Hermione stood at the edge of the astronomy tower, arms crossed tightly over her chest as the wind curled around her like ghosted memories. The sky above was streaked in soft pinks and purples, but the colors did little to warm her.
This place used to bring her peace. Now, it only echoed.
She didn't cry anymore—not because it didn't hurt, but because she was too tired to. She had scoured every word, every look, every note between them, searching for answers he refused to give her.
And still, her heart ached in his absence.
The door below creaked open.
She didn't move. Didn't turn.
Footsteps. Fast. Unsteady.
Then—
"Hermione."
Her breath hitched.
She turned slowly. Draco stood at the top of the steps, chest rising and falling, his eyes wide like he had run the whole castle to get there. He looked different—disheveled, haunted. And underneath it all, there was a look she hadn't seen in what felt like years:
Desperation.
They just stood there.
Looking.
Really looking.
It was like the air between them had thickened with all the things they hadn't said, couldn't say. Her eyes brimmed with a thousand emotions, but she didn't speak.
Draco stepped closer, voice shaking. "I—Hermione, I'm so sorry."
Her arms stayed crossed.
"I didn't want to hurt you," he rushed out. "Gods, I never wanted that. But my father—he—he threatened everything. Your parents. Your safety. I thought if I pushed you away, if I made you hate me, it would protect you."
His voice cracked.
"I thought losing you was better than putting you in danger."
Hermione's lips parted. Her fingers slowly uncurled. "You broke me," she whispered. "And I still never stopped loving you."
Draco's face crumpled. He looked at her like she was the only star in the sky. "Say something else and I'll fall to my knees."
"I should hate you," she said, stepping forward. "But I can't."
"I've been unraveling without you." His voice dropped. "And I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I'll spend every day earning it if you'll let me."
She stood right in front of him now. "I don't want you to protect me from pain, Draco. I want you to choose me despite it."
He reached for her, trembling slightly. "Then let me choose you now."
And with that, she let him pull her into his arms. Their embrace wasn't neat—it was messy, tangled, emotional. But it was real. Hermione buried her face in his shoulder as his hand cradled the back of her head, holding her like he never planned to let go again.
"I'm yours," he whispered against her hair.
She pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. "Good," she said, breathless. "Because I'm still yours too."