When It All Falls Apart
A/N: This probably sucks, seeing as how it's my first fic under this category. Constructive criticism is much appreciated, as long as they aren't flames. Slightly not compatible with the sixth book. I'm sort of making the ending a little weird, I think. I'm not sure.
It's been a while since I've read the sixth book, so bear with me. I lent the book to my cousin and she still hasn't returned it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
He watched her leave the castle with half-closed eyes as he leant against the tree that was well hidden in the shadows. His heart swelled with love for her as he watched her smile with her two best friends.
He wasn't even supposed to be here. He was supposed to be far away in hiding with the others, biding their time. He had somehow managed to slip away from them. For the time being.
Just to see her.
She suddenly stops dead, and he knew at once that she felt his eyes on her. Just like she always had. It was just like all those times in the corridors whenever they didn't have a class together.
But that had been a couple of months ago. Right after Gryffindor's victory in the opening season's match.
He was in the Astronomy Tower again, doing the three things he did best: brood, think and glare. But this time, there was a lit stick in between his index and middle fingers.
He brooded for the heck of it. He thought of the plan and how he was to accomplish it. He glared at the stars for shining brightly tonight. They were the only things that were dampening his mood little by little.
He took another wisp of the cigarette. He had discovered its uses just a few months before in the summer before the Dark Lord told him of his mission. With a threat, that if he didn't succeed, everyone he loved would be killed. His heart skipped a beat. He hadn't wanted anything to happen to her mother, a lady with as much grace as the next rich, snooty lady, but who still loved him.
He smiled at the thought of his mother. Oh, how was she doing right now? Was she spending another night alone? Or was she with his Aunt Bellatrix?
His mother, although not always around what with her husband sending her off on exotic vacations for months at a time, was always a dignified woman who wanted nothing more than a family to love and to watch grow. He remembered when he was six, his mother asked him if he wanted any brothers or sisters. He had eagerly said yes, considering the fact that he felt alone in the house without a sibling to talk to. His father had walked in, loomed over them, and gave Narcissa a look that clearly said that they won't be having any more kids. They had never spoken of it again.
He jerked slightly and his ears twitched. He heard something. Damn, he wasn't supposed to be out after hours again. If a teacher or Filch caught him again, his Prefect badge would be revoked. And the damn cig... There wasn't enough time to get rid of the smell, and he had been incredibly careless to leave his wand in his room.
The door slammed open, followed by a sniff and then the squeak of shoes that signaled the person had stopped, frozen in his or her tracks.
He realized he was frozen too.
With eyebrows furrowed, he stared back at Hermione Granger's puffy cheeks and red eyes, wondering what on earth could have made her cry this much.
"I'll see you guys inside. I just need a little bit more of fresh air, if you don't mind," she said.
"Alright. Get back inside quick though, okay? Something could happen to you," the golden boy said worriedly, his face marred with lines of weariness.
"Yeah. Just send up red sparks if anything happens," the redhead said, his face also etched with lines of fatigue. The attack on the eldest Weasley had shaken all of them up. They were all lucky that he had at least lived.
"I'll be fine, you two. Now go in, Ginny's waiting for the both of you," she said, giving them nudges in the back.
They finally went back inside. She sighed and suddenly her face showed every bit of tiredness she felt. Duelling with Death Eaters, to only find a few hours later that Dumbledore had died. And at the hands of one of the teachers.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked him wearily, moving slowly towards the lake before plopping herself down pathetically onto the ground. She brought her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
He didn't move for a while, mesmerized by the movement of her hair with the wind. It was still a bushy mess. It didn't seem like she could ever tame that mess. But he loved the mess. It was his mess. He thought it was cute. And cute was not in Draco Malfoy's dictionary.
"Malfoy," she gasped.
"Granger," he said lazily, raising an eyebrow at her. After a few minutes passed with silent staring, he turned back around to stare out of the Astronomy Tower window.
He started muttering under his breath when he glanced over his shoulder and realised she was still there, her mouth slightly open in shock, still standing at the doorway.
"If you wanna come in, then please do so. If you don't, then please kindly leave. If you hadn't noticed, I want to be alone right now," he said, fumbling in his pocket. He took out another cigarette stick and lit it up, taking a long drag and blowing out the smoke, ignoring her second gasp of shock.
"But cigarettes are a Muggle thing. And you hate Muggles," she said.
"Close the damn door, will you, Granger?"
She huffed, entered and closed it. It seemed as though she had been crying less than a minute ago.
"Still here then?" he said without turning around.
"I have to turn you in, Malfoy."
"You make it sound like I've done a heinous crime," he remarked, raising an eyebrow at her. "I mean, look at yourself. Out after hours, and I know for a fact it's not your time to patrol tonight."
She glared at him and crossed her arms over her chest.
It was silent for a long time until, "So, tell me, Granger, why're you crying like a blubbering fool?"
This brought back the tears to her eyes instantly.
"Aren't you supposed to be long gone by now?" she continued.
He felt a tug at his heartstrings. He had missed her the last few days while he had been at the Death Eaters' base. Hadn't she missed him, too? But then again, why would she want to see him again, anyway?
"I guess that's how you feel then?" he finally said.
He heard her sigh sadly. Her shoulders hunched over, her hair falling messily over them. Tentatively, he moved into the dim light. It was nearing sunset. Their special moment for a special first kiss.
"I don't know what to feel anymore," she answered.
The wind blew at his hair and albeit it was close to summer, the wind bit at his cold and pale cheeks. He stood silently behind her, contemplating what to do next. He desperately wanted to hug her, and tell her that everything would be alright.
But how could he when he didn't even believe it himself?
He awkwardly patted her shoulder. She had broken down and eventually told him everything that happened after they had won the match. How he found her own roommate in the arms of her best friend, someone she knew she was developing feelings for, for a long time now.
They were leaning against the wall of the Tower right under the window ledge. Draco had long since shed his robe to give it to the shivering, crying girl. He was slightly cold, wearing only his white oxford shirt and grey pants, but he had become accustomed to it. Have been accustomed to it since a very young age.
They were silent, only broken by the sounds of her sniffling. There were no more tears left. And Draco wished that his problems were just as simple as matters of the heart. Not that matters of the heart were ever simple, but it was simple enough compared to what he was asked to do.
"Thank you, Malfoy," she said quietly, hugging the robe closer to herself, revelling in the warmth it emitted. Unconsciously, she moved closer to him, not noticing his look of discomfort.
"Your welcome," he said nervously, swallowing a lump that had formed in his throat. He had offered her comfort in a weird way. Not with words, but with actions. He had hugged her softly when she had started crying. It was just like what he did with his mother especially after his father was sent to Azkaban. As cold as Lucius was, he still loved his family. Albeit he was a bit mean to Draco, he still loved his only son.
She laughed nervously. "You know, if you acted like this to the rest of the school, they wouldn't hate you as much."
"What're you talking about?"
"This soft, kind, weird you," she said softly. She sighed. He was in denial. She stood up softly, undraping the cloak from her and folded it over her arm. "I'll have this laundered. Dry-cleaned, whatever. I'm sure you wouldn't want your perfect robes soiled by a Mudblood's touch." There was bitterness in her voice.
He almost flinched.
"R-right," he stuttered. Silently, in his mind, he said, Keep it. It's yours. But it wasn't because it had been – as she put it – "soiled" by her touch, it was because of something he wasn't quite sure of, but he knew it was, for once, a positive feeling towards her for once.
And as if she knew what he was thinking, she hugged the cloak closer to her chest. "Goodnight, Draco," she said softly and left, closing the door behind her with a soft 'click'.
He'd have to owl his Mum tomorrow for a new cloak.
He heard a sob and he panicked slightly. What was he supposed to do when started crying? Just like she did when she found out what he was doing. Like she did when Draco desperately begged her not to tell anyone. She had broken up with him that night, ending their nightly rendezvous, ending their nights of sweet nothings and whispers, ending their daily letter writing to each other.
"I don't know what to do anymore, Draco," she said in a small voice, her body shaking with sobs that she had kept in herself for far too long. "I don't even know what to think about anymore."
His chest constricted in pain, watching her break down again. The whisper of 'I love you' wanted to leave his lips, but it wouldn't happen. He wanted to comfort her with those three words that he had been too much of a coward to tell her when they had been together. But now he feared he was too late.
And their relationship had only ended a month prior to Dumbledore's death.
And he had been lucky that she hadn't told anyone of what he was doing.
And he could never ignore the looks of hurt and betrayal that were sent his way.
And he knew she could never ignore the look of hurt on his face whenever she started hanging around the youngest male Weasley once more.
He made a move towards her, and she must have sensed it because he saw that she twitched slightly. He took another step, and when she didn't move away, he dropped down to his knees just a step behind her, and wrapped her arms around her from behind, hugging her to him, needing to feel her one more time before he disappeared from her life.
"I love you, Hermione Granger," he whispered in her ear, feeling his eyes sting with tears, mixed with the pain of having to leave her and the pain on his branded forearm. Initiated with the ugly mark of a psychopath who had killed his mother only a few days before.
He turned her face so that it was looking at him. Her brown eyes were filled so much sorrow that his heart broke all over again. Tears cascaded down her pale cheeks, her cheeks red from crying. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, before giving her lips one last kiss.
It was clear that he was saying goodbye.
And then, he was gone, not hearing the six words that would have changed his world.
"I love you, too, Draco Malfoy."
And when the war commenced a few months later, it was then that they knew that everything had fallen apart, starting with a romance that they knew would only end up in hurt and pain.
End.
A/N: So how was it? Review, please.