A/N: A Oneshot developed from Dramione Drabble 2 and 6 :) Considering this was Dramione, I had so much trouble overcoming writer's block when I was doing this. I don't know why... probably because I'm simultaneously working on about three Dramione fics at the moment so the creative juices weren't flowing as well as usual. I hope it doesn't show in my writing, and I hope you enjoy it.

Inspired by Last Kiss by Taylor Swift (don't own that either). I thought it fit nicely with the plot and pairing, but give it a listen sometime - it's such a sad but beautiful song!

Word count: 3,218

Genre: Romance/Angst

Written for: QLFC rnd 9 (Harpies, Beater 2) [Draco holding something back (Hermione in my fic's case); possible; "People wait around too long for love. I'm happy with all of my lusts" – C JoyBell C]; Secret Battle comp rnd 3 [Character inclined to the light, romance genre, hope, love, stars, happiness, sugar, sweet, light, lust, life]; HP Chapter comp [Draco's Detour - Draco - wandering]; Birthday comp [February - Zodiac - indecisive]; Hunger Games comp [Alma Coin - someone making bad decisions]

Holding On; Letting Go

Hope it's nice where you are…

I hope the sun shines, and it's a beautiful day,

Something reminds you, you wish you had stayed.

You can plan for a change in weather and time,

But I never planned on you changing your mind…

- Last Kiss, Taylor Swift

XXX

Draco's grey eyes were cast on the raindrops running down the windowpane, but they were vacant and unseeing. The winter sun was only just rising so the stars were still faintly visible in the bleak sky. He had not long woken, and flashes of his most recent dream were swirling through his mind as his brain started to wake up and adjust to the new day.

It'd been one of those incredibly vivid dreams that left him momentarily confused and disorientated when he woke up. He'd been so convinced that what played out in his subconscious thoughts had been real, and now he was in a bad mood. Already. He glanced at his pocket watch: six a.m. – must be a new record.

He often woke up 'on the wrong side of the bed', as the Muggle expression went; but Draco knew it was his own fault. He could never sleep at night for fear that he'd end up dreaming of Hermione, whom he'd broken up with a few months ago. But at the same time being awake seemed like a curse, as well. Now that Hermione no longer lived at the Manor with him, everything he'd once considered a haven – a sanctuary – now seemed to mock him with an omnipresent feeling of emptiness. She wasn't cuddled up on the sofa with him watching those faint stars that Draco now looked at like she had been in his dream. She wasn't in the Manor, or indeed the country, at all.

He really loved her, and he'd let her go for that same reason. To make matters worse: he didn't realise this was his true reasoning until she'd already walked away… until it was too late.

Draco scoffed at the painful irony of it all and brought his cup of coffee to his lips. Given that he'd been running on three hours sleep every night for so many weeks he practically lived off the stuff. He grimaced when the liquid hit his tongue. He never took any sugar in it but the bitter taste never seemed quite as strong as it did now than when Hermione was around. Draco would even go as far as to say it tasted sweet usually, but not anymore. In some ways the bitterness he tasted was rather aptly referenced his current emotional state.

He just held the coffee in his mouth as his mind continued to wander. Even though thinking of Hermione ate him up inside, he couldn't block her from his thoughts altogether. With each passing day the memories seemed more detached, like Draco was the viewer instead of an active role: like they weren't his memories. In some ways that made him feel better, but in others, he just knew it was because he was slowly forgetting her.

And that meant she was forgetting him too.

It took a lot of effort for Draco to swallow the coffee after that thought crossed his mind. He knew it was pathetic to be still hurting, but he couldn't help it. After all, the reason for the split had nothing to do with either of them falling out of love. On the contrary, when it happened they'd been inexplicably in love, and Draco had to let Hermione go in order to protect that.

He slammed the mug onto the table in front of him and sharply rose from the sofa before absently walking towards the library, which was (unsurprisingly) Hermione's favourite room in the house. In fact, Draco half-expected to find her curled up in that old leather armchair she'd persuaded him not to throw out because it was the only thing in the house that she found remotely made for comfort-over-style. She'd have a book in her hands when he entered the room, and he'd be greeted by her smile. Draco did indeed come face to face with the armchair... but it was empty.

He was hit with a sense of déja-vu as his stomach knotted up at the sight of the empty chair; it took him back to the day when he finally faced the music three months ago. He'd experienced the same thing then: walked into the library expecting to seeHermione curled up in that old leather armchair reading (or rather, re-reading) a book from the dusty shelves. He hoped that she'd look up and smile with that twinkle in her eye that he loved so much when she heard his footsteps, but the reality of the situation had been vastly different:

There was no twinkle of light in her eyes that day; no smile on her face and nor did she even look at him. Her expression was dull and clouded as she stared vacantly out of the window into the sunny gardens. Draco's stomach knotted up in the same way it'd done just now at the sight.

Anyone could easily assume that Hermione's detached presence was down to her being lost in her own thoughts, but by then Draco knew that this was just a fall-back excuse to rely on when he'd rather not face the ugly truth of the fact that it was all his doing. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye anymore whether either of them wanted to admit it aloud or not. They were both stubborn, so Draco knew the latter scenario was unlikely, but in some ways he needed her to say something. That way, there'd be no delaying the inevitable, and he'd have the incentive to grow a pair and let her go.

He knew that was what she wanted, because whilst she was still with him she couldn't live her dream. He'd been holding her back. He was the reason she shut herself in this room every day and the reason she'd gone into herself like that. Draco shouldn't have been all that surprised, really. After all, what he'd done was the equivalent to clipping a bird's wings. He'd prevented Hermione from being fully flighted and from exploring the world; if he kept her caged up with him, she'd only start to resent him.

Kingsley, the Minister of Magic, had offered Hermione a job working abroad for a year. She'd be stationed in wizarding Africa helping poverty-stricken families by introducing house-elves into the communities, and building shelters and water facilities. Her eyes practically lit up at the news, which didn't come as much of a surprise to Draco, who knew that as much as she loved her job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she always dreamed of making more of an impact on the world. And that was her chance.

Of course Draco's stomach dropped at the mention of 'a year', and dropped further still when he realised there was no way he could go with her, having own work commitments of his own. It was the age-old choice: career, or love. Where Hermione Granger was concerned, that seemed like a waste of a question; of course she'd take the job. But instead, she left the final decision to Draco, which shocked him greatly.

Despite the fact that Draco had a reputation of being selfish and spoiled, the decision wasn't as easy to make as he'd anticipated. Of course his natural impulse had been to ask her to stay, and the fact that Hermione had been undecided made him believe that on some level, she wanted him to ask her to stay, too. It suggested that she loved him, and that wasn't something Draco had been willing to sacrifice easily.

After the war, he spiralled into a really low place, and for quite a while he didn't allow himself to interact with that many people, knowing that he'd just end up hurting someone like he always did. He thought he was either unworthy or incapable of love, which suited him just fine. Of course he'd have liked a wife and a proper family, but Draco could just never envision himself in such a traditional and perfect mental picture when his past was so tainted with darkness.

That was, until Hermione stumbled (quite literally) back into his life. Merlin knew that they'd had no problem exposing their less favourable qualities to one another in the past, and that certainly didn't change once they became a couple. They continued to argue even when they were together, but that's just what they did. And Draco realised that falling in love wasn't always so textbook and perfect as everyone made it out to be; that the 'light bulb moment' didn't always come at cliché times like after a first kiss. In fact, Draco had first noticed his feelings for Hermione during the middle of an argument. She always got so wound up about the tiniest things, but that meant she was passionate, and Draco was quite attracted to that quality.

Their whole relationship had been imperfect and unconventional, and that's exactly what Draco needed to have confidence that even the most damaged people could find happiness. Though he didn't realise it at the time, he'd been learning to truly love her, and it was ultimately this that led him to telling Hermione to stay. He couldn't go back to being the empty, lonely person he was before after experiencing real love. He'd even go as far as to admit that he'd been afraid of going back to such a dark place (though never out loud).

Of course Draco felt guilty for essentially taking Hermione's dreams away, but that was the one time in his life where he thought he was truly entitled to be selfish. Hermione seemed perfectly content with his decision when he told her, but in the months leading up to the day they split, it was obvious that she'd realised she wanted the job instead.

As Draco stood looking at her subdued countenance all those months ago, he couldn't help but wonder how he'd never seen it before; the signs were so obvious. Perhaps it was just because he'd chosen not to see how unhappy Hermione was becoming, and how that fire he hated to love had been dwindling by the day. If he'd taken a picture of her since he asked her to stay, anyone (Muggles included) would have been able to see how the smile faded eventually.

The day he'd walked into the library three months ago was the day Draco had finally noticed. He knew if he didn't resolve the situation quickly then he'd end up losing her for good; she'd grow to resent him for being so selfish, and he couldn't let that happen, so he told her she should take the job, that he knew he was the thing holding her back whether she cared to admit it or not.

Draco had given her up so she could be happy; he did have good in him. Somewhere. He could only hope that his act of selflessness hadn't been too late, and that Hermione would still love him when she returned nine months from now. He swore he'd wait for her so he could find out the answer to that question, but –

"Drakey?"

His whole body tensed as the unfamiliar voice echoed throughout the Manor from the floor above. He darted out of the library as soon as he heard footsteps; there was no way he was having her – whatever her name was – coming in here, where Hermione's presence still seemed so tangible.

When he left the library, his eyes immediately fell on a blonde woman. Draco didn't even attempt to cover up his disgusted expression; everything about her was wrong. Her hair was too full of product, as was her face, and her skin. There was nothing natural about her at all… She was nothing like Hermione, and that sickened him.

It did cross Draco's mind that he may have selected this woman to bring home the previous night for precisely that reason: she was nothing like Hermione, so he had no reason to think about her. Except all he did was think about her, just like he had with the woman the night before, and the night before that…

Ever since Draco lost the very thing he'd been inadvertently craving for so many years, the loneliness he felt after Hermione left was almost twice as painful to cope with as it had been before they ever became a couple. Because before Hermione, Draco didn't know what he'd been missing out on. He dealt with it in the only way he knew how, and reverted back to his old playboy ways. He often sought comfort in random women, rarely bothering to learn their names, and always regretted it come morning.

In his late teens and early twenties, Draco had fully embraced the bachelor lifestyle, conceding that he of all people would have a longer wait for love than most others. He'd been happy with all of his lusts then, but not anymore. Even though he was still in a position where he was waiting for love, this didn't feel right, because his heart wasn't in it. His heart was with Hermione in Africa, and he hoped with every fibre of his being that she had left hers with him.

Despite the fact that they weren't together anymore, Draco always felt like he was cheating on Hermione with these random girls, but she hadn't asked him to wait for her; that had been his own decision. Maybe there was just some part of him that held futile optimism that it was possible for her to return earlier than planned so she could hold him in her arms again. But deep down he knew that Hermione Granger rarely ever changed her mind once it was made up. Hell, maybe Draco was continuously 'cheating' because he didn't plan on her changing her mind either…

At least that meant they were finally on the same page.

"Were you trying to hide from me?"

Draco was pulled from his thoughts again by the blonde. She cooed at him in a sickeningly flirty voice – honestly, was there anything not fake about this woman? – and wagged a finger at him in mock-disappointment.

"Yes," Draco said coldly. It was a lie; he'd just been aimlessly wandering around the Manor, but he hoped that insulting this woman would coax her to leave.

"Aww," the blonde witch pouted. She wrapped her arms around Draco's neck, and he wrinkled up his nose as her strong perfume attacked his nostrils. The smell was nothing like Hermione's natural floral scent; a scent that this walking cosmetic advert had probably permanently erased from his bed sheets.

"Have I done something wrong?" Orange – Draco had decided to call her that now since she both stank of and had the same skin colour as an orange – cooed again in her sickly sweet voice. (Draco almost wished for his bitter coffee now.)

"Yes," Draco repeated in the same icy tone.

Orange seemed to take this as a suggestive invitation, which just angered Draco more. She just ran her orange fingers through his hair and whispered into his ear: "Well, I'd better make it up to you."

That's when he snapped, and pushed her away. "Merlin, woman, have some self-respect."

She seemed bemused by his comment. "Are you kidding me? Since when did Draco Malfoy get a conscience?"

"Since today apparently," Draco drawled, arching an eyebrow and piercing her with cold eyes.

Orange scoffed and folded her arms. "Is there any need to be so rude to a lady?"

"You might want to look in a mirror before you call yourself that," he replied in a monotone voice.

Orange bristled, and powder poofed out of her nostrils like a bull when she flared them. Draco would have laughed if he weren't in such a bad mood.

"How dare you, you bloody –"

"Save it," Draco said. "I've heard all the insults before."

"Malfoy!" Orange screeched angrily as he turned his back on her.

"Just get out," he sighed. "And don't bother coming back."

He heard Orange huff and stomp back up the stairs in her six-inch heels, all the while cursing under her breath. He didn't give her a second thought, and slunk back into the library and over to the old armchair. He gnawed his cheek in deliberation for a while before finally deciding to curl up in it so his left cheek was pressed against the worn leather. He inhaled deeply, where subtle hints of Hermione floated into his senses and soothed his tense body and hazy thoughts.

Only when he heard the door slam, and the deafening silence rang around the room did he finally let a tear escape. He didn't want the life full of the Oranges of the world anymore, but he was a weak person, and weak people did things like that for their own selfish needs when they couldn't cope with being alone.

Draco wiped angrily at his eyes and silently berated himself then. He wasn't weak. In fact he considered himself – especially as a Malfoy – as being incredibly strong for not continuing to hold Hermione back, and letting her go. That was possibly the most selfless thing he'd ever done in his life, and the only reason he'd been reluctant to begin with was because he felt like he'd already experienced enough loneliness to last a lifetime. By no means did Draco consider himself a good person now, but he was definitely inclined to be, when it mattered.

Hermione most certainly did matter do him; it was just a shame it wasn't possible to tell if she hated him, or if she genuinely understood why he held onto her in the first place. She must know; she left him with the casting vote, after all.

As her scent continued to permeate the air, Draco felt his agitation and stress ease, and his eyelids grew heavy. He mumbled vacantly to himself as he let his eyes fall shut, his mind creating mental images of Hermione being there with him to accompany the smell.

"I love you…"

And then, somewhere in the back of his mind, he managed to conjure up her voice whispering back, "I love you too."

After that, Draco fell into a rare peaceful sleep in the armchair, unaware that the voice had been real.

Hermione stood in front of the fireplace watching him from the foyer. She'd been given a fortnight off for the holidays and had immediately flooed to the Manor without thinking. There were so many things she regretted and wished she could change about how she'd handled the whole situation. A mere two weeks in Africa had enlightened her, and she realised exactly how difficult the decision must have been for Draco to make in the first place, let alone him changing it for her sake later on. She'd been selfish too by not being more compassionate, but at the time the job seemed like the best thing in the world, so she did consider Draco a roadblock. But she knew much better now. She knew he loved her, and she loved him just as much.

There were so many things she wanted to say, but she didn't want to disturb him.

When Draco woke up several hours later, Hermione and a cup of black, sugarless coffee greeted him…

He'd never tasted anything sweeter.

A/N: Thanks for reading! :)