'Living is a problem because everything dies'
'Does it hurt to be loved?' - At least she managed to show him the answer.
Disclaimer:
Based loosely upon a quote from Margery Williams' 'The Velveteen Rabbit', the full text of which can be found online. Title isn't really related but I was struggling to think of one so thank you to Biffy Clyro. Finally, I don't own Harry Potter and give full credit to J.K. Rowling.
'Hermione?' he asked cautiously. She cocked her head to the side slightly as she avidly awaited his forthcoming question, eyes glistening with tears which she could not - no would not - let fall.
'Do you really think that I'm a good person?'
The question caught her by surprise – not because she didn't know her answer, she just hadn't been expecting it was all. She stroked his hair delicately, remembering the careful way in which her mother used to tend her. She could feel yet more tears welling inside as they always did when she recalled her parents. Taking a look at the deathly pale shell of a man lying in front of her however, her bitter sweet recollections were hastily replaced with fresh fears.
'Of course you're a good person!' Yet somehow she, the most articulate witch of her generation could not find the words to express her reasoning. She settled for clinging him to her more tightly.
'I love you, and I wouldn't love just anyone you know!' Became her response, accompanied by a deep breath and a tired smile. He nodded slightly, though didn't look particularly convinced. She would recall those words in later years and wonder if she'd said the right thing. Had she denied him the grand speeches which usually occurred in situations such as this?
An amicable silence settled between them. Surely after all they'd been through it would come down to something more?
'I once asked you a question about love' he managed painfully. He was met with a set of curious eyes. 'You were asleep I think.' He recalled with a knowing smile. 'I was watching you sleep and I asked you if it hurt to be loved. I guess I've found my answer...' He started to laugh. It turned out to be more of a breathless giggle which caused him to splutter dangerously. He noticed her face whiten in fear.
'Oh God!' she cried, unable to cradle him properly for the wires and tubes connected to his frail body. He didn't like her seeing him like this, but his pride was surpassed only by a desire for her presence. It was ironic that for all the challenges they had faced together, all of the hurdles which they had overcome, here they were separated at the very end by some plastic. This time it wouldn't end well. It couldn't, as well they both knew. Denial hung in the air like a dense fog - it was strange that far from disconcerting him it was wildly reassuring.
She shuddered. He thought that this was some sort of punishment? For what? Being happy? Being loved? Seeing him settle into a slightly less uncomfortable daze, she managed to regain her composure.
'Sometimes...' she whispered eventually, recalling a favourite childhood book. 'Sometimes it hurts to be loved.'
He looked at her surprised. So she was admitting that maybe this was God's way of telling him he didn't deserve her affection? He had expected her to lie, to deny it - in a way he had wanted her to tell him he was wrong though it was only in this moment that he became acutely aware of that fact. She looked deep into his eyes. She needed to give him something, give him this. She didn't want to give up hope by any means but just in case... Selfish as it was she knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself otherwise.
'Love' she mused, unable to quite expel the note of fear in her voice. 'Love is not the sort of thing which everyone gets to experience. You think that everyone who lives is lucky enough to feel something so pure? So powerful?' She didn't await his response. It was a rhetorical question.
'When you're in love, you don't mind getting hurt. The other person minds enough for both of you.' She reached out to hold his hand delicately.
'When you're in love it happens so gradually that by the time you realise the full extent of its grasp on your heart it's too late and there's no going back on it, No matter how hard you try.' He winced slightly as her fingers caressed a large, ugly looking bruise on the back of his palm. She leaned forward and kissed it lightly.
She observed him, as she'd been doing for three days since. She could see that he was in an awful mess - his face was swollen almost beyond recognition, his lovely soft hair pulled away, leaving blood and mucus covering his scalp intermittently, his torso sliced and burnt – a far cry from the smooth, muscular chest that she had grown accustomed to falling asleep across. The bags under his eyes revealed that he probably hadn't slept for days. Maybe he couldn't sleep without her next to him either? She studied him silently, accidentally allowing a single tear to roll down her cheek. Before now she didn't think that it was possible to shed only one.
He tensed, watching her gaze and seeing her upset. He knew how he looked – dreadful. Even if - and it was a very big if - he was to survive, the dark nature of the spells, the rarity of them, meant he might be stuck this way forever – helpless, hideous. That wasn't what he wanted for her. A life of pity and disgust.
Her eyes flickered to his once again and his voice breath caught in his chest. He knew that even after all that he'd been forced to endure, all of the pain and torture and ridicule that he'd experienced were more than worth it just to see her again, just to feel her again this one last time.
'When you're in love...' she surprised him by continuing, 'when you're in love, it doesn't matter what you look like, not to the other person anyway. I could never be repulsed or disgusted or afraid of you.' It was like she was reading his thoughts, like she could sense his insecurities and was carefully constructing her words to blanket his fears.
'When you're in love, and I mean truly, deeply, insatiably in love, no matter what you do, you'll never be ugly to me because it's your soul, your soul and mine, intertwined and tied together for all of eternity and souls are shapeless and invisible. Souls aren't about looks they're about feelings. I stopped them from taking yours once and I'd sure as hell do it again because your soul isn't your own anymore. It's mine, like mine is yours.'
He liked that idea, the idea that they would be with each other always. Of course he'd miss her face. Her kind, bright, innocent face which even after so many painful years refused to reflect the difficult cards which life had dealt her. He'd miss her breathtaking smile and her gorgeous eyes. When he gazed into them he was never sure whether he was going to drown or spontaneously combust faced with their passion.
She leaned forward to kiss him. Tentatively at first. She was aware of the fact that he was in pain, but soon, their kiss became more hungry, more desperate, as if by just channeling all their energy, all their emotion into cementing this one last fleeting contact into their minds, everything would become instantly more bearable. It hurt him more than he cared to admit, both the thought that this could be the last time he would ever get to kiss her in this body and the physical pain of his injuries. It was in that moment he knew that she was right. At that moment, being loved was causing him indescribable amounts of pain and in that moment he knew that he didn't care.
They broke apart eventually, gasping for breath and she grabbed the side of his hospital bed to steady herself. Visiting hours were almost over and they knew she would have to go. Strictly speaking, she shouldn't even be here in the first place. If anyone ever found out she would be in terrible danger and much as he wanted her to stay, he needed to know that she would be safe - or as safe as it was possible to be in these troubled times.
She clung to him desperately and he swore that she physically flinched as her resolve was finally penetrated by cold, unyielding fear. He was going to leave her alone. It was all well and good for him - all he had to do was lie here and die. He'd seen it before and it was always worst for those left behind. Who would protect her now that he was gone?
She stood up quickly, startling him from his thoughts. It was like ripping a plaster off; sudden to try and distract from the pain. He wondered if such a tactic had been anymore successful for her than it was for him. Probably not. They were one after all.
She moved towards the door, eyes shut tightly whether to block out her surroundings or to hold back the tears he'd never find out.
'I'm glad you know' he said enigmatically. She froze in her tracks as her mind began to race. Glad for what? Glad he was dying? Glad she was leaving? Glad...
'That you loved me enough for it to hurt' he responded seriously. 'I wouldn't change it for the world'
She turned to face him once again, taking a long hard look at him, tying to burn his last words into her memory.
'I love you Draco' she stated firmly, before eventually closing the door.
He relaxed as he heard the door click shut, releasing a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Closing his eyes, he smiled and let himself be escorted into a last, long sleep.