Summary: As Hermione tries to run far away from the war, societies views on her and her love for Ron, she bumps into someone unexpectedly looking for an escape as well. Will their similarities overcome their differences? Hermione G/Draco M. Rated M for future chapters. Hopefully the story is better than the summary to you guys!

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, Tom Felton would have been locked in my basement right after the filming of all the movies for my- *ahem*- enjoyment.

Hermione reluctantly grabbed Harry's awaiting hand asking her for a dance. Wearing the locket at the time, she honestly wasn't in a dancing mood. Sulking seemed like the better option at the moment. So there she stood, trying to figure out why the bloody hell she was standing in the middle of their tent like a shell of a person. Harry tilted his head, showed a soft smile and realized what was wrong, getting close to Hermione's neck. As soon as he took off the cursed locket, the weight of darkness ceased to choke Hermione's happiness away. He gave her a goofy grin and rocked her arms back and forth to the music. Finally, a smile grew upon her face as she played along, rocking a little bit more and even spinning around a few times.

Merlin, I wish it would stay like this…not having a war to worry about, making happy memories with my friends and family…and love. Having Weasley on the end of my name has always been a fantasy, but right now, with everything going on, it's more of a need than a want.

Harry pulled Hermione closer into a friendly embrace as they slowly swayed to the music. The warmth of her best friend relaxed her as she laid her head onto his shoulder. A battered Hogwarts, blood everywhere and flashes of green light went through her mind, causing her to gasp roughly.

"You doing alright there, Mione?" The boy who lived asked as if it was normal for people to randomly have deathly gasps of air. Then again nothing was normal about anything anymore, so it all had to be dealt with the same.

"Harry…do we really have to fight? I mean can't we just stay here; grow old, without any fear for once?" she whispered in a rushed voice as if she didn't want to hear herself say it. In all honesty, she cursed herself for saying such a thing out loud. A Gryffindor giving up? Preposterous. But some things just cross the line…

"If that's what you want, we will. Only if that's really what you want." He whispered in her ear, the smile heard through his tone.

Hermione suddenly looked up at him, confusion written all over her face. She wondered why they were still swaying when she became aware of the lack of music in the room. She searched his face for approval and seriousness to his answer. Was it really that easy?

Harry's eyes shot up in alarm and Hermione's followed, jaw dropping to the sudden shock and guilt.

There stood Ron Weasley with a look of anger and confusion on his face at the scene before him: Harry and Hermione in what seemed to be an intimate embrace, in the process of initiating a snog session—that is, before Ron ran in.

"I followed your voice—YOUR voice, just to get back to this? I would've rather suffered through the bloody Cruciatus curse than see you with my best friend." His voice broke off as he tried to hold back his tears. If looks could kill, Harry and Hermione would be Avada-ed right where they stood.

"Ron, this isn't what-"

"Bloody hell it's not what it looks like! So what, you two just have a snog fest whenever you feel like it, right? Wonder-fucking-ful. Good to know you've been leading me to think otherwise, Hermione."

Hermione felt her face get hot, more aggravated than hurt right now, "You have some nerve to talk after YOU leaving us, Ronald! I'm sorry for-"

"Sorry for what? For being a bloody whore?"

Harry finally intervened after what felt like an eternity. "Ron, we didn't do anything. We were just dancing; it was my doing."

Ron completely ignored Harry's comment, but noted how he defensively got in front of Hermione, who now had tears flowing down her face.

Why does he have to be such an arse sometimes? I haven't gotten any bloody sleep since he's left and he thinks I'm moving on to the next best thing. She confused herself with the last part of her comment. Is Harry really the next best thing? I mean, it's not like I've really known much else, except Viktor Krum…She shuddered. Well, if Ron doesn't want me anymore because he feels I'm tainted…A bloody mudblood…More tears came streaming down…Then…

As she was lost in her thoughts, Ron finished cursing at Harry and finally yelled at her, "Well? You gonna speak up or just sit there because you know it's all bloody true! You fucking—"

She bolted out the tent opening, thankful that she had her wand and purse on her, because she had no plans on going back. Ever. Her body made the decision for her; she wasn't going to be a part of anything that made her hurt like this again. War, heartbreak…nothing of the sort. Not anymore.

Her tears had blurred her vision and for a while she didn't care the least bit. She kept running, the cold freezing her tear- drenched face, branches whipping at her from all sides and tearing small cuts into her clothes, and voices of her past becoming more and more faint as the distance between them became greater. She could care less where she was going, until she went through the protective shields she casted to keep them safe from snatchers. Everything ached as she went through the charms, and she couldn't hold on much longer.

Dropping to her knees, she cried out, cursing everything that put her in the position she was in right now. No parents to go back to, no friends that she hasn't already put in danger by being out here, nowhere safe to go -seeing as she obliviated her parents memory, was a mudblood and a tears blinded her and drained her energy as she found no other option but to lie on the cold ground, in the middle of the forest, and close her eyes. She was tired of fighting…

The brown haired Gryffindor grumbled and pulled some covers over her head as she felt a slight breeze creep up on her. Wait…covers? Her brain slowly registered and replayed everything that occurred what seemed to be last night, and things weren't exactly falling into place.

"It's about time you woke up, Granger," a deep, smooth voice intruded on her thoughts, followed by the smell of coffee and eggs.

She quickly jumped up, searching for her wand, realizing after a moment that she was unarmed…in front of a death eater. She wished it was Bellatrix Lestrange instead.

She looked around, wondering how and when she got here. She heard herself speak in a stern whisper; "What am I doing here?"

"Well I couldn't just leave you die out there, could I?" The young death eater said, matter of factly.

Could he?

Author's Note: Alright everyone! This is my first fan fiction so go easy on me. Or you know, you don't really have to. This is a one-shot until I find enough readers invested in it. Hope you liked it!