(A/N: Oneshot Dramione fic. Kinda dark, but not bad at all. Read and review please!)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I am no one. NOW READ

Ow…that one had hurt. The punches weren't as fierce as they'd started, but the pain was becoming more evident as I dragged myself across the cold hardwood floor. Right when I thought I was free, my hand clawing at the door, he grabbed my ankles, dragging me back into the living room to suffer more.

"P-please Ronald…" I choked, a copper taste filling my mouth. I spit into my hand, and blood pooled, mocking me as it dripped from my face.

"Shut your face you whore!" He yelled back, his boot coming into contact with my ribs.

All of this started, because he was the "logical choice". I was supposed to be with Ron Weasley! We were destined for each other! That's what I was told even as I walked down the isle, a feeling of dread settling on my heart, slowly constricting my chest. We'd said our "I do's" and that had been the beginning of 3 years of pain.

I hadn't been in love with him. No, my love had gone to someone else…someone that wasn't the "logical choice". We'd started seeing each other in secret after the war. It started out as coffee as friends, before turning into quickies at random muggle hotels. Even if he loved me back, what would we have told everyone? The Slytherin Prince and the Gryffindor Princess together? It was almost worth laughing…almost.

There was something there, something that there had never been with Ron…Passion. Reluctantly, a week before my wedding, I'd called our affair off. "We can't…" I'd said over and over again. "I'm getting married…"

He'd been patient, just staring at me. "He's not who you think Granger," He'd hissed, a flash of anger showing in his steely gray eyes.

"I've known him long enough to get an idea of what my fiancé is like…"

"Like you knew me?" He answered. With a final searing kiss, he left me standing in an empty hotel room, shivering without his warmth.

I'd heard a few months later that he'd died. He'd found no reason to live, and decided to become the hero, someone to be remembered. A suicide mission for the Order, cleaning out the rest of the Death Eaters. He hadn't made it. I'd received a letter he'd written to be delivered to me after his death, but never did I open it. This was the letter that Ron had found, setting him off into one of his blind rages.

Now I knew that I'd made the wrong decision. As I lie on the floor, letting the darkness creep into my eyesight, I recognized my love for a dead man I hadn't seen in 3 years. I heard a faint knocking, a loud commotion, and I was no more.

I watched from my place above. Harry, my best friend had found me. In a flash of lights and screaming, Ron ended up on the ground unconscious, and Harry cradled me, looking for signs of life. I felt sorry, knowing that he'd find none. There was blood everywhere, drenching what I had once prided as my living room. Funny how material possessions can mean so much to us…

I felt a hand close around mine. Without looking I smiled, the pain in my body now a distant memory, and I squeezed it back. I turned slowly, soft, platinum blonde hair filling my sight. "You're early…" He said with a small smile.

"Not early enough Malfoy," I answered placing myself against his chest. A warm light engulfed us and I felt, for the first time ever, complete. A silent confirmation passed between us, and I realized that he'd loved me all along. Without words we exchanged our vows of love, floating higher into Utopia.

I, Hermione Granger, once made the wrong decision, and had to die before realizing the right one.