Title: Daisy
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance/Angst
Summary: One-shot. When I die… Would you place daisies on my grave? DHr.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
A/N: First off, thank you for the lovely reviews for "You"! You guys are great! Since many of you asked for a sequel, I decided to write one. "Daisy" is written in Draco's POV, and it is a companion piece to "You." It contains Draco's thoughts, and contains some of the things mentioned in "You," though I don't think that you necessarily have to read "You" to understand "Daisy." Right. Now, without further ado, onto the story!
OOO
I want to forgive you.
Sorry, it says. How long has it been since he's last heard or seen those words? It's been too long since he's acknowledged anything. Not since that year. Not since she's left him alone.
How are you, love?
He smiles slightly, rereading the letter for the thousandth time. He wants to forgive her, wants it so much, but for some reason he can't. He doesn't like to admit it, but she hurt him. Hurt him to the point that he could not believe how much he had fallen for her.
I miss you, sometimes. Just sometimes.
He remembers one year of his life very clearly. He was sixteen, and he met a girl. No… he knew a girl. She was a girl with brown, curly hair and a bright smile. She was a special girl, though at first he didn't want to admit it. He felt her approach him, and he whipped around; and even while threatening to hex her, he remembers noticing that she had a unique beauty to her. And that was all.
I cried that night.
He smiles at the thought that even after seven years, he still remembers everything about her. He remembers the way she would tilt her head when she was in thought; the way she bit her lip when she was worried. He remembers the way lips would upturn and the delicate sounds of her laughter would fill the room; the way her smile held so much happiness, felt so real. He remembers how her eyes would brighten when she saw her friends across the hall; the way he wished she'd be that happy to see him.
I understand, he wants to say. It's okay now. It's all okay.
When I die…
The daisy was her favorite flower. White daisies. He remembers her saying that they are pure, and they stand for loyalty. Ironic, he thinks. Is that why she betrayed him? Because they stood for loyalty? Is that why she lied to him? Because they were pure?
But he's a hypocrite himself: He smiles whenever he sees daisies in floral shops. He doesn't think they're very pretty, but they bring back memories of her—and she's beautiful. That's enough for him.
Would you place daisies on my grave?
She says she loves him still. If it means anything, I still love you. I always will. He wishes she can prove that to him. He wishes that things between them could have just worked out; that he could have just had one moment of luck for that one thing in his life. He wishes that they didn't know, didn't accept, that they were meant to break, that they weren't meant to be; but more than anything… He wishes he can forget her. He wishes he can stop loving her.
He throws the letter into the glowing fire, and her image fades—
A girl with brown, curly hair and a bright smile.
I'm sorry, as well. I'm just as sorry as you are.