Summary: Draco and Hermione fell in love after the war and got married. This is years later, when Hermione has suddenly passed from old age. Draco is heartbroken and nothing is helping him — not even his children.
Rating: T
She was gone.
Gone. Just like that. Easy as that. He hadn't even gotten a chance to say goodbye, thanks to his damn business trip.
After sixty-five years together, three kids, and seven grandchildren, she just upped and left.
Draco Malfoy had used to believe that there had been some sort of heavenly being above, watching over him and his wife. But now he knew that there wasn't. Because if there was, it wouldn't have let her die.
"It's not your fault," she whispered over his shoulder.
"Go away!" Draco screamed. "You're dead! You left me!" When he didn't hear her soft, gentle voice in his ear, he turned around slowly, expecting the worst. She was gone.
"Come back," he called out. "I didn't mean it. Come back!" His life had become a hellhole ever since she had left. His children had tried to come and see him with his grandkids, but he frightens the little ones now. They think that he is crazy.
Draco ripped the cross necklace off his neck, the one she had given to him for his fortieth birthday. He had worn it every day since. Beads flew everywhere.
"No. No, no, no!" he cried out, trying to gather the beads together. Tears poured out of his eyes, but they got caught behind his glasses, his vision becoming blurred. He ripped those off too and continued his search.
Draco still had arguments about his liability in her death with his children years later. He knew that, deep down, it wasn't his fault. Yet he still blamed himself. He had damned himself to a life of living hell the moment he had found out she was dead.
"Dad, you know that it's not your fault, right?" his eldest son questioned. It was Christmas Eve and all of the family was gathered at the Malfoy Manor.
"Really?" Draco asked his son, coming so close to him that his nose touched his son's forehead. "I knew she was sick, yet I still left. I still went on the damn business trip! I thought that she would get better because she always gets better! But she didn't!" Draco was crying by the end, his pretense broken down. But he didn't care. Life wasn't worth caring about without her.
Sometimes, when his children managed to scrape together enough time to visit him, he didn't remember who they were.
Draco was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, staring at a picture of her. It's the only one that doesn't move; it's his favorite. She had changed him.
"Dad, are you okay?" His only daughter came up behind him, placing a hand between his shoulder blades. Draco whipped around.
"Who are you?" Draco shouted at her. His daughter's cool facade visibly shook a little, but her posture regained its height and she challenged him with a calm guise. He knew she was troubled by his haunted thoughts and agitated mind, but she tried to remain serene in front of him. "Where am I?"
"You're in the Malfoy Manor, daddy. You live here."
"No, that isn't right. This is where my aunt tortured her," Draco said. His eyes widened. "Is she still alive? Is my damn aunt still alive when my Hermione isn't?" The happiness in his daughter's eyes evaporated and was immediately replaced with concern.
"No, daddy," his daughter smiled sadly. "Mama killed Bellatrix." She took her hand off his shoulder and brushed her wavy brown hair out of her eyes. He shivered as she withdrew her hand. It had felt comforting for a moment, almost as if his Hermione had been back. But as he faced the cruel overlook of reality, he knew she would never be back.
She would never be back.
Never.
She was gone.
A/N I know Hermione didn't actually kill Bellatrix, please just go with it! I thought that it would make the story
better. I love this story; it happens to be one of my favorites so far.
