DISCLAIMER: This work is intended to be transformative commentary based on original property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc. No profits are being made from this story.
The rain fell softly on the grass of the forest floor. He'd been laying under the large oak tree for what seemed like hours now, but had only been a few minutes. It reminded him of a night he couldn't seem to forget. His shirt and jacket were soaked not from the rain, but from the tears that cascaded down his even paler face. The slight colour that it once had quickly faded into the shade of the ghost that now followed him every second of day. This agonizing life was almost too much for him to bear, but he would do it for her. The air was much cooler than usual, and the ground was wet from the rain, but today he didn't care. Instead he welcomed the shivers that emitted from the top of his spine and stared at the small gravestone hidden within the entwining vines of ivy, and flowers.
Hermione Jean Granger.
19 September 1979 - 28 September 2001
War Heroine. Beloved Daughter and Friend.
Draco ran his hand through his blonde hair as his eyes fixated on the small framed picture set next to the floral arrangements. This picture was his favorite, her usually bushy brown mane was pinned up and small tendrils of hair framed her face. Her chocolate brown eyes were shining, and her smile was absolutely radiant. He remembered being there, he was the reason she was smiling in this photo. The memories invaded him once more as he picked up the photo and wiped the dirt off of the top of the frame.
The Minister of Magic was in the midst of throwing the annual Victory Ball. Hermione was running towards one of the many fireplaces lining the Ministry foyer. Draco had known it was her by the light blue dress that she wore. The colour had matched perfectly to that of the dress she wore at the Yule Ball in their fourth year. He thought she looked particularly stunning that night, though his 14 year old self would never admit it. Her dress tonight, however, made her look absolutely beautiful. He would admit it to every last person on Earth, but never to her. She was his world and she wasn't even aware of how strong his feelings were. Hell, he wasn't even sure how strong his feelings were.
He watched as she ran from the ball and down the stairs towards the first floor. Hermione's hair bounced around in its up-do as she made it into the foyer and ran full speed towards a fireplace, despite the heels she was currently wearing. Her left heel snapped as soon as she prepared to step into the first fireplace in the hall. Draco was next to her quickly, just as she hit the ground with a loud thump.
"Wonderful," she muttered, examining her now broken shoe.
"Are you okay, Hermione?" Draco asked, extending his hand. "Took quite a fall there. Lucky I was here to save you."
"I'm fine, Mal- Draco. Thank you," she said, taking his hand and hoisting herself off of the ground. "I suppose I am lucky you were here to be my knight in shining armour."
"I'm hardly a knight, Granger. But if you're suggesting I'm Prince Charming, then yes, you'd be correct," he laughed, a smirk playing on his lips. She looked at him skeptically for a moment before letting a smile show itself on her face. "So tell me, why is it one of the war heroes is running from the Victory ball?"
A flash interrupted their conversation as Rita Skeeter snapped a picture of them standing by the floo network, muttering how this photo would make the front page. Hermione glared at Skeeter for a moment, then rolled her eyes as she smirked and walked off. That photo was sure to be in the Daily Prophet tomorrow with some obscene article on she and Malfoy. Hermione sighed then looked back to Draco and noticed him staring at her, relieved that he was not throwing a fuss over Skeeter and her camera.
"Ah, you know me. Just hoping to fall and be rescued by a prince," she smiled and grabbed a handful of floo powder. "See you around, Malfoy. Number 12 Grimmauld Place." Green flames erupted around her and she was gone, leaving Draco and his rambling thoughts alone in the Ministry foyer.
Draco let the small smile on his lips stay there for a few moments before dropping back to its usual grimace. He had not smiled much in the last few years, but he could find the ghost of a smile play on his face after thinking of that particular memory. The confused state she had left him in was one that still made him laugh just a little bit. Draco knew how strong his feelings for her were then, because they had grown much more intense. He sometimes enjoyed the laughter and small smiles he would get while thinking of Hermione, but they faded quickly when he remembered that they were memories he could never make with her again.
Dumbledore had said that one could find happiness even in the darkest of times if one remembers to turn on the light, but never explained what to do if the light is gone. Draco angrily wiped tears and rain from his face. He should have told us what to do. He shouldn't have just left us to figure it out on our own. Draco's thoughts ran wild as he continued to stare at Hermione's photo. The way she looked at him in this photo was the way she always came to him in his dreams. Always smiling, and trying to reassure him that they would see each other again. If not in the after life, then in another. The last happy memory he had with her was one that would both comfort and haunt him for the rest of his life.
Her head rested on Draco's shoulder as they sat in the library at the Manor. Draco moved over and wrapped his arm around Hermione, willing her to lean in closer. He could feel her smile against his side and tightened his arm around her. She laughed as she reached over to entwine their fingers and looked up at him with a broad smile and pure happiness shining in her eyes. Draco leaned down and kissed her forehead.
"Are you sure it's okay for us to be here? I don't want anything to happen-"
"Hermione, my mother is having tea with Aunt Andromeda and you know as well as I that my father is locked up in Azkaban, Don't worry," Draco assured her. The subject of Azkaban was still rather raw, but Draco knew that his father got what he deserved. Hermione noticed the frown that had captured Draco's face and nodded. She smiled again as she leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. Draco smiled, and put his hands on Hermione's waist to pull her closer. Hermione put her arms around his neck and leaned in to deepen the kiss.
Draco snapped himself out of it the best that he could, not wanting the memory to extend any further. This time, he let the smile stay there for as long as it could before the ending of the memory took over. He tried to avoid remembering when their relationship soared. The pain the memories brought was nearly too much for Draco to handle on some days, on others they were the only thing that got him through. During the night, every dream was filled with images of her face, the feel of her touch, and the sound of her voice. In every dream he asks her the question that he never had the chance to. In every dream, he tells her over and over how he truly feels. In every waking moment, he dreams of Hermione. She was always alive in front of him.
"Hermione, I have something to ask you."
"Is everything okay?" she asked. Her concern made him smile, and he shook his head at her.
"Yes, I just think today is a good day to ask you something that has been on my mind for quite some time," Draco said. The nervousness he thought he had taken care of began creeping back up again as he reached into his pocket. His fingers grazed the small velvet box containing the key to telling Hermione how he truly feels about her.
"I WARNED YOU, BOY," a voice bellowed from the entrance of the gardens. "I WARNED YOU ABOUT THAT LITTLE MUDBLOOD."
Draco knew instantly who the voice belonged to and threw himself in front of Hermione to block her from anything his father might throw at her. He knew what would happen if he had a clear shot of his target. Flashes of green flew towards the couple as Draco tried to rush them from the room.
"Avada Kedavra!" Lucius launched the curse towards Draco as he pushed Hermione out of the way. "You should have listened to me, Draco."
Draco ushered Hermione out of the room and ran quickly towards the forest. Despite the rain and unimaginably rough winds, Draco urged them to run faster. "Hermione, get off the grounds and Apparate to Potter's. Stay there until I come get you. Go, NOW." Draco yelled to her as she neared the edge of the wards. Hermione turned around to say something to him, but was cut short as a streak of green light flashed in front of his face and landed directly on its target.
"Not the welcoming I was expecting, boy. Escape Azkaban to see ones family just to come home to my son, a Malfoy, fraternizing with a Mudblood," Lucius laughed as a curse was thrown in his direction, burning the bark off of a tree. Draco dropped to his knees next to Hermione's fallen body. The rain had soaked her hair and clothes. The ground under the oak tree was moist, creating small wet spots on the knees of his trousers. Draco lifted Hermione's hand and held onto it tightly.
"You weren't supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to be here. I don't understand. You- How-"
"How did I know you brought a little Mudblood into my home? Wards, boy. Or did you forget that we can detect anyone not of pureblood that enters?"
Draco's face fell even farther as sorrow and self hatred made its way into his head. He had completely forgotten, and he lost the only thing that brought happiness into his life because of it. The rage that was quickly building within him fueled the curse that he had tried to avoid, but after losing the only thing that was truly important to him, he would use it. He turned to face his father and watched as he raised his wand, but his actions were ended by another flash of green light.
Draco knew he was gone, and knew that Lucius' body was taken by the Aurors. Potter, Weasley, and Lovegood came quickly to retrieve Hermione's body, but Draco insisted she be buried at the Manor. He couldn't find it in him to care about his father. All he cared for anymore was Hermione. Draco shrugged his sopping jacket off of him and laid it down on the soaking ground. Putting the frame back in front of the gravestone, Draco thought of the question he never got to ask of her, and the words he never said to her in person. Hermione heard it every second of her after life, as he promised to never again go without telling her how much he loved her.
Draco laid his head down on his jacket, and let his grey eyes roam the gravestone once more. The rain rushed down in large drops and landed on his face. He covered his eyes with his jacket sleeve and sniffed. The rain could consume him in that moment and he wouldn't mind. He had Hermione there with him again, and that was all he's wished for. She stared at him, as she moved the jacket from his face. He looked at her with disbelief, and she reached down to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Hermione assisted him in standing up and gripped his hand leading him into the forest with her and whispered the three words she heard from him for all those years, knowing that he too could finally hear them from her.
Authors Note: Normally, I wouldn't put in an AN. However, I would just like to point out that I do rather enjoy reading your suggestions and/or helpful tips. I take them all into consideration, friends. I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot.