A/N: I take these entirely way too long hiatuses from writing.
This idea has been shifting around in my head for a while now and I finally have the insomnia I need to type it. It's short, but my first foray back into writing.
Every morning when I wake up, I have to turn over and look at her.
During my morning coffee, she's always there, yapping about nonsensical trivialities that couldn't stimulate a rat.
She lays around the house doing next to nothing. It pains me to even look at her. I can barely utter her name.
At night, I toss and turn in bed, shirking away from her cold touch, wishing it was you instead.
One night in particular continually runs through my head. No matter how hard I try to prevent it, no matter what I do I can't stop thinking about it.
It was that night I saw you in the library. Your hair was a mess, as per usual, your clothes looked slept in and wrinkled and your face was red, accented with swollen, puffy eyes. I remember I was moved with confusion. Your appearance should've repulsed me to no end, yet I couldn't help but think how beautiful you looked in that moment.
I walked over, put my books down on the table and sat next to you. You continued sobbing, completely oblivious to my presence. I had no idea what to do. To this day, I don't know why you were crying, but I wanted so desperately to do something to take away all the pain. It broke my heart seeing you like that.
I put my hand gently to your shoulder. You immediately nuzzled your head into my chest. I told myself at the time that instinct is what caused me to wrap my arms around you and pull you closer to me, but I know that instincts had nothing to do with it.
It felt like you were trying to burrow into me, to find some sort of solace or comfort with me. You continued sobbing and I softly squeezed you. We sat there together and ended up falling asleep.
I woke with daybreak and we were still in the same position. My back hurt, my arms were tired, but I knew you were awake, still holding yourself against me and I didn't want it to end. I never wanted it to end.
At last, you felt me stir. You rubbed your eyes and looked up staring into mine.
"Thank you Draco."
My name had never sounded so beautiful coming from your lips.
I was frozen. I had no idea what to say. No idea what to do. I just sat there in a stupor staring at you. After what felt like an eternity, you stood up and walked out of the library, leaving me there.
I used to go back to the library. Back to our spot and sit down, hoping desperately that you'd show up and sit next to me, but you never came. I would see you around, but never let on what I thought. It should've been obvious though. Beyond all the masks and charades we both knew something had changed. You never looked at me again with the utter contempt that you used to, and I know that I didn't either.
As I ready myself to go back to that monotonous hell that has become my life, and to a woman I despise with every single fiber of my being, I can't help but wonder if you ever think about that night. How things might have been different. How everything could have changed in one instance, one action, one second. Do you ever think about it? Do thoughts of me ever fleet by your mind?
Maybe one day, after all these years have passed us, I'll go back to that spot and see you sitting there. I'll put my books down on the table and have a seat next to you, take your hand in mine and staring into your eyes finally say what I've been longing to my entire life.
"I love you Hermione."
