(A/N): Hi.

Okay, so the ship is HarryDraco and this is a one-shot. Please R&R.

Emma

I'm very down-to-earth. That's what he used to tell me, that I was real, genuine. That's why he liked me.

I knew right from wrong and that money didn't grow on trees. He found that intriguing.

I wouldn't lie to him. I wouldn't make up bullshit stories to keep him happy; I wouldn't fake my way into his good books.

I met him when I was eleven years old and hated him immediately. He was arrogant, conceited, and had never lifted a finger in his life. Everything had been handed to him since birth on a silver platter.

We spent years at school making each others lives miserable. I suppose we had nothing better to do.

It's amazing though, how one event could change that, one selfless act, in the midst of war.

It wasn't instant, though. The change, I mean.

The war ended and I left the country. I couldn't be there anymore, it was too hard. I traveled, met new people. I summered in the south of France, wintered in Aspen. I learned how to ski, how to fly a plane. I studied philosophy in Rome and backpacked in the Amazon.

I had to, I had to get away. I watched my first love die in that war, I couldn't stay there.

I kept in touch with those who were important to me, but for the most part I kept a low profile. Or as low a profile as I could. I fear I will always be recognized.

I didn't want to live, those first few months after. I contemplated suicide, came close to attempting it. Others said I had too much courage to die; I always felt I had too little. But then war does that to you. It saps your strength and your will to live.

He would have died for me. He almost did. I didn't understand what he was doing at first, and I was angry at him when I did. Why there, why then?

But he must not have thought we would have believed him had he come to us sooner. And with Dumbledore dead, we wouldn't have. So maybe it was right.

I left the country as soon as I knew it was over. As soon as I learned of the death toll, of all the lives affected. I left with out thanking him, without telling him I love him. I left with out saying goodbye.

I came back though, that has to count for something.

I came back, but not for him. My godchild was being born. Ginevra Rosalind Weasley.

Once I was back in the country I had to seek him out. I couldn't not in good conscience. I had to apologize; I had to explain.

I could only hope he would agree to see me, after all the things that I've done.