Disclaimer: Originally written for the Cookie Jar of the SS: L&L on FA. I do not own Harry Potter or the song 'Stockholm Syndrome' which is owned by Muse.
A/N: Second possible ending to this fic.
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I won't stand in your way
Let your hatred grow
And she'll scream and she'll shout
And she'll pray and she had a name
Yeah she had a name
He watched her from afar. He knew she didn't know he was at her wedding, but he watched her walk down the aisle from a hill, hidden under an Invisibility Cloak and a Silencing charm. He heard from a mutual friend—Blaise, who she worked with in the Department of Mysteries—that she hated him. Once he snuck into her house, thinking of returning, but he heard her crying. He had turned the corner quietly to see her crouched in the doorway, crying. He had started towards her, whispering her name "Hermione, Hermione," but stopped, scared, in the middle of the hallway and Apparated away before she saw him.
I won't hold you back
Let you anger rise
And we'll fly and we'll fall and we'll burn
No one will recall, no one will recall
And though he saw her during her honeymoon, he let her go without stopping her. When he told her to leave she screamed at him, hitting him with her small fists, tears streaming down her red face. He knew she was only like that for wanting to stay with him. He knew that once she settled into life with her husband, she would forget all about him. And yet every time he thought of that, he started to cry.
This is the last time I'll abandon you
And this is
The last time I'll forget you
I wish I could
He couldn't ever let her go, not completely. She would always be a part of him, lingering, like her scent did on his pillow when they saw each other in Greece. He preserved that pillow, keeping it away from anything that might change the smell, keeping her in his house, even though she wasn't there. He knew he wouldn't ever forget her.
Look to the stars let hope burn in your eyes
And we'll love and we'll hate
And we'll die
All to no avail, all to no avail
He remembered how hopeful she'd been when he saw her in Greece. He knew then that they couldn't be together; not then. He knew that they would have to part every night when she went back to her husband. He knew she would die when he told her they couldn't remain as they were. And yet he held off for as long as he could, cherishing the moments they made together, on remote beaches and in his apartment. Their long, slow, hazy afternoons together. Whenever he felt lonely, he just closed his eyes and went back to those two weeks, feeling her on him over and over.
This is the last time I'll abandon you
And this is
The last time I'll forget you
I wish I could
So he went back, after he knew Voldemort and the rest of the Death Eaters were gone, three years after her marriage. He walked around London for hours, wondering if he was making the right decision for both of them. Wondering if she still loved him. Wondering if her husband would kill him once he found out.
He threw his worries to the wind, though. Love overruled reason and he made his way to their apartment, learning that they were on a picnic at the local park. He gritted his teeth and set out for the park. They were in a little valley in between two large hills, sitting on a checkered blanket, laughing. He walked up the hill that was behind her husband, adjusting his black robes with his left hand gripping his wand. When he reached the crest of the hill, he looked down at them and caught her eyes. The moment she saw him, her mouth fell open and she stood up.
As he walked down the hill she walked towards him, eyes fixed on his, not responding to the calls of her husband or even acknowledging that he was calling her. When she reached him, she stood still and stared for a moment, not even believing he was real.
"I tried to forget you," she whispered to him, as her husband's footsteps neared.
"I hoped you would," he replied, fingertips brushing back a strand of hair from her face.
"I couldn't," she said. "At one point, I wished that I could, but I couldn't."
"I knew you wouldn't," he said, fingers traveling down her face until they were tracing the outline of her lips.
"I'm glad I didn't," she said. Her husband was only two feet away and was yelling at her, "What the hell is going on, Hermione? How long has it gone on?"
He turned to stare at her husband and titled his head a bit. "It seems, Potter," he said, "that you've got my wife here."
The man named Potter stared at him. "What? Are you sodding nuts? Hermione is imy/i wife!"
"I was," she, who was Hermione, said. "But not anymore, I'm sorry." She turned to look at Potter sadly. "I never loved you as I loved Draco. I'm so very sorry that it ended like this, but I never thought I'd see Draco again. I'll… be in touch."
They walked away, hand in hand, leaving behind a stunned Potter and an old life. When they reached his home, they kissed tenderly, passionately, for the first time in years. They also began their new life.