We need to talk.

Those four words had been etched into Draco Malfoy's brain for the past two weeks.

There was no signature, no explanation. But Draco knew who it was from; the fancy script and carefulness of it all screamed one person. The reason for it, Draco knew nothing of. He had just gotten home from a month long Auror training, exhausted, wanting only to fall into bed and sleep for the next week. But instead, he came across an owl, perched on his windowsill, obviously waiting for anyone to notice him. In the owl's possession was the note that had haunted his every waking moment and kept him from doing what he wanted: sleeping.

There was no date, no time, so Draco could only assume that she would find him. That knowledge alone terrified him. She was the last person he wanted to see right now, especially since he had no clue what she wanted, and he was still getting over their last…encounter.

So he waited. And waited. And nothing happened. Anytime the doorbell rang, he jumped a foot. Whenever someone would floo, his knees would shake until he saw who it was. She was tormenting him without even being in the same room.

Sometimes though, he figured she was just as nervous as he was.

Days passed and still no word.

Until suddenly, almost instantaneously, another, different, owl appeared, carrying another note.

I'm sorry.

He stopped worrying.

Then, just as he was falling back into his normal routine, she knocked on his front door.

It had been raining on and off all day. She was soaked through. But all he noticed was the radiating beauty and heartbreaking sadness that exuded from her face. She seemed at a loss for words, which was uncharacteristic and exceedingly awkward. Without a word, he gestured for her to come inside and she accepted, shrugging off her dripping jacket and slipping her muddy shoes off her feet. Then, shaken out of his stupor, Draco went into full drive, offering her dry clothes, something to eat, drink, possibly a hair dryer. She accepted all but the last.

When she walked into the kitchen, Draco noticed that the fear in her eyes had increased, as had the frequency in her breathing. He scooted the hot chocolate down the counter to her; she accepted it graciously. He studied her, noting his mother's clothes that barely fit and the life that the hot chocolate seemed to bring to her cold exterior. She looked as if the situation were in reverse; that he had something to tell her and she was anxiously awaiting it.

The rain had stopped for the moment and she asked if they could go outside. He grabbed a towel and the headed out to the garden. He wiped off a bench so they could sit, and then they were engulfed in silence. There was no rustling in the trees, no animals scurrying around, not even one raindrop. All that could be heard was her labored breathing.

Finally, she seemed to take in one last steady breath before speaking.

"This is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do." He looked at her, surprised. "I've battled trolls, saved my best friend's arse more than once, fought in a war against one of the most powerful wizards of all time, and yet, what I'm about to do makes me want to apparate back to my flat, crawl underneath my covers, and never leave again." She laughed uneasily.

"I had a huge speech prepared, but it's all escaped me now. So I guess I'll just get right to the point." She turned to look directly into his eyes, and the bare, raw emotion he saw within stirred something inside of him. "I need you to tell me that you don't love me." It was his time to be at a loss for words. "I know that probably doesn't make much sense to you, but I have to hear you say it. I can't be happy until you do."

"I don't-I-I don't understand." It was all he could think of to say.

She laughed softly. "I guess you wouldn't. But it would only destroy me to explain." She took his hand. "Please, Draco," she pleaded. He shook his head.

"I need to know why."

She looked away, staring at the trees, and he could tell that she was battling with herself.

"I hated you." It was the farthest thing from what he expected her to say, so much that his breath caught and his heart stopped for a moment. She either failed to notice or failed to care, and continued on. "You teased, mocked, ridiculed, hurt, and, worst of all, embarrassed me. And I despised you for it. You tortured me and my friends, you called me names, we fought constantly. It was instantaneous, the burning, growing hate I had for you. You represented everything that was wrong with my world.

"Then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed. You were sweet, kind, passionate. I didn't quite know what to think of the new you. So, I did what every other girl at Hogwarts did our last year: I fell in love with you. And it was the worst mistake of my life. Because after we kissed, your behavior stopped, and you reverted to the old Draco Malfoy, the person that I hated. But by that time, it was too late. I was too far gone. So everyday was a constant battle between my love for the person you were and my confusion about the person you had become.

"We stopped talking. And it went back to the fighting. Until one day, you left, and I didn't see you again for two years." It began to rain, so he started to head inside. But she remained rooted on the bench, the rain once again soaking her, and he hesitantly walked back to her. The rain poured down on them, but Draco could still distinguish between it and the tears that had begun to leak from her eyes.

"You always managed to show up just as I was getting over you. I wouldn't think about you for weeks, and then I would see you at a restaurant. It had been a year and you only entered my thoughts occasionally, but then you showed up at my job and we had a conversation. And each time would send me spiraling back to my 17 year old self, falling head over heels, and you would disappear again. I couldn't form any relationships because all I could think was, if you came back and said you wanted me, I would leave that person in an instant. And that isn't fair to anyone.

"Now you've decided to become an Auror and I am tormented every morning when I pick up the paper and imagine that I might find the words 'Draco Malfoy: Dead' on the cover. I live in constant fear of your life and constant wish for your return." The tears had turned to sobs. "You can't even begin to understand what my life has been like." He let her cry, too shocked to move.

She seemed to regain some composure. "I'm sorry. That was the long version. The short is that I love you. But I need to move on, and the only way I can is for you to confirm that there is no hope, no future for us." She stood up and walked over to the pond. Draco had to strain to hear her over the rain. "I didn't come here to try to get you to love me, or feel sorry for me. This isn't about tricks or games. This is me, asking you to let me go, to sever the imaginary ties I have constructed with you, so I can finally get on with my life." She turned to face him.

"Please."

Draco knew that she desperately needed him to confirm her suspicions, wanted him to admit his platonic feelings. But as that beautiful, broken women had poured her heart out to him, he had realized something that had been forced down, many years ago.

So instead of telling her what she wanted to hear, he told her the truth.