Disclaimers: This is fanfiction, no profit or illegal distribution intended. Also, if this resembles any other material, that is coincidental itself. Characters and Wizard World belongs to J.K Rowling and her publishers. No plagarism intended, as this idea has been nagging me for some time!

A.N: References on the bottom along with an explanation...


White... The room, and down the hall, they are all white. White walls, white chairs, white bedsheets: simply white.

I open my eyes into the only world I know; my white room. Sometimes I wonder what color is, I try not to recall from my hazy memories because if I do, I'll be anxious.

I hear familiar footsteps coming towards this direction, and it neither gives me comfort, but it doesn't bother me.

(She is lying on a white comfortable bed, on her stomach, her hands lay limp by her side, her feet are dangling slightly off the edge of the bed. The white pillow cushions her head, and her neck isn't stiff for she's in a comfortable position.)

My body is lethargic, I wonder if my blood flows at all.

I wonder why am I not dead?

(The door creaks open, but Hermione pays no mind, as she simply stares outside the window infront of her. The light that falls into the room spotlights on her and blinds her to what is going on outside the wide wide room that Harry placed her in. The window is enchanted, because she cannot hear any noise from the outside, and the temperature of the room has never changed.)

He (the visitor) has seated himself in that chair, like he always does. He transfigures it into a black wizard contemporary piece - his favorite color and to accomodate his taste - when he leaves, the chair remains how he changed it until my healer comes and turns it back into its plain white self.

(She simply stares at the blinding white light from the window, at the wall, and eventually the floor, willing her visitor to go away. Although, she never wants him to leave her, and that makes her feel guilty, confused, and upset.)

(She wonders how many minuites or hours have passed, until she turns her head to his side, she is still lying on her stomach.)

Draco always sits on his chair in my wide white room. At a distance from the bed I lay on, in the shadows of this huge room. He always watches me, laid back like a king. I want to avoid his eyes; they are silver and they have a look that saddens me. He has calculating eyes, and something else that I shouldn't name. Nothing like Ron.

"Why are you here?" I ask him, everyday.

He only smirks, and slowly I sit up from all fours onto my knees, my head turned towards him.

"I don't want Ron to see you here, he doesn't come when you're here... why won't you hurt me? You haven't attacked me for years."

"Hermione..." Draco's melodic voice says softly, and I only tilt my head in acknowledgement. "Ron is dead."

I shake my head, "No, he's coming for me. I was looking for him, but Harry got upset when he found me lost in the forest of Dean. Now I'm here in St. Mungo's, because Ginny doesn't want me to hurt myself..."

... any longer.

Draco leans forward like he always does, a pure look of fasination on his face. "Do you know what ward you're in?"

We go through this everyday, I used to think that he wants to damage me by telling me truths that aren't real.

I only nod my head, just to make him feel like he's accomplished something. I'm only humoring him so that he'll leave me alone, and so that Ron will come and we'll have our privacy.

"The mental ward," Draco says.

"I know," I say. I should add more, I should tell him I don't suffer any mental disorders, but I don't bother. Retelling my story over and over to different mind healers makes it feel pointless, and Draco already knows the story. I told him a few months after these daily visits.

"You're sane," Draco starts, "But you can't come to terms that Ron is gone and he'll never come back."

I slowly slide off my bed, touching to cold tiles of the white floow with my bare feet.

"You're so beautiful," Draco murmurs, still seated, "You may be pale, and your hair is bushy, but you really do take good care of your looks. No haunted eyes, no skin blemish. And they let you use your wand here at St. Mungo's."

"For mudane tasks," I tell him, shrugging his compliments as meaningless flattering. I start to drag my feet a bit as I slowly makes my way to my door, surrounded by a frame of beautiful, silver, intricate designs.

I doubt I can escape my enchanted prison, for everytime I step into the hall their disillusionment charm comes up and the hall becomes endless for me. I can never leave.

"They put restrictions on your wand, and you know you can't remove them without the aid of a textbook," Draco says. I open the door and step out, wishing to escape Draco's baiting voice.

What does he want from me?

Before I can make my journey down an endless white hall, Draco's words stop me.

"I came to tell you that my intentions for you are now approved. I'm taking you home."

I turn around slowly, my body can only handle so much. I collapse right beside the door frame, and I lean against it, the cold metal contrasting to my head.

I start twisting the soft and silky material of my white gown. The healers let my transfigure my St. Mungo's gown into a dress that suited my taste.

"Home... with you? How did you do it?" To say the least, I feel dazed, and a bit detached.

"They need the room, and in accordance to my father's will that I must be wedded before the end of this month, I've chosen you as my wife," he stood and walked over to me. Now he's crouching in front of me, his black robes surrounding my line of vision. His face sharp and poignant, the only realistic image that I've seen in this room.

"I haven't given you my consent, and I know you bribed the right people," I tell him. Draco cups my cheeks, his hands as cold as the floor against my bare feet.

"Now now, dear, you are diagnosed as mentally unfit to go to the Wizengamot. No one wants to hear your opinion. And the ministry sees me fit to care you."

I can't bring myself to flinch, I feel so tired. So instead, I lean into his hands, letting him take the lead.

"I promise I won't hurt you," he tells me.

"I will go with you, because I haven't the strength to fight. But I can't marry you, because I belong to Ron."

"He's dead, Hermione."

"No, he isn't. He's looking for me, I can feel it."


I do marry Draco, only so that St. Mungo will release me. With this new status, I can search for Ron. Draco is busy, being in a high position in the Wizengamot and being a chairman for Hogwarts, along with endless other occupations and positions. I do not wear the Malfoy crest.

I am still wearing my St. Mungo's dress - I love it. It is simple, modest, and pure white. I refuse to wear black because that might lead people to say that I believe Ron is dead. I shouldn't wear any color, for Ron isn't around for me to enjoy them with.

Draco told me white is the true color of death, but how is that? White is pure, it is innocent, it is good.

He told me white is cold, and unsuitable for my warm skin. And wearing white means I am grieving.

I'm walking away from the imposing manor, it is early dawn when the sun begins to rise. My breath is foggy, there is dew all around and the air is as cool as it is refreshing. I am glad I am wearing my white wool cardigan to keep me warm. And these white rain boots help me walk on the damp ground.

I know I passed the boundaries of the manor, and I don't care. I don't have my wand, so I hope the wards don't see me as a threat (even though I am the mistress). I continue walking, shivering a bit of how much colder the open fields are.

Up ahead of me, I see a black figure in the woods, and my heartbeats speeds up.

Can it be?

"Ron?" I whisper, my voice a bit hoarse. A tear falling down my cheek. I try to walk towards that figure, but my legs feel so heavy.

It's been so long since I've been outside. I'm far into a field of wild flowers, away from the Manor and it's splendid garden. Before I realized it, I've fallen onto the mushy ground. My hair all about. I can't support myself to stand or even sit, so I lie there, tears flowing more freely. I wonder how I can feel so happy when that figure is so far?

Then I notice that black figure is coming closer, but as he comes, I realize it isn't Ron at all.

It's my husband.

I close my eyes as Draco's face becomes more visible.

"Hermione," he comes to my side. He gently picks me up into his arms, and I open my eyes.

I give up. I can't keep lying to myself, what I feared long ago is true.

There is no Ron. I can no longer feel his presence, no reassurance.

"How... how did he die, Draco?" My voice is so croaky, I can't hold back my sobs or my tears.

My world was filled with cracks, now it's shattering all around me. My only comfort, my only stability, my home is this warm body holding me so close to him.

Draco stands, with my body in his arms. It looks effortless for him, normal to be carrying his wife in his arms. He walks steadily through the wild field, back to the manor's property.

"He never told anyone that he has aplastic anemia - where the bone marrow is unable to replenish new cells or blood cells. During one of his auror missions up north, he got hit by a curse that causes a deep gash. He died of loss of blood."

I stopped staring at the sky, and took a look around the beautiful yet melanholic garden of the manor.

Before Ron left for his mission, we had a fight. I was training to be a healer, and he was a full-fledge auror. I can't remember what we were upset about, but we broke up for the nth time and he left.

Then Harry came some days later, and told me Ron passed away.

The truth never occured to me, I simply thought Harry is mistaken so I walked out and went north. Harry thought I went for a walk.

I remember that Harry and Draco (he was the one who noticed I went missing) found me lying on top of Ron's grave, near death. While I was in my lethargic state, they were talking about how many days I was gone and they were concerned.

When St. Mungo released me, I went back to my search, because Ron's grave did not have a heartbeat. For me, Ron wasn't there.

Again, Harry and Draco found me, except this time I was unconscience in a tree hallow, in the forest of Dean where Ron's mission was.

After the third time of Harry and Draco finding me, Ginny told Harry to placed me into the mental ward of St. Mungo. They were upset because I was 'slipping' from reality. I have no more interest in studying to become a healer, all I could talk and think about is Ron.

Harry and Draco always visited, although eventually Harry's visits became irregular. It was only Draco and me.

My husband in subject, placed me on our bed. He insisted we sleep together, even though I keep trying to escape in the middle of the night. His patience astounds me.

"Why are you still with me, Draco?" I ask.

He vanishes my boots and scrougifies me. He threw off his black cloak, to reveal his half-naked body in black boxers. Draco lays beside me on our black and green satin sheets and holds me close.

"It's early, I don't have to get ready for work yet."

I snuggle into him, seeking his warmth. I'm tired of feeling coldness against my skin.

"I mean, after all these years. Harry doesn't see me anymore." Strangely, I only feel vaguely hurt that my best friend doesn't make time for me. But I have to remember that his firstborn is quite a handful, and he's planning to have another child with Ginny.

"You're beautiful, Hermione. A broken angel when you cry," Draco says. His lips brush against my temple.

"I knew you had a crush on me in Hogwarts. Always insulting me, always seeking my attention. But... are you obsessed with me?" I must applaud myself for the calm tone in my voice, crying drained a lot of passion out of me.

"Yes," Draco admits.

"Kiss me," I whisper finally looking up at him. I stare right into his silver eyes, finally being able to name that look he gives me other than calculating:

Possession.

Draco smiles slowly, although on his cold and normally stoic face, his smile is almost demonic. I know he sees something in my eyes that makes him joyous. And I finally know, I've come to a realization since Ron died.

I am still alive.

"Welcome home, love," Draco says, before claiming my lips. I feel the Malfoy Crest reappearing on my finger - an enchantement Draco undoubtly casted.

Somehow, I no longer feel empty, and I am no longer a warm body surrounded by coldness. Kissing Draco makes me feel hotter and hotter. A heat that's foreign to me starts to settle and build in me. More and more, I can't stop moaning as Draco's hands explore me in places I never knew existed.

My broken world revolved around Ron, and when he disappeared without a trace, I was lost.

Now I can only see Draco. I belonged to him before I loved Ron.

"D-Draco," I cry out as I came. Tears of relief running freely down my cheeks. Draco is above me, pounding faster and harder for his own release.

We lay there, silent in our grand master bedroom. Decorated by ancient craftsmen from long ago. I kiss him and cup his cheeks, looking into his eyes.

"Thank you for killing him."


A.N: Okay, inspiration is 'The Story Only I Didn't Know' by IU. It's k-pop, and I recommend that if you're going to search it up on youtube, look for the mv (music video) hd (high definition) with english subs (It should be the 5 minute long video with the girl talking in the beginning). Although this fic is a totally different story, I like the mental ward the girl is in. It's pretty. Right, the mv isn't disturbing, it's sad in a 'lost love' sort of way.

So this is by no means, a songfic. Okay, basic explanation of what I intended (although you readers can interpret the fic anyway you want):

Ron is dead. Hermione is in the mental ward of St. Mungo because she can't come to terms with his death. She's slipping away from reality by neglecting her studies and all. Harry placed her in St. Mungo's because she kept trying to look for Ron - who she is dependent on because 'her world revolved around him' and she is lost. Draco comes to see her daily, and she thought he did it for some sick pleasure, but really he loves her (in a messed up way). So Draco takes her from the hospital by using his power and taking opportunity of the fact that Hermione is in the mental ward, therefore the wizard world looks down at her, that's why her opinions don't matter anymore (like a house-elf). So, Hermione is now free from being locked up, and she knows it's been years since Ron died. Being out of her 'wide white room' (that can never compare to the wide earth) made her realize that she is alive, and not dead like Ron. Her 'world' broke because it doesn't exist without Ron. She then realizes that she is Draco's 'world' and that's why she belongs to him - he only sees her afterall. Them sleeping together is actually symbolic because it means Hermione accepts Draco into her 'world' - both emotionally, psychologically, and physically. And her last words means that Draco destroyed what was left of her 'broken world' (where she didn't exist in reality and denied Ron's death). Therefore, Draco 'killed' Ron to free Hermione from her mental prison.

Sorry, couldn't find better words at the moment. I'll offer more detailed explanations to reviewers that ask.

Why I used dramione: Totally suiting, I mean it kind of felt like Draco likes Hermione (because he always picks on her). And Hermione is a bit of a dependent sort of girl who needs someone there for her (she always argues with Ron, and remember in HBP she is serious about Ron! Also, she always follows Harry and helps Harry, kind of neglects herself.) So it makes sense that if Ron dies she'll be devastated (the boys seem to come first than her studies. Ever notice at the end of each year something happens that gets in the way of her academic career? AND in DH she dropped out.) The whole story plot is just for fun, and the characters have history :)

semantics