AN: Hello hello! Well, I've been working hard on my other story, but this oneshot has been sitting in my computer, finished and complete. Just sitting there. And I thought, what a waste! I should just upload it!

So here it is. It's very brief, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

I Could Never Rescue You

Hermione,

I thought about saying goodbye to you in person, and perhaps if I weren't such a coward I would have done so, but as it is, I am a bloody coward. I knew if I saw you, all the self-resolve and determination that would have taken me days to muster up would have dissolved away, and I would not be strong enough to leave you. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to leave without some sort of a farewell, so I decided on a letter – impersonal, one-way, and indirect… no way for you to interrupt or cut in.

It's almost cliché, isn't it? A letter written by a runaway, left on the table for his lover to find. Yes, it is dreadfully cliché. A cliché ending for you and me – who have been everything but.

I could reprimand you and place all the blame on you, saying you should have known better to fall in love with a Slytherin. But then I am guilty of the same faults – I should have known better than to fall for a Gryffindor. We come from two different worlds, you and I. Two worlds, that in the end, simply could not be one.

Fate, I have learned, is a cruel and flighty mistress. Why else would she so ruthlessly thrown us together? What purpose could it possibly serve?

It's almost like a tragic love story, isn't it? Nearly like Romeo and Juliet by that Muggle playwright you love so much. Two star-crossed lovers, destined to love but fated to be separated. You were the best friend of the person who has been the complete bane of my existence for seven years of my life. You were the dirty Mudblood I was taught and trained to hate. You were my enemy, and I yours… but somehow during the war, those lines blurred and we found ourselves caught in this grey in-between. Somehow, we managed to do the unthinkable.

You always asked me when I knew I loved you. I scolded you, teasing you for thinking I could remember the exact second I knew but… the truth is (and it seems now I can tell you) I was simply too embarrassed to share with you the ridiculous insignificance of the moment I knew. It seemed so stupid compared to the eloquence and romance of when you knew you loved me.

Or maybe it was also because I didn't want to admit I knew much earlier than you did. Arrogance, really. I didn't want to think that I knew longer than you did, that I knew I wanted you before you even entertained the possibility of wanting me. Not good for the ego at all.

But I remember the day, the moment, the very second. It was winter. It was snowing, and when you came inside, your hair had snowflakes in it. Your cheeks were red from the cold air, but you were smiling. You were wearing a dark red sweater and a large black coat. You had come to have tea with me, as we did every Thursday. For the longest time, I thought myself to be something of a charity case of yours, not fully believing that you could enjoy my company.

But that particular Thursday in January, I thought nothing of it. In fact, I don't remember much of what you said at all. All I could think of was how you moved, how you breathed, how you simply existed. I could only think of how beautiful you were. And I knew then (though it'd be a while before I admitted it) that I had done the impossible. I had fallen for you.

I should have known there could be no happy ending for us. We were doomed from the start. Too many years of hating each other, too many scars, too many chasms to cross… too much that simply could not be mended.

You can't lie and say you didn't see it coming. The last few weeks have been hell on both of us – you wanting me to understand, and me trying, but failing to. You've always been the one to go seventy percent of the way, hoping I could manage the last thirty. When I couldn't, you'd stretch farther and farther until finally, you were doing all the work for two.

You were upset at me, I know – though you'd never admit it. You were frustrated with me, and I know the trials I put you through would have made even the most patient saint furious with anger. But there was nothing I could do, nothing that could help – not because I didn't want to but because I just couldn't. And any time I told you so, you simply would become mad at me again.

We fought. We argued. We compromised, only to fight again. It was an endless, vicious, destructive cycle that was slowly tearing each of us apart.

So you know now why. Because I can't stand to see you hurting, knowing that it's because of me. I can't stand to see us constantly tearing each other apart – us, tearing down the person we claim to love most in the world. I can't stand to hurt you any longer.

I could never love you the way you want… the way you need… the way you deserve to be loved. No matter how hard I tried. And I tried, Hermione. I did. But I could love you only in the way I knew how…

Now I'm leaving you – not because I want to but because I have to. There is no other choice, and there is no other way. Perhaps if you hadn't taught me what love is… what it means to love… then I would still be there by your side, content to waste away the rest of our lives together in a meaningless semblance of life. But I know better now. And I know that you deserve better than anything I could ever lay at your feet.

I could have given you everything I owned – everything in the world, and I would have gladly if that would have somehow been enough. But I know that it would never be and that I would have never been able to give you what you truly wanted and deserved: all of me.

So instead, I will give you something else – your life, your youth, your freedom. I won't hold you back any longer, Hermione. You're too bright and noble to see that I am a lost cause, so instead of waiting for you to leave me, which I know you'd never do, I'm leaving you. This is the one thing I can do for you, and so I shall. I am sparing you a lifetime of being tied to someone who cannot be saved.

I wish I were selfless enough to tell you to forget me, but I am not. Perhaps the act of leaving you has taken up all the selflessness I have. I know the "right" thing to do would be to tell you to leave me in the past and forget me and move on, but I can't bear to think of you forgetting me. Don't forget me, Hermione. Love me always, as I will always love you. Remember me as the bastard who broke your heart, as the heartless git who left you, as the fool who walked away from the best thing that's ever happened to him… however you choose. Only, please, remember me.

I could tell you I don't love you, that I never loved you, that it was all a lie in hopes of giving you a sense of peace. But I do, Hermione. Good God, I love you. But it's not enough.

Yours always,

Draco Malfoy