about-me smile.

"I want to do this," he said firmly. He was vaguely surprised at how sincere his own voice sounded as he uttered the lie.

"Draco," his mother tried, but he cut her off.

"Look, I've made a commitment. It's a good thing, this. So maybe I've had a few…personal issues. I'm not backing out. I won't regret it." He took his mother's hands in his. "My mother taught me that family was the most important thing. And this…well it's about family, isn't it? Making a family stronger."

Narcissa waited to see if her son was through speaking, then took a deep breath.

"You don't have to do it, you know," she said, searching his eyes. "I know you think you're doing this for me, but it really isn't as important to me as you think it is, Ducky." Draco sighed. "It isn't. And after…" here she seemed to choose her next words carefully "…everything that happened earlier this year, darling, you could hardly be expected to –"

"You know what? Don't. Please don't. Don't pity me. No one else does." He was standing up now, without realizing he had even dropped her hands. "It's only a trade-off, anyway. One wedding for another. I just want to forget that last year ever happened. What better way to get on with my life, right? A little walk down the aisle? Besides," he added with a cynical grin – a grin which held a hint of madness underneath it – "it's in all the papers, isn't it? It's been announced. I'm not going to dishonor you and Father by backing out of a commitment in front of the entire wizarding community. I was brought up better than that."

Narcissa sighed. Draco saw the look on her face and realized he had gone ahead and thrown that temper tantrum after all. The maniacal grin slipped off his face.

"All right, son," she said quietly, eyes downcast and hands folded neatly in her lap. "Keep your commitment." She raised her eyes. "But I will love you either way."

Draco could stand the weight of her gaze no longer. He turned and left.

"Do you think we should say something to her?"

"Like what? It doesn't even matter."

"But if she hears something…it could sound bad, you know."

Harry set his butterbeer down on the table with a bit more force than was expressly necessary.

"Would it matter?" He shook his head firmly. "I don't want her hearing any news from that family, if you don't mind. Hasn't she been through enough?"

Ron shrugged. "I still think we should say something."

"What would we say? She doesn't want to know. She's stopped taking the paper, she's stopped answering owls, she's even stopped coming in to work now, it isn't like she wants – "

"Wait, what? She's stopped coming to work?"

Harry sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "One of the interns from her department is friends with Ginny. Said Hermione hasn't been in to the office in about two weeks. She's apparently been sending her work in via owl…" He trailed off. Ron's eyes widened.

"Two weeks? That isn't like her at all…I mean, the rest of this stuff you might be able to brush off as just Hermione-ish…not going out much, even not taking the paper, since the war is over, there hasn't been much of interest in there except for executions and weddings…but not coming in to work? For two weeks?"

"You've said," Harry cut across him as Ron opened his mouth to continue. He closed his eyes tight and massaged the bridge of his nose under his glasses, where a slight headache was beginning to form. "But haven't you noticed, Ron? She's stopped talking to everyone." He opened his eyes and looked Ron square in the face, emphasizing his next two words, "Including us."

Ron scoffed.

"Oh, she'll talk to us, all right," he said in a dismissive tone, waving a hand carelessly to the side, sweeping the point away as if it were a pesky fly. "She'll have to. We'll go over there right now," standing up, "and talk some sense into her." He drained his butterbeer and slammed it on the table along with a tip for their waitress. When Harry didn't move, he raised his eyebrows at him. "You coming?"

"And what will we do when we get there?" Harry asked quietly.

"Drag her out, kicking and screaming, of course." As if this were the most obvious answer in the world.

Harry raised his own eyebrows in reply and gestured to the discarded Daily Prophet that lay on the table between them.

"Oh, all right, we won't tell her. Happy? Now come on."

A/N - Sorry for the wait, guys! I'm trying to get back on top of this story...there are about five more chapters after this one, I'm pretty sure, in case anybody is wondering. And ohmigosh I have the best readers! There have been so many awesome reviews for this story and Change of Heart in the past few weeks...it makes meh happeh to get good reviews (and makes me want to write, too, hehehe). So review and let me know you're out there and you want this story finished! Pretty please?