"Do you hate me?"
"No. I could never hate you. Shit, I've tried, but it's just not possible. Can't teach an old dog new tricks." He ran a hand through his hair. It was an attempt at gaining what little composure he had left.
"God, Draco you're killing me with this self-sacrificial bullshit. This isn't you. Just say it… Just say anything."
"You want me to lie to you?"
"No, I want you to tell me that I'm a horrible person and you hate me and.. And that you never want to see me ever again."
"I'm not gonna say that."
He grasped her dainty gloved hand, examining the little stone adorned on her ring finger.
"It's too small. If it were me, I would have bought you a diamond the size of your head." He smiled sadly at the attempt at humor.
"Draco stop." She withdrew her hand as if it were exposed to a burning flame.
"Please stop." She swiped at a tear quickly as a young couple passed by.
"You promised me something once Mione. Do you remember that promise?" She didn't answer; instead she searched his gaze.
"Please don't do this." He held a hand in the air as if to silence her.
"Do you remember the promise, godamnit?"
"Draco you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."
"Of course I'm fucking drunk. I just watched the woman I love, marry another man. I sure as hell couldn't have done that sober. In case you don't remember, you promised me that you would always love me. Tell me Miss Gran… pardon me, Mrs. Weasley, are you a woman of your word? Do you still love me?"
Tears jerked from her eyes at the harsh reminder of her marital status. He grabbed her by the elbow, leading her into an alcove within the darkened hallway.
"I'm not going to leave without an answer."
"Does it matter?"
"It'll always matter Mione."
"I'm a married woman, Draco. I love Ron."
The now infuriated blonde slammed his hand on the cold stone.
"Bullshit Mione. I can see it in your fucking eyes. You don't love him."
"Draco stop," she pleaded.
He pinned her shoulders against the stone, searching her brown eyes for a moment longer, as if he were trying to memorize them. Every speck. Every detail.
"If that's what you want Mrs. Weasley. My apologies." His voice cracked with emotion as he released her from his grip, raising his hands in defeat. He dusted imaginary specks of dirt from her dress, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"I don't suppose that it would matter if I told you that I still love you."It wasn't a question.
She couldn't choke back the sobs that managed to escape from her throat. He had said it many times before, but there was something about this particular one that threatened to expose her sham. Her façade. He immediately forgot about his silent commitment to be nothing but cold and distant to her. Instead, he ensnared her in a fierce embrace; resting his chin on her head for a few minutes before pushing her away.
If he didn't leave now, he wouldn't be able to control himself. He would probably end up throwing her over his shoulder and leaving the entire wedding congregation in scandalous whispers. Hermione felt something break within her as she watched the man that she had loved so fiercely walk away; his cloak billowing behind him.
It was so much fun writing this. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a masochist or anything. I just think that love without pain or tribulation is not really love at all. Romance just isn't fun without the trials that come with it.