Hermione Granger passed the grave of Draco Malfoy one day. She wouldn't have noticed it if it weren't for the complete lack of flowers. How sad, she thought, that the grave was bare and unloved. Her gaze traveled upwards and she read the name.
Her breathing stopped, her heart stopped, her whole world stopped.
A dying sound escaped from her lips as she sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself. Her body doubled over and her grief made itself known to the world as the sounds of her broken sobs penetrated the silence and echoed throughout the cemetery. No one would doubt that those cries were the sound of a heart breaking into a million pieces.
She lay curled up next to the headstone long after her tears were gone, a thousand different thoughts running through her head. The faint sound of music as he twirled her around the dimly lit room. The hint of a smile meant only for her every time she passed him in the halls. The rise and fall of his chest as she lay curled up next to him at night. His laugh echoing in the room when she said something he thought was particularly cute. The shivers she would get as his fingertips traced patterns on her bare shoulders. And the complete love and adoration in his eyes as he presented her with an engagement ring.
She stood up suddenly and pushed herself away from his grave. She tried to run and her legs clumsily carried her a couple of feet before she stumbled and tripped, her hands wrapping around a nearby tree. An onslaught of memories flooded her head, ones she didn't want to remember.
All the fights they had gotten into. Her screaming about something as he slammed his door shut. Him kissing Pansy as he stared at her, mocking her. Finding out he had slept with Pansy when they had broken up. Him, walking in on her and Ron half-naked on the couch. The look of utter despair in his eyes as he walked past them. The look of confusion on Ron's face as she pushed him off the couch and told him to leave. The pain in his eyes when he finally opened up his bedroom door. The hurt present on her face when he called her a whore. The sting of her hand after she had slapped him.
The surprise she had felt as he pulled her to him and kissed her. The softness in his voice later that night as he whispered that he hadn't meant it, thinking that she was asleep. The surprise written on his face when she turned around and said she hadn't meant it either and then proceeded to kiss him.
The pain etched on his face when she said that she didn't wasn't ready to get married, right after he had held out his hand, the most beautiful ring she had ever seen lying on his palm. The fight that had soon followed; all of their insecurities finally put out into the open. The choked sob she let out as he threw the ring across the room. The small sound it made as it hit the wall, shockingly loud in the silence that had engulfed them. The cold floor under her legs as she sat there, watching him pack his belongings, hoping that he would change his mind and stay. The slamming of the front door that sounded so final.
Seeing him about three years later, while on her date with Ron. The emotions that flickered on his face: surprise, jealousy, pain, love. Her mind going back to that look of love, that look that was only meant for her, before he had seen her hand clasped in Ron's. The guilt she felt looking at Ron on her wedding day, wishing that it wasn't Ron standing in front of her, but rather him.
The pain pain pain that ripped through her chest when she read that he was dead. Her silent mourning; not speaking to anybody for two whole weeks. The worried looks coming from Ron and her friends as she stopped eating and started getting thinner and thinner and started wasting away until she wasn't even Hermione anymore. The depression hitting her so bad that all she wanted to do was forget. Forget herself, forget them, forget everything. Forget him. Then maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. She remembers how much courage she had to muster up just to be able to mutter Obliviate as she held her wand up to her head.
There was the constant nagging feeling always present in the back of her mind reminding her that she was forgetting something important, but never telling her what she was forgetting. All these memories are rushing back to her, threatening to drown her in sorrow. She let go of the tree and walked back to the grave, her fingers lightly tracing his name etched in the stone. She sat there for a long time, her hand still on his gravestone, thinking about what could've been.
What could've been if she had only said yes when he had presented her with the ring. If she had only talked to him after their fight, instead of just wallowing in despair. If she had let go of Ron's hand before he had saw it the day she had run into him while on her date with Ron. If only her engagement and wedding to Ron hadn't been the front page story on every wizarding newspaper possible. Wedding of the Century. Harry Potter's Best Friends to be Wed This Summer! A Love Story like No Other. If only she had been there to stop him from pointing his wand at his head and muttering a simple Avada Kedavra, one of the newspapers clutched tightly in his hand.
She wished she could change it all. Do it right this time. But she can't. She can't dwell on what could've been. Instead, she can get up, go home, and get on with her life. And she does. But not before taking out her wand, pointing it to her head, and whispering Obliviate.