Author's Note: Story is inspired by Crazy Love by Poco. I knew I just had to write this, and for so long I had been itching to do so. Please Review.


Faded Memory

By Cerulean Sapphire


He promised himself that tonight would be the night.

He prepared long and hard for it; he took out everything that would remind him of everything he didn't need reminding of. Boxes of letters, gifts, pictures and many other things were taken out from their respective hiding places. He needed them to make everything perfect.

He had sworn to himself that there would be no more sleepless nights for him. No more weary thoughts, no more memories. Everything would be forgotten, and tonight would be the beginning of that.

Somehow, he just knew that things would turn out fine for him.

He took out a quill and an ink bottle from the nearest drawer and took some parchment from another. He had always been used to writing about his thoughts and feelings, yet he didn't feel the need of a journal of some sort. After all, the parchments wherein he wrote down his pent-up feelings were usually thrown into the fire. Nobody needed to know of his hidden thoughts.

And so, he wrote…

This is the night.

I'm going to break away from everything. I'm brave enough to do so, although only thoughts of you kept me going these past few days.

I know we are through. I know I can't change that, and I shouldn't live on to hope that maybe someday you'd come back to me and say the words I want to hear from you. It's far from possible, yet…I don't want to stop feeling that way.

But after so many days, I guess the hope in me seemed to have ebbed away. It can never come true, after all. When you said your goodbye, you meant it. You always mean the things you say.

I long for you, but it pains me to feel that way, knowing that the one thing I long for will never appear. Now I know I need to get away from you. It may seem hard, but I'll try. I'll prove to you that I am above this. I can forget you. I will.

This time I'll surely say goodbye.

Draco

He read the letter twice more before folding it and putting it inside a small box. He had always kept that significant box, and whenever he felt lonely, he peered inside it and read some of the letters she had sent him. It always made him feel better.

He closed the box and bent backward, leaning against the wall. Heaving a sigh, he thought about the memories that kept haunting him most of his days. This would be the last time they would enter his mind.

It's time, he said to himself.

He stood up from where he sat and looked around his bedroom. Revealed to him were some of his most prized possessions, all reminding him of that one person. To throw it away would be the most sensible thing to do right then, as seeing them once more kept reminding him, and it pained him so much to remember.

He took two boxes, a small teddy bear, a quill and a parchment and headed straight to the terrace.

The wind blew, chilling him a bit, but he didn't mind. Somehow, it felt almost comforting. He took the small box, opened it and slowly took out the contents, which were all made of yellowed parchment. It seemed years since he ever received another letter from her.

He opened the last one she gave him and read. Just seeing her handwriting made him hurt so much in the inside, and it was too much. For the last three days he felt so much pain, and it must stop.

And so with a sigh, he took the parchment with both hands. He was prepared to rip it to pieces and throw it, leaving the wind to carry it someplace far. That had been his plan.

He closed his eyes a bit and almost tore it half when the thoughts of her came passing by again. It seemed a blur…the Yule Ball, secret meetings every Tuesdays, a date in Hogsmeade, the first kiss, tears, quarrels, another date in Hogsmeade, students whispering…

And then her.

He remembered her once again, and this time his vision of her was so clear and crisp that it had to be real. She was standing in front of him, plastered on her face was a grin. She looked absolutely stunning, and her eyes were so beautiful like it had always been. She looked too real, and he reached out to touch her cheek.

Suddenly, she faded.

It had been nothing but a memory made by his subconscious. He always loved her, and it felt so much pain like he had never felt before as the thought occurred to him.

Again, he failed. He had tried so many times before and he had always failed. Somehow, he just couldn't bring himself to forget.

Why, he thought. Why can't I forget you, Hermione?


He spent the night counting stars.

He remembered yet again, one Tuesday night when they sneaked out and went to the Pitch. They sat on the ground, talked a bit, and she said in a small voice, "I always liked to count the stars."

After that night, he made it a point to count the stars with her every Tuesday.

Until now, he seemed not to forget this.

But it's Monday, he argued with himself as he looked at Orion's Belt.

He took a small sigh and went back to his bed. He peered at a clock and saw that it was already half past one in the morning. Laughing a bit, he thought again. I can't fix this habit. After all, she gave me this habit.

He wished it were easier than this. Heaven knows he had far too much pain dealt with ever since she left. Now it had reached an all-time high. It was starting to kill every bit of him.

But it had been half his fault for feeling pain. He could choose not to, of course, by not reliving the memories he had of her, yet he always did. And he knew he'd always do.

Before he could even stop, tears fell from his eyes.

If he knew this was how it was going to be, he wouldn't have let her go. He'd tell her to stay, that he couldn't live without her, that she was his everything.

He wished she was there to see him cry. He never cried in front of her before, not even the day she decided to go. Now he wanted her to see how much pain she had been causing him. If she did, maybe…she'd stay.

But a sullen thought came to him. She wouldn't stay. She made up her mind about leaving. She went away now, and wouldn't come back.

He cried, wishing it wasn't true. The whole night was spent in tears, and he was aware that it would be better if he kept on with the tears.


The following night was just like the last. He took out the boxes and went to the terrace, hoping that maybe this time it could work. He would tear up all of her letters and let them be blown away.

The only difference was that now he started on their first photograph together. He stared at it for awhile, and noticed how wonderful they fit together.

Didn't you notice that, Hermione? We belong together. We always did.

And with one last look at the photograph, he started to rip the photo apart. He was about to rip it in quarters when he realized it had been the only photo he had of them.

He cursed under his breath and took out his wand. He muttered a spell, yet the photo remained torn in half. He mumbled yet another curse and he remembered that the Repairing spell couldn't work on paper. He went inside and looked for some Spell-o-Tape. He couldn't find one.

He tried his best to repair it that night, but it wasn't possible. Then, with another small sigh of his, he looked at the photograph ripped apart. Inside the first half was her, and on the second was him. They were apart.

This struck him quite hard on the chest. Somehow, the photograph was like the two of them. They were apart, and it seemed nothing would ever make them together again, just as much as he couldn't repair the photograph.

He looked once more at the picture and realized for the first time what he had been afraid to realize before.

Even after days, weeks, months, and perhaps even years, he'd never learn to forget. It was a hard and bitter path to forgetting. After all, she was his first and only love. And she would forevermore remain to be.


Fin.

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