A/N: I know, I know... ANOTHER Dramione? That's how I felt when I opened the document and started typing away. Alas, this was an idea that I couldn't pass up. This was inspired by the song "Are U Gonna Tell Her" by Tove Lo. I have no idea how long this one will be. All I know is that this piece is a major MOOD and it will not have a regular update schedule. Yet.

ONE

This was the last time.

It had to be.

This is the last time, she thought as she rolled her hips above him, moaning as he bucked his up, filling her beyond capacity. This is the last time. The mantra cycled like a broken record, refusing to be forgotten. She looked down and caught his gaze; silver and intense as it bored into her. He never closed his eyes and he hated it when she did. He wanted to watch her come undone. Every time. His stare was more intense this time. As if he were memorizing her every move; every sigh and cry.

Her lids fluttered and she pitched forward, hands smacking loudly against his porcelain skin. He met her thrust for thrust as she picked up the pace, latching onto that wave of pleasure that licked up her spine. His hand shot up, wrapping lightly around her throat. She swallowed hard beneath his fingers and his eyes darkened. Her nails dug into his chest as the wave crested and she sang like the sirens.

The ocean of pleasure came up and swallowed her whole and when it spat her back out, she was beneath him. His forearms had her head caged in and her legs were locked firmly around his waist. The last time, her mind warned as his stare threatened to penetrate her soul the way his body had.

Her nails raked down his back, not caring if she left a mark. She felt him shudder his eyes flashed feral for a moment. His thrusts deepened and her lips parted with a gasp as another wave of pleasure began to build. She dug in harder and he dropped his head to the crook of her neck, growling as his teeth nipped at her skin.

She felt something sticky at her fingertips, but there wasn't time to wonder if it was blood or sweat as he applied a blinding pressure to her neck. She cried out in an equal mix of pain and pleasure, pushing them both over the edge.

He stayed longer than usual and they sated each other until their bodies refused to cooperate any longer. When the time came to part, they dressed in silence. As was customary, they would just give each other a mutual nod and depart without a word, knowing that they would meet again the following week. Like clockwork.

"This is the last time," she said, working on the last few buttons of her shirt. She wasn't sure if the verbal reminder was for him or herself.

His jaw ticked and his brow furrowed a little. He was more than aware that this was the case, but she still felt the need to say it aloud. She worried at her bottom lip as he continued to stare. He didn't say anything, just gave her a curt nod as he schooled his features into his signature mask of indifference. He carded a hand through his platinum blond locks in an attempt to smooth them.

Then they were staring at one another again, gazes locked in a battle of wills. They should have already left by now. Her heart was thundering in her chest. She had always known that they would have to part ways at some point. From the moment they started their rendezvous, she had always known they would expire. She even knew the exact date. They had both always known.

Yet, it seemed that neither of them wanted to leave. It didn't feel as finished as she thought it would. Somehow knowing the end was coming hadn't lead to the acceptance of it now that it was here. Slowly, she cast her gaze down to the floor and then closed them against the surprising amount of tears that welled up.

This was the last time.

It was.

It had to be.

She Apparated away before she changed her mind.

Hermione stared at the invitation in her hands. Part of her wanted to drop it as though it were made of fire and then obliterate it into a million pieces while the other part couldn't seem to let go as she stared at it in disbelief. Anger and confusion bubbled up inside of her. She wasn't sure why it was being delivered to her now. She wasn't sure why it was being delivered to her at all. It was a cruel joke that she did not find funny in the slightest.

The owl pecked at her and she scowled at it. Of course he was waiting for a response. She slammed back the rest of her Firewhiskey and summoned a pen and some paper. Her hand shook as she gripped the pen, hovering over the paper. There were many things she could have scribbled down, but her anger was making it hard to follow a coherent thought.

Is this a joke? Friends was never part of our departure agreement. I still stand by what I said.

She added her initials and attached it to the owl, sending him off before she could change her mind. She stared at the invitation and fell back into the chair at her kitchen table. She dragged the bottle to her lips, skipping the glass this time and continued to stare at it. After a few minutes of fingering the edges of the elegant piece of paper, she closed her eyes and tried to block out all thoughts of him.

But her efforts were all for naught the moment she opened her eyes again.

You have been cordially invited to attend the matrimonial ceremony of Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy. To be commenced at…

As the next mouthful of the whiskey burned its way down her throat, the invitation burst into flames. She stared at the orange tendrils, watching as all but his name turned to ash on her table. She snorted. Of course he would be the only thing she couldn't touch. How fitting.

She closed her eyes and tried to block out the memories, but she found herself pulling them from the depths of her mind and reliving each one of them. From the first time he had sat down next to her at the seedy Muggle bar and bought her drink. The way his knee had brushed up against hers; the way her fingers had skimmed up the length of his arm where the shadow of his Dark Mark remained.

"A Muggle bar?" she questioned, a smirk on her lips. "Who would have thought?"

"I needed a change of scenery," he had said.

An escape. She knew that all too well. It's what she had been drawn to this place for as well. It's what drew her in more often than not. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"No."

"So you just came to drink, then? I can help with that," she said, signaling the bartender for another round.

"I came to forget." His head tipped to the side ever so slightly and her breath hitched as his eyes darkened. "Can you help with that too, Granger?"

She swallowed hard at the insinuation; neither one of them looking up as the bartender deposited two shot glasses in front of them. His knee brushed against hers and her spine straightened, a heavy breath escaping her lips. She had read the papers that morning. She knew he was here to forget about his marriage arrangement. It had been all anyone would talk about. She would never understand Pureblood traditions. Especially ones so archaic and outdated.

"You're engaged, Malfoy."

"Betrothed."

"That's just a synonym. They mean the same thing."

"Engaged implies it was a mutual decision. Betrothed means that a contract of marriage has been commissioned and I have a limited window of time before there will be a ceremony held to sign it."

"Semantics," she frowned and downed her shot.

"Tell me you haven't thought about it once since you've known me, Granger."

The hate between them had long since dissipated. All the animosity from the war was gone. They were just people they used to know. An acquaintance from school who sometimes crossed paths through mutual friends and gave a nod and a cordial exchange of pleasantries a few times a year. This conversation had been their longest one yet.

"When have you thought about it, Malfoy? Before or after you stopped calling me a Mudblood?"

He snorted and downed his own shot. "Before."

Her eyes widened a bit in surprise at that. "So this proposition of yours," she said, her fingers skimming up his forearm. "Is this just you rebelling against these ridiculous Pureblood traditions by taking a bite of the Forbidden Fruit?"

He leaned in and she felt his lips move against the shell of her ear as he spoke. "It won't just be a bite, Granger. I will devour you until there is nothing left."

She shivered as he pulled back, staring at her with mischief in his eyes. "I don't want to be someone's mistress," she said lightly, her breath coming in short, shallow pants.

"You won't be. It's part of the contract. We are free to carry on as we choose until we've signed."

She wet her lips, an action his eyes followed with interest. "You're sure?"

"Of course. I even made sure to clarify."

She signaled the bartender for another round. "You sure you'd want a night with me, Malfoy? I wouldn't want to sully your-"

"I don't want just a night," he interrupted, his voice dark and full of lust.

She blinked and sat back a little, letting his words sink in completely. She downed the shot the moment the bartender set it down and took a deep breath. "Has there been a date set?"

"Fall Equinox."

Four months.

Hermione swallowed hard and bit her lip as she thought. "That's it then? That simple? We just rendezvous until that date?"

"Longer if you reconsider your stance on being a mistress. There's a clause in the contract to accommodate."

"That's repulsive."

"Not just for me. For Astoria too. The only thing we are obligated to do is produce heirs and stay married. Aside from that, we're free to…roam."

"For one, it's presumptuous for you to think that you could even hold my attention for more than a night and two. More so that if you can, I would want to continue something that could never see the light of day."

His hand came to rest on her knee and slowly began sliding up her thigh. "One, it's not presumptuous. I know for a fact that after one night, you'll be begging for more." He smirked as she squirmed under his touch. "But when the time comes, if you want to walk away, I will let you. Just know that I intend to do everything I can to convince you to stay."

She slid off her seat and lifted her chin as she held his gaze. "When the night's over, you'll be the one begging, Malfoy."

His eyes were alight with desire at that and slammed more Muggle money than necessary on the counter before grabbing her hand and leading her out onto the street. He tugged her down the alley and shoved her between himself and the building, pressing his lips to hers and demanding entry with a bite to her lip before Apparating them away.

Hermione blinked herself out of her memories, staring at his name in the otherwise cindered patch on her table. She took a last swig and pushed herself out off the chair and down the hall to get ready for the day. The last thing she was going to do was think about him. He wasn't worth her thoughts. Especially the dangerous ones that had formed over the last few weeks. The ones that had her reconsidering her decision to not be his mistress after he took a wife.

Especially not the ones where she thought about asking him to get out of it.

It was supposed to be just sex.

No dates. No fluff. There was barely even conversation. They just met at the bar, had a drink, sometimes two, and then Apparated to his hotel of choice for the next few hours. They would depart moments after finishing and not speak about it if they crossed paths in public.

But somewhere along the way, between making her cry out with his head between her thighs or spilling his seed inside her while leaving bruises on every inch of her skin, she had developed feelings. No one had ever made her feel the way he did and when they had parted ways a few nights ago, it had felt unfinished.

But it was too late now.

In forty-eight hours, there would be a Mrs. Malfoy and it wouldn't be her.

She wasn't sure what possessed her to seek out that Muggle bar. She knew he wouldn't be there to meet her. She knew, and yet her feet still moved until she was seated in her usual spot. But she was nothing if not a creature of habit. She just had to break this one before it became too painful. One drink and she would leave. One drink and she would never step foot in this particular bar again.

She ordered that drink, the only one she would allow herself to have, and held the glass in her hand with an iron grip. She stared at it as if she were afraid of it. She knew that when it was gone, she would be too. With a heavy sigh, she brought the glass up, but before it touched her lips, a flash of movement to her left had her going stiff as a board. Slowly, she set her glass down on the bar and turned, eyes wide in shock as she took in the sight of Draco Malfoy.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in return.

She tried to smirk at him, but her lips turned into a sneer instead. "I'm here to forget."

His brow furrowed at her as he produced a piece of paper and set it on the bar. Her gaze flicked over it and she recognized it as her response to him from earlier. "What was this for?"

She searched his eyes, waiting for the jig to be up, but found nothing. Not even a trace of humor. "You know, it's poor taste to invite someone to a wedding last minute. It's incredibly tacky when that someone happens to be a lover who's only just turned into an ex. Tell me, Malfoy, is my side of the bed even cold yet?" she snapped before downing her shot and taking off for the exit.

He was right behind her, dragging her into the alley, but she wrenched herself away from him before he could Apparate them. "Granger-"

"I thought I made myself clear. I didn't want to be your mistress. I don't ever want to be the something on the side. We both knew this was coming to an end, Malfoy. We both knew-"

"I fucking heard you, loud and clear," he interrupted. "I never invited you to the wedding. That would be highly inappropriate. Even if you had changed your mind."

"Then why did I get an invitation this morning?" she asked, hands balling into fists at her sides.

"I don't know, Granger. I don't…" His jaw clenched a moment before she found herself pressed between him and the exterior of the bar. His hands cupped her jaw as his forehead rested against hers. "It wasn't me," he whispered. "If you were there, I wouldn't be able to go through with it."

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up through her lashes, trying her best to catch his gaze. "Then who-"

"I sent it."

They both went still for a moment before Malfoy stepped away from her so they could take in the sight of the soon to be Mrs. Malfoy herself.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because there was something you and I needed to discuss, Miss Granger," Astoria said, hands clasped neatly in front of her like a proper Pureblood. Her ability to maintain a calm demeanor was eerie. "And I knew Draco would run to you when you responded."

"Tori, this has nothing to do with you," Malfoy said, his voice dark with warning.

"It does," she said, turning her calculated gaze to him, allowing Hermione to take a breath. "You didn't honestly think I wouldn't find out, did you?"

"Tori-"

"Did you know he's been trying to find a loophole to our contract since we set the date?" she asked, looking at Hermione again. "That he's had nearly every lawyer in Europe scouring every inch of it. I knew he had been fucking someone else. I didn't care about that. But I do care about the fact that he would try and get out of his duties to marry me. Especially if he plans on abandoning me for a Mudblood." She turned to glare at Malfoy. "A Mudblood, Draco, really? I'm afraid I can't let that happen. My reputation if you left me for her would never recover."

Malfoy stepped in front of Hermione as Astoria's hands unclasped and her wand became visible. "Tori, put your wand down. There's nothing to worry about. I'm not-"

"Just because you haven't found what you're looking for doesn't mean you'll ever stop, Draco. I know you. You're persistent. You won't stop until you find a way out of our marriage without any repercussions and I'm sure you're not above slipping me a potion if all else fails. So, I'm sorry, but this cannot continue."

"It won't," Hermione said, her voice tight as she stepped out from behind Malfoy. "I don't want to be anyone's mistress."

"How unfortunate for you," Astoria sneered. "Because Draco doesn't want a mistress either. If he did, he wouldn't be working so hard to end our engagement." She twirled her wand between her fingers, taunting them. "It would be better for all of us if he did, but as I said, I refuse to come second to a Mudblood."

"What are you going to do, kill me?" Hermione challenged.

Astoria's smile made Hermione's skin crawl. "Oh, Merlin, no. That would be too obvious. What I have in mind will spare me from any social disgrace." She pointed her wand at Hermione and uttered the spell before either of them could react. "Obliviate."

Draco watched as Hermione fell to her knees, staring off into space. The moment she landed, he surged forward and grabbed Astoria's wrist hard enough she dropped her wand. "Undo it, Astoria. Right fucking now. Or I'll-"

"You can't do a damn thing, Draco," she said, yanking herself from his grasp and summoning her wand. "To turn me in will mean I have to tell them why. And when your father finds out you've defiled yourself with the likes of her, you'll be disinherited. Is she worth all the gold in your vault?" she asked, smirking when he didn't respond. "I only made her forget about your time together. She'll come out of her stupor in a few minutes, think she's had one too many, and go home."

"You're not going to Obliviate me?" he asked.

Astoria smiled and shook her head. "No. I want you to remember that I'll stop at nothing to keep my place in society. I suggest you keep away from her because if she remembers on her own, it won't just be you that I erase." She straightened her dress and smiled again. "I expect you at the Manor in five minutes," she warned before disappearing.

Draco turned back to Granger and dropped to his knees beside her. She was still just staring off at the other building across the alley, her eyes dull and listless. He brushed two knuckles across her jaw and bent down to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'll fix this," he whispered. "I promise, Granger. However long it takes; I'll make it right."

He lingered with her in the alley until she started to come out of her daze, thinking of all the ways he could destroy Astoria and restore Granger's memories with the least repercussions. At the very last moment, he tore himself away from her and disappeared with a loud crack.

The picture in the Prophet that morning had been nothing short of perfect. The new Mrs. Malfoy was the epitome of Pureblood, aristocratic perfection. But where people couldn't stop talking about how lovely the ceremony was or how drop-dead gorgeous Astoria as a bride, Hermione couldn't stop staring at Malfoy.

She hadn't seen him looking that haunted since Sixth Year. He had grown into himself over the years, she knew that from their various interactions, short as they may be. She knew it was an arranged marriage, but she had hoped within the last four months they had grown to at least like each other. Even if it was Malfoy, she was sad to see the utter defeat and disappointment in his eyes. Surely being married to Astoria Greengrass was better than becoming a Death Eater.

But no one would ever know given the look on his face in that picture.

To Hermione, it looked like he might have preferred the latter.

Even as the weeks went by and pictures of them on their Honeymoon were posted, Hermione still noted that Malfoy looked far from happy. After the first week, she stopped looking at the front cover. The sadness in his eyes made her feel sorry for him. And if she looked too long, she was left with a strange ache in heart she couldn't make heads or tails of.

It was a few weeks after they had come back from their Honeymoon that Hermione saw Malfoy in person again. He looked a little less haunted by the ordeal than he had in the first picture and she wondered if anyone else saw it.

It was at the Leaky Cauldron one Thursday afternoon. She had only worked a half day before leaving for an appointment at St. Mungo's. There, she had received some puzzling news. News that she couldn't wrap her brain around and the more she tried, the less sense it made. So she had gone straight to the Leaky, ordered a drink, and stared at it.

She wanted to drink it, but she wouldn't be able to live with the guilt if she did.

"Alright there, Granger?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin as Malfoy slid in to the seat next to her at the bar. "Fine," she replied.

He studied her for a moment, his eyes sliding to her untouched shot glass for a moment. "Drinking in the middle of the day? What's the occasion?"

"I'm not drinking," she said. She pushed the shot glass towards him. "Congratulations, Malfoy. You two certainly are quite the pair."

He eyed the glass skeptically again. "If I weren't here, you'd be drinking this," he said, shoving it back towards her.

"No, I wouldn't," she insisted, moving it back to him. "It was a mistake to order it," she added, putting a Galleon on the bar. "Enjoy. Really, congrats," she said mustering a genuine smile as she got to her feet.

A gasp tumbled past her lips as his knee brushed against hers. The echoes of a memory ghosted before her eyes. She reached out to steady herself, not caring how hard she grasped his forearm. Chills erupted down her spine and as she stared up at him, she could remember every moan, every sigh, every touch in their stolen moments together.

She yanked her hand back from him and ran before he could say anything. Before he could see that she was remembering. She was out of the Leaky and in her flat moments later, curled up on the couch as memory after memory assaulted her psyche and pieced back a puzzle she hadn't been aware of losing pieces to.

When it all settled, Hermione let the tears flow freely as she formulated her plan. Running was cowardly, she knew that. Not even threat of death had made her want to run and hide when Voldemort was trying to take over, but this was different. This time, it wasn't just herself she had to worry about.

With a quick, unsteady hand to her stomach, Hermione finalized a plan and then got to her feet to begin packing. She allowed herself one suitcase before she emptied her vault at Gringotts, and disappeared without a word to anyone.