It's been seven months since I've completed my story. Almost another year! It's amazing how different my life is, but I'm sure none of you are interested in that. You're all wondering (or not) what this right here is.
I never expected for my little story to be so well received and for it to have touched so many people. I've read all of your reviews and teared up at all of your responses to what I honestly didn't even think was that good! I can't thank you enough for taking your time to listen to this story of mine.
Except, well, I can.
So many of you asked me for just one more chapter-an epilogue of sorts. And at first I was opposed to the idea of that, because epilogues are cliché and annoying and unrealistic. The POINT of my ending all those months ago, was that it was supposed to be realistic. Reasonable.
And then I ran into my ex, two years after our breakup. I told myself so many times that I was never going to be able to see him again, and when I did despite everything it was…well, a miracle. And also an epilogue of sorts, because our ending was so unresolved that even though it was a REASONABLE ending to our "story"…even though it was life, it was still so godamn unfair.
Which I image is sort of how this story ends-unfairly, I mean. So, here's an "epilogue", although I hate calling it that. It's an addition…a possible afterthought. It's equally realistic and equally bittersweet, and I think you'll all like it. Love it, maybe?
HOWEVER. DON'T READ THIS IF YOU'RE SATISFIED WITH THE ENDING.
I've gotten into a fanfic before and had it ruined by an epilogue. You can't unread things. So, I'm serious. Don't read this if you're going to be mean to me about not "liking it".
Finally, because I know if you actually read all of this (hahahah) you just want me to get to the point. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You're all such beautiful, wonderful people. I'd be nothing without my readers!
Hermione:
She is twenty-seven years old. It's funny, because she can't really remember when this happened, but somehow it had. Some days she woke up and stared for hours at herself in the mirror, trying to see if she had changed. She supposed that living with yourself every day made you a bit oblivious to change.
Still, she wasn't blind to the tiny creases on her face that came from being out in the sun every day. Her job was demanding, but she loved it. In a way she didn't mind the little crinkles because they were proof that this past year really happened. The dirt, the sun, and the bones…they were all real.
Just like today was real, she reminded herself.
She got up out of bed and stretched a bit. Her back arched and she let herself fall back and sleep again for a couple more minutes. After repeating this a couple times she finally got herself in the shower and scrubbed herself clean.
While the water pounded down on her back, she ran through her day's events and carefully fit them in her mind so that none would overlap the other. Today was important. She couldn't be frazzled today.
The fuzzy carpet felt warm under her wet feet as she stepped out. Immediately after she had wrapped a towel around her torso, a tiny black ball curled around her ankles. Stooping down she cooed at the little kitten and scratched behind her ears.
"Morning Marla." She sang and kissed her nose before proceeding through her morning ritual.
She had adopted the stray one night a month ago when she found it outside in the rain. Heartbroken, it had become her new love, her reason to carry on when times were stressful. And she had always been a cat person, really, so it wasn't a sacrifice.
"Dry cleaning." She reminded herself as she dried her hair. "Taxi." She murmurs as she applies mascara. "Ticket." Firmly, while she's running around grabbing her things. And as she rushes out to the corner of L.A, where a little dry cleaners is to begin her list, she checks and double checks before saying the last "to –do" of the day. "Airport. New Mexico."
OOO
Hermione has flown many times in the past couple of years. She's even grown to like it, despite how slow it is in comparison to apparating. But she's never been on a plane for this long, and she's a bit terrified.
The airport is huge and scuttling about with people, making her feel claustrophobic for a moment. The moment passes and she clicks a steady rhythm to the line for tickets.
She has one on hold for her but it always makes her nervous going into an airport not having it directly in her hand. It's like sneaking into a movie theater and the entire time supposed to be spent watching the movie is instead spent preoccupied with not getting caught.
But the ticket goes through and a smiling older woman hands her a couple rectangles with printed information. Quickly she scans it until she sees GATE C in boxy letters.
Since she's been here before she knows that gate c is all the way in the back, but she has time.
While she's walking, bag clipping behind her, she scans the ticket again. And then her heart stops.
Flight departure is listed as 11am, not 1pm like she had pounded into her head the entire morning. Hermione Granger is about to miss her flight.
Draco:
It's a funny story how Draco Malfoy of all people ended up in an airport. He didn't mind Muggles anymore, he liked them actually, but airports were crowded and plane rides were so much longer than apparating that it wasn't even funny.
Ok, so the story wasn't funny. Not really.
But it went a bit like this.
About a month ago, Draco's best friend George Frit, a 28 year old Muggle English teacher had a "pushing thirty" crisis. He frantically rushed through several ideas on how to live more currently, to absorb life more fully, before settling on the notion that he had to, just had to, go to California. And then he dragged Draco into it.
Draco doesn't mind being twenty-seven. It's a nice number, one he's comfortable with. But he doesn't think he's done much to deserve being that old, and most of the days have run together in light fuzz. He enjoys his life, but it's that fuzz that makes him agree to go to California.
The flight had been murder. Several transfers until finally reaching it almost like an afterthought. He was exhausted, beyond that. The only thing that had kept him awake the whole way was George, who kept chattering on and on about all of the things they were going to do-to see! It was irritating.
"So, if we just go and get our bags, I think we can get a taxi, yeah?"
"Yeah." Draco agreed monotonously.
They headed out from Gate C, and George rambled more and more until Draco stopped dead in his tracks.
"What are you-"
"Shh." He waved off George absentmindedly.
He had heard something, maybe, and he wasn't sure but it sounded a whole awful lot like-
"Final boarding call for Hermione Granger. Final boarding call." Came a voice on the loudspeaker.
The breath stopped moving through his lungs. He would have fallen over except for George grabbing his arm and shaking him.
"Why are you making that face? It's really unattractive."
"George." He pressed. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"Her name. I mean, sorry, Hermione. They called her name."
George shook his head incredulously and tried to tug him along some.
"Not this again, Draco. She's gone, remember? Haven't seen her for around six bloody years."
"Yeah, I know, but I heard her name."
"Sure you did." George said, and it almost sounded like reassuring a baby. "Now let's go get our luggage and you can discuss it along the way."
"Actually, I'm just going to go back for one second and see. Just in case, ok? You go on ahead and I'll catch up."
George sighed and starting walking. He looked mad, but Draco couldn't wait to be right about this and shove it in his face.
Draco turned around and headed back in the direction of the gate. He didn't even know what he'd say to her if he was right, but to see her, to run his hands through her-
"OOF!"
A sharp pain ran through his left arm and then his entire body as he was knocked to the ground and elbows dug into him.
"Bloody hell, watch where you're going!" he yelled and got up.
But it was Hermione. It was really her.
Hermione:
She had imagined many scenarios of seeing Draco Malfoy again someday, but none of them were at an airport where she literally ran him over. If she had time to be embarrassed she'd be extremely apologetic, maybe even say hello, but as it were she was late.
She only had enough time to take him in quickly. His hair was shorter, a bit darker, and stubble covered his once clean-shaven face.
"I have to go." She said. "I'm late."
And then she ran away. Again.
OOO
"You don't understand. I was almost here and then I tripped. I would have made it. Can't you just-"
"I'm very sorry Ms. Granger, but rules are rules."
The woman, whoever she was, didn't look very sorry. She was smiling much like a clown, and Hermione hated her so much in this moment.
"Just-look." She pointed. "The plane is still here and everything!"
"Yes, but the gate is closed."
She considered arguing more, but her trip, which was so important and unmissable, was tomorrow and she had to get there one way or another.
"So what do I do?" she asked finally.
"You can try and find another flight?" The woman, Jan her tag said, typed a bit into the computer stationed on her desk and then nodded. "I think we have one leaving for New Mexico tomorrow morning."
"But I have to be there tomorrow morning."
Jan just kept smiling and Hermione realized with a frustrated sight that she would get nowhere today.
She didn't even bother to say goodbye to Jan, she just started walking away. After about fifteen feet it hit her.
"Did I just run into Draco Malfoy?" she asked out loud.
She remembered how cold his eyes were, even though his face had been more open and lined. He looked…experienced. He had looked…happy.
For a moment she considered going back to find him, maybe catch up. The moment passed and she shook her head incredulously.
He's better off without you, she told herself. He hasn't contacted you in six years.
The most pressing matter at hand was getting to New Mexico in time. She knew she could just apparate right now and be there in a second, but she didn't like apparating to places she had never been before, and she was supposed to meet one of her coworkers on a connecting flight. She didn't know how to explain it to everyone if she was there first.
Sometimes it was hard pretending to not be magic, but she never doubted herself. She loved her life. She loved her job.
All of a sudden she was tired. She couldn't explain it, but it was as though she had gone back in time and become the tired shell of a person she used to be. Her chest was heavy and for a moment she was sick of pretending and done with even moving in this stupid airport.
Before she even knew what she was doing she was sitting at a bar and grasping the edge of the counter with her fingers, head pressed on the cool surface. Getting up again was the last thing on her mind.
Draco:
Following his ex girlfriend was possibly the most pathetic thing that he had ever done. What's worse is that he could have just gone up to her and initiated conversation-which was what he desired so desperately, but the longer he followed her, the worse he felt.
He watched as she argued with an overly happy employee over a missed flight, followed her as she had a meltdown in the middle of the airport, and now he was standing in the corner of a bar, watching her sleep at the counter.
He didn't even know what he'd say, or how he'd say it. It was just all too damn…terrifying. She had come out of nowhere, like an apparition, like something he had dreamed up. And now was as good of a time as any to admit that she was beautiful. Even with her head pressed flat, mouth a bit slack, she was the most beautiful thing in the entire world.
Her skin had gotten darker, a nice clear caramel with tiny freckles going along her shoulders. Her hair, which was once a mess of curls, was now cropped short, cutting off a long her chin and pressed straight. She wore makeup now, but it was flattering and not heavy like the style these days suggested. From a distance it was almost like she was another person entirely.
He couldn't take it anymore, and before he had time to even register the thought he had walked over and was tapping her on the shoulder.
Her head sprung up and she fell off her seat. A shriek came out of her mouth as she tried to get up and he was moving quickly, pulling her up by her elbow.
"Jesus, I'm sorry. I should have warned you or-"
"No, no it's ok, I…" and then she realized it was him and the look of shock registered on her face. "Draco?"
"Hey." He said, giving her a crooked smile.
"I can't believe it." She whispered. "Bloody hell, how long has it been?"
"A couple of years maybe?" he shook his head and smiled.
Like he didn't know. Like he hadn't counted each individual day, each hour, every single second, half second, microfiber of a second-as if he hadn't waited for this moment every previously spent second of the last six years.
He gestured to the seats and she smiled back at him.
"Want to sit?" she asked.
She seemed so uncomfortable, so miserable to be there. He felt bad for approaching her at all. He should have left her to her life, the one that she hadn't needed him in.
They sat in complete silence for what felt like years. Finally, she laughed and it was so loud, so out of place, that he jumped back a bit.
"I don't see what's so funny." He drawled.
"This is just so goddamn awkward. Holy hell, I can't imagine a more uncomfortable situation in the entire world."
"Thanks."
"Oh, stop. It's not like you haven't thought the exact same thing. And you know the worst part?"
"Hm?"
"Just when I got the courage to look at you and maybe try and say something, you were biting your lip in that really sexy way that you always did when you were about to kiss me and I…I imagined you naked." She started laughing again, so hard that he thought she might fall again.
"That's funny to you?"
"It's hilarious. And it's also so uncomfortable for me. And you, I bet."
And just like that, for him at least, it wasn't. Her smile, so white in comparison to her skin, showed these fine lines around her mouth and in the corner of her eyes, but it was the same smile. The same wide lipped curve on the same face on the same girl. No time had passed in a manner of seconds.
"Ok, fine. It's horrible, I'll admit it."
"What are you even doing here Draco?"
"Shit."
He remembered George and he realized it had to have been over half an hour since he promised to meet up with him. He imagined Greg just standing in the corner of baggage claim, frowning and impatient for his journey.
"What?"
"One second." He stood and pulled his cell out of his pants pocked. Her mouth dropped. "Spare me the jokes on a Malfoy having a cell phone, I'll be right back"
He pulled up George's number and listened to the rings-only two before an angry voice.
"What the fuck? You said you'd be here man!"
"I know, I know, but listen-"
"But listen nothing. She's not here man. It's time to go."
"But she is. She's three feet from me. In the bar."
Silence.
Then, "No shit."
"No shit." He agreed.
More silence.
"Ok, Malfoy. Do what you have to do. You know the hotel?"
"Yup."
"Alright. I have your luggage, don't worry about it."
"Thanks George."
Turning around he saw Hermione knitting her fingers together, a worried look on her face. How desperately he wanted to be inside her mind, see what she was thinking just for a second. Then she caught him staring and she waved a little.
He walked over and put the phone back in his pocket.
"Sorry." He apologized.
"Oh. No problem." She looked away and the silence grew again.
It was strange because in all of the time that they had known each other, there had been this stopping and starting. First, meeting at Hogwarts, where they hated one another, and no progression was made at all. Then they met again during the war, and he had looked down at her while she was screaming, her arm dripping in blood, and he had wanting nothing more than to save her, to stop it. When she left he had never thought of her again. When they met in Ireland they had both hated each other, still, but then they had loved each other. And now, so many years later, they knew so little about each other that it was almost like starting over completely. Two strangers and one of them was so incredibly beautiful.
All he knew was that he wished he could fast foreword over their inevitable goodbye and get on with grieving again. This little encounter would scar him so much.
"You know, I was thinking of going to Starbucks and getting some coffee. I'm so tired and I could use the caffeine. Want to come?"
He almost thought that it was he who was offering, and then he looked over and she was waiting, looking a bit nervous, so he nodded.
Hermione:
"So if we're going to do this I think we should establish some rules."
He looked at her with a quizzical expression, gripping his coffee between those beautiful, long fingered hands.
"Rules?"
"Right. I mean we don't want to over step boundaries or anything."
"Ok. So what's the first rule?"
She bit her lip and looked down. Her hands moved to cradle her face and when she looked back up him, he was staring at her with such intensity she feared she might break.
"No bringing up the past."
"At all?"
"Well." She paused. "We can bring up our separate pasts, obviously, to catch up and such. But not our singular, joined past."
He nodded.
"Next rule should be no holding back. Don't spare my feelings and I won't yours."
"Agreed. And another rule: say what comes to your mind first, no pauses."
"None?"
"None."
"And what happens if there's an awkward moment of silence? What happens if we break any of these rules?"
She thought about it for a second, looked at the tiny lines in his forehead and wondered where he got them, when they happened.
"You have to give a dollar."
"Alright."
"Ok."
There was a tiny silence, and then Draco shook his head and pointed at her.
"Awkward silence! You owe me a dollar."
"No! That wasn't awkward at all. That was just a pause before our conversation started."
"And what's our conversation?"
"I suppose it should be a discussion of what we've been up to?"
"Agreed. So what have you been up to?"
"Work, mostly. And I have a cat. So there's that…"
"Crookshanks?"
"No, he died about four years ago. I tried just not having one for a while but then this little black thing came into my life and I just couldn't resist. Her name is Marla."
"So a cat but no boyfriend? That's a shocker." He joked.
"Actually, I have a boyfriend."
"Really? What's his name?"
"Joseph. He's a Professor at the University I work at."
"Do you think I could just give you a dollar in advance so that I can have a moment of awkward silence?" he asked.
"Why, do you need one?"
"I think I do."
"Alright, sure."
He reached into his blazer and pulled out a wallet. It was small and black, very sharp. It looked wealthy. He pulled out a dollar and flung it in her direction. As soon as he saw her take it he looked away in the distance.
She couldn't help but watch him as he silently gazed out in the distance. She wondered what he was thinking about and if he was all right. She supposed she should have told him about Joseph right away, but the truth was she didn't think he'd come up. She didn't think it mattered.
A couple of minutes went by before he looked back and smiled.
"So what's he like?" he finally asked.
"Smart. Intelligent. Very driven."
"Do you love him?"
A pause. And then, "I think that breaks a rule."
"No it doesn't." he shook his head sharply. "In fact, I think you are required to answer because of a rule."
"No, I-"
"Yes, actually. We agreed to be open with each other. Remember? So, do you love him?"
"Yes."
"Ok, see was that so hard?"
"Bite me."
He smirked and looked down at his drink. She loved that smirk, and she would have told him that before she mentioned Joseph, but now it seemed like a cruel thing to do to him. Hey, I have a boyfriend, but that smirk of yours is something I miss dearly.
"And what about you?" she asked. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
"Nope." He took a sip of coffee and looked directly at her. Those eyes, so clear and bright, pierced her in a way she'd never be able to overcome. "Are you going to ask me why not?"
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want one. It's pointless."
"Pointless?" her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly that. It's pointless."
"Love is pointless?"
"No. But relationships are."
"Ok, so I supposed you're going to go into a spiel on why relationships are pointless now. Right?"
"Right." He took another sip of coffee and composed himself. She waited a moment and then he began. "See, after we broke up-"
"Dollar. No talking about our singular past."
"Fuck." He pulled out another dollar and flung it at her. "Anyway, I did try and have relationships with women in the past. No, don't look at me like that I meant MY past, not ours. And I even had this one girl, Jolene, who I dated for about eight months. She was this absolutely gorgeous creature. She was Brazilian, long legs, gorgeous skin and these green eyes that were so cat-like it was unnerving. She was very tall, only a little shorter than me, really outgoing and well off. I was crazy about her. But then we decided to move in together and that's when it all went down the shitter. See, I didn't realize how messy she was until she was putting her things in my apartment. It was like she had never neatly arranged anything in her life. It drove me crazy! And then anytime we were together, which was frequently since we lived together, all I could think about was how fucking messy she was, and how her hair was always all over the bathroom floor and she never cleaned her dishes. It ruined everything, her messiness. So I broke up with her."
"So relationships are pointless," she interrupted. "Because you're a neat freak?"
"Not quite. See, I think what truly bothered me was how it wasn't that she was messy, but that she herself didn't neatly fit into my life."
"Nothing is perfect, Draco."
"No. But when something is right, it fits neatly."
"So then maybe you just haven't found the right person?"
"Nobody has been the right person. I've dated several people and it's always the same. I just don't care for dating anymore. It's pointless."
"That's depressing."
"Well, maybe I'm just not interested in pretending."
"Fine. So then what are you interested in these days?"
"Cooking still, actually. Remember how I used to cook for you all the time? Shit." He pulled out a dollar. "Sorry, forgot."
"It's ok." She had three dollars now. She wondered how he could have slipped up three times now and she hadn't even once. It confused her, to be honest. Was she not as invested as he was? "So, cooking?"
"Yes, cooking."
"And what do you cook?"
"Own, actually. I own a restaurant in the middle of London. It's called Sonoma. I opened it about three years ago and it's doing really well."
"Really? Draco, that's great!"
And it was, she wasn't faking her pleasure at hearing this. The look on his face when he brought it up was amazing.
"Yeah. It's been named a five star establishment and everything."
"Ok, here, take a dollar."
"Why?"
"You'll see."
He took back one of the dollars and waited. She took a deep breath and then exhaled.
"I remember when we first started…whatever, back at the Church? Our conversations that lasted for hours? Well I remember this one time you told me that life is big but we keep trying to put ourselves in boxes. You told me that you hated your office because you felt like a hamster in it. And these past years, whenever I thought about you, I would imagine you doing something you loved, so you wouldn't feel as limited. This just fits, is what I'm trying to say. It fits you."
"Thank you. That was worth the dollar to hear."
Then they were quiet and she looked down at her watch. It's shiny little face read one in the afternoon, the hour she thought she was supposed to be boarding a plane.
"God." She groaned, not even realizing that she had outwardly expressed her frustration until he raised an eyebrow. "I just…I missed my flight."
"Where were you going?"
"New Mexico."
"Hmmm. And why there?"
"I'm leading a trip with some seniors that I teach. We're exploring this area for bones from an ancient civilization."
"And that makes you happy?"
"God, yes. So happy."
"So tell me about it? I mean, I guess tell me about University in general. How was going there?"
"It was hard, I suppose. Not the school work, obviously." She watched him smile at the 'obviously' and then continued. "Making friends was difficult, especially since I couldn't tell them I was magic. For about a year, I was all alone. I would just explore the beach and try all of these little shops. I even got a job as a waitress at this little shack on the boardwalk. Eventually I made friends, and school became more difficult so I actually had to work for good grades. Graduating felt amazing."
"And now you work there?"
"Yup." She ran a hand through her hair and shook it out a bit. "Joseph got me the job, actually."
"And now you're…dating him."
"I think he's going to propose, actually…"
It comes out of her mouth before she can even help it. Her eyes go down at first but then they sharply move up with enough time to catch what she thinks is a wince from Draco.
And it's true, this thought. It's something that's been running around her head for weeks. She had never even said it out loud, never told a friend. Why? She couldn't think of why she wasn't more excited. Why wasn't she telling everyone she knew that Joseph was going to commit?
"That must be exciting."
"Mmm." She cast out absentmindedly. It only took her a second to realize how dull she sounded. How…bored. "I mean, yes. Very."
"Too late." He smiled. "What's up?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yes. You do."
"God, Draco. What do you want me to say?"
"Only what you want." She handed him another dollar and sighed. "What's this for?"
"I want a moment of silence, please."
He nodded and folded the dollar in his hands.
She didn't want to see him watching her with that careful expression he had always used around her, like she was going to explode at any second. She wasn't a bomb, she was just unsure, of so many things. But how could she tell him this? How could she tell him that six years had gone by and she was over him, she had moved on and gotten a great job, a great boyfriend, amazing friends. Even her apartment, a little thing on the corner of a street, was fantastic, with it's white washed walls and pictures of her accomplishments hanging up.
Maybe it was because she knew something was missing. There was always a hole she had to move around, something that had to be worked with meticulously.
It was that always, the one that the man in front of her had promised when they last kissed and turned from each other. He swore that he'd always remember her, but then a year had passed, and another and another, and he wasn't there. He didn't even try.
She had wanted space from him, sure, but only enough to figure out her life. And she had, damnit. She had figured everything out, gotten a job, and when she expected him to return he hadn't. It was so unfair, so cruel, that she simply moved over it.
"You ok over there?"
She cleared her throat and nodded. The moment was clearly over. Except now she was exhausted. She didn't want to continue this never-ending stream of conversation that took more effort than she was used to.
"Yeah. You know, I think I should go. I need to find a flight to get on, or something."
"Hold on." He grabbed onto her arm and her mouth dropped.
Maybe it hadn't been said, but no touching was a goes-without-saying rule. Touching was remembering, and remembering was just as bad as discussing.
"I'm just really tired. It's been a long day."
"What's wrong? What's really going on?"
"Nothing, Draco. For God's sake, I'm fine."
"That's a lie." His hand gripped tighter and she yanked it away, watching the little red prints disappear from her skin.
"Fine!" her voice rocked around the room, too loud for the quiet atmosphere. But he had asked for it, he really had. "I woke up this morning, ready to continue on with my life-which I'm happy with, by the way-no interruptions. And then I miss my flight, run into you, and now I'm just fucking tired. Ok?"
He seemed to visibly blanch, his expression turning cold, or maybe remorseful. She couldn't differentiate between the two, but the pain she felt was suddenly overwhelming.
"I'm sorry." He said quietly. "I'll let you go."
For a moment, she considered just nodding and leaving, but their rules…she promised to say how she felt, to be open…
"Uhm. No. I'm sorry. It's just…hard to be around you, that's all."
"It's alright. I get it."
"Do you…" she took a deep breath. "I think I'm just going to go home and apparate there in the morning. If you want, you could come and hang out for a bit?"
She knew she was forgiven for her outburst immediately. A smile crossed his face and he stood from his seat.
"Sure. I'd like that."
Draco:
Hermione apartment smelled like rose water. It was clean, but not overly so, and the sun from outside came in through a big beautiful window. It was a very open home, full of books and pictures of her friends.
"This is it." She said, placing her keys on a coffee table. She slumped down on a couch in the corner and sighed. "It's not much, but I love it."
"It's very…you." He said.
She got quiet, allowing him to walk around and look. There was a lot to see, for such a small space. His fingers ran across the binders on book after book like a xylophone. Older classics transitioned to newer more modern ones.
Tiny lights ran around the top of the room, and he imagined it was beautiful at night when they were all lit up.
"When did you move here?"
"About a year ago. I used to live in this tiny four by four walk up in the ghetto. It was awful, but it was cheap."
"So would you give this up?"
"What do you mean?"
"If you got engaged. Would you leave?"
He regretted the question immediately. He shouldn't have even thought it, much less said it. Especially after she invited him in her home.
"New rules."
"What?"
"We're getting rid of the old rules."
"Alright. What are the new rules, then?"
"Only one. Tell the truth."
"Fair enough."
"So ask me again."
"Ask you what?"
"The question you just asked."
"If you got engaged, would you leave?"
"I won't be getting engaged."
She looked so directly at him that he got chills. It was like she was trying to get him to say something first, so she wouldn't have to. But he was clueless. He was so scared.
One wrong question had left her screaming at him in the middle of a coffee shop, people glaring at him like he was a convicted felon. Her face had been screwed up in anger, hatred pouring out onto him like a tidal wave.
"Why?" he asked instead. "You said you loved him, right?"
"I lied."
The truth was so quick that it was almost too much. He didn't know how to process this information, when just an hour ago it had nearly killed him to hear a completely different thing.
"Why would you lie to me?" he asked, trying not to sound as insulted as he felt.
"Because I wanted to hurt you."
He expected for her to turn away or maybe look down, but she hadn't taken her eyes off of him this entire time.
"Why? What did I ever do to you?"
"It's not what you did, Draco. It's what you didn't do?"
Anger swelled in his throat. His row furrowed and he glared down at her, suddenly full of undisputable hatred.
"I did everything you wanted, Hermione. Everything you asked. Since the day we met in Ireland, it was always your rules, just like today in fucking Starbucks. Be my boyfriend, save me from killing myself, take me back in your home, love me, love me, love me!" He spat out. "Oh, but let's not forget the biggest thing I've done for you. I let you go. You told me to let you live your own life, and I fucking did. So don't you dare sit there on your couch in your nice apartment, with your perfect life and collection of fucking books and cats and twinkly lights and tell me that I did nothing for you. Because I did! I did a whole fucking lot. I loved you so fucking much that I let you go."
"Maybe I wanted you to fight for me, Draco. Did you ever think of that?"
"Fight for you? How about you fight for me for once, Hermione? I'm ALWAYS fighting for you. Even when it involved fighting myself in the process."
Now she was quiet and for just a second he felt bad. But she had said tell the truth, so really this was all of her fault. This was her doing.
"I don't love him." Was all she said, quietly. "I'm sorry I lied."
It was all too much. Her smooth skin, those caramel eyes, the rosewater, the twinkling, the black cat on the floor in the corner, watching them, watching him, this was all a mess, all a huge fucking mess, but he loved her. Now was as good of a time as any to admit that even with years between them, he loved her more than he could ever love anything, anyone, ever. It didn't matter that she hadn't fought for him, because he hadn't fought for her, because he had thought that was what she wanted, because she had told him to leave and he had. Because if she wanted him to fight for her, he would, all she had to do was say so.
He loved her. He loved her so much.
His next few steps were short and calculated. He crossed the room and pulled her up from the couch. Before she could protest his lips crashed onto hers, and they were as soft as he remembered. A sharp pang of longing shot to his abdomen and he kissed her again, again, again. Her tongue was on his tongue, on his bottom lip, his neck, his chest.
"I'll fight for you." He whispered into her hair. "I'll never stop fighting for you."