Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter -_-
Letters to the Moon
Prologue
"just a while longer"
Dear Moon,
Please tell Draco everyone has been missing him. I have so much to tell him – yesterday Ron complained Hogwarts was then too quiet. I think he had meant that it was because Draco was not here but you see, Ron would never admit it that they had begun to warm up before. Please tell Draco that for me – he might find it amusing. The healers told Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy there was not much they could do anymore. They told them to either keep waiting, which is no telling for how long or whether the waiting will ever end – or to let go. I know I made an error. I know I should not have had doubted him, and I know I have not yet had a chance to apologize to him – so I don't want to let go. Please tell Draco don't make them let go. Tell him to return. Even if he would just give us a sign, anything at all if he isn't ready to come back – then it would be enough. Just let them know he is not telling them to let go. And tell him I miss him.
From, Hermione
P.S: I gave Dumbledore a big, plushy teddy-bear for Christmas like you told me to, Draco. By the way he had laughed when he received it, I think he liked it.
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Hermione landed on the roof carefully. She let her broom hover in the air and walked over to the small, now-too-familiar house-shaped mailbox settled on a side of the roof. It was prettily decorated, charmed to resist any kinds of weather and magically settled there on the Great Hall roof by someone who told Hermione any letters that were slipped into the box will be sent to the moon, who will in return deliver the letters' contents to anyone they were addressed to, no matter where the person was. Hermione hadn't believed him then, but now that he seemed to be nowhere and there was no one else to deliver her words to him, she thought the Moon might just be able to do it for her. In truth she was willing to believe it wholeheartedly now.
She stooped before the house-shaped mailbox, finely made, and slipped in a folded paper through its window. She touched its roof, painted red by hands, and she could hear his voice when he first told her about the Moon mailbox months before – but right now, he sounded so far away that she barely believed he was ever there. With her fingers still on the mailbox's roof, she turned when she heard sound of someone approaching. She smiled at Harry as the black-haired boy flew her way.
Harry hovered near Hermione's floating broom.
"Narcissa Malfoy is here for you." he said. "I think – you better go."
Hermione thought he had just cancelled something he had formerly wanted to say, but she didn't make notice.
"Okay." she returned, pushing herself to stand and giving one last look at the house-shaped mailbox. She heaved out a refreshing sigh and turned to her broom, watched by Harry silently. When she was on her broom, she announced, "I'll beat you down."
Harry's weighing face instantly lightened and he smiled.
"I've heard that before."
Hermione smiled beamingly and swerved down daringly, leaving Harry to blink in surprise.
"Hermione! There isn't even a 'Go' yet!" he complained.
"I'm beating you down…!" Hermione waved, feeling the air brushing against her face and blowing past her hair jauntily.
Laughing, Harry flew down in his own breakneck speed, chasing swiftly after her.
Once, Hermione had screamed out he was mad when someone told her while they swerved in rounds and rounds recklessly on the same broom, that it actually made you feel alive, actually told you you were still alive. She had screamed out he was mad and demanded for him to put her down, but right now, here and then, she was enjoying every second of it – living.
~*~*~
When Hermione reached the empty classroom in which Narcissa Malfoy was waiting for her, Hermione saw the woman sitting in a seat near the window, gazing out of it without noticing Hermione's entrance. In the quiet gleam of sunrays that lit the dim classroom, Hermione saw they dance on Narcissa's well arranged blond hair, and she realized just how much she missed that color.
Hermione walked over to her and pulled out a chair beside Narcissa. As soon as the scraping sound took her attention, she turned and when Hermione had taken her seat, Narcissa took Hermione's hands in hers, her beautiful face signing marks of recently shed tears.
"He liked you so much…" she simply began with a smile. Her fingers were cold on Hermione's skin. "That is why we thought of telling you of our decision, Lucius and I." her voice slowed, her tone quieted and there was a faint frown on her face although she was smiling. "You should know."
Hermione couldn't move, suddenly she couldn't feel the cold of Narcissa's fingers on hers. She knew what her words meant.
They were going to break the life-support spell cast on him.
Before, she had told herself and held to it not to cry because he might wake. One day he might wake and even if he wouldn't – though the thought was taboo to her – when she went into his bedroom in the manor she would still be able to see him on the lavishly covered bed, unmoving and cold and pale though he was. The thought of not seeing him anywhere frightened her more than anything.
"No." Hermione choked out. She felt all the strength she had used to fight against crying leave her. They were going to let him go, let everything end. As soon as senses were back in her mind, urging her to do something to stop them from taking this silly, silly decision, Hermione shook her head and clutched at Narcissa's hands. "No—"
"Hermione." Narcissa cut in softly, firmly. She raised a hand to Hermione's cheek. Hermione stared frantically back, into Narcissa's blue eyes, searching for assurance. She found none that would assure her the way she wanted. "We knew it'd happen." she told. "They think—"
"Let they think anything they want to think!" Hermione burst out, holding onto the edge of her self-control to keep the tears from spilling. She was frantic, struck with dread at what they would do – let him go. "They don't know what they're talking—"
"Maybe he wouldn't wake anymore." Narcissa cut in, again as softly but firmer. She held Hermione's cheek firmly, shaking her head. "I know how you feel, you know I do. But maybe he wouldn't wake anymore."
"And maybe he would." Hermione's voice strained and she looked down when the first drop of her tears trailed down her cheek.
Never, never in her life had she felt like this. She had had a grandmother whom she loved and died when she was old enough to understand what pain death causes to someone, and so she had had her share when her grandmother died and she had seen death elsewhere that hurt her but never, never in her life had she thought she would feel pain this much, would be unwilling this much, to know someone she liked would die, to know she had to let him go. Her heart clenched tight, she felt strangled and her throat burnt from the sobs she was still trying to stifle, refused to surrender to crying because it might mean admitting defeat. And admitting defeat was to stop hoping. Admitting defeat was to let him go.
She knew well how Lucius and Narcissa had even been willing to go to the muggle hospital for their son, so much had they done, so desperate had their desire showed in keeping their son. Nothing had changed though. He hadn't wake since the day they saw him fall in the Great Hall. She remembered well how he had reminded her about it, how he had forced his parents to see he probably wasn't going to stay – but when it happened, now, they couldn't accept it. She couldn't accept it and she would choose to be deaf and dumb and blind and ignore everything just to keep him.
"Please," Hermione forced her sore throat to voice, opening her eyes to see the blurry floor where her feet were, the tears clouding her sight. "Just a while longer." she whispered.
There was silence. Hermione kept her head low, shaking as she cried quietly, fearing so bad in her heart if Narcissa would turn her down. Then everything would be over.
But then, slowly Narcissa put her arms around Hermione and pulled her close.
"For you now, dear," she said soothingly, hugging her warmly. "Just a while longer." she gave in.
Hermione nodded gratefully, heaving out a shaky breath.
"Thank you."
That was how far love proved to be capable of making silly of someone as smart as her, but she wouldn't care. She wouldn't care even when she did realize she would probably simply get hurt just for another time for being the only one who was still clutching tightly at the hopes.
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Dear Moon,
Has my letter reached him yet?
