Chapter 56: The Confrontation

"No."

Draco was stopped in his tracks, Hermione's frame blocking his front door. She had Apparated ahead of him, a move so quick that Draco was startled for a moment, although he quickly regained his composure.

"Excuse me?"

"You're not leaving," Hermione stated, her voice quivering slightly and her wand pointed at his chest. She steadied herself and continued, "Enough of this."

"Enough of what?" Draco asked, half-exasperated, half-angry.

Hermione's eyes softened, though her voice was firmer. "You can't keep running away, Draco."

"I'll do whatever the bloody hell I want," Draco snapped, pulling out his own wand. "Now move before I make you!"

"We both know who the stronger wizard here is, Draco," Hermione retorted. "You wouldn't stand a chance."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "So what, you think you can insult me into staying?"

Hermione crossed her arms, her eyes flicking to Draco's now slightly-lowered wand. Draco jerked his arm upward, his wand now pointed at her face.

"You can't keep running away, Draco," she repeated calmly.

"Yes I can!" Draco exclaimed. "I'm fine and I'm happy and I can do what I want!"

"You're not fine," she snapped, her arms wide. "You are NOT fine! Do you know what Albert's been telling me, Draco? He tells me that he can hear you pacing for hours after you've gone to bed because you can't sleep. That after four drinks your face turns dark and you stop talking. That if anyone so much as mentions Hogwarts or even London, you leave the room and don't return for hours. That when you do sleep you talk, even scream because of the nightmares you're having. That you can't ever fully seem to enjoy yourself anywhere because there's always something else you're thinking about, something that you're trying to forget. But you can't ever forget it Draco! That's not how it works!"

Draco stared at her, his arm now limp at his side.

"What do you think I've been trying to do for the past five years, Draco? All I've been trying to do is forget! And I've been around people who are trying to do the same thing too! And it's not bloody working! Because you just- you just can't! And people like you, you've just resorted to living with it, but that's not really any better is it? Is it, Draco?" She was almost pleading, although her voice was still tinged with rage.

Draco stared at the floor. He felt as though he were swaying, and the edges of his vision were growing fuzzy. He felt a tear roll down his cheek, though he quickly wiped it away. He'd done enough crying. When he finally looked back up, he found that Hermione had taken a few steps toward him, she was barely an arm's reach away now, and her want was tucked back into her jeans. He watched as she rubbed her hands over her arms as though trying to warm herself, her eyes trained on the floor. Upon realizing that Draco was looking at her, she met his gaze. "So?" She asked cautiously.

Draco shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Her words washed over him again, and he felt for the millionth time the darkness in his chest sink to his stomach, carrying with it every memory Draco wanted to forget. He had tried everything. He couldn't get it out.

"Okay."

So they talked. Hermione told Draco everything that had happened since that fateful May night, how she had spent a year tracking down remaining Death Eaters with the Ministry, secretly looking for Draco. How she went back to finish her seventh year at Hogwarts. How she, too, had tried everything to forget, but how no one seemed to want her to. How some of her friends seemed to bask in the glory of it all, enjoying their sweet, sweet victory. How she tried to join in on the celebration but could never bring herself to. She spoke of the trial, and how sorry she was, how much she regretted saying some of the things she had said. How the Weasleys had stopped speaking to her for a year after that, and how even now they only spoke to her if they had to. Her year in Australia in search of her parents, who she never found. Living alone in her childhood home while she worked in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, trying desperately to leave Britain. How relieved she was when she was finally sent on assignment abroad, freeing her from everyone who didn't want her to forget the war.

And then it was Draco's turn to tell her about the weeks after that night at Malfoy Manor, his desperate loneliness throughout that last year at Hogwarts. How he had to escape from Europe because he knew he was hated and that he didn't stand a chance at a fair trial, how he found a way to America. How he found a job and how he was captured and forced back to London. His time in Azkaban. About Dom and Theo, Callum and Albert and his mother and life in Paris. How he drank himself to sleep nearly every night. How much seeing her had affected him, caused repressed memories to resurface, and, frankly, how much he resented her for coming to Paris.

She recoiled at this last remark, the cup of tea Draco had made for her halfway through her story slipping out of her hands and rolling onto the floor. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, hugging her knees close to her chest.

"You've already said that about a hundred times," Draco said, trying to sound harsh but failing desperately. It was as though something had broken inside of him, and now he could no longer feel angry. He just felt...numb. His hands had become cold and his heart panged with fear. He had never felt so exposed.

"I know," Hermione said, trying to muster a smile. "Force of habit."

"It's not that easy, you know," Draco said, avoiding her gaze by looking over his shoulder into the kitchen.

"What isn't?"

"Forgiving people. It's just as hard as forgetting. I mean, you haven't forgiven me either."

Hermione sighed. "I've been trying."

"But why?" Draco asked, trying to mask his genuine curiosity. "What do you gain? You should hate me! Merlin knows why you ever forgave me all those years ago! I almost killed your best friend! I tried to poison Dumbledore! I was a bloody Death Eater, Granger, why would you want to forgive that? Even I don't want to forgive myself!" Draco slumped out of his chair and onto the floor.

Hermione sighed, made a gesture as though she wanted to reach out and hold his hand, then pulled back. "We were so young," she said softly. "And you had no choice. And now neither do I."

"What the hell does that mean?" Draco retorted angrily. " Stop being so damn forgiving! Why can't you just be mad at me like a a normal fucking person?"

"Because there's no point," Hermione said quietly. "I've spent years being mad at you already. I'm ready to move on, or at least move past this. I know the person you were and the person you are now and I can't let go."

"Why- why not?" Draco asked, bewildered.

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes, and she looked away, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweater. Draco followed her gaze to the notebook- that damned notebook- lying on the ground by the front door. Slowly, he got up and walked over to pick it up. He opened it to the last few pages, the ones where she had written to Albert. And as he read her letters, he saw what was between the lines, the details glossed over in her story. Pieces started to fall into place.

She was alone. She had left everything and everyone behind, and now she was completely alone.

A/N: So I wrote this two years after the cliff hanger in the last chapter (super fun surprise I left for myself) so my sincerest apologies if there's an awkward tone shift or something. Please let me know what y'all think about the change in style if you notice any! I'm almost done writing the rest of the fic but will happily go back and edit what I have so far any if y'all think it would help. Let me know what you think about anything else too! Thanks 3