If Not For You

The date was 22^nd April.

Hermione was in love with him. That was the end result and she could try and ignore it, but she would have to admit the truth. She was in love with him. Desperately.

Of course, it was stupid. He would never love her. Ever. Why would he? He was a pureblood, with money and power, while she was just a Muggleborn, with no good connections or money.

But she was still in love with Draco Malfoy.

It was strange, really. He was evil. A complete Slytherin. It would never work for them. But he was everything she wanted in a man. Smart, his brains almost matched her own. His sarcastic, cool nature matched her own fiery, intelligent one. They even looked like a nice couple. His blonde sleek hair contrasted well with her dark wavy hair. Both had pale skin that got flushed occasionally. Both were small and slim. He was just the right height for her, as she was normally looking at his mouth.

It was useless, but just because it was useless didn't mean her feelings ceased to exist. Instead she found herself lusting after him. Sometimes when his soulless grey eyes met hers, she felt a connection, like a bolt of lightning snaking down her back and then she felt like she was on the brink of understanding Draco Malfoy. But then he'd look away and she'd feel stupid and foolish and terribly sad.

The world was dark now. She wanted someone to protect her. She wanted Draco Malfoy to protect her. But no. He was on the other side. The bad side. She should be ashamed of herself. He was on the side that wanted Harry Potter, her best friend, to die. What was she playing at?

And she was ashamed. But her love, or lust, or whatever it was she held for him, was too strong. Sometimes her dreams would be so passionate of him that she'd wake up, gasping, her body trembling, aching for his touch, aching for his lips and hands. Then she'd start to cry. Because of the confusion and frustration and love she'd feel. Her sobs would rake through her aching body and she'd cry for him. Because she needed him.

He didn't insult her anymore. Not that much, anyway. Instead he ignored her, obviously considering her as totally unimportant and that hurt her more. Because she wanted him to notice her. She wanted him to look into her eyes, and to kiss her. She wanted to feel him against her. She felt like she had never felt for any boy before.

"Hermione," Ron's voice floated to her presently. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she answered absently.

"Still not sleeping?"

"No, not much at all. Ron, where's Harry?"

"He, er, he wanted to let us talk."

"Why?" Hermione finally gave him her full attention. They were sitting at the Great hall. Many people were sitting near them but nobody was paying attention to their conversation.

Ron looked very red.

"Hermione, well, you know, er, dark times are coming, and I thought, er, well..."

"What are you trying to say, Ron?"

"Look, Hermione, I really like you. I know we fight a lot, but I really like you. I sort of only realised this. But I think we should, you know, go out. In case anything happens. I think we get on really well and I really like you. I, er, said that already didn't I?"

"You mean... you and me?" It hadn't ever really occurred to Hermione before. Well, it had, but not seriously. But she did liked Ron.

"Er, well, um, only if you want to...?"

If only Hermione had only looked behind her at that moment.

But she didn't.

She had been thinking, thinking too hard to turn. She was thinking about Draco Malfoy. What was the point in loving him forever? Ron was lovely. Ron was everything she could expect. And if she didn't love him now, she'd just have to learn to.

"Okay, er, I mean, yes. Yes, Ron. I do like you."

"YES!" Ron blushed. "I mean, good. That's good. No, Hermione, that's great."

They both went red and looked at each other like shy kids.

It was only then that she looked behind her and saw Draco standing there.

"Yes, Malfoy? What do you want?" Ron demanded loudly.

There was something in Draco's eyes. Something that made Hermione wonder.

And what was that in his hand? It was an envelope. She looked at it curiously. He saw her looking and quickly moved it out of her sight. He didn't say anything.

"Yes, Malfoy? What's the insult today?"

Did he look a bit paler than usual or was that just her imagination?

"Maybe you can be original and call us, what, Weasel and the Mudblood?" said Ron, causing a couple of people to laugh.

"I just heard your conversation," Draco said at last. His voice was clipped and emotionless. Hermione had always loved that voice.

"Oh, eavesdropping, were you? Well, yeah, me and Hermione..."

"Hermione and I," Hermione interrupted automatically, still looking at Draco.

"Yeah, Hermione and I are together. So what? What insult do you have about that? Everyone knows you're just jealous."

He looked at Hermione and then Ron and said, "Jealous of what, exactly?" before turning and storming off. He didn't return to his Slytherin table, instead obviously going to his room, the letter still clutched in his pale, shaking hand.

The date was 25^th April.

Hermione couldn't believe it. Earlier that morning, Dumbledore had suddenly told them to leave the Hogwarts premises. Harry had been called down to his office and Harry had ran back up saying that Voldemort was going to attack the school and that, thanks to a spy ("Snape!" Ron had exclaimed) they knew in advance. Hermione hadn't wanted to leave. Harry had demanded that he stay and so had Ron, but both boys had insisted on her going.

"Please go!" Ron had said. "Please Hermione! I need you to look after Ginny and everyone. They need their Head Girl! We'll be fine! It's not as if Harry's going to have to fight Voldemort now or anything."

Which, incidentally, Harry did.

The Final Battle had taken place. Hermione had been bitterly angry when she had realised that she would not be there to help.

Harry had defeated Voldemort. It was incredible, she had been told later on. He had shown power that none of them had known he had been capable of. Ron had excitedly told her how he even had a turn of Voldemort. They had all weakened him then Harry had delivered the final blows.

So that was when Hermione tried to casually ask about Draco Malfoy. "And how about all the Slytherins? Were they all there?"

"Yeah, Malfoy and his little group. But they got what they deserved."

Her voice caught in her throat but she managed to croak, "Did they?"

"Yeah, I saw Malfoy at the end." Ron didn't say it happily but there was no sadness in his voice either. "He was sprawled out. Dead. I don't know who killed him though."

"He was dead?"

"Yeah." The indifference in Ron's voice was overwhelming.

"I, er, I need to go," she said quickly. She rushed away, and barely made it to her bedroom before she burst into endless tears, feeling her heart break inside her chest.

*

22^nd April

Dear Hermione,

I do not know how to write this. I can't even say it to your face, in fear of rejection. I know how pathetic this letter is but I just don't have the courage to see your face if you reject me.

You don't know how much you've effected me. I want you to know everything now, so you understand fully. I've never had anything to stop me from following the Dark Lord's commands. My friends support him; my family are full-fledged supporters. I always thought his way was the best way. The right way. It made perfect sense to me. I didn't feel the need to question it. Get rid of the Muggleborn. They are not pure. They are below us. We are superior. They are tainting the Wizarding world.

But then I met you. Yes, I hated you. I despised you. I teased you about you teeth, your hair, and especially your blood. But I knew you had talent. You knew all of the answers to every teacher's question. There wasn't one subject, which you didn't excel at. You got over a hundred percent in every test and you shone with a brilliance no other student could achieve.

So now you see, my theory was ruined. Everything I was raised to believe, all my morals and ideas, were in pieces. If Muggleborns were below us, if Purebloods really were better, than why couldn't I do better than you? It didn't make sense.

So I wasn't sure of anything. And then I started to realise that it was because we were wrong. All along, Dumbledore was correct. You must understand, this wasn't a sudden change. It was gradual, slower than soil creep, and it changed all my views on my life and on the Dark War. And on you.

So then I started to admire you more. And my feelings changed. I don't think you realise how amazing you are. You haven't just changed my life. You've changed so many people's lives. I think Longbottom would have blown himself up in potions, if not for you, and I know Potter would have died at the Dark Lord's wand by now, if not for you. And Weasley. He would have been expelled from school, if not for you

People come to you to seek help. I've seen it. Have you noticed me watching you? And not only are you amazing, but you are beautiful too. Your hair, so full of character, and your beautiful expressive brown eyes. I realise you may know all of this but I need you to understand why I have fallen in love with you.

You were the most magnificent person I have ever set eyes on. Much more so than any Pureblood I've ever had the courtesy of meeting.

I'm writing this letter, not only to tell you I love you, but also asking you to accept my love. I think you do not know the real me, well, no, you do, but I think, with your help, I may be able to change. I do not want to be on the Dark Side any longer, Hermione. But I can not leave it on my own. I need your help. Like so many people, I am seeking your help. I would be foolish to seek your love so early, but I am seeking forgiveness if you could possible give me that.

The Dark Lord is going to be attacking the school in three days. I am alerting Dumbledore of this, so he may be prepared and perhaps the Dark Lord will be vanquished once and for all. We can only hope.

Please do not laugh. Please do not reject me in a cruel fashion. Because I do not think I could handle it. Because you mean everything to me, and without the hope of you, I am nothing. I am merely an empty vessel, used for the Dark lord's pleasure.

With as much sincerity and love a wizard can hold,

Draco Malfoy

Professor Dumbledore finished reading the letter he had found on the young man's forever-slumbering body. He sat down to ponder deeply. When he had witnessed Draco in his office, he had been surprised, yes. But that surprise was nothing compares to his current one.

But to tell the girl?

Should he?

It would ruin her. It would literally kill her if she knew. She was too innocent a creature for a blow such as this. She would feel guilt that would eventually triumph over her.

She had the right to know.

But why? Why should she know? It was not as if she had ever shown any sign of love for the boy. It was not as if she had ever felt any similar feelings.

There was a knock on the door. Dumbledore reacted without much thought. He could not let another soul see the letter. He threw the letter into his fireplace and told the person to come in.

It was Harry. Dumbledore greeted him by saying, "Ah, Harry, I have wanted to talk to you. How are you feeling after defeating Voldemort? Your parents and Sirius would be immensely proud of you..."

In the glowing fire, the last evidence of Draco's love crumbled, burned and died.

*

An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day
It's a black fly in your Chardonnay
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late
Isn't it ironic... don't you think? - Alanis Morissette - Ironic.