A/N: So now begins the trouble. Please, please review for the sake of my sanity! I was supposed to be studying for my exams when I wrote this, but ah well. I actually have one in less than an hour as I'm writing this authors note. Fun stuff, right?

If any of you have interesting stories to read – I AM INTERESTED. I haven't had enough fanfics to fill my time. So just PM them to me, or leave them in a review and I'll definitely stop by!

Thank you to: tfobmv18 (my most faithful reviewer) and HP0247 for reviewing.

Chapter 19: When the Leaves Change Colour

Hermione:

To be honest, the dream world wasn't something I wanted to deal with, at least not just this moment. I deserved some time off, honestly I did. I did not fight a war, spend a whole lot of time in a useless ministry job and settle down difficultly in a different bloody continent just to be faced with another life challenging mission. I deserved peace, goddamnit! I deserved a break and some fucking happiness. I was going to make sure I got it, too.

This whole prophecy, crazy Tom Riddle mumbo jumbo could wait a while for me to figure it all out. It was my turn to settle in my happily ever after. So the Gods, fate and prophecies could wait. Right?

Right?

In an effort to keep my mind off the inevitable, I started focusing on Draco. That wasn't too hard seeing as he was constantly around me. He took me to bed more times than I could possibly care to count, so the passion certainly hadn't died down. But that wasn't it. Love making had opened my eyes to certain things about it. I was more...aware of Draco, you could say.

Suddenly, I noticed he took his coffee black in the morning. He would place his cup to the right and slightly above his bowl of cereal and the morning paper placed perfectly to the right. I noticed that when he shaved, his expression was practically morose as if he despised the sight of himself. I noticed that when I made him do laundry with me the muggle way, he would fold the clothing in a strangely specific way and organize them in our little closed by size, item and colour.

I loved him suddenly, all over again.

I started to notice all kinds of things, unfortunately. Both the good and the bad. I noticed how when he wrote, he would have so secretively just to irk me. I noticed how when something disturbed him, he would put up a stone cold, uncaring facade to brush it off instead of talking to me about it.

Most importantly, I noticed how he would only keep a minimal amount of his possessions at my apparent. I couldn't really call it our apartment, even though the both of us had been living here together for almost a year now. He didn't appear to be committed to making a life here. Every Sunday, Dobby would stop by with new clothes, supplies, Draco's work things and books. He would cook dinner and apparate his cute little self away with all of Draco's "used" possessions from the previous week.

Was I supposed to not be afraid just because Draco had slept with me and stuck around afterwards? I was frightened to death that he'd just up and leave one day. After all... the only possessions of his that were at my apartment could easily be shoved into two bags and then poof, the reason for my existence would just be GONE.

In hindsight, it probably wasn't the smartest idea in the world to question him about something that was so clearly an insecurity. It was probably an issue to his fragile state of mind. However, being the impulsive, know-it-all freak I am, I decided I couldn't hold it in any longer. So I questioned him. Kill me now, but I did.

"Draco?" I asked timidly, one Sunday morning.

"Mm?" He muttered over the paper.

"I... well..." He looked up at me, sensing my hesitancy at broaching the topic. After a moment of silence I realized I was staring at him with my mouth wide open. He smiled when I snapped it shut, blushing. "Do you not want to be...here?"

He continued smiling and placed his elbow on the table so he could support his chin with the heel of his perfectly shaped hand. "Where, love?"

"Here. This home...with me?" He looked confused at the question. Damn, this would be harder than I had anticipated. Maybe I was making it all up? Perhaps I was... Perhaps hormones had gotten in the way. Maybe Draco just didn't want to impose on my space? I mean, the place was awfully small... Maybe Draco didn't like small? But he had been here for a year after all. "You know what? Never mind. Stupid question."

"Hm..." he said thoughtfully, continuing to stare at me but his smile had faded. "Why would you think something like that?"

"I just... It's really not important. It was a stupid thing to ask," I muttered, looking down at my shaky fingers, praying he'd let it go.

I felt him lift my chin up, making me look at him so he could see what was wrong. "Tell me," he insisted, a small frown marring his beautiful, perfect face. "Keeping secrets isn't nice, Hermione," he scolded. "How can I solve problems if you won't tell me what they are, hm?" The shameful flush probably just deepened on my cheeks. "Well?" he prodded.

"You just... seem to not want to commit to living here. You know, with me," I quickly spat out, hoping he wouldn't ask too many questions. I felt like I was the one on the spot now, which was completely unfair. This was supposed to be a confrontation of him not me! I noticed he was about to open his mouth to say something that would probably only embarrass me further, so I cut him off and continued my useless rambling. "You know, you don't really have your things here... I know you stay here, with me, and all... but you could just as easily pick up everything and walk out. I mean, I haven't even seen your place and we've been together for a year, Draco," I finished, slightly out of breath from having spewed that out in one breath.

His frown had only deepened by the time I had finished talking. He stayed silent for a few moments as if he were gathering his thoughts. "I hadn't even realized that was a consideration..." he mumbled, more to himself than to me. But I could already tell that his defences were popping up. Great. Not only had I made a complete fool out of myself, but Draco would probably not ever talk about it ever again.

"It's not, I was probably wrong to ask, anyways," I agreed, hoping to get it over with as soon as possible. "You know what? I think I'll go see Zara today. Is that okay with you? I'm sure Dobby will be here soon with your things, anyways." I walked into our room, my room, and picked up a towel and some fresh clothes. "Maybe you can tell him to not make anything too heavy for dinner tonight, yeah? If you're around. If not, I'll write a note down before I go..." I continued my rambling all the way to the bathroom just so he wouldn't have another opportunity to say anything.

When I entered the washroom, I tried not to notice my red cheeks in the mirror or the growing feeling in my chest. God, I was such an idiot! By the time I entered the shower, I had to support myself on the tile wall. Why couldn't I just accept everything the way it was? It wasn't as if I were expecting the man to marry me or anything... was it so bad to ask for a little sign of commitment, after all?

But I'd screwed it up. Now he probably would look distant all week, and those weeks just sucked. Barely talking, barely sleeping and so much writing that it drove me insane.

I was so caught up in my thoughts while I was washing my hair, that I didn't even hear him come through the door and step in behind me. I suddenly felt a pair of arms come around me and stiffened. "You really are beautiful, Hermione," he muttered against my soapy neck. I shivered in reaction to his smooth voice.

He started to massage the shampoo into my hair and afterwards scrubbed my back for me and all of it was done in silence. When I was clean, I made to turn around to give him the same treatment, but he stopped me. He held me in place, with his arms protectively around me as we stood under the steady stream of the shower.

"Is that what you really want? To see my old home?"

I considered it for a while. Draco had told me a lot about the place as had Dobby when he'd come to visit every once in a while, when Draco wasn't around. It sounded beautiful. Why would Draco want to live here, in this dump of a place if he had something far more spectacular? I thought perhaps maybe it was because of me. Because he thought I needed to maintain some sort of independence. Well, that was complete bullshit. In the city, space and location means everything when searching for a house. So what if that meant it was Draco's place? I could find other ways to be independent.

So of course I nodded my head to the question when he asked. If nothing else, it could sate my curiosity. "If you're sure... perhaps I'll take you, sometime."

At his offer, I turned and this time he let me. He reached behind me to turn off the water while I just stared at him. His hands were placed at my shoulders, lightly, but I could see the tension in his eyes and his posture. It had taken him a lot to agree to this and I almost felt bad for accepting the offer.

Smiling, I wiped a droplet of water from his nose and kissed him. "I'd like that," I whispered back.

To this day, I'm not sure if I imagined his shoulders sagging and the slight imperceptible shudder that ran through his body. If it had been there, it was well gone before I could discern that it had happened at all. Soon, he was acting normal again: All smiles and cheer, so I had no reason to believe that anything was wrong.

If only Malfoys didn't put up such brilliant masks of deception.

Draco: One Week Later

"Draco?"

I looked up and found her staring at me with an empty bag in her hand with her eyebrows raised. Scrunching my face trying to decipher what a measly looking bag could have to do with me, I just shrugged at her. "What's that?"

"It's the bag Dobby brought here last week. Why did he leave it here?" When I didn't say anything she stood there with her hands on her hips. I turned back to the book on my lap, trying to figure out where I had left off so I could mark it down. "Draco! Pay attention when I'm talking to you!"

"I don't know... oh, he told me to bring my dirty clothes back when we go this week... what's the day?" I scratched my head. My thoughts were jumbled a lot these days. Ever since Hermione had asked if I would take her to see...my house... I had been a nervous, jumbled, messy wreck. I didn't know what I would find there, but I couldn't say no to her expectant face. I would just have to hope for the best. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said it's Sunday," she repeated slowly, as if speaking to a fool. She came and sat down next to me putting her arm around me and stroking my hair off of my forehead. Her fingers were cool and I leaned into her touch. "Are you sick, love?" I shook my head as her fingers stroked my face. "Is there something wrong?" she persisted.

"Mm...no?" I closed my eyes against the touch. This was the only way I could feel grounded these days. When she touched me, held me, it let me focus. Well, not focus so much as to forget that there were a thousand thoughts and anxieties floating around in my head. She could make it all go away.

"Are you sure? We could go another day if you like..."

"Go where?" She smacked my head a little harder than necessary. "What the hell was that for?" I exclaimed indignantly.

"You just said Dobby asked you to bring your things when we go see him at your house this week," she responded with a clearly worried look in her eyes. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?" she asked again. When I nodded she just shrugged and got up before I could grab her.

I would have to up my game. If she figured out what was going on she wouldn't let me live. After all, I was supposed to have my mental illness, if that's what you wanted to call it, all under control. If she knew how precariously close I was to the edge, she wouldn't forgive herself if she found out it was all because of that stupid house and the stupid memories that lay trapped within it. Fantastic. This would go insanely well. But Malfoys certainly did not give up. And Malfoys were a calm, cool mask of perfection...

"Well, Mr. Perfection. Are you going to pack your clothes?" I heard her ask from the bedroom. Had I been saying that out loud? My eyes snapped wide open. Hell, I hadn't even noticed I'd closed them... So maybe I was a little bit more out of control than I'd anticipated. But this was something that needed to be done!

"Can't you do it for me, princess?"

"I am not your wife, Draco! Do it yourself!" But when she caught my perfect mask of pleading pathetic helplessness from the door, she rolled her eyes. "Draco Malfoy, you are a lazy arse. I hate you!"

I laughed a little at that. "I love you too!" I shouted back to her. She had better fucking appreciate all that I was doing for her.

/

The moment we had apparated into the wards of my wretched house, Hermione exclaimed how beautiful it was. I hadn't really noticed before, but it was indeed beautiful if I were to look at it from her perspective.

Muggles couldn't see it, of course. What, with the wards, unplottable spells and such – it was a piece of property that was really, really hard to find. Perhaps even better protected than Potter's disgusting place that Hermione had made me stay over when we had gone over to Britain.

But hell, I could barely move when I looked at it. I was paralyzed with fear and anxiousness. If it hadn't been for Hermione dragging me forward, I would never have been able to set a foot inside the house. I could feel myself slipping away. A little bit when I noticed the paintings and the decorations in the front hall.

A little more of me slipped when we sat in the kitchen, Dobby preparing us a meal. I don't remember if I had put up a good enough front of conversation when we had sat down and eaten. I don't even remember eating whatever it was that Dobby had made us eat. I knew I must have made it through it because I remember seeing an empty plate before me, soiled with a red sauce. The colour red made me shiver.

We might have been there for hours, might have been there for minutes. I must have lost all sense of time. By the time I saw Hermione lead me into what was clearly my own bedroom, I felt a twinge of regret. For what? It was essential I figure out what I was regretting. Was it because I had failed her? The angel... who is the angel?

And when that angel sat on my bed, managing not to wrinkle the sheets, I was completely gone. The darkness enveloped me. When she reached out to me, her pale hand the only light in my world of darkness, I was already too far gone to accept it. Even though I reached out, I could already feel the darkness had completely enveloped me.

I was gone, but I had come home.

Finally home.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to suggest fanfics to me, if you have the time.