A/N: Soooo…this is based on the book/movie P.S. I Love You. I depressed myself with this one, so it never made it past a prologue. TW for major character death.
I'll Be Your Forever
Draco Malfoy sat on the loose soil of his wife's fresh grave. He could not, for the life of him, fathom how he'd become a widower at the age of twenty-nine. One moment, she was there, radiant and beautiful and feisty. The next? She was six feet below him as he wept inconsolably. He looked at the headstone before him:
Hermione Granger Malfoy
19 September 1979 - 7 December 2009
Brightest Witch of Her Age and Any Other
There was a moving photo of her etched into the stone, brilliantly smiling at him and tucking a curl behind her ear. He let out a small laugh and touched her face. "My girl…how could you leave me like this? How am I supposed to navigate the world without you telling me how to?" he whispered, his voice catching and his throat thick with emotion.
The others had left him alone in the graveyard to grieve in the biting, driven snow. Her funeral had been huge, crowded with admirers, just as he expected. Potter had spoken her eulogy—Draco had excused himself and wept in the bathroom. As he sat in the frosty hallowed place, he knew he could easily place a warming charm over himself, but he felt it fitting that he should have a damp, bone rattling cold overtaking him. He felt as though there would never be warmth again—his fiery witch was gone, the only light he'd known extinguished.
Draco never expected, when Hermione took the assignment to work alongside the Aurors, that it would cost her life. She had reassured him repeatedly that there was absolutely nothing to worry about—she'd be in and out before the werewolf pack knew she was there. Something went wrong—Potter couldn't tell him exactly what. She'd been mauled. The undertaker had suggested a closed casket.
It was twilight when Draco finally managed to pry himself off the ground. He touched the headstone, smiling at her visage as a new wave of hot tears splashed over his cheeks. "I'll be your always, if you'll be my forever, Granger."
With that, he ambled toward their flat in London. He couldn't feel much of anything except a sharp, debilitating pain in his chest where he'd left his heart at her grave. Hermione had insisted they move into Muggle London and as he navigated the streets, he felt the desire to burn the entire city to the ground. Every store front, every street lamp, every doorway—all were decorated with early Christmas decorations. It brought back too many memories of their first Christmas together, of kisses in the snow and cuddling in front of the fire.
Draco tucked his face down into the collar of his coat, his hands tucked deep into his pockets. He kept his eyes trained on the ground, trying anything to keep the twinkling lights out of his line of sight until he was inside and could properly cry once more. He knew what awaited him in their flat and just the thought of it made him want to scream into the dark night.
He managed to make it home, though he honestly couldn't remember taking all of the right turns, and he stood outside of his door for a long while. His mother had offered for him to stay at the Manor, and the Potters had offered their couch to him. But Draco was stubborn and had turned down all offers. As he stood, staring at the sleekly grey painted door, he wished he had taken the others up on their hospitality. He dropped his forehead against the door and took a deep breath. After a few moments, he let out a loud groan of agitation and slammed his fist against the door. "Hermione, goddammit. How am I supposed to do this?"
He turned around, with every intention of going back out into the city. No. I will not do this. She would not want me moping about London. She would go back into the home if this were reversed. And with that, Draco marched back to the door of his flat and unlocked it with purpose. He stepped within and flipped the switch, turning the lights on.
In the corner stood the last thing Draco wanted to see in this world—a perfectly decorated Christmas tree. It was in that moment, as he recounted the moment they'd decorated it, that he knew there was no way he was going to be strong enough to continue living without his girl. He leaned back against the door and slid all the way to the floor, not bothering to put up a silencing charm before his sobs rang through the empty flat.
