I Don't Know You
Without You
Over the next few weeks Draco was struck with such a deep intensity of devastation that he found it nearly impossible to function in normal life. Every day passed, but he wasn't aware of it. He felt unconnected to the life around him, feeling as if he was a part of his own world. Everyone and everything zoomed by without a care in the world.
Draco remembered being a part of that once, but strangely, he didn't want to return to it. Not ever. So what if he wasn't connected? It was nice to feel real- To know that you exist. A person who never endures any suffering can't quite comprehend how life works. He understood that now.
But feeling real came at a heavy price. Was it worth it to never be happy? It is possible to be happy and to…exist?
Yes. Look at Potter. He's done it.
A rage pooled deep within Draco at the thought of Harry Potter. The-so-called-boy-who-lived. How did he figure it out? Is there a way to live with suffering?
Harry was probably laughing and talking with Hermione right this second. And then, Draco understood why he had hated 'The Chosen One' for all these years. It was so incredibly obvious! I'm jealous of him! It did explain the meaning of the dreams to an extent.
Harry was always the center of attention with his close little group of friends that supported him through anything. Draco could never have that. He had screwed up any chance of that long ago.
The only person who had ever understood him, or even really tried, was Hermione.
After a many weeks of trying to figure out a way to live in both worlds, Draco gave up. No way I'm going to ask Potter. I won't stoop to that level. He didn't really need happiness anyway.
The rest of the world didn't matter anymore. He no longer noticed them, just willing the days to go by until he could forget about Hermione. But something told him that it would be a long time- Perhaps never.
His grades were dropping at unbelievable speed, and his friends were beginning to slip away as well.
Oh well. Didn't like 'em anyway.
Everyone was noticing the bags forming under his eyes. His skin seemed to have lost what little color it had to begin with. He moved slower, his head bowed. He was no longer Slytherin king, that title long passed to his former friend, Blaise Zambini.
Draco's life had flipped around. No one talked to him. He sat alone on the grounds at lunch. But he convinced himself that was not a problem. He was doing what was best for Hermione.
People say that it is one thing to love someone enough to be with them, but quite another to love someone enough to be without them. Draco had thought about this statement many times. It kept him going a little while longer.
Every time he caught a glimpse of Hermione was like a gift from above. He lived for those stolen moments that they were not supposed to have.
Sometimes she returned his longing gaze, and they shared a connection, but it was always quickly broken when Harry or Ron called her to go to class. They seemed to not have noticed a change in Hermione. They acted the same as usual. She was good at hiding it, much better than Draco was.
Or maybe she hasn't changed. Maybe she's already forgotten me.
The thought alone was enough to make Draco want to throw something or scream. But he couldn't avoid the fact that this was probably true.
After a month of this dreary life of feeling real, he began to grow more and more sure of this. It helped him to resent something, blame was his only vent. His anger built steadily until he loathed everything about her and her pathetic life. Those stolen moments he once lived for no longer existed as time went on with no contact with the outside world he had abandoned.
Her toothy smile, bushy hair, and that annoying teacher's pet attitude, the way she shoots her hand up in the air at every fucking question…
On a Thursday night, towards the end of winter, Draco returned to the common room, not at all surprised to find her already in her room, asleep. They had taken to the habit of avoiding each other whenever possible.
He was about to head for his room, when he noticed something: A slip of paper on the coffee table. He reached for it.
D,
Meet me outside on the courtyard bench at 4:00am.
H.
Draco glanced at his watch. 11:00pm now. There was no question who 'H' was. But what could she possibly want to talk to him about now? They had both agreed that they were not meant to be, and had left it at that.
All the emotions he had kept buried for weeks came rushing back. There was no pretending. His feelings for Hermione had not evaporated. They had only grown stronger over time. Draco knew deep down that he had been waiting for a sign like this, almost desperately. But now that it was here, sitting innocently on the coffee table, he wasn't sure what to think…
He then returned to his bedroom, exhausted, and collapsed on his gorgeous green and silver canope bed. It was better not to dwell on it. He threw off his robes and they landed on the floor, where they always landed. He leaned over and set the timer for 3:45am, and fell asleep, still in his school clothes.
Four hours later, he awoke again. Jumping out of the bed, he frantically grabbed the silk black robes from the floor and squeezed them on over his clothing. He hurried out to the hallway that led to the courtyard, planning what he was going to say.
He opened the doors to meet a swift breeze of air, chilling him. It wasn't even light out yet. He could see that a dark figure was already seated on the bench, waiting for him.
Draco hurried out to the bench and sat down.
"Hermione," he whispered, everything he had carefully planned to say slipping out of his mind.
"I'd wondered if you might have gotten it mixed up. But then again, if you had known who you were really meeting, you probably wouldn't have come," Draco was stunned to hear a male answer.
"You?"
"Yes, Malfoy, your arch nemesis," said a sarcastic voice.
The boy sitting opposite him rotated his body to face Draco, and immediately he realized his mistake.
It was Harry Potter.