DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
oOo
She knocked, and predictably no one answered.
She went in anyway.
The sparsely furnished room was forlorn and wooden grey, the sheets tucked in neatly, no crease visible on the sterile bed. The air was stagnant, a stranger to motions and actions. There was a sense of finality in the air though, palpable in every move. There was no sign that any person had lived inside at all, but Hermione knew better. This was the room Draco Malfoy occupied while under the short-lived protection of the Order. He was standing near the window, his back rigid, his body weak and his skin paler than normal.
Normal for him, anyway.
He came one rainy night, cold, lost, broken. His eyes had a wild look to them, as if he had been living on the streets for a more than just a while. His clothes were tattered and he was covered in bruises, scars both fresh and old oozing blood. Mrs. Weasley was the one to open the door, shocked to find the enemy's young pawn in such a state. She hesitated, suspicion foremost in her mind, but the whispers of her heart won and she took him in. He refused any form of hospitality however, and only allowed himself to be dragged to the kitchen.
He came because he wanted to warn them, he said, his voice laced with urgency. Grimmauld Place wasn't safe anymore. Voldemort had discovered their headquarters. There was a spy in their midst. It was why he was able to find them in the first place.
During his confession, the occupants of the house made a circle around him, guarded expressions on their faces. Now they drew back, faces wary, lips set in lines of disbelief. They changed their mind quickly, however, when the door burst open and Remus came in the kitchen, panic in his eyes.
"Half an hour", he whispered in warning, his voice not quite right. His eyes widened imperceptibly when it landed on Draco.
Draco stood, shaking, his finger pointed at the newcomer.
Every wand in the vicinity was suddenly pointed at Remus Lupin.
She made a few steps toward him, her heart breaking to pieces with every second she forced to spend with him. Every pore on her body screamed finality, but her weak heart opposed. She felt everything inside her fall apart. It hurt so much she felt her whole body ache. She tried to reach for him, but he turned around before she could.
"No, Hermione," he said in a hard voice. He glared at her balefully, and she had to catch her breath. She would never get used to his eyes. His eyes were the only mystery in the world she could never solve. It looked cold and empty now, his emotions hidden behind a veil that no one could probably ever penetrate. She had witnessed it during the throes of forbidden passion though, and she knew that even if his eyes looked terribly frigid now, it also had the ability to be the most amazing canvass of emotions.
Wringing her hands in desperation, Hermione tried to reason with him. "Draco," she interjected his refusal, "Please. We can still save you. We can still find a way to protect you." The more she said, the more he flinched, as if she stabbed a knife in him with every word she uttered. "We can still find a way, please, Draco. Don't go, please don't leave. If we could just have more time—"
"Don't you get it, you filthy mudblood?" he suddenly hissed, his body taut and tense, his hands tight on her shoulders. His words stung, but she refused to acknowledge the pain. She closed her eyes and hung her head, white spots dancing behind her eyelids. Her body threatened to collapse. "There is no time! You cannot do anything! He is winning! Are you too blind to see what is happening outside the safe little bubble you all have created? I've chosen my path, Hermione. I've told you this a thousand times. I will not let anybody take the responsibility of my actions." His last words trembled, and he was breathing hard. He suddenly took his hands away from her, as if touching her burned him. She looked up and her eyes shone from tears that would inevitably fall.
He stared at her with pained eyes for what seemed like an eternity. When a tear flowed down her cheek, he made a soft groan and it was his turn to look at the floor. She shook with hopelessness and despair, but nonetheless she still tried to reach for him again, afraid that he might her push her away. She tentatively raised her arms and wrapped them around his fragile body. It was not fully healed from all the bruises and pain it received. Maybe it never would.
Scars were strange that way.
She put her head against his chest and she tightened her grip. "Please Draco," she said, starting to sob. "Please". His breathing caught. He simply stood, shaking. He wanted to push her away, but he found that he didn't have the will to do so.
When Hermione further tightened her embrace, he suddenly held on to her as if letting her go would be his sure death. "No, Hermione," he repeated, his voice strangely calm. "I have.. I have made my choices. I have chosen my path. No one can change my fate now. Not even you."
She looked tearfully up at him again, at those grey eyes that once showed her just how deep a person can love another. She had seen that kind of love in his eyes, love that was solely for her. She felt that love in his touch, in his rare hugs, in his passionate kiss. And before she made the hardest, most painful decision in that life, she had to experience it all again. One last time.
She held both his cheeks and pulled his head down to her, making him press his lips to her own. He tensed, keeping himself from feeling the bolt of electricity running up and down his spine.
He gave in, eventually.
He pulled her, molding his body completely to hers. He continued his tight hold on her as if he would never let go, and she wished that it were so. Heart racing and eyes closed, Hermione clung to him and allowed herself to get lost in the feelings he never failed to elicit from within her very core.
Far too soon, he lifted up his head. The final goodbye was plainly displayed in his eyes. Draco feared that if he dared speak, he would crumble and agree to her tempting offer. He could never though. He had enough of being the reason why people got hurt. Why the people he loved died. Why the people who even never knew him lost their lives for the sake of fun for the sadistic people he once looked up to. He kissed her on her forehead to shut himself up, and Hermione closed her eyes once more. She felt him pressing a small object into her hands, and she closed her fingers around it. The object was cold, and it felt like his ever present emerald ring. When he drew back she turned away, hands hanging limply at her sides.
"Go."
Draco put his hand on her shoulder. He wanted to say something to at least soften the huge blow, but he changed his mind. He would not taint the air with false hope and expectations. He slowly removed his touch, and felt that with every second that passed his heart was violently trying to get out of his chest. He went to the door and stole one final look.
Hermione tightened her hand around the object in her hands until she felt it make its mark against her palm. Hearing the door close with such a solemn sound behind her, she felt her façade break. She would never forget it. As she finally allowed herself to sink to the floor, her knees unable to anchor her body up for any longer, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she wept for her greatest loss.
End
A/N: I love Dramione so much that it hurts but I tend to write fictions of them separating. *sigh* And I have to be honest; imagining the whole thing made me cry. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my one-shot! If it's not a bother please R&R!