A/N: right this was inspired by a work that I read a while ago and this was my response to it. Don't really remember what it was called. I found this in one of my notebooks while studying for an exam. Decided that I would post it.
Warning angsty and broken hearts.
Six months, that's how long we were together. Six months you defended me, said you loved me. Six months we were happy.
You meant the world to me. From the beginning I knew, I knew that I loved you more than you loved me.
You were willing to defy your family for me, to lose your best friend.
You told me that you would ask me to marry you.
We were living together, we were happy. There were no plans of leaving each other.
But then it happened…
I thought it was a good idea, let them know about us. Let them see why, and how much we loved each other. I could see it clearly when we got the article, I know you saw it too. And we were happy. I thought your reservations about the article were wrong.
I should have listened to you. That article was our undoing. It wasn't even the negative backlash like we expected. No, most response was positive. What broke us was the offers. For after the article the spotlight was on you again, you got offers, job offers. And unfortunately for me, you looked at them. You considered them.
They scared me. From all over the world they came. And to you they were tempting. I saw you late at night, considering them despite how you brushed it off, said they didn't matter. I saw you look at me with love in your eyes and reject offer after offer. But I also saw how it hurt you to do so.
I had thought you had found your purpose with me after the war. We were both lost, but found ourselves in each other. To me you were the light in my darkness. Was I not enough for you?
You were my purpose, you always had been in some way. I was never able to look away from you. But I guess I never held that same regard with you, even after we were together.
Once something bigger and better arrived, something that gave you greater purpose, one you didn't have with me, but one that had defined you before, it didn't take you long to leave.
Not even two weeks later you were gone. Out of our house, out of the country. Do you know how much my heart broke to see you walk out that door? How much it tore at me inside that you never turned around and came back?
My understanding of a relationship was that you put the relationship first. One that I thought your Gryffindor mind understood. Even purebloods thought that way. That even if not first in your mind, at least part of your decision process. Did you even think about us when you made your decision?
When I asked how much the offer meant to you, and if you really wanted to go, I think you misunderstood me. You took that as me supporting you and encouraging you to go. It wasn't, I only wanted to talk about it. To work something out, something good for us.
But you, within a day you accepted, and within three you were gone.
I knew I couldn't do long distance, even though you wanted to try, and you knew I opportunities waiting for me in England. Opportunities I thought I would never get with my past. I told you that if you left I would not follow and you would lose me.
I thought it would be enough, that you cared enough to stop and think about me also.
Your only response was to accuse me of making you chose. You left not long after. That fight was the last time I saw you, the last time I talked to you.
Something broke inside me that day. I haven't been the same since. It's been three years since then, but nothing for me has changed. I still love you like I did before, it hurts all the time knowing you aren't there.
I can see it's not the same for you. I see you in the papers every now and then, you look happy, or you're with someone new. I can't help but wonder how much is true, how much you've moved on.
I don't know what I would do if I saw you again, all I know is it would break me. In a good or bad way, I do not know.
Draco folded the letter and put it in its envelope. He stared out at the moving water. It was the same thing every year. Write the letter, and watch it be washed away in the water.
This was his favorite spot to think. He had found this place when he first moved to France. He really had tried to move on, make friends, meet someone. But there was always a sadness about him that never got better. He doubted it ever would.
"I wish you would stop doing this to yourself Draco. It kills you every time you write that letter."
He gave a small smile towards Jack. His friend had been there for him ever since he moved to France. He and his wife making sure Draco didn't drown in despair on the hard days.
Three years, three years since he had all but run away from England, unable to take the pitying looks their friends had given him. He was well aware that those who were left had all but shunned Harry after what he did to Draco, that they were on his side.
But he couldn't stay there when everything in his life there reminded him of Harry. He couldn't even live in his…their…house.
Sometimes, though he would never tell Jack, he thought about just stepping off the bridge and following the letter into the water. But he wouldn't take the easy way out, nor let anyone know that this had driven him that low.
"Draco?"
He froze at the sound of the voice. A voice that didn't belong to Jack. It was a voice that brought so many waring and turbulent emotions flooding through him.
Slowly he turned around, fearful of what he would see. Nervous eyes regarded him meters away.
"Harry."