Her skin tore just a little more, and before the gash became to deep, she dropped the knife, wrapping the wound in a bandage. This was the real life of Hermione Granger.

The life that stayed behind closed doors.

The life that was too stressful to manage without her blade.

The life that was covered day by day in baggy robes and bushy hair.

She smiled when addressed, and she laughed when someone told a joke, but only so that no one would notice.

And no one did.

Harry was too wrapped up with Ginny and the plans of their marriage to notice. Not that she blamed him.

And Ron. . . .Ron became a new celebrity after Voldemort's defeat. He didn't notice Hermione's silent cries for help. He didn't notice the way she cried after they made love, and then Ron fell asleep right after, not even bothering to whisper a "I love you".

But there was one person that noticed. Only one. The one person that she would have never expected to care. The one person she never wanted to acknowledge, ended being the one person to turn her life around.

She came from the bathroom and he stood there. The recently appointed head of Department of International Magical Cooperation was standing before her, a disappointed glare covering his face. No one was in the Ministry Hall, but this one man, was enough to make her bow her head in shame. His eyes flicked towards her wrists, and he caught a glimpse of the blood soaking through her bandages.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" His words echoed through her mind every time she saw him, but never could she dispense an answer.

Swiftly he moved close, taking her elbow in his hand, pulling her close so that her chest was next to his body. Her eyes closed, as she took in his heavy cinnamon scent. And she blinked, but when her eyes opened, she was standing near a fireplace, in a home she didn't recognize. Her knight in shining armor pulled away, forcing her to sit down on a couch that was behind her. She wouldn't look on his face, that would be riddled with distress and concern.

The steely gray eyes that would make her melt.

The chiseled features that would make her weep.

The platinum blonde hair that drove her insane.

With much struggle, he pulled her wrists towards him, and with a few flicks of his wand, the bandages fell off and the skin began mending together. At this point, Hermione made the mistake of looking at his face. That perfect face that had comforted her for so long, even as they fought. The face of an enemy.

He stared back at her, not releasing her hands after the skin had healed. Slowly, his face moved closer, inch by inch, until she felt his surprisingly soft lips touching her own. The kiss deepened quickly, becoming more passionate and needy as time went on.

"Hermione. . ." He moaned lightly using her first name for the first time when they were in private.

The tears began to fall.

The clock began to chime.

Time stopped.

She could taste her tears gliding from her cheeks to her mouth as they kissed, her arms wrapping around his neck. His hands moved to her waist, pulling at her robes.

Draco Malfoy, was never one for sharing his feelings, but now, as he held onto Hermione he felt compelled, he felt whole, and he felt sorrow. She gripped to him, and pulled away, looking into his eyes.

"I am afraid that you'll never be mine. . ." She said quietly, as if she'd wake from a dream.

"Love, you've always had me," He said kissing her softly, grazing her lips lightly.

And so she had.

Love doesn't always have happy endings, but it surely has new beginnings.