Hi, this isn't really much, it's just a short drabble that I did some time earlier, when I was supposed to be doing an essay for school and I just couldn't think of anything to write. Admittedly, it's way off from what I actually wrote in the end, but it did help clear me of my writer's block.
Let me know what you think, k? And whether it's worth developing as a proper story. Thanks loads.
It was a few moments before he next spoke, and when he did, he sounded so distant that she glanced sharply at him, just to be sure that he was really there, and that he had not gone off, left her behind, like he had once said he would.
"It's tempting, isn't it?"
Hermione frowned, this time, not sure of what he meant. "Tempting?" She repeated uncertainly, her eyes raking the distant hilltops, lit eerily by the palely glowing moon.
Draco shrugged carelessly, a lock of his hair falling forward into his eyes at the small movement. "To just leave. Maybe even die. To go away from all this suffering and pain that's in the world, to not feel anymore."
She shivered slightly, unconsciously wrapping her arms around herself. "You don't mean that," she said, "you don't."
He looked vastly amused, as he toyed with a blade of grass, pulling it apart delicately. "I don't?" he repeated, still looking ahead more that at her. A shadow passed over the moon, and his expression changed slightly, though he remained silent, and Hermione, not knowing what else she could say, found herself studying his profile.
The oddly melancholic look suited Draco strangely so, even though she would rather see him laughing and happy than perched on the cliff as he currently was, his mouth down-turned. He was probably the only person she knew, Hermione thought, who could look upset and still stunning. It was far too dark to see clearly, but she knew that his silvery eyes were narrowed as he looked out into the night.
He was speaking, and she forced herself to focus back on the conversation. "I think I do. There's nothing left living for, only sorrow, and hurt…"
"What about love?" she interrupted fiercely, and he turned to face her, surprised, his pale grey eyes wide. "What about joy, and happiness…"
"Hermione," he lifted a hand, lightly brushing her on the side of that face, "there's none of that left. Not anymore. There never was," he looked away, his hand falling, "not for me."
"Yes there is," she insisted, her voice shaking, "you're not alone, Draco. You have me, and Harry, and…"
"Don't." he said flatly, "I don't want to hear it." She could feel him shifting, and she knew he was standing up to leave, and she got to her feet as well, knowing that they would speak no more that night, but as he turned to walk away, she had called after him.
Draco paused, midstride, his back towards her as he contemplated the stars, his head thrown back to stare at the heavens, and she remembered him telling her once that no matter where he was, he could always count on the stars to be there for him, and she knew that he too was remembering.
"Maybe." He said, dropping his head down and looking at the ground, "maybe I do." In a much gentler tone, he continued softly, "I hope your dream comes true, Hermione. I really hope it does."
He disappeared into the darkness, but she murmured softly, "I hope yours does too." and though she received no reply, she knew that he had heard her, and she knew that he understood.