DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE.
AN: hey guys! So I was listening to Passengers' let her go when I came up with this sad little baby. It's a thing that's been bugging me since about a month ago, and originally, I wanted to put it in my other story, Remember Me. But I figured that it would be better if it was posted as a one-shot instead.
hope you'll enjoy it!
xxAly
He knew that he would regret the day that he let her go.
Seeing her, all happy smiles and glowing air of motherhood surrounding her, was enough to break his heart for the millionth time.
He would observe her sometimes. Admire her. From afar of course, because git that he was, he had made sure that he never could be within five meters of her. At least, not with any form of emotion on his face. His cowardly self had paved a path that never would have her in it, not in the way he wanted. His decisions had ensured that they would never again be as they once were. And he hated himself for it.
Their affair was short, but it was fraught with a passion and intensity that had ruined other women for him. Theirs was a secret love affair, and sadly, because of his lack of bravery, it would forever stay that way. They were merely children then, naive enough to believe that it would be all physical chemistry and sparks. Too caught up in their pride to entertain the idea of falling for the other.
He had discounted how much allure she had truly held, discounted how enchanting and endearing she could be when she wasn't bombarding you with insults, discounted the fact that she was a gem.
And as with all things bright and shiny, he couldn't help but fall in love with her.
But he couldn't have that, could he? Love. It was a commodity that was entirely inaccessible to the likes of him. It was the only thing that his pedigree would not allow him to have. It was the one thing that he had never expected to find.
And he had found it with Hermione Granger, of all people.
She had been a mystery, one that he couldn't help but try to solve. She had been an enigma, one that he couldn't help but try to get to the bottom of. She had been off-limits, in every sense of the world, so off course he would have done everything to get her. He always gets what he wants, after all.
But he didn't expect her to be so... Her.
And when he fell for her, he fell hard.
And when everyone found out, he realized that he had to stop, the impact with the ground had created a crater the size of Australia, one that he knew would never be healed, unless that it was her that was doing the healing.
He had to salvage his reputation somehow, right?
He was an idiot to believe that the answer lay in breaking her heart.
He convinced himself that their affair wasn't of any remarkable importance. She was a mudblood. A convenient shag. Not even worthy of a glance. He shoved his feelings off his mind and told himself that she was ugly and disgusting. Something that was on the level of kneazles in the attractiveness scale. He told himself that he wouldn't care-losing her. She was replaceable. He told himself that she wasn't precious, and that he didn't love her. Not at all. It was all just a delusion. A trick of the mind. Surely, he wouldn't miss her. He started the relationship thinking that she was a commodity, after all.
My, how wrong he was.
At first, he had gotten off on the fact that he had taken down the great Hermione Granger off her mighty high horse. He had gloated to anyone who'd listen how much of a pathetic shag she was (when it was far, far, far from the truth). Bragged to all the world how he had made her fall for him. He said that it was a testament to his charms-he could get any girl he wanted, and discard her afterwards, even the Hermione Granger wasn't immune from it. He had broken her heart. Shattered it and made sure to step on every piece again, just to see if if they would break farther.
Little did he know that in the process of destroying her, he would be breaking his soul, too.
He was giddy, when he saw how much she had missed him. How much she had cared about him. At that time, he had chalked it off as victory, and all thoughts of love had been safely locked in an airtight box at the back off his mind, forgotten, at least, he thought.
But that's the thing about love; it refuses to be forgotten.
Sometimes, back then, he would lie awake at night, asking himself if what he did was the right decision. Was all his wealth, prestige, and reputation really worth her? It became the question he abhorred, avoided at all costs, ignored. Because, for the life of him, even after every pureblood supremacy belief had been drilled into him mind, he couldn't give an honest answer to that question.
And then one day, it hit him. He knew that the answer was no.
A really big, humungous no.
And when he realized that, it was too late. Drastically too late. They had already graduated and in their respective fields. Him, in the corporate world. Her, in the Medical world. Two worlds where its aspiring members would rarely cross paths. She had already gone to hating the very air he breathed, and his pride wouldn't allow him to beg for her forgiveness, just like he wanted.
He loved her. And he knew because he let her go. You only know if you've really loved someone if you've let them go.
There was nothing he could do. He had already estranged her. He had already lost her.
It was done. They were done. It was better to leave it all in the past.
He could just up and go, right?
Wrong.
That's another lesson about love; it demands to be felt.
It had been physically painful, watching her move on. Or at least try to. He'd hear her going on dates and he'd decide to tag along, telling himself that he just wanted to see the kind of guy that she would replace him with. None of them were ever up to her standards, in his opinion. They were all pathetic, and none would them would ever even deserve a glance from her. She was a diamond. And they were all coal.
Sometimes, when he was feeling mischievous and petty, he'd do something to ruin her night? Serves her right, yes? To have her chance at love ruined, when loving her had ruined it for him, too. He told himself that she wasn't supposed to be happy; not if it wasn't with him. He'd spill drinks and burn hair. Trip the waiter and made her date's breath stink. Childish. It was childish, but for a while, it made him feel better. Loads better.
No one ever did accuse him of being mature.
He watched as she botched up date after date. Watched as she picked up her life and rebuilt it without even a trace of him in it. He watched as she grew stronger, even more beautiful, and influential. He watched as her throng of admirers grew.
He watched until he couldn't take it anymore.
The moment he took his gaze away from her, she was caught. By another man that wasn't him. By a man that he had considered to be a brother. It was betrayal at its darkest.
And then he had no choice but to watch her again, because he feared that if he took another moment away from doing so, he would lose her in a completely different way.
He watched her on her wedding day, where he was asked to be the best man-best man to the wedding of the inly woman he'll ever love. She befriended him, saying that it was all in the past. It was torture, having to smile and nod when the only thing that you wanted to do was to scream at her, to tell her to take him back, to beg for another chance at loving her again. He watched as she walked down the aisle, into the arms of another man. He watched as they said their vows, seeing their love fill and blossom and expand in a way that riled him up with jealous anger.
It was supposed to be him, standing there, waiting for her to reach him in all of her bridal radiance. He was supposed to be the only one to receive that smile, her special, heart melting smile. He was supposed to be the only one she kissed. The person who could claim her as his.
He was supposed to be a lot of things for her, because she was his everything.
It felt like he was being cheated.
He was being deprived from a life that he had come so close to having. He was barred from having the joy of seeing her wake up next to him in the mornings. He was bereft of the chance to see her grow old.
And it was all his fault.
He watched as she gave him children. He watched as he held her hand. He watched as she leaned into him for comfort. He watched as he kissed her hello. He watched as she showered him with love. He watched as she looked at him with the tenderness that had been there when she looked at him before. He watched as she hugged him like she was afraid of losing him. He watched as he told her he loved her with the same intensity that he used to have. He watched.
He watched because it was the only thing that he could ever do.
Draco Malfoy was a lucky bastard. His best friend. His brother. He had everything. Including the girl that Blaise Zabini loved.
And he'll continue to watch them lead the life that he was supposed to be given.
Because, that's the third thing about love; sometimes, all you can do is watch.
An: it was kinda short, but I liked this version better than the one with actual dialogue in it, so yeah :)
liked it? Hated it? Review! :)