This is the same Hermione and the same Draco from my one shot "Just This One Night", so if you like this one, maybe go give that one a read too (maybe read it first, but it's not necessarily a requirement...just might make a little more sense). This is simply another look into their lives during the war, since they wouldn't leave me alone.

For those who didn't read JTON first: Draco is pretending to stay loyal to Voldemort, but is secretly helping the Golden Trio. They've been doing "this" for a while now.

Enjoy.

"I don't even know why I'm here. Everyone fucking hates me."

"You're surprised?" she retorted, taking a seat in the grass next to him.

"Yes I'm fucking surprised." he snapped, "I'm here helping you, and Potter acts like he'd rather Crucio me."

"He's jealous of you. Most of us are."

"Excuse me?"

"Think about it." she said, looking at him briefly, "You had options. Everyone knows that Voldemort's army...our chances aren't looking good, and everyone wants to survive and be safe and protect the people they love. You had that opportunity. Choosing to side with Voldemort in the beginning was a safe bet, and they hate you because you decided to help us, because you decided to give that up. Because it's all that any of us could want."

"Are you insane? You're seriously telling me you would have sided with Voldemort? That Potter would have sided with Voldemort?"

She shrugged, "We didn't have the option. Harry's destiny made the decision for him, and I'm nothing but a mudblood -"

"Don't say that, it's -"

"So there was only one side for us to be on." she continued, ignoring his attempt to interrupt her. "It's like that for most of us."

"You're trying to tell me that this," he said, yanking the sleeve of his black sweater up to reveal his Dark Mark, "Would have been a better decision?"

"Is it any better than this?" she asked, exposing the word 'mudblood' that Bellatrix had carved into her arm a few weeks prior. "Because I honestly don't know the answer to that. No side of this war is glorious or heroic. It's hideous and ugly and dark. Just like both of these marks."

He didn't know what to say. Here was the woman who had been so strong and bold before, who was now telling him that she might have been on a different side, if given the opportunity.

"I don't think you would have chosen Voldemort's side, even if you had the choice."

She shrugged, noncommittal, "Who knows? It's easy to think that we would all stay true to who we were no matter how bad things got, but realistically that's just not always true."

They were quiet for a while before he asked, "I suppose you hate that I'm here too?"

"I hate the reminder." she said, glancing at him before returning her attention to the shimmering lake in front of them.

"The reminder?"

"Of your house, of Bellatrix, of my scar...all of it. But," she continued, embolden by the darkness that surrounded them, "Despite that, I'm still glad that you're here."

His blonde eyebrows shot up in surprise and he asked, "Why?"

She let out a deep breath before she answered him, "You may be the only thing that's giving me hope."

"Me? Are you fucking mental? How am I giving you hope?" he asked, staring at her profile.

She remained quiet, as if deep in thought, but it only served to irritate him.

"Hermione."

She turned her head to look at him, her gaze holding his this time, not sliding away as she said, "Because you've shown that something good can come out of something terrible."

He frowned in confusion, not understanding, "Care to elaborate?"

"When I met you, you thought that all muggles and muggleborns were filthy and beneath you, but now...now you've completely changed your way of thinking. If that's not good, I don't know what is."

He blinked at her in surprise, unsure of what to say.

Not that it mattered. Their 'relationship' wasn't always filled with conversation. They both understood that sometimes there just wasn't anything to be said, and that was okay.

"I'm sorry."

Now it was her turn to look confused, "Why are you sorry?"

"For the scar."

She shook her head, "Everyone has scars. You don't see me apologizing for the Dark Mark on your arm."

"Well that wasn't your fault."

"Neither was mine."

He let out an exasperated breath and said, "It happened in my house. I was there. I should have -"

"You didn't tell them it was Harry, and you knew that it was. I could see it on your face. That was the important part."

"I still should have done something."

"What would you have done?" she asked, a slight smile tugging on the corner of her mouth as she leaned back to stare up at a sky full of stars, "If you would've tried anything you would've been killed."

"I still should have tried."

"Well I'm glad you didn't."

He shook his head and leaned back to look up at the stars too, their hands just barely touching.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"I may have heard it once or twice."

And then there was more silence, but it wasn't bad. It was just silence. They were both lost in their own minds.

That happened often.

"Are you ever scared?" she asked, her voice soft.

He turned to look at her, but she continued looking up at the sky. Not that he expected anything different.

"Scared of what?"

She let out a huff of air before saying, "Dying. Getting found out by Voldemort. Something happening to the people you care about - if you have people left that you care about anyway."

The way she said it wasn't harsh, it wasn't condescending, it was just the truth. The majority of people he had cared for weren't alive anymore, and the ones that were, minus Blaise, were on Voldemort's side - which was pretty much the same thing at this point.

"There's at least one person that I can think of." he murmured.

At his confession she turned her head to look at him, and offered a small smile, "Me too."

He nodded, turning to stare up at the sky as he thought about her question. Was he scared?

"I'm not scared of dying, more so others dying."

"Others?"

"Like when you go off to look for Horcruxes with Potter and Weasley..."

"You're worried?"

"Don't go making a big deal out of -"

"I worry about you too." she interrupted, "A lot."

He felt a strange tug at his heart at her words, and didn't quite know how to respond.

He turned onto his side and supported himself with his elbow, "Are you ever scared?"

"All the fucking time." she said softly.

"Of dying?"

"No, not since Bellatrix..." she trailed off, shaking her head and then continuing, "I thought I was going to die that night. I was ready for it, you know? I mean at least when you're dead you don't have any more worries. It's us, the survivors, who have the short end of the stick."

"I know what you mean."

She was quiet after that, and he took the opportunity to study her. The only light there was, was that of the moon, which was casting a slightly eery glow over everything.

She had lost a lot of weight, she looked tired, her hair was a mess, she had a few new scars, but even with all that, she was still beautiful to him. It didn't even surprise him anymore, he'd thought it for a while, way before they'd ever really exchanged more than a few words.

It was hard to place the feelings he had for her. Everything was dark and grey and confusing, but she was like this one shining beacon of light that made it possible for him to keep going.

And he did the same for her.

"Do you miss your mother?" she asked, breaking the silence.

He sighed, sitting up and looking over to her, "Sometimes."

She sat up as well, "Not always?"

"I don't think about her often, but when I do, I miss her."

She simply nodded, staring at the moon's reflection in the surface of the lake.

"Do you think of your parents often?"

She was caught off guard by the question, and it took her a moment to respond, and when she did her voice was soft, "More than I should."

"You miss them." It wasn't a question.

She nodded anyway.

"Every day."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and before she could wipe it away, he was doing it for her, and then pulled her against his side.

"This is another reason why I'm glad you're here."

"Why?"

"Because sometimes I feel like you're the only thing holding me together."

He could definitely relate to that feeling.

He didn't say that though, he didn't say anything, just leaned down and captured her lips in a painfully soft kiss that said more than words ever could.

His hands moved to her waist and he shifted her so that she was straddling his lap, all the while not breaking the kiss.

Her hands went to his shoulders while his mouth pressed slow open mouthed kisses to her neck, causing her to sigh softly. She slid her hands under his sweater, resting them against his waist lightly and he took a moment to acknowledge the fact that he felt calm with her. Her touch, her presence, her. He felt calm.

The fall air was cool around them, so instead of taking her sweater off, he simply slid his hands underneath the fabric to cup her breasts. She arched forward into his hands, tangling her hands into his hair and tugging him into a kiss.

Even still, their movements were slow, there was no reason to rush.

"Draco," she murmured, her nails digging into his shoulders, "Please."

"It's cold outside."

"I don't care."

"You'll get sick. I care." he said, tilting her face up so that he was looking at her.

She opened her mouth to argue, but then realized that there weren't many people left that she had to care for her, so even if it was over something stupid, she wouldn't argue it.

Instead she pulled out her wand and cast a bubble around them, keeping them warm, and then repeated, "Please."

A slight smirk graced his features and he nodded, pulling her back into a kiss as his hands slid to the hem of her shirt. He pulled hers over her head first, and his was soon to follow.

He slid his hands over her smooth skin, savoring the feel of her against him before unclasping her bra. She bit her lip to stifle her moan as he brought his mouth down to her breasts, but it only half way worked, leaving him to smirk in satisfaction.

She murmured a spell under her breath, and before he knew it they were both naked, and every inch of her was pressed against him.

She was suddenly hit with a feeling she couldn't quite place, but it happened fairly frequently. Like someone had taken away the majority of the air and she was now breathing through a straw.

She quickly shifted so that he could slide into her, but he grabbed her hips.

"Hermione -"

She shook her head, "Please, I just..."

She didn't have to explain. He'd seen that look on her face more than once.

Besides, this was what they were good at.

They may have argued often, not seen eye to eye, maybe even hated each other at times - but there was no denying that they needed one another. She was the only thing keeping him sane, and he was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

Especially in times like these, were it would just hit her randomly, out of nowhere.

He slid into her slowly, his hands on her waist keeping her still above him, his eyes searching hers - for what, he didn't know.

"It's hard for you." she said softly, her hands lightly tangled in his hair, "Having sex with me like this."

"What makes you say that?" he asked, fighting the urge to fuck her into next week. She just felt so good around him.

"You look conflicted."

"Who isn't these days?" he said, "Now stop talking."

Before she could respond, he shifted, moving her up and down over him slowly.

Her breath caught in her throat at how intense this was. She never got used to it, and they didn't often have sex this way because it was...intimate. More intimate than they usually liked to get with one another.

She wrapped her arms around him, resting her forehead against his shoulder as the coil in her stomach tightened. One of his hands was between her shoulder blades, and the other was wrapped around her waist, holding her against him tightly.

He could hear and feel her breathy moans against his neck, and they'd been doing this dance long enough for him to know that she was close. Her nails were digging into his shoulders and she was trying to catch her breath to no avail.

"Draco," she moaned softly.

"I know." he said simply, tilting her face up to kiss her.

He slid one hand down to stroke where they were connected and she gasped, breaking away from the kiss.

"Let go." he murmured, his voice strained as he tried to urge her over the edge.

It didn't take much after his words, and then everything stopped and it was only them, caught up in a storm of feeling.

They were still for a moment before she slowly moved off him and they pulled their clothes back on, before she curled back into him. They were quiet, as they often were, but he soon felt something wet against his neck. It took him less than two seconds to realize what was happening, and he wrapped his arms around her tighter.

She was thankful for him, because at that moment she felt as if she were breaking apart, and if his arms hadn't been around her she might have just shattered.

It was as if everything had hit her all at once. All the loss, all the blood, all the death, all the pain - and it wasn't over. The end wasn't even in sight, and here she was, caring about this man who could be taken away from her so quickly, so easily - it was too much. It was all just too much.

He murmured soft words into her ear. Words that they both knew weren't true and didn't really matter, but still for some reason it calmed her slightly.

Or it could have just been because he was the one saying the words.

"Why are we doing this? I mean don't you ever wonder what would happen if one of us died?"

"Shh," he said softly, "Nobody's dying."

"You know that's not -"

"Shh," he said again, his hand rubbing circles on her back, "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, and there's no way in hell I'm letting you go anywhere."

They were silent for a while, just listening to the other's breathing.

"Why do we do this?" she asked again, "Why do you do this?"

She didn't know what exactly she wanted him to say to that, but she knew she wanted something. They'd been doing their little dance for months now, and she couldn't continue dealing with all the emotions that came along with it without knowing something.

"Because we need each other."

But she already knew that. She needed something different, she needed -

"I need something that makes this worth the pain that's bound to come along with this."

"What pain? I'm not going anywhere, and -"

"Inevitably something is going to happen, and I need to know that there's a reason."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know." she said honestly. She didn't know what she needed to hear, didn't know what would make this okay.

And suddenly it hit him. It was so abrupt and obvious that he was surprised he hadn't realized it before.

Though it could have had a lot to do with the fact that there was just so much sadness around that made it hard to remember what happiness felt like, what caring felt like, what -

"I love you."

Her breath caught in her throat and she looked up at him, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence that would make sense.

"I think I knew it for a while, I just didn't recognize it." he said, brushing a stray tear from her cheek.

She didn't realize she'd started crying again.

"I - I -"

"I know." he said, making it easy for her, like always. She couldn't count how many times she'd attempted to articulate what she'd told him - or tried to tell him - the very first time they'd slept together, and instead he'd just known what she was incapable of saying and made her feel like it was okay for her not be able to say it.

But not with this.

She would say it with this.

Because it was true.

She pressed a kiss to his lips before pulling back slightly, her lips brushing against hers as she said, "I love you too."

She heard his breath catch in his throat, and his eyes widened.

He hadn't been expecting her to say it back. If anyone understood an inability to express their emotions it was him, and he wasn't going to push her - but the fact that she'd said it...

"This doesn't make it easier." he said, "It makes it harder. How is this what you wanted to hear?"

"Because it makes it worth it."

"It means it'll be harder for us."

"But it will have been worth it. It will have meant something." she said, her toffee eyes holding his silver ones.

Instead of saying anything he leaned forward, capturing her lips in a soft kiss.

"Why don't you think I would have chosen Voldemort's side, if given the opportunity?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

This was an easy question.

"Because you do what's right, regardless of the consequences. I don't think you would've been able to live with yourself if you had this mark on your arm."

She took a deep breath, "Maybe you're right."

The thing was, they wouldn't know, but they didn't need to. It didn't matter. Looking back or debating about what-if's wasn't going to do either of them any good. They were having a hard enough time just trying to deal with the present, let alone trying to involve the past and hypotheticals into it.

The war changed people, and sometimes it changed the very morals of a person, and maybe it had done that with Hermione and Draco.

But then again, maybe it hadn't.

Okay, I think I'm done with these two now. Hopefully you enjoyed, leave me a review and let me know.