The long dark corridor stretched before Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. The lighting cast an eerie glow against the walls that caused a cold shiver to run down Draco's spine. There was something about standing in the Ministry after everything that happened. Being here weighed heavy on him like a pain that he couldn't erase. It wasn't as burdening as his scar, but it also wasn't light. He knew his fate long before Harry shoved him down the hall. After all, when the person the world loves the most speaks out, the world tends to agree with them. Even when he chooses to be radical, for the world will just turn a blind eye and make excuses or create scenarios to dismiss him for his actions. Harry Potter wasn't radical—usually—but he was losing a part of himself everyday ever since he stood near Ron's side and found out about Hermione's escapades. At that exact moment in time, a piece of him changed inwardly. Anger grew in Potter, defeat grew in Malfoy, and loneliness grew in Granger. Draco had accomplished everything he set out to do—apart from murdering—yet he was terribly unhappy. Which wasn't a contrast to his usual mood, for the unhappiest people never truly feel any unhappier. They just become fatigued until they no longer have enough energy to try anymore. Draco didn't want to continue the facade, the lies, the deceit, or the revenge. It wasn't that he had changed in the week he spent with Hermione, it was the fact he knew there was no hope. Nobody would care to hear about his battle stories, identify his battle scars, or understand how the battle wrecked him entirely. The losing side was always tossed into the muck and mire, and Draco knew his voice would never be heard above Harry Potter's.

As they began their descent down the corridor, Harry no longer controlled Malfoy by his wand, for Malfoy now walked ahead of Potter—Harry keeping his wand pressed against Draco's back at all times. The jab in the back Harry gave Draco ever so often was a warning in case Malfoy decided to run away. Little did Harry know that Draco was done running. He was done fighting, he was exhausted. He didn't even care if he died. He was tired of trying to prove himself, trying to show those around him that he wasn't actually weak, but it was all for nothing. The anger of the war turned into bitterness, which turned into sadness, which turned into defeat—he would always be the Slytherin boy that tried too hard to overcome what he never could . . . despair. Everything from the battle to Hermione's presence narrowed down to a despair he couldn't shake off. He was hopeless, he was defeated, and he was destroyed. He sought to destroy Hermione, but only ended up destroying himself in the end.

"Any last words, Malfoy?" Harry asked in contempt before they entered the large room where members of the Ministry sat waiting for them. Waiting for the trial that both men already knew was decided long before their arrival.

Draco turned his head to look at the man that held Draco's life in his palms. There was no remorse on Harry Potter's face, no regret, no sadness, for it was all anger. Where Draco sought revenge on Harry, once again Harry got the upper hand over Draco. It wasn't even the fact that Draco lost again—he was so fucking used to losing to Potter—it was Hermione. She was supposed to be Potter's best friend, a member of the Golden Trio, a loyal witch, a woman who knew all of the answers—yet Harry rejected her. The way he treated her, the way he hurt her, the way he believed the lies as if he didn't grow up with her since year one at Hogwarts, it was overwhelming to Draco. Draco wasn't even close with Hermione, and he would have never believed Skeeter's lies.

"I do," Draco whispered softly, his voice cracking as he tried to compose himself. He wasn't scared, for once Draco Malfoy wasn't scared. He was just so fucking enervated with trying to be someone he wasn't. "Don't believe Skeeter's lies. Hermione deserves better than that. She deserves better than you." Looking away before Harry could respond, Draco felt a lone tear trickle from his left eye and fall onto the floor until it evaporated into oblivion. The exact place he knew his soul belonged.

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The sun began ascending over the horizon, but Hermione hadn't moved since she watched her former best friend leave with the body of the man she tried to uncover. She could still hear Draco's whisper, for she knew she hadn't mistaken it. He had asked her to stay, yet he was the one that left her standing in the doorway as the snow blew inside the house letting the crisp winter air envelope her in its arms as it stung her skin while she watched his platinum hair disappear into the background of the weather before disappearing altogether.

It had been hours since she last saw Harry's wand lead Malfoy down the path, yet she hadn't moved an inch. She still stood in the doorway gazing out onto the Malfoy property as the sun left its dusty primrose hue across the settled snow. The world was beautiful, calm, and maybe even happy—it was all a deep contrast compared to the woman standing at the threshold. She hadn't cried in a few hours, but her anguish lingered inside her. She knew what Harry was trying to do with Malfoy, and she knew she couldn't stop it. She was powerless, and she hated having lost her auror title. Now, she officially had no say in the Ministry, and she couldn't speak out for Malfoy. After all, what would she say? More lies? The lies were exhausting, almost as much as trying to help Malfoy. It wasn't even that she was trying to fix him—for only Draco could fix himself when he wanted to—but she was trying to talk to him. To communicate with him, to get him to open up to her in ways he wouldn't with other people, and to show his mother he wasn't lost. There were moments Hermione saw the hope in him, moments she didn't presume her efforts to be in vain, yet Harry destroyed all her attempts in one second. A week to get this far, only to have it shattered by the one she trusted the most.

Hermione couldn't think about Harry. She couldn't think about Ron or Ginny either, for all those dearest to her caused her pain. They caused her more pain than even Draco did, for Draco's pain was a deeper one that brought back the reality of loss to Hermione. His grey eyes mirrored hers, and she would never forget his plea to her.

Stay with me.

She could still hear his whisper, his desperate plea that seemed to break every barrier as he spoke to her. It was all lost, for she knew the war was truly over. The winning side or the losing side, it was all the same now. Draco lost to Harry, and she lost everything. She was once a winner, but now she stood in the very manor that left her scarred. And the boy she once despised was the only person she had left. It was all over, and it was for nothing. She then realized that she never truly won. Not even being on the side that claimed victory. She had known this for a while, but seeing the consequences as she watched the broken face of Draco that first night in the Leaky Cauldron. What started over a pint of Firewhiskey turned into a task that changed her outlook and flipped her world upside down more than she wished. However, she wouldn't change anything. Whatever happened between the moment she agreed to help Draco until now, she was glad she saw humanity in him. She just wished it was enough for him to show it to the world.

Hermione let out a deep sigh. She could feel the crushing weight upon her chest, the frigid air from the outside burn her lungs, and the sorrow of the loneliness crush her soul. She lost Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Draco in such a short time. She lost her job, she lost her relationships, and she lost her happiness. Hermione was never truly happy after the war, but she was healing. She was smiling, laughing, enjoying life again—but that all evaporated within the last week. Narcissa had to appear at her door only to leave her empty in the end. Hermione—empty of everything—and Narcissa—empty of a son.

Although Hermione wanted to cry, the pain was too unbearable. No tear fell from her deep eyes, for she cried enough. She was literally empty, and she allowed the cold to envelope her in its frigid arms. She shivered, but she didn't want to move. She hadn't heard anyone in the house, and she knew she was alone without even looking around. The house was so vast, so empty that she would be alone if there were people there. She always read in books how homes reflected the owners, and glancing around at the cold, dark walls void of any light, she realized how true it was. Lucius Malfoy was one of the coldest men she ever met, but she did't blame him fully for Draco's actions. After all, Draco was a man now. He was old enough to make his own decisions in the end. Nevertheless, the house reflected the facade of Draco, not who he truly was. His parents might be engraved in the embellished wood, but he was not. He wasn't the shadow of his father, and it took Hermione a long and hard week to figure this out. His shell displayed a Malfoy, but his soul displayed someone else. She couldn't figure out who it was, but she knew that Slytherin was more than the cunning. Slytherin was loyal, ambitious, and resourceful. Draco was ambitious—he wouldn't give up on the war and trying to prove his worth—and he was resourceful, cunning, but he was also brave.

Draco wasn't brave in the same way Harry Potter was brave when facing Voldemort, for Draco never had the ones he lost stand by his side in the battle. Draco lost the ones forever he saw die before him, but he continued on. He was shelled inside a darkness, but he allowed the light to break through on occasions. Light doesn't break through when there is no light to shine. He wasn't soulless, he was just empty like her. However, it was all lost. All over. She knew what was going to happen to Draco, but what else could she do?

After what seemed like hours, Hermione slowly walked toward the opened door. Her joints were stiff from standing there and from the cold, so her movements were slow. Step by step, she eventually reached the threshold. She was going to close the door, close the memories, and hopefully shut it all away. However, something in the distance caught her eye. She could see a bird flying toward her, and she immediately recognized it as an owl. The post was here. She then began to realize she stood in the cold far longer than she assumed.

The primrose hue on the fresh snow was now golden from the sun, and Hermione could tell the sun was almost at its highest peak in the sky. Time passed quickly when all is lost.

The owl swooped over her before landing on the dining table. She recognized the paper it brought, and she shivered as she closed the front door before walking toward the table. She was no longer shivering from the cold, but she was shivering from what she was about to see. She knew it would be in the headline—if everything had gone according to plan—and she wasn't ready to see the results. She wasn't ready for everything to be in vain.

Reaching out, she picked up the Daily Prophet before slowly opening the folded paper to see the front headline. What she saw wasn't a surprise, but it still shocked her enough to let go of the paper and fall to her knees. She wasn't sure why it affected her this way, but a sadness overcame her that broke apart her soul in such a way she couldn't do anything but scream.

Her voice echoed across the walls as it came back to her almost as horrific as it did before it left her throat. The way she felt when she watched those she loved die around her in a battle that didn't need to be fought in the first place, was the exact feeling she felt at this moment. The battle was unfair, and so was this. This was a giant mess that she knew nobody could recover from. Not her, Ron, Harry, Ginny, or Draco—for it was officially over.

Placing her hand over her mouth, she attempted to block out her screams as her eyes slowly began to cloud over with tears. Her foggy vision obscured the headline before her, and she was thankful. For the first time that day, she was thankful for a distraction to protect her from the truth.

For on the front page of the Daily Prophet was the headline "Draco Malfoy: Former Death Eater Sent to Azkaban" with a picture of the broken boy with familiar grey eyes beneath it.

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ok. so. yeah. This was crazy. But I hope you guys are doing well! I'm still at college, and we're almost done with the semester! School is crazy and I'm having a lot of family problems right now, so yeah. They're super sick right now, and it's really stressful. How're you all doing?

Also, I know this story has been crazy. I have each chapter mapped out, and lemme say the next few chapters Hermione is going to take action and be the awesome woman she is. Nott is coming back, there's other things going to happen, and the romance will come. I know it's a slow burn, but Draco and Hermione literally hated each other in the books. To build from that, it's gotta be a slow burn. We will get there guys, we will. I have everything mapped out, and it's heartbreaking and sad. But the romance will come. However, I truly appreciate all those that continue to read this story. Through the moments when I don't update in forever, to when Draco's being an ass, to when we all want to punch out Harry in the face, you guys have been awesome. I truly appreciate it. You have no idea.❤️