House: Slytherin

Category: Short

Prompts: [Speech] "I miss moments like this more than anything."

Word count: 1406 (Excluding Author's Note, but including entire Entry and Title)

Warning: This is an AU (Alternate Universe) piece. Draco married Hermione; two years after the birth of their child, she dies, leaving Draco to grieve and drown in his own guilt.

Characters: Draco Malfoy; Hermione Granger

Summary: Two years after the birth of his son, Draco Malfoy faces a whole different kind of grief: the death of his wife, Hermione. He faces demons he's shut away during the war, and one night, he's visited by the ghost of his late wife. She begs him to move on, but he doesn't think he's strong enough to let go of the dream he knows he'll never see again. With reassurance, he learns to do so and finds that letting go isn't as terrible as it seems.

Author's Note: This took some serious (lol) thought and I can't have a better team! I'd like to thank Mari and Kristina for beta'ing; without them, this would still be on my drive ;-; rip Lorax. Thanks girls! I owe you one :)

As always, enjoy

-Carolare Scarletus

What the World Can Be

Draco's finger brushed against the frame. His eyes lingered almost blindly on the broken pieces he'd crushed between his hands. In a fit of anger, he'd thrown it against the wall, the glass shattering like glistening diamonds and raining to the floor. Unfortunately, it was not one of those things you couldn't murmur a quick Repairo, and everything would be alright. Death was inevitable; when he would learn that, he never knew but one thing was certain, he had to get a grip on reality.

Never had a dream felt so real. So vivid and imaginative that when he woke up, he could still feel the heartbeat of the other person. Until this day, Draco could not place a name to the faceless woman, nor anything else for that matter. She was a strange, a world shifting conundrum that he could not solve. Whenever he closed her eyes, she was there, waiting. She was always there. Always waiting for the perfect opportunity to reunite with him. Not that Draco would deny her that. In simplicity, he just wanted to know who this woman was, where he's seen her, if anything. If she were a real person, she knew she would spend the better part of the rest of her life in search for the one thing she can't solve, nor did she ever wish to find the answer to him other than to know his name. Everything else would be a wonderful surprise to her; it's the reason why she never asked anything too revealing, too descriptive. He wanted that challenged, craved it like he desired knowledge.

That night, he was determined to find out who this woman was, once and for all.

And, when he did, he learned that the thing he was missing the most was standing there the whole time.

Their last reunion had been blissfully serene; they had spent the better part of the long hours in the scope of her mind that she had almost lost track of time- if that were entirely possible. She just did not want to pull away from him when she was literally on the brink of figuring him out. Like sweet, succulent whispers of the wind, he had promised that their next meeting would surely be more fulfilling than either of them could possibly image.

"I miss moments like this more than anything," she breathed, looking at him with such adoration that it caused his heart to clench. "From where I am, I can watch you. Draco, you're doing such a good job raising our child. I cannot be anymore proud of you."

"It isn't the same without you, Hermione," he choked. "I can't do this alone. I'm not strong enough."

Hermione tilted her head, meeting his gaze. "Do not ever say you're not strong enough.

It was when he reached out and placed a warm hand on her cheek that she turned back and was met with his lips. It was a brief, yet desperate exchange. Although a dream, it didn't allow either of them to fully appreciate the connection, the sensual pull of their lips, and brushes of their fingertips upon each other's skin. His hand crept up her shirt and pressed against the small of her back, bringing her so much closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, grabbing and pulling at his hair. Draco had snogged before, but never like this. Never has he wanted so much that it sent pleasurable vibrations to spread through her body. As his lips consumed hers, his hands conquered her body. His hands travelled everywhere, and for a moment he thought they would go beyond just snogging and consummate a relationship that didn't even exist.

He was not ready to do that, even in a dream where nothing would have drastic repercussions.

Draco pulled away, and the last thing was the harsh, pleading torture that stole from her eyes.

Then, like the downpour of rain, the dream ended brusquely, sending her in a fit of uncontrolled chaos that was sure to leave lasting effects. He awoken in a sweaty, disoriented mess. Hardly knowing where he was, who he was, and what he'd done, Draco risen from bed and took exploration of a house he hardly remembered. It was only when his foot made contact with the solid ground of the first floor that he realized that he was at the Manor. His dream had been a lie. The only thing to validate the fact was the burning in his arm and the trickling of his blood that stained the stone floor.

Draco remained too distraught to even try to remember what he had been dreaming about, let alone connect any of her previous voyages. Sleeping was such a pleasant, nourishing thing, but without the comfort of knowing one was safe in their own bed, it brought dread and a downpour of other emotions that Draco wished would leave him alone. No part of him wanted to relive that night; for all that he was worth, he wanted to forget about it. A shiver went through him, cold and relentless. That was one part of the experience that he truly wished would stop haunting him. Even now, standing surrounded by all of his demons, Draco could feel her. He tasted blood, felt the sharp blade pierce his skin and for a moment she feared that her wounds had opened again. Heat radiated from his flesh and consumed him like the fire that he knew he could not escape.

Deep down, being consumed by the flames would be a better alternative than having to continue on living. Draco wondered, briefly, in a moment of the finest vulnerability, what it would feel to just give in and let that fire lick his skin and melt it like that of a candle.

Would be cleansed of the sin he did not commit? Would he find solidarity and tranquility in something that would end it all?

Who is to say that he wasn't already allowing such fire to destroy him?

Guided by torchlight, Draco made the long journey down to the dungeons with one relentless mission on mind. One he arrived, he pushed opened the iron door, trudged inside, and walked right up to the damnable mirror. It had taken countless nights, but he was determined to set this straight. He couldn't continue to live, seeing her face wherever he went. There had to be a way to let go.

The cloth covering the mirror fluttered to the floor, revealing a pale imitation of the one he loved.

Hermione's ethereal face welcomed him. With a saddened smile, she said," I knew you would be back."

"I shouldn't be here...you're nothing but a dream," he shook his head in denial.

"Dreams are only aspiring achievements of a person's heart."

"What dream did I help build with you?" Draco snarled, tightening his fists. "I killed you, Hermione. You're dead because of me."

"No, Draco," Hermione's voice sounded so saddened by her husband's inability to see. "You gave me everything. I may have been blinded by what my dream was, but whatever it was, it involved you. You saved me from myself, gave me a home, provided me. Most of all, you gave me a child and you loved us both despite your motley of insecurities. If that isn't a dream, then I don't know what is."

"I can't do this without you."

"Of course you can."

"No, Hermione, I can't," Draco whispered, guilt driving up again. "Scorpius needs a mother."

"Is that why you've stolen this mirror, Draco?" Hermione tilted her head, her eyes tracing the golden rim of the mirror in which she was encased in. "Do you believe that this is what our son would want? His mother suspended in animation, without the chance of moving onto the next world?"

When he didn't answer, she continued.

"You're hurting me by not letting me go," she told him. "Just let me go. I promise to watch over you."

"You promise?"

She nodded, pressing her palm against the glass-like container of her prison. "I promise. You'll know where to find me."

Draco would miss moments like these, but Hermione was right. He couldn't live in this dream-like state. He had the perfect life once before; nothing could change that, and nothing would ever compare to the living dream he once shared with her.