This is written for The Houses Competition.
Description: Draco receives an eye-opening letter from Hermione. This leads to the breaking of both their hearts.
My house: Hufflepuff. Category: Drabble. Prompt: "I didn't mean that." Word Count: 527. Dramione. Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Happy reading!
Draco Malfoy sat in front of the fireplace in the apartment that he shared with his girlfriend. He was swirling a glass of amber liquid, his thoughts wandering to the person he loved most in the world. He downed the Firewhiskey, staring bitterly at the letter in his other hand.
The neat writing on the paper made accusations he'd never heard from her before. "Death Eater," "Dark wizard," "Never as good." He scoffed, throwing the parchment into the fire.
Hermione Granger stuck her key into the lock of her apartment door and, after a moment of hesitation, she unlocked it and went in. She sighed, and let the keys fall into the bowl by the door. She didn't bother to take off her shoes as she made her way to the living room.
Draco was sitting on the couch, his long legs draping over the armrest. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at her, his pale hair covering his delicate eyelashes.
"Draco," Hermione said, sitting on another chair beside him. "Look at me." He turned his head to her, not meeting her eyes. Instead, he focused on some point behind her left ear.
"Granger," he didn't betray any emotion in his voice, and his face was stony. The room was dark, the slivers of moonlight only showed the edges of happy photos. Hermione summoned up her courage, remembering when she and Draco posed for each one.
"I didn't mean what I wrote. I didn't mean that," she finally said, breaking the cold silence that wrapped around her heart.
"Well, it's already done. I know how you feel, now. It's better I found out now before-" he broke off, and looked at the glass he was still clutching.
"Before what?" Hermione whispered, grasping at the little hope in the back of her mind.
"It doesn't matter now. I'm just a Death Eater, aren't I? Nowhere near as good as Potter or Weasel," Draco spat. Hermione licked her lips and slid to the edge of her seat to be closer to him.
"I didn't mean that, Draco!" She said fiercely, trying to grab his hand. He pulled away from her and stood. He reached into his pocket, fumbling.
"Yes, Hermione. And you meant everything else you wrote in it, too. Unless you were under the Imperius curse, you wrote what you felt. I'm just glad that I found out before this," he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket, opened it, and put it on the table. Hermione gasped. An engagement ring sat neatly between the folds.
She looked up at Draco. He was staring down at her with that same cold look, he used when they were in school. When she was just a mudblood. "Goodbye, Hermione Granger," and with that, he turned away from her and strode out the door. She broke down in sobs, falling down on the floor. What had she done? She didn't know that on the other side of the wall, Draco wasn't bothering to stem the flow of tears coming from his own eyes. Why had Hermione written what she had? Why did she break his heart? Why did he break hers?