Chapter 5
In my mind, veiled in sleep I see faerie, small and delicate. In my dream she dances beautifully cold. Like the frost that covers all. She turns all color white with her innocence. Her light footsteps echo silently throughout the mist. Her grey skin radiates in the black night sky, dimming the light of the stars. All is purified in her glory, except for one, courageous rose colored blood red. It stands out deifying its very existence, yet it is not afraid. Its thorny steam grows higher then all the rest, and its blossom more alive than any other.
Because it does not submit easily to her will, the faerie is intoxicated by the rose. She spends more and more time gracefully dancing on its petals hoping it will become hers. She falls in love with the blood red flower, becoming so entranced that she forgets all her glory and hope. She inevitably succumbs to its power, not knowing what she has committed until it is too late.
She never will forget the rose; it will haunt her thoughts for eternity.
"What the fuck are you doing here Malfoy?" Ron screamed loudly.
"I was in town and I thought I'd stop by…" he trailed off, and then his voice dripping in sarcasm he added, "I didn't expect to find this. And I'm beginning to wonder what has been going on in this 'perfect marriage'. What have you done to her, Weasley?"
"MY FAULT? BLOODY FUCKING SHIT! IT'S YOUR FAULT YOU STUPID LITTLE ASSHOLE."
"Calm down Weasel, don't be childish," Draco said, untouched by the words.
"HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO CALM DOWN, WHEN MY WIFE JUST ATTEMPTED SUICIDE?"
"Act like an adult," he sneered. "Now I'll ask you again, what have you done to her?"
Ron glared.
"If you've laid a hand on her in any way, I swear I'll kill you."
"She's not yours anymore Draco," Ron snarled, gesturing towards the bedroom where Hermione lay sleeping fitfully. "You had her, and you treated her like she was shit. This is your fault. You did this to her."
One day, when the sky was grey and the wind blew round the meadow, the rose turned black and faded from view. It was lost to her eyes. At that moment the frost faerie stopped dancing and fell slowly onto the remnants of her love. She wept and wept, hoping her tears would bring the blood red blossom back. But it was in vain, for her tears were made of tiny diamonds that glittered on the wilting petals.
For eternity she sat, mourning the loss of her true love. In the deep hours of the darkest part of night she saw the rose in the stars growing taller and taller. Beside it was another flower of equal beauty that outshone all but her one red love. What was the meaning of this? The faerie thought. It was one of those nights, were the blackness seems to take hold of her, where she could feel it encompassing her, that he came. Another flower white and innocent, like her, began to grow beneath the ashes of the former red blossom. This gorgeous lily had been sent to save her.
Draco shook his head in anger. "She's not yours either Ron. You think you saved her don't you? You think you're the hero of her life. Don't deny it, I can see it your face. You pride yourself in 'saving Hermione'. If that's what you want to call it. But what did you save her from? You can't erase the hurt in her life; you can't apologize for acts you haven't committed. Don't you understand? You did nothing for her."
"At least I never hurt her Malfoy. I never caused her pain," Ron said angrily. "You did, look at what you've done. She thinks I don't notice, but I see her looking at her hiding place. She kept a rose you gave her, dried and dead, like her heart. It's tucked away. She doesn't know, but I found it once. I know it was yours. What you did to her destroyed her. She thinks she is not worthy of love anymore."
Draco stared at him silently, his grey eyes unreadable.
"I don't understand how you can sit there and feel no guilt. I mean at least I tried. I gave it all I could to make life better for her."
The sun rose earlier and earlier in the days of the white flower. The nights never seemed as dark, for the stars shone brightly. She began to dance again, covering all with her shimmering dust of innocence. Time passed by quickly, each day like the single movement of a butterfly wing in motion. Was this love? She often wondered late at night, lying in the snowy petals. For that was what she wanted more than all.
But it was not meant to be, because some nights, when all had fallen into sleeps sweet clutches she saw the rose. It gleamed in all its beauty, blinding her, and beside it the second flower grew tall too. She tried and tried to touch its silky blossom, but each time she reached out it crumpled in her eyes. And each time after that she cried tears of crystal. Eventually though, she tried her best to forget, though it kept coming back. Often she wondered what had happened to the light the white lily had first brought her.
"You tried and failed. You don't even love her," Draco whispered harshly, cutting the tension with his razor sharp words of hate.
"Don't say that! You don't even know the half of it," Ron said, trying to remain calm. "I fucking love that woman. I would do anything to make her better, even if it meant dying."
"Anything, eh?"
"Yes, anything."
"Would you let me talk to her?" he asked, seeing Ron tense up. He knew that this was something that would anger Ron.
"And what good would that do?"
"I want to explain…"
"Explain what exactly Malfoy? Explain why you cheated on her? Make her understand why she wasn't good enough for you?"
"Enough!" Draco yelled standing up, his eyes glowing eerily in the dark.
"If I thought that would do any good, I would let you. I would wake her up right now, so that you could make her life better. But you would only create more damage. She doesn't need that right now. Don't be selfish. One more thing could push her over the edge again, and next time I might not catch her."
"If that is what you think, then obviously there's no way of getting around you," Draco said, standing up, "at least for now, that is. I will talk to her. With or without your permission."
"Leave," Ron replied and opened the door. "If you touch her, you die."
Draco said nothing as he walked by Ron out onto the streets of London.
She grew more and more unhappy, and so she thought of the rose every day. How she wanted it back. How she yearned for its smell, for its color that was so different from all the rest. How she dreamed of dancing on its dewy petals again. She loved the blood red flower with all her heart. Without it she wanted to become mortal and slip away into a world of shadows where the dead lived on forever. But there was always the second flower that stood beside it, taking her place.
Then one day it was there, growing upwards into the sky high above the lily. She reached towards it, aching for its love. She forgot everything that had brought her back to reality. All her former life vanished in a split second as she soared upward to the rose. And then before she knew it was gone. Everything was gone. She stood alone in the dark with nothing.
I awoke surrounded by pure white bed sheets, so different from the bloodstained ones of the previous night. The cuts on my body had all been magically healed, save one hidden above my ankle. I thought I would keep it there to remind me forever of yet another failure. To make sure I remember that it had been real, because there were no other signs of what had gone so horribly wrong the night before.
I sat up ever so slowly and saw Ron looking at me with worry. I smiled shyly at him, like it was the first time we had ever met. Yet he only looked back at me, trying to understand what was deep inside of my heart. I saw that his face was lined with worry and pale with exhaustion. I hung my head in shame, my attempted suicide had been just more act of cruelty towards him. So in a small attempt to make up for it, I beckoned him over.
He came cautiously. "I love you Hermione. I hope you know that," he whispered into my ear after kissing my forehead.
"And I love you too," I replied while pulling him into bed with me.
We lay there for hours, maybe, in silence. Each with our own thoughts, pondering what ifs, I was so wrapped up in my mind, that I almost forgot he was there until his deep breathing shook my questions. He was reaching an almost dreamlike state. But before I let him sleep I wanted to know one thing. Had you really come last night? Or was it just my romantic imagination? Were you really the angel with the golden white halo?
"Did he come last night?" I whisper into Ron's ear.
"Who?" he asked groggily.
"Draco?"
Ron paused for a moment. "No."
