AN: Not my characters, but you already know that, don't you?
It's been a week since you told me it was over, seven days since you told me we were through, throwing years of history away just like that. You seemed to be able to dredge up everything I've ever done wrong since I met you, yet totally unable to remember the good times. And there were a lot of those. Remember when we went swimming in the lake, and ended up creeping back into the school dripping wet and covered in pondweed because neither of us had bothered to take a wand outside? Remember the day we finished all our exams and we let off a whole crate of the Weasley's fireworks on the top of the astronomy tower? It was the first time I ever admitted a Weasley was good at something, and those fireworks are still the best I've ever seen. Remember when we bought our first place together, just off Diagon Alley? It was a tiny one-bedroom flat, but it was ours, and we were so proud of it. Remember your ambitions, Hermione? You wanted to be a Healer, and I always told you that you'd end up running St Mungo's. I reckon you'll be there in another five years; you're not far from it. Remember when I published my first book? Whoever would have thought I'd become a writer? Certainly not me. I tried to hide those draft copies from you for so long, but you found them anyway and sent one off without my knowledge.
What happened to us, Hermione? You told me I didn't care about you enough, that if I really loved you, I'd want to announce it to everyone in the whole world. I love you, Hermione, how many times do I have to say it before you'll believe me? No, I didn't announce our engagement in the Daily Prophet, because I knew how much you hated the flood of owls that arrived when various reporters found out we were a couple, that we were living together. It hurt, when you flung the ring back at my face, and I don't mean physically. You ripped out my heart, threw it on the floor, stomped all over it and tore it into tiny pieces, and then left me to put it all back together. And you know what's really pathetic? That I'd take you back in a heartbeat. It doesn't matter how much you hurt me, you can't stop me from loving you.
Five days ago you sent an owl, asking me to send your stuff to Harry Potter, and you'd pick it up from his place. Are things so bad, Hermione, that you can't even be in the same room as me any more? What did I do? What didn't I do? Are you in love with someone else? Please tell me, because I don't understand. I just don't.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.
"What went wrong between us, Potter? She won't even speak to me."
Harry Potter laughed, clapping Draco on the back. An unlikely friendship had formed between the two of them after Draco and Hermione had become an unexpected couple.
"Nothing's gone wrong between you and me, Malfoy. Oh, you mean you and Hermione. To be honest, mate, I think it's just a case of cold feet on the part of the bride. The wedding's only two months away, after all."
"But she's moved out, gave back the ring and everything."
"She loves you, Malfoy, though Merlin only knows why. Just give her time. She'll be back."
.-.-.-.-.-.-.
A knock on the door roused Draco from his daydream. Not bothering to get up from his chair, he simply waved his wand and the front door opened.
"Hello, Draco." Standing in the doorway, her dark brown curls windswept and her cheeks flushed from the cold, Hermione looked utterly gorgeous, and more than a little ashamed.
"Hermione." He didn't move, wanting to go to her and wrap his arms around her, but holding back, restraining himself.
"I'm sorry." Two words, that was all, two words and a look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. "I didn't mean to..."
"It doesn't matter. You're here now." She made the first move towards him, burying her face in his chest and holding on tightly, as though she was never going to let go again.
"I don't know what came over me, I don't understand it. I love you, always will."
"Then I think you need this back." He pulled a chain out from underneath his shirt. Hanging from it was the ring Hermione had thrown in his face, the engagement ring he'd given her over a year ago. Removing it from the chain and sliding it back onto her finger where it belonged was as emotional as it had been asking her to marry him in the first place.
"One day, we'll be able to tell this story and laugh about it, when we've been married forty years and we're old and grey."
"Speak for yourself, Hermione dearest, but we Malfoys do not 'go grey', as you put it." When they were kids, a comment like that would have been deadly serious, but now, Draco had grown up enough to smile as he said it. Hermione, catching a hint of a smirk on his face, laughed. Everything was back as it should be.
AN: Nothing but fluff, in honour of my recent engagement. Couldn't help it.