The saucer made a whistling sound as it flew through the air, alerting Draco to its trajectory, allowing him to duck before it could hit his head. It sailed past his head and crashed into the wall less than a second later, denting the wall and creating an almighty bang.
"Jesus Christ, Hermione!" shouted Draco. "You almost hit me!"
"Just get out!" screamed Hermione, pointing vigorously at the door.
She reached for another cooking utensil to throw, scattering spoons and other small items not worth throwing onto the already cluttered floor. Seeing his chance to escape while her back was turned, Draco ran to their bedroom. He gathered as many of his clothes as he could fit into a bag and emptied the contents of his bedside table into the bag, before returning to the kitchen.
He paused in their bedroom doorway, aware of a number of picture frames smashed onto the hardwood floor. Draco picked one up some glass fell from the frame. In it was a moving photograph of the couple in Romania, posing in front of a very angry looking dragon. It blew some fire at the couple, who dodged it then turned to each other and laughed. They shared a deep kiss and never looked away from the other. It was one of his most favourite memories of their long relationship. The Weasley's had been invited to visit Charlie at his dragon reserve and Hermione being an extension of their family was also asked to go. She had brought Draco along with her, much to the dismay of Ron and Harry. The others were much more accepting and Mrs Weasley took him to the side, grabbed his face and kissed his cheeks, welcoming him into their family. From that point on, he was expected to attend family gatherings at the Burrow with Hermione, who had proudly worn him on her arm.
Careful not to cut himself, Draco took the photo out of the frame and placed it in his pocket. His bag slung over one shoulder, Draco turned to Hermione as he reached the front door. She was crouched in the corner of their small kitchen, her head in her hands and her knees brought up close to her, shaking like a leaf. She had made herself as small as possible. Hearing him return, she lifted her head slowly, eventually meeting his cold, emotionless eyes with her soaking wet eyes.
"I knew you would never change," she whispered so quietly he almost did not hear her. "You're just like your father; always running away, Draco."
Her words were like a blow to the stomach, he was stunned. She had always been the most accepting of him after the war, the one who most believed could change. He thought she had noticed him change and he knew Hermione said the worst things when she was angry, as he had been on the receiving end of many of those insults. Being compared to his father though, his waste-of-space, degenerate and debauched father... well, that was a new low, even for Hermione.
They stared at each other, long and hard. He could see her wavering, noting the beginning of the pattern of their arguments. They were always started by something small, an innocent comment made by Draco that would send Hermione up the wall. Hermione would then proceed to throw insults around like common language, digging deep into the secrets he had confided in her and throwing them back at him... But then she would stop and crawl into a ball that Draco could not penetrate. It could be hours or only a minute before she would clamber out of it and into his arms, apologising again. He always welcomed her back, believing her when she insisted nothing she had said was true and that she still loved him very much.
This time, Draco knew it was different. Not for Hermione, but for himself. This time when she came crawling into his arms apologising, he did not know whether he could blindly accept it. He did not know whether he could accept her anymore. He took in a deep breath and slowly let it out before facing Hermione again.
"You win, Hermione," said Draco, his tone so devoid of emotion or any kind of feeling that she looked up at him with wide eyes. He wanted to make things painless, or at least less painful, but by the looks of things, he had only made it worse.
Hermione jumped up from her corner in the kitchen and ran to him. She grabbed his arms and held tightly to him, forcibly turning him to face her. He wrapped his arms lightly around her, hoping to deter her with his unloving touch. She held him closer though, burying her face into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. He smelt like home, somewhere she would not mind spending the rest of life. It was a comforting smell, one that helped her fall asleep at night and with it missing, kept her awake. Draco smelt fresh, like soap, and he did not need to wear cologne to smell nice; he had a natural scent that Hermione found intoxicating.
"I'm sorry," mumbled Hermione into Draco. "I'm so, so sorry."
Feeling tears approaching, Hermione squeezed her eyes tight and pushed them farther upon Draco's body. However, he soon felt a wet patch on his chest as he held the shaking brunette. He fought the urge to stroke her hair, something he liked to do when she was crying or when sat with her head in his lap.
He knew that if he did not act soon, he would be coerced into staying again. Stepping away, he pried her arms off as she desperately clung onto him. Draco stood holding Hermione at arm's length as she looked at him, sobbing silently. They stood in the same position for what seemed like hours, while Hermione shook.
"Please," whispered Hermione.
"I'm just your punching bag, Hermione," Draco sighed. "You don't want a relationship; you just need a confirmation of you worth."
Draco sighed heavily again, let go of Hermione and stepped away, closer to the front door. He adjusted the bag strap on his shoulder, avoiding her piercing gaze that he knew would melt his knees. He had never felt so brave in his life; walking away from the most damaging woman he had ever met, even if he loved her. Draco had realised Hermione was the type of girl who could lure any man in and rip his heart out, shoving it in his face just to feel better about herself.
Hermione made another grab for Draco, but this time he was having none of it. He pushed her gently away from him, earning him the most heartbroken look from her.
"No, no, no," she mumbled quietly. "I need you."
Her hands grasped at thin air as she fell to his feet. He crying became vocal then. Her sobs shattering the silence that had befallen their flat. She struggled for breath, her throat constricting. A lump formed in Draco's throat, seeing her in such a condition, looking like a helpless beggar. He reached a hand out to help her up, but seeing this made her flare up like an angry dog and she swatted his hand away.
With one disgusted look back at Hermione on the floor, Draco knew this would ultimately be one of the best decisions he had ever made. She saw the look on his face, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had formed.
"Please," she begged, on her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please... I can change."
"I don't think you can," said Draco, finding his voice again. "Much like my father... and myself."
A fresh round of tears appeared and Hermione struggled to get up. She grabbed the table by the door and pulled herself up, straightened her clothes and composed herself. She looked Draco right in the eyes; a new resolve could be seen in both of their eyes. In Draco's pale grey eyes, a newfound tenacity that would help him leave once and for all. In Hermione's bright brown eyes, the determination to show him this would not leave her with a permanent wound.
Draco put his hands in his pocket, feeling the photo in one of them. Then he opened the door with no more resistance from Hermione and closed it behind him, letting out a breath he had not known he had been holding in, before apparating away.