December 17, 1999

The next several weeks passed in much the same manner. Hermione would keep the house clean and have dinner ready on the stove when Ron got home. Saturday mornings she rushed to the store and then right back home. Most nights he assaulted her then left her, bruised and broken, on the living room floor. She had taken to sleeping on the couch, hoping he would ask why she wasn't coming to bed.

He never did.

One snow covered Friday found Hermione, looking rather worse for wear, snuggled up in the couch with a steaming cup of hot cocoa, a childhood guilty pleasure, and a book dangling idly from her hand. She had given up on reading several hours ago, her thoughts drifting to the latest letters from Draco, unopened in a box under her bed.

Since Ron's first assault on her person, she decided to cut all contact with Draco. After all, who would want her? Who would want to be her friend? She was ruined. Ruined beyond repair, so she felt. At first, Hermione read the increasingly worried letters that Draco had sent, but it became too hard to read his words, so sincere, so kind, so… good. So she started just chucking them into the box, not having the courage to throw them in the fire.

Suddenly, she stood and strode to the desk, intent on writing Draco one last letter. Even if she would never read the last of his letters, it wouldn't do to keep stringing him along. No, she would write and firmly tell him to stopping worrying about her and to stop writing. Yes, she thought. That will do.

Draco,

I am okay. Please stop writing. I was glad of your company, but now we must go our separate ways.

Cordially,

Hermione Granger

She sighed. It had taken nearly an hour to write such a short missive. And it still felt… wrong. Draco had done so much for her, even in just the short time, and to say goodbye with such a curt note felt wrong. She decided to open the very last note he had sent. Perhaps he had written to tell her he no longer wanted to talk to her, making her job oh so much easier.

Quickly, before she lost her nerve, she sprinted to the bedroom, threw herself on the floor to pull out the box, and grabbed the top letter with shaking fingers, tearing open the seal.

Hermione,

I hope I have not angered you somehow, but you clearly seem intent on not speaking to me anymore.

If you need help, I hope you know that I'm here, waiting for you.

Your friend,

Draco

Well, bugger.