Half a Man
A/N: Constructive criticism and reviews are appreciated. This fanfic is inspired by 'Half a Man' by Dean Lewis.
How am I supposed to love you,
When I don't love who I am?
And how can I give you all of me,
When I'm only half a man?
'Cause I'm a sinking ship that's burning,
So let go of my hand.
Oh, how can I give you all of me,
When I'm only half a man?
He was leaving.
He was leaving.
He was leaving.
Why was he leaving?
"Draco, I—"
"Stay away, Granger."
"No! Why won't you tell me?"
"..."
"Draco, you've been pushing me away. Why? If it's what I said then I'll take it back!"
"...You didn't do anything, Granger."
"They why—"
"Just...stay away, Granger. Stay away."
I was wrong to say I loved her,
I was wrong to think I'm right.
"Draco, I lo—"
"Well, I don't do I, Granger?" Her heart shattered. But she knew it wasn't the truth.
But when I told her it was over,
My darling I had lied.
He left. She told him she loved him.
And he left.
She didn't understand. She was...heartbroken.
'He—he left me.'
They saw each other after the War. First, it was when he was apologizing, trying to correct his past mistakes. It was an unsaid apology, but he showed it.
Some understood.
Some didn't.
The only people he couldn't apologize to were Potter, Weasley and Granger.
He couldn't.
He tried, but ultimately, he failed. Too much happened between them. He never could.
Until one night.
He sat outside the Ministry on a bench, clad in a suit, just staring ahead.
It had been his trial today. Potter testified.
His mother and he were free.
His father had been sentenced to 1 year in Azkaban. It wasn't a shock.
"Malfoy?"
Draco turned. Granger stood there.
"If you want me to leave, I'll leave—" he began.
"No!" He raised a brow. She blushed but shook it off.
"Sorry, I mean you can stay. I was just surprised to see you sitting here." He sat back down. She went and sat beside him. "You don't mind, do you?" she asked quietly. Still staring ahead, he just shrugged. She was silent for a moment before speaking.
"We forgive you, you know..." he froze but didn't turn to face her.
"Zabini, he told us." He snorted at that.
"Of course, he did. Never could keep his mouth shut." He smirked a little. He truly was thankful to have someone like Blaise.
"Well then you're lucky to have a friend like him—someone who can't keep his mouth shut."
"You have no idea."
They were silent for a moment.
"How's your mother?" he raised a skeptical brow at that.
"...I didn't think you were on speaking terms with my mother, Granger."
"We owe her a lot. She may not like me because I'm muggleborn, but I respect her. What she did was no ordinary feat." She replied seriously. He was a bit surprised at how genuine she was. She didn't even have a bit of malice.
"She's...coping. She'll be fine."
"And...you?" Hermione asked.
"...I'll work..."
Hermione got up.
"I'll see you around, Malfoy." She smiled a bit and turned to walk away.
'He looked worn that day.' Hermione mused. His hair was slightly disheveled, he had dark circles and he...he looked lethargic. And pale. But he definitely looked better than when she'd seen him right before the war.
He smirked once at the thought of Blaise but that went away as soon as it came.
Not like Hermione was better, anyway. She looked like a twig with dark circles and cuts. At least she ate.
They began seeing each other more and more. Sometimes it was at a Ministry event, other times they'd just sit and talk on the bench. Or rather, he'd just sit on the bench and listen to her. He talked too, though. But where she saw him most was the graveyard.
She first saw him there when she went.
He was sitting there, in front of the tombstone. It was a different one each time she saw him.
He would just sit there and stare. He would try to form the words to apologize—even if he had nothing to do with their death—but his tongue was too heavy. The words wouldn't fall out.
She approached him once. He wasn't fazed in the slightest.
It was a dark night.
"Why do you forgive me?" she was taken aback by the question.
"Well Harry, Ron and I—"
"I didn't ask of Potter or Weasley. Why do you forgive me?"
"Because people make mistakes, Malfoy. And you need to learn to let them go."
Whenever they were together, they didn't always talk. When they did talk though, she found he was a great conversationalist. He could always keep up with her. She could share her ideas and he wouldn't just push her thoughts away or think she was too much of a bookworm. He loved books like she did. And day by day, she found that she had more in common with him than she thought.
But when they didn't talk, it was just silence. Just the presence to let the other person know that you're here.
And that was enough.
...
The more she was with him, the more it felt right. He balanced out everything that felt wrong with her, everything that didn't fit. But there was something wrong inside him. She knew.
...
It had been 2 years.
He was slipping.
He never talked about this, but he spoke once. It warmed her to know that he was opening up, even if only a little.
"Granger, I want to run—run away."
I've been running from my demons,
Afraid to look behind...
They were on the bench again. It was either the bench, or the graveyard, as fucked up as that is. Meeting anywhere else was like breaking an unsaid contract between them. It was too precious to break.
She turned to him.
"Where?"
"Anywhere. Just—away from everything."
Her mind flashed back to when he was crying in the bathroom in their 6th year. Harry had told her, and somewhere in between, she found herself crying.
"I'll go wherever you go, Draco."
I've been running from myself,
Afraid of what I'd find...
They never called each other 'boyfriend' or 'girlfriend' or a couple. They didn't say they were dating. Because to them, they were such degrading terms. They were something more—so much more, something only they would ever understand, and hell would freeze over before they insulted what they were by giving themselves those stupid tags.
People accepted, people didn't. Hermione couldn't be bothered by what others thought, but Harry was kind enough. He respected them. Ron—she hadn't spoken to him in a month.
Why?
Because he called Draco a Death Eater.
She slapped him that day.
Draco meant so much to her. She couldn't express it. She found solace in the unlikeliest of people. Their relationship was unsaid. It was nothing they had to talk about, nothing they had to confirm. It just...happened.
She knew he was broken inside, and so was she, but he got out of that when he was with her. He made her feel safe, secure.
And then one day, it hit her.
She loved him.
And he left her.
"Draco!" she called after him, but he was already out of sight.
She knew it wasn't true.
She knew.
She knew he loved her.
And she was going to find out why he was pushing her away.
...
He pushed her away. He ran a hand through his hair as he walked away quickly. He wanted—no—he needed to get away. Now.
She said that she'd loved him.
She loved him.
"I love you."
How am I supposed to love you,
When I don't love who I am?
Granger was different.
She was different from others.
He knew it when he first saw her at Hogwarts. He hated her then.
But then 6th year rolled in and he hated himself.
He hated himself.
He treated her like scum. He treated all muggleborns like scum. He treated muggles like scum. He took the Dark Mark. He was going to kill Dumbledore.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
When he took the Dark Mark, he had no idea what he was getting himself into. But then it crashed on him. Like a boulder crushing a human to smithereens until there's nothing but disintegrated parts left.
His mother would die if he failed. He would die.
And how can I give you all of me,
When I'm only half a man?
Death.
It scared him to think that he just barely missed it by a touch.
A tiny touch.
And to think that these would be all the reasons as to why Granger shouldn't love him. No.
He watched her getting tortured.
Fucking. Tortured.
"We didn't steal anything..." she was sobbing "PLEASE NO—" her screams broke through the choking silence.
He may not have known her well back then but he still knew her. That's what made her torture the worst.
He knew her.
And he stood there.
He just. Fucking. Stood there.
He knew he couldn't do anything. One move and they'd all die.
But still.
Her screams were piercing, soul-shattering. Even after it was done, the screams still rang through his ears over and over and over.
And over.
It was driving him insane.
'Cause I'm a sinking ship that's burning,
So let go of my hand.
He was walking brusquely now.
He didn't know where he was going. Just somewhere.
Anywhere.
"PLEASE NO—"
Keep walking.
"Please PLEASE—"
KEEP WALKING.
"S-STOP! WE DIDN'T STEAL ANYTHING—"
"I DON'T KNOW WHERE IT IS PL—"
WALK.
And then that carving. She fucking carved her skin. Knife in deep, drawing out blood.
Blood.
Blood.
Filthy little Mudblood.
Mudblood.
Blood.
He stopped. He took deep ragged breaths.
He didn't want to go down this hole, again.
He found himself in front of the Manor. He went in.
...
He sat on the ground, his head leaning back against the wall. His tie was loose, his shirt was untucked, his suit coat was thrown on the bed, his hair was disheveled.
And he had a bottle for firewhisky in his hand.
He was exhausted.
"I love you."
"rgh...FUCK." he hurled the bottle across the room, hitting the wall and shattering the bottle.
And every bottle I had stolen
Lay shattered on the floor.
He hated pushing her away. She was the only one who understood him at all. Everything about her he loved drove him insane—but he still loved all those things.
She was everything he wasn't.
She...balanced him.
And he knew that he broke her heart.
But he doesn't deserve her. He knew he didn't.
How could she even love a monster like him when he didn't love himself?
"Granger..."
What's broken can't be whole, anymore...
Narcissa stood outside the door. She contemplated on going in—but something told her that maybe she shouldn't.
But she was a mother. When it comes to family, she listened to her heart, not her head.
So, she went in anyway.
...
Hermione sat on her windowsill, looking out the window. Ginny sat on Hermione's bed.
"You know I'd be willing to kill him, right?" Ginny said.
"I know. But I—"
"Know Malfoy, yes. You do know him better than us."
"I told you there was always something going on inside him. Something that put him over the edge. I'm going to figure out what it is. He would never do this to me. Never."
"And I trust you. Even I've seen he's changed. I see the way he looks at you."
"Ginny?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't tell Harry or Ron."
Ginny was about to say something, but decided against it.
"Okay."
...
"Mother, leave the matte—"
"It's the Granger girl, isn't it..."
"..."
"She did something or you did. What happened?"
"Did you ever like her, mother? Do you hate me for this?"
Narcissa inhaled sharply through her nose. She kneeled down next to her son—he was still sitting on the floor—and looked him straight in the eyes with absolute seriousness.
"You know your father and I will never accept a mud—muggleborn—but you're my son, Draco. My son."
They both said nothing for a moment.
He looked away from his mother. He leaned his head back again and closed his eyes.
"I lost her, mother. I lost her. And it's my fault."
Narcissa's eyes softened. She may never accept a muggleborn, but seeing her son like this...
She pulled him in and hugged him. Narcissa was rarely ever a woman of emotions. But her son meant the world to her. She was willing to let her mask drop for him.
He fell asleep in his mother's lap that night.
...
Lucius was at the doorway, looking at Narcissa and Draco as they were asleep. He brows narrowed a little in concern. He conjured a blanket, let it rest on them and went to his own room.
...
She finally found him. It had been a week. It was night time, and she wasn't letting him go this time.
She wasn't letting him go again.
He stood in front of the Dumbledore and Snape's graves.
It was for a reason. She knew. His mission to kill Dumbledore was what started everything. And now it was supposed to end it. He was supposed to be leaving.
But wasn't going to.
Not this time.
"I know you're here, Granger."
He never said her first name. She didn't want him to, either. It was comforting, in an odd way, because it gave them something to hold on to.
Something from before the War. When they were just kids.
She didn't reply to what he said. She went and stood silently with him. She conjured a bouquet of lilies.
"I won't let you go, you know." She began quietly. He stiffened beside her. "I know I never said this but... you mean the world to me... I need you..." she turned to him and he her.
"Granger, listen—"
"Why, Draco, why do you push me away?"
"Because...I don't love you Granger, okay—"
"I know that's not true!" she was shaking in anger now. "You and I both know that's not true! Why won't you just tell me! Did I do something? If this is going to fast, we can slow—"
"It's nothing you did, Granger!" he was also shouting now.
"Then what is it?"
"I don't deserve you!"
She froze.
He was shaking.
"Draco, what?"
"I don't deserve you, Granger!" He turned away from her. "I've done bad things, Granger. I let the Death Eaters in—"
"You didn—"
"I willingly took the Dark Mark,"
"You didn't know what—"
"I saw muggles and muggleborns getting tortured."
"But you didn't tor—"
"I watched you get tortured!" He turned to face her.
She went quiet.
"Do you know what that memory does to me?" he went on. "Every single day, it haunts me. All of it. Every single day, I remember that I chose the wrong side. That I was partially responsible for Dumbledore's death. That I did nothing but fucking stare when you were being tortured! I hate myself, Granger! I'm the worst thing that could ever happen to you! I'm burning, and I'll drag you w-with m-me.."
He fell weakly.
He buried his face in his hands, him on his knees.
And no one
He broke down, sobbing. It killed her to see him like this. "Draco," she began.
can ever hurt me
Like I've hurt myself.
He was hopelessly shattered. "You didn't have a choice."
'Cause I'm made out of stone
And I'm beyond help.
"You didn't have a choice for any of it. And I could never hate you for that."
"Granger, please..."
Don't give your heart to me...
"If you saved me that day from Bellatrix's clutches, you and your family would have died. You were a boy when you took the mark. You didn't know what you were getting yourself into."
She got on her knees now, right next to him.
"I won't say that there aren't some choices you could've chosen, some better choices, but you were a boy...a child...just like the rest of us..."
"I won't abandon you because you're a broken man. We—" her eyes were watering. "—we're all broken somehow. We're not perfect, Draco. And...I can't leave you...I..." she was crying now.
"I love you."
Three words. She said them.
She needed him. He was right for her, meant for her. Without him she'd...she'd lose her balance again. He meant everything to her.
"I love you, and your guilt and your past will never change that."
He meant the world to her.
Her whole life.
He looked at her.
How am I supposed to love you,
When I don't love who I am?
She said the words. She said them.
And how can I give you all of me,
When I'm only half a man?
She hoped they were enough to make him stay.
'Cause I'm a sinking ship that's burning,
So let go of my hand.
...
Oh, how can I give you all of me,
When I'm only half a man...
It was enough.
Fin.
A/N: Constructive criticism and reviews are appreciated.