"You missed her." The man in front him say.
He didn't give him an answer. He just looked at black-haired man as he looked at him with amusement.
It was a friendship that raised some eyebrows. People thought they got hit in the head pretty bad that they somehow forgot their history. They would always laugh at everybody's reactions, but maybe it was a natural thing because he, himself never thought that it would be possible for them to become close friends.
i.
The moment he forgot about blood status and purity; the moment he put those things behind his back; the moment he renounced his family and their wealth, beliefs and traditions, was the most liberating time for Draco Malfoy. For once in his life, he chose something that he could be proud of himself; he chose a path for himself and not because of his father. He stood up proudly with his two feet, so far from his Lucius' footsteps.
He joined the Order the night after Dumbledore's death. He couldn't stomach the mission they gave him, and the way the man he admired all his life depart from his majestic reign. He knew from that moment on that he wasn't meant for war. The missions, the killings, the spilled blood of the innocent wasn't for him. It made him nauseous every time he thought about the old headmaster, of his friends who would do anything to get into the good graces of the Dark Lord, when in the mean time, Draco wanted nothing more than to get away from the Dark Side and be with the side that would fight for what he knew deep in his heart was the good side.
It was Harry Potter, himself, that supported Draco's innocence when the rest of the Order questioned his intentions and loyalty. It was Harry, the boy that Draco hated for most of his life, that gave him a hand and didn't think twice to show him kindness. Ron Weasley, the boy who Draco looked down most of his life, assured him that he made the right decision, that he wouldn't be sorry in the end. And it was Hermione Granger, the girl who Draco hated because of the blood that flowed in her veins, who told him that he was brave for picking their side, knowing full well that it was against his family's views and decisions. These three people who he had always hated were the first ones that trusted him, that didn't hesitate to give their friendship to him. Then and there, he knew he made the right decision. That he wouldn't regret his decision.
He represented that people could still change. That they shouldn't be too quick to condemn a person just because of his past decisions. He represented the chance to redo your actions, that it still wasn't too late. For the first year that the war raged on, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkindon, Blaise Zabini, and Millicent Bulstrode came to the Order, too. All of them too tired to follow Voldemort's orders, too tired of their parents' voices on their ear, constantly telling them of what to do. All of them looked up to Draco. That he was the first one who realized the shit that all their parents were supporting. That he had the guts to walk away from that before he got too deep with the Dark Circle. Draco still cringed when he sees the dark mark on etched on their skins, if he didn't turn his back, he would surely have one.
Their side benefited with the information that the refugees related to them. Information such as the number of Death Eaters, their hideouts, their backups, and Voldemort's future plans. He fought for their side with all that he got, despite the coward inside his chest, he defended the side that he chose. He killed his old friend for them, he killed familiar faces, he killed people who he would never know. All to protect the people who were carving their way to his heart. Every time he would cower, he would always remind himself of Neville Longbottom, of his bravery when he attacked Nagini, despite his failed efforts, Draco still found it awe worthy. He would always think of the people who would welcome him back after every mission. And most of all, he would think about the three people who first believed in him. Instantly, he would be filled up, charged with a new wave of bravery, as if he could go just anything.
2
On the second year of war, Draco got unexpectedly injured.
He was with Lavander, hiding behind a pillar, waiting for the chance to charge. The dark obstructing most of their view, making it hard to see the shadows and clues that they were nearby. He could hear Lavander's breath heavy behind him. He knew she was scared, heck, he was as scared as she was, but he smiled at her, telling her that when they get back on Grimmauld he would treat her with beer and cigarettes. She laughed at his attempt to a peace her fleeting faith. And before he even knew what was happening, a green flash of light hit the large pillar over them. Flashes of light, and spells exchanged between group of people that he couldn't make up lighted up the field for mere seconds. Another flash of light went towards them, and hit his right leg, but he didn't have the time to react as the pillar crumbled from the spell, as fast as the spell hit the stone, it fell over them. The large piece knocked them over.
He was already laying on a bed the moment he opened his eyes.
He learned the moment he woke up that Lavander was in a coma, as the stones hit her in the head rather hard. She also got a lot of broken bones: her almost all of her ribs, both her legs and her right arm. It nothing a good bone repairing potion couldn't fix. As for himself, he found himself waken up without aright leg. The healer told him that he somehow got hit with a spell that rotted the muscles where it hit, that they had no option but to amputate his leg or it would spread to his whole body until it kills him.
He understood their reason but he couldn't help but think how unfair it was. He became an angry ball of rage over the loss of his limbs. He found himself resorting to alcohol and nicotine to make him forget his handicap. It was eating him up knowing that he would become a liability, that while his friends were away, he would be stuck in this place waiting for them to replay the reports about their statuses, the number of deaths, and the extent of damage they caused. He shamed himself for not being able to contribute to them, and it fueled his anger so much more. He drank himself to sleep every night. Until that day, almost a month after he became toxic, that day Hermione caught him sneaking in alcohol in his room.
"You're not supposed to be drinking." She said to him.
"You're not the boss of me." He told her, the harsh tone surprised her since it was months and months the last time he talked to her like that.
"Yes," she was glaring at him, "I am not, but I just want to remind you that the alcohol messes up with your medication." She eyed the empty right pant leg, and his crutch.
"No need to remind me that I am useless here, Granger."
"I didn't say anything like that, Draco." His name on her tongue made his heart flutter. "All I am saying is that you're poisoning yourself."
"What does it matter to you." He simply answered and tried to walk away. She walked over to him and stopped him on his tracks.
"I know you're angry," she started, "but remember that I am still your friend, and I care for you and that you matter to me."
Those were the words that made his pulse fluctuate, and they still does, whenever he thinks back.
"Just leave me alone." He muttered.
"No." Stubborn that she was. "I won't let you kill yourself like this."
"It's my body. I'll do whatever that I see fit."
She snorted at his words. "That's the most pathetic reasoning I have ever heard."
"Go on and save the world, Granger, because I sure can't anymore." He sounded as pathetic as his reasoning. "Let me live by my useless life."
"How can you say that, Draco? It's like you're not the Draco I know." She sounded sad, "You're not the Draco who I admired for his bravery, because that Draco would never view himself as useless, and I know he would bash the head of the person who would call him one."
"I am anything but brave, Granger. You must have had read too much of my actions. Everything I have ever did was to make sure that I survive. I am nothing more than an opportunistic parasite. Riding your fleet because I knew I'd have a better chance of living."
"Your words poison you." She shook her head, as if she wouldn't believe his words. "You're never a liability nor you are useless. You may not know it, Draco, but you are an asset to us, a big asset, Moody said so. Did you know that since you came to us, we had recruited a large number of people over to our side? That you're the reason that they came over to our side? That is a big deal, Draco." She sought for his eyes but he was deliberately avoiding them. "You are quick with strategies, plans and decision makings, you… you saved a lot of us from getting killed, you're fast and skilled. You have the potential in becoming a great leader. Why can't you see that? You killed more Death Eaters than Ron and I. You don't even second guess yourself when pointing your wand against people you used to know, because you're focused, and you know what you need to do. So if that was useless to you, then maybe I should go back to school, since I seem to not grasp the meaning of the word."
He was silent for a while, thinking. "That was when I could still fight. I can't anymore." The reminder of his achievements in the order was stinging his eyes with tears. He knew he couldn't do anything more.
"Your negativity astounds me." She couldn't believe that he was giving up on himself. He was becoming an unrecognizable shadow of his old self. She was about to walk away, but stopped. "You should learn from yourself, Draco."
He looked at her then. She was breathtaking, and he never saw her that way before that day.
"Your past was the limb that you needed to cut off in order to save yourself from that evil and darkness. So instead of your pessimistic views, prove yourself to us like you did the first time you came here. You're a smart man, Draco. You can never be useless, if you just use your brain properly."
She gave him a hopeful look before she went her way. He gripped the bottle of alcohol tightly. Her words slowly sinking into him, but he was tired and his stump was getting painful by the minute. Instead of letting go of the bottle, he went straight to his room and drank it to drown away the pain.
3
A few days later, he found out that Harry and Ron left her at Grimmauld while the two of them looked for Voldemort's horcruxes.
She confessed to him one night that she was the one feeling useless because of what they did, and that because of their talk a few nights ago, she had decided that she wouldn't let herself feel that doubt in herself ever again. She refused to go down that hole like he did. And he decided for himself that maybe, he needed to crawl up that hole and remember the glow from that light of hope.
The two of them teamed up with Professor Slughorn, as they restock the medicine cabinets. He taught and trained them like his apprentice, telling them tricks and shortcuts to some potions. They helped in his experiments and his recipes. Everyday, Draco spent his time next to her, with the smell of her vanilla skin lingering and surrounding him like a soft, invisible wrap of arms around him. Everyday, he found himself knowing more about her, as he watched her, and talked to her during their breaks. He got to know information about her personal life, her life back at the muggle world, living peacefully with her parents. It was a funny thing that Draco experienced with her, just talking and exchanging stories. He felt like his views and perspective in life changed a bit more. He found it nice that the two of them could talk about the most random things and almost always ending up with an argument that even Slughorn couldn't answer. And he found it fascinating whenever she talked about the muggle world, their inventions and advancements, that may seem too weird for his sheltered mind, but he found himself wanting to see the things she described to him. Draco wanted to experience them with her.
He just knew that he was stuck and utterly hopeless for her. And he also knew that she was off-limits, since she and Ron got engaged a few months ago, but he couldn't help but wish that he was on the receiving end of her feelings.
The day Lavander woke up from her coma was the day he remembered how to smile again. As soon as the healer gave the green light, he immediately gave her his promised beer and cigarette. She told him that she was glad that he was alive, and he told her that he was happy that she was already awake.
Between his training and time with Granger, he would forget the comfort that the alcohol offered for him, but instead, he craved for her presence, her attention to him. Sometimes, he would consciously knock off some ingredients in the inventory just to stay a few hours with her, or deliberately mess up his practice potion so that she would help him out. Sometimes, he would feel like a normal teenager, that the war wasn't raging on, and that most of his friends were in danger, that he was doing stupid things just to make the girl he likes to notice him. And everytime, he wished for a time turner, to give him back the days that he was freely able to like her, if he had just chosen the right decisions earlier in his life. He wished he could redo everything.
He knew he couldn't have her for himself. Ron was a good man, and he knew that he would do anything to protect her and give her the love that she deserved. As much as he didn't want to admit it to himself, Draco respected the man, well enough to know his limits and boundaries. And he hated it that it was just know that he was growing a bone of decency in his body.
He knew that it was hopeless to harbor feelings for her, to keep on wishing that she would one day return his feelings for her. Still, he dreamt of it. He dreamt of holding her hand, of intimacy with her.
He imagined a life with her, as impossible as that sounded.
4
On New Year's Eve, the people left on Grimmauld decided to throw a simple celebration. For the first time in a long while they were happily feasting and conversing. The traces of war, brushed in a single corner, for a few hours as the night went on.
They haven't had a single news from Harry and Ron for almost two months and everyone was worried. Hermione especially, he would hear her cry every night, with wishes that they were safe and hopes of returning soon. He would hear her whispering, her sobs, and mumbles to the wind, hoping that the wind would relay the messages for her.
But on that evening, she was smiling cheerfully, like wasn't thinking about other things. He loved seeing her smiles, especially the glint in her eyes everytime she does. They all screamed the countdown as the seconds drew by, giving way to the new year, and hopefully a better year.
She held his hand as they yelled, the warmth of get touch was enough to make his heart berserk. His was thankful got the loud room, or else he was afraid that she would hear the beating of his chest.
"2!"
"1!"
He turned to her and gave her his most gleeful grin. Next thing he knew, she grabbed him by his collar and her soft lips met with his. It took him a few seconds before he could respond, as he brushed his lips lightly against hers, opening and closing against each other, nothing too heavy, but it was intense on his part that he knew he would never forget this. It will forever be a memory he would cherish forever. He wanted more from her, those things that he knew he couldn't have, those that were destined for another man.
He wanted it all.
He wanted all of her.
She pulled away from him and smiled at him. Their eyes met for a moment before he faltered. He hated it that he couldn't gauge with his emotions.
"Why do you look so sad, Draco?"
His mouth opened like he was about to say something but ultimately closed, as he struggled to form words, as the words got trapped in his throat. I love you, he wanted to say, instead, he just stared at her, and gulped down the lump on his throat.
A week after the start of the year, was marked as the defeat of Voldemort. From the wonderous effort of Harry and Ron, they had managed to destroy five of the seven horcruxes, and the backup sent by the Order. The battle took place back in Hogwarts, the place that seemed fit to end all things, the place that started of it all.
Neville took it upon himself to finish what he had failed to do a years back, and killed the wretched snake. Harry battled out The Dark Lord in the end just like he was prophesized, and killed the part of Voldemort inside himself, which made him vulnerable and with a final Expelliarmus, vanished on the air like writhed leaves scattering.
The new year brought everyone new smiles on their faces, but it only brought Draco a broken heart.
"Just admit it." He said loudly at Draco. "You disappear everyday at exactly 3 in the afternoon." Harry said as he adjusted his seat opposite Draco's. "That's right. I see you go to visit her grave everyday, admit it. You missed her."
With a sigh, he placed the menu back on the table. "And you don't?"
"Of course I do." He said, as if offended. "But there's something you're not telling me, Draco."
"What? A man can't keep a private side, now?" The blond said with his smirk.
"So, there is really something!" He teased.
"You sound like a teenager, Mr. Potter. Stop intruding on my personal life."
"You offend me, Draco, and I thought I'm your best friend."
"You should really have yourself checked, I think your real gender is just starting to manifest itself, because you sound like a girl."
"You're so mean. No wonder I used to loathe you."
"Oh, you're not the only one."
Harry chuckled at his remark.
"I'll go with you tomorrow." Harry informed him. "I miss them, you know. I might not express it a lot, but I really do."
"I know." He could only answer.
"Ron's birthday is right around the corner."
"The second one without him to pig out." He mumbled under his breath, but loud enough for Harry to hear.
Harry laughed despite the reminder that Ron and Hermione were gone, that he was the only one left of the supposed Golden Trio.
"At least light Ron a candle," he suggested. "He might get jealous since you're only attending on Hermione's."
Harry knew the moment Draco reached the news of their deaths. He knew that the blond had and might still have something for Hermione. He couldn't miss it from the way he bawled his eye out in an instant, and the way he uttered her name over and over again. But he never asked him about it, because it was blatantly obvious that even the Weasleys' knew about it despite his silence and secrecy.
Life went on after the war. Most of them tried to go by as normally as they could, some resorted to a more reckless way of coping than the rest, the path that Draco Malfoy refused to go down again. It was the same for everybody, the pain and hardship that every one went through as they utter their goodbyes to those who sacrificed their lives for their freedom. They were all the same, yet so different.
In Draco's silence and dreams he would always picture her smiling at him, and he would finally have the courage to tell her the words he had kept all those years ago. He would give her the hugs and kisses and the love he could ever give her. In his dreams he was the one she would welcome back in her arms, he was the one she made love with, he was the one she would die for.
But that was impossible, because even in death, she'd always be with Ron.
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