I run off where the drifts get deeper
Sleeping beauty trips me with a frown
I hear a voice
'you must learn to stand up for yourself
Cause I can't always be around'
He says when you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
Tori Amos - Winter
--
His words had hit a nerve.
"You don't even know what you had--"
Hermione waited until Draco was asleep to think about what he had said.
"All you have left is some romanticized idea of what might have happened--"
She ransacked her brain. After all the hours, days, weeks, months, years she had spent fantasizing, she couldn't distinguish the fabrications from the memories. She frowned at the ceiling, trying to disentangle memories.
The time in the forest... That happened.
When they stayed out all night... That was a dream.
That day when she told him... That happened. No, that was a dream. Wasn't it?
---
You're a fucking mudblood.
Draco watched Hermione sleep.
But you're all I have left.
It wouldn't matter this time tomorrow, anyway.
--
Somewhere far off, Hermione heard Draco sigh. She didn't want to wake up just yet, and nestled her head deeper against the pillows. She could already feel the sleepiness wearing off and opened her eyes. He had been watching her, she realized, and it made her smile.
Draco didn't return the smile, but sat up instead and stared at the wall.
"You should probably get back to your room before the Healers start their rounds."
"Healers don't do rounds on sundays, and you know that."
He rolled his eyes.
"I was trying to make you leave politely."
"I think we passed polite a long time ago."
Draco bit back a snarky comment and lay back down. Before he knew what he was doing, he had his arm around her and was pulling her to him. He held her in a one-armed hug and breathed in her smell before yanking back his arm and pushing her lightly.
"See you tonight, then."
She laughed.
---
So this is how it's going to be.
Draco paced him room for the hundredth time that evening.
So you're just going to be a chicken shit, like always and do it without telling her.
He'd never cared about anyone else's feelings before. He'd never had any reason to.
After all, he was a Malfoy. The poster boy of Slytherin. He was the cold hearted, ruthless prick who killed his father to save himself, and he didn't regret it.
Except, he wasn't cold hearted or without regret, and she'd seen that.
She'd instantly seen how much he regretted killing his father, it was almost as if she'd been there, in the room watching him when he'd done it. Seen his trembling hands pick up the wand, seen his shaking lips utter the curse, seen the tears trickling down his face as his father's proud figure was reduced to a crumpled heap on the floor. He'd sat there, staring at his father's body for hours. When the door opened behind him, he expected it was Voldemort who had come to kill him too.
He was almost glad.
But it wasn't Voldemort. It was Snape.
Snape had taken one look at the scene before him, and pulled Malfoy away from his father. It was that night Snape had bound his magic and placed him in a muggle orphanage.
Draco ran away within a week.
Eventually, he had ended up in a muggle mental hospital.
As Draco remembered his experiences during his three-year stay there, he violently clenched his fists, making his knuckles turn white.
Electric shocks. "Therapy," they had called it.
Pills. "Good for you," they had said.
Draco's thoughts were interrupted by the door opening.
Hermione entered, smiling.
This is it. You have to do it now. It will be easier this way.
---
Hermione waited impatiently for the evening to come, when she could go to see Malfoy.
It wasn't just about forgetting Ron anymore. Malfoy wasn't just a temporary substitution for pain. She actually wanted to see him. He was a person she could talk to, he was someone she could touch.
He was someone who didn't treat her like glass.
---
Closing the door carefully behind herself, she walked up to him.
"Hi."
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. He pushed her away, and backed off.
"We have to talk."
She looked at him worriedly.
"Ok."
We can't do this anymore.
"I..."
I didn't mean for it to go this far in the first place.
"You..."
The words faltered in his mouth. What difference would it make now, anyway? She'd find out soon enough.
"You... you should stay the whole night, tonight."
--
That night, Malfoy stared at her sleeping figure. He knew she was asleep, or he never would have run his hand across her face like that. He wouldn't have stroked her hair like that. He wouldn't have sighed like that. He wouldn't have whispered that in her ear.
--
Malfoy must've thought she was asleep. Otherwise, he never would've run his hand across her face like that. He never would've stroked her hair, or sighed.
And he would never have whispered, "I'm sorry."
---