A/N: So this is the same story as Changing, but from Hermione's point of view. Many thanks to EsemmeTresemme, and Lilith Jinx for reviewing. And also to anyone who favorited my story or added it to their alerts. :) it means a lot to me.

So please enjoy this. next are sequels to Shot and This Christmas. and I'm sorry if this or the last one makes/made anyone cry.

Once Upon a Dream

Hermione had been doing everything right. She had a wonderful job and a nice place to stay. She had friends and hung out with them whenever she could. But something was wrong. She felt sick all the time, and was always exhausted. She never really took notice of it until one day at work she passed out. When she awoke in the hospital, the Healers told her that it was Leukemia and gave her a time frame of a year or two.

When she found out, she wanted to give up on everything. She left her job, gave up her apartment, and disconnected herself from her friends. She would not, could not allow them to go through this. It would be hard enough to say good bye to them now, saying good bye then would be unbearable. She wouldn't put them through that. How could she?

So she told them she was going to America, to Germany, to Australia, to Iceland. She said she wanted to backpack across the world, figure out on her own time what she wanted to do with her life. It wasn't all a lie. Hermione wished she could go on that trip, she wished she could travel around the world and see everything that was out there. But she had a disease to fight. Maybe if she fought it, she could live. Eventually go on that trip.

But Hermione didn't do anything. The first year she took a few classes here and there at a local college, and stayed in a small apartment just above a bakery. During that year she went through chemo. She wasn't sure if it was going to work, but she had some hope. As long as she kept up hope, maybe someday she could have the life she always wanted.

Years passed and she remained alive. It was a shock to her and the doctors. They had been so sure that the Leukemia was going to win against her. No matter how hard she fought, the doctors had said that the she would not, and could not win. Hermione had done all she could, the time limit they had once given her had passed. It was only a matter of time before she too passed.

After a while the chemo stopped working. Hermione, thin and weak, looked for a job, hoping to be able to pay off some school debts before she died. The chemo had nearly destroyed her, but there was still some of her left over. Every day when she looked in the mirror, she thought how disgusting she looked, how gross she was. She had no hair to speak of, a wig covering up her bald head. She was pale and slightly thin, her eyes dead. But no matter how much she wanted to be pretty, and look normal, she couldn't.

She could barely get herself out of bed in the morning, could barely drag herself to work. Things were bad. She had no will to live anymore. And no will to eat. Her small apartment on top of the bakery was quaint, but messy. She could barely get to and from work, making her place look acceptable was too much. She knew it was going to be any day now.

When Hermione had finally gotten a job, she found that to her horror, she would be working near Draco Malfoy. She prayed every time she walked into that office that he wouldn't recognize her. That he wouldn't realize who she was and would just stay away from her. She wished that he would never say anything to her. These were her dying days, why did they have to be spent near him?

But for the longest time, he said nothing. He barely even looked at her. Then she started noticing him following her to break. She had no idea why, because she didn't do anything interesting. Most of the time she was on the phone with her doctor, always persuading him to just euthanize her. But he never would. And if she wasn't on the phone with him, she was on the phone with Ally, another cancer patient she had met months back. They talked about what they were going through.

Hermione was farther down the line than Ally, but Ally seemed to be responding well to chemotherapy. Hermione always wished Ally would make it through, even though Hermione wouldn't. Hermione made a point of calling Ally during chemo sessions. Never wanting her to be alone during that time. Hermione always wished she had someone to talk to during chemo.

But after a few months, Draco finally talked to her. Hermione was prepared for him to make fun of her, but she wasn't expecting what actually happened. "I want to know why you lied to Harry about going on a backpacking trip across the world." He said it calmly and quietly. Hermione was taken aback by what he said. Did she seriously hear him correctly? Did he go and talk to Harry about her? Was he concerned for her? As far as Hermione knew, no one had felt concerned for her in a long time.

For a month he asked her the same question every day. Hermione had no idea why he was so persistent to know. But finally Hermione told him as close to the truth as she wanted to get. He asked her whether she knew about Ron, which she did. She missed Ron. He was a good friend, but would never have understood the common Muggle disease she now suffered from.

But when Draco asked Hermione the question of what had changed her so much, she couldn't bring herself to answer it. She couldn't tell him. He wouldn't have understood. Although cancers had been detected among a few wizards, it wasn't as common as among Muggles. The fact that Hermione was Muggle born made her a little more prone than all those around her. And here she was, cancerous.

Hermione wanted him to ask for days. She wanted to tell Draco what had happened to her, but she didn't want to at the same time. The next day, when Draco steered Hermione towards the break room, she was confused. She hadn't been able to eat for months because the chemo had left her stomach in less than functioning order. All those times of throwing up after eating, had also left Hermione nauseous of food.

So when Draco planted the potato dishes in front of Hermione, she hadn't had an actual meal in months. She wasn't anorexic. But technically speaking she was. Hermione hadn't wanted anyone to know that she was anorexic. She hadn't really had a choice. But she was. She couldn't eat. She ate tiny bites of the food, answering Draco's questions, talking politely with him. It was the polite, friendly thing to do.

This continued on every day for months. Hermione had lived a full 3-4 years longer than the doctor had said and she started to think maybe she was getting better. She thought maybe she could have that life she wanted. Travel the world and see all those places, maybe get married and settle down. Maybe she would get married to Draco. Something about him was different. He was not the cruel boy he had been at Hogwarts. He was gentle, and charming and chivalrous.

With him she had more fun in a few months than she had in five years. She had thought her life was over. She had all but condemned herself to death. And yet, he was trying to save her. Unknowing of his actions of course, but he was still trying to help her.

But it wasn't enough. The food, the conversations, the nice smiles in the hallways. They weren't enough to save Hermione from what had already taken her. One day she walked into the bakery, bags of groceries in her hands. She had finally decided to try eating on her own. Finally decided to have more than just lunch with Draco. As she tried to make it up the stairs, her vision grew dark and her head felt light.

She awoke once again in the hospital, feeling worse than she had in a long time. She felt weaker than she had during chemo, and more fragile than she had ever before. Hermione cursed herself for not telling Draco what had happened to her. And she tried to get someone to contact him for her. But the stroke had taken her ability to speak. And her ability to walk and stand. She would finish out her days, in a bed with no one at her side.

Hermione felt it coming before it got there. The Leukemia was killing her, and it was taking its sweet time with it. The night before she slipped away, she managed to find a piece of paper in the nightstand beside her bed. She mimed at the nurse for a pen, and was able to write a note to the nurse asking her to do something for her. Then she began the note, her last conversation to Draco Malfoy.

Dear Draco,

These last few months have been amazing. I knew I should have told you about the cancer earlier. I wish I had. Maybe then I wouldn't be here on my deathbed alone. But you were a good friend to me the last few months. You made me eat, gave me someone to talk to about anything. When you asked what had happened to me, I wanted to tell you. But I wasn't sure how you would take it. You said I had changed so much since Hogwarts. Well so have you. And luckily, it was for the better. You are a good man, Draco Malfoy. I hope you know that. Please don't change too much now. Please tell Harry. I don't want him to keep waiting for me to return. I shouldn't have lied to him in the first place. I am so sorry.

My deepest regards,

Hermione Granger

Hermione cried as she wrote the note, knowing she would never see his soft grey eyes again, knowing she would never hear his voice again. She hoped he would do something with his life. That one day he would get away from that stupid job he worked now. Hermione for the first time in years, lifted her eyes up to the heavens and silently prayed that Draco would remain the great and wonderful man she had come to know those last few months.

The nurse, as was requested, put in Hermione's favorite movie, Sleeping Beauty. And as Aurora lay on that bed, asleep until True Love's kiss would wake her, Hermione closed her eyes and slipped into her own wake-less sleep. But no kiss would awaken Hermione. While Aurora would some day wake to find her true love, Hermione never would.