Draco Malfoy awoke to the sunlight streaming through his window. It cast light into his eyes that caused him to rub at them without conviction, just to move, just to wake up. He tore off the covers and placed his feet on the chilly floor.

He opened the drawer to his bedside table and took out the picture from inside. He watched the blond Quidditch captain lean down to whisper into thick brown curls, "I love you," as she pulled his arms tighter around her waist and looked back at him as they laughed together, sharing a private happiness no one else understood.

Tears slid down his cheeks as he held the photograph. He allowed himself this pain one day a week, because he knew he'd be able to heal himself relatively soon. He remembered that day, and everything about Hermione Granger.

He remembered their first sentimentally important encounter. Draco was exiting the men's restroom and Hermione was on her way to the library when they ran into each other with enough force to send them both crashing down on to the floor: neither one had paying attention to where they'd been going. Draco lay pinned on top of her, and she wouldn't speak one word. The glare she gave him was so fierce he couldn't help but to laugh at her. She instilled in him a strange attraction.

For all his life he was taught to hate Muggle born witches and wizards- Mudbloods. He trained himself to classify her differently- to create a loophole for himself and the beliefs he grew up on. To him Hermione Granger was just a woman he happened to be drawn to. For all his years of loathing, he struggled to make himself believe it was only that and nothing more. Yet every time he saw her, he became increasingly convinced that there was something more to it than his simple explanation. His denial grew to a point where she consumed his thoughts, and he realized there was indeed more to his loathing.

He then remembered their second encounter. Ever since that first day she'd plagued his thoughts, and as he walked down an empty corridor after curfew looking for trouble, he saw her hurrying back to her bed in order to avoid it.

He made sure that the way she was walking was always going to be directly into him, and she was looking down at her feet so that she didn't notice his move directly into her path until she ran into him. "Going somewhere Granger?" He'd asked. She gave him a dirty look and made a move to pass him, but he took a step right, then left, blocking her way.

She never broke his steely gaze as he bent down and pressed his lips to hers. As they touched he wrapped an arm around her drawing her in, cradled her face in his hand, enveloped her mouth in his, and felt fire spread through his veins. All of his life Draco had been cold. He has a cold face, a cold mind, and a cold heart. Hermione made him warm for the first time in his life.

He remembered their first time being intimate with one another, in an empty classroom in a deserted wing of Hogwarts. They lay entwined in between blankets on the classroom floor and Draco whispered, "You burn me. You let me know that I'm alive. I love you." Hermione kissed his chest, feeling his quick heartbeat beneath her lips and replied, "I know, I love you Draco."

Draco brushed the tears away and put a lid on his memories. He placed their picture gently back into its place and went to his bathroom. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and dressed in simple jeans and a T-shirt.

He walked out of his flat in Muggle London and took the twists and turns of a ritual route. After the war, he'd chosen to live in the Muggle world because it was where she was raised, and he felt like he had a piece of her with him whenever he saw an ordinary person pass him on the street, oblivious of his world.

He'd found the church and Father Daniels by accident, stumbling into an evening mass in a drunken stupor, attracted by the "pretty lights". Father Daniels had sobered him up, and gotten to the route of his troubles and his guilt. He'd come back every Sunday since, and that had been four years to the day.

Several Muggle women passed him on the street, smiling coy smiles and giggling with their friends. He'd had his way with a few of them, but they never became who he wanted them to be.

Draco rounded the corner and entered the church as the bell signaled the beginning of the mass. Father Daniels nodded to him as he entered, and Draco began to search for a seat. He caught sight of familiar brunette curls, and his breath caught in his throat. He took a seat behind her, convincing himself it was just another woman and not who he hoped. He forced himself to calm down and concentrate on the mass.

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Hermione woke up the way she always did, slowly and to the sunshine. She sat up and let the sleep wear off before she set her feet on the carpet and got up. Hermione began the day much like she always did. She wrote a letter to Ron, Harry and Ginny, asking them out to lunch, and sent it via owl.

She then showered, dried her hair, and changed clothes. In her room, she opened her nightstand table drawer and caressed the picture she held.

Draco's hands were wrapped around her waist and he bent down to whisper that he loved her, while she pulled him closer and looked back at him as they laughed together.

She looked at the photo every morning, to remind herself of what could have been. As the war had raged on, Hermione fought with the photo in her pocket as her conscience. She remembered everything about Draco, and how their relationship could have been different.

The last time they were ever together crossed her mind as tears fell down her cheeks. They lay in the classroom, holding each other tightly. This time had been different from any other. Hermione felt it was like a closing of some sort. "What's wrong Draco?" She'd asked. He hadn't replied, but held her closer. After a few moments of silence she repeated the question only to receive the same silence. Finally her curiosity got the best of her, and she asked him yet again.

"Dammit Sweet Merlin Hermione, I'm trying to enjoy this. It will be the last time we have together. We're done after this. We're fighting on two different sides in this war and we have duties to fulfill. When this war begins we cease to exist, so I need this Hermione. I need this memory, right now. I need the way that you feel in my arms and the way you make my blood pound in my veins." She was shocked into silence.

"No..." she whispered her denial. "Draco I can't live without you in my life." He kissed the top of her head as sobs wracked her body in his arms. She felt his tears land on her head, and knew that this was the end.

He held her until the morning, at which point both of them donned their robes from the previous day for lessons, and said their final good-byes. The last words they ever spoke to each other were simple, just, "I love you," in unison, before each headed their own direction in life.

Hermione wiped her tears and decided to go to mass. It had been a long time since she'd attended a service, and her mother and father had told her about a church they'd recently discovered that she'd been curious to see.

She grabbed the directions off the counter and followed them to a little Catholic church, at which she entered and took a seat near the front. She was resolved to pay attention.

The first reading was from Matthew. "Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother and then come back and offer your gift." Hermione was reminded of everyone in the war who had fought for Lord Voldemort, and thrown their lives away for a darker purpose.

The second reading was from Matthew as well. "And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors; if you forgive others their transgressions your Heavenly Father will forgive you. But if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your transgressions." She again thought of Draco and the side he was indebted to.

The gospel was yet another Matthew verse, and Hermione found tears flowing down her eyes as she thought of all the pain Draco had caused her. After the war she hadn't searched for him because she had a feeling though he might have wanted her to, she would have a hard time accepting him after he'd nearly destroyed her.

"Then Peter approaching asked him, 'Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As many as seven times?' Jesus answered, 'I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.'"

Her thoughts were on Draco yet again, and she couldn't stop her tears from flowing. By the exchange of peace, her tears had subsided. There was no one to shake hands with on her right, and she was at the end of the pew. The nearest person ahead of her was three pews in front, so she turned behind her to meet red rimmed grey eyes.

A small gasp escaped her lips. They stared at each other for seconds that felt like years, and Draco bravely extended his hand out to her. In his eyes, he asked for her forgiveness for his selfish actions. He begged her to forgive him.

Her gaze lowered to his hand, and she slowly extended hers. She stared at the mark on his wrist that was cut and marred by scars that Draco had inflicted upon himself. As their palms met, and their hands closed around each other’s, Hermione met Draco's gaze again and she asked him for his forgiveness for her abandonment in silence.

"Peace is with you," his husky voice rang in her ears. In that moment she knew that it was alright. They had forgiven each other for all the pain. As Hermione nodded and turned around, letting go of his clammy hand, she realized neither one of them would look back again.

Their past was over, and both of them knew the exchange of their peace was a blessing for their future.