First Christmas Without
Title: First Christmas Without
Author: greenschist
Rating: PG
Word Count: 652
Summary: Draco knows this is just the first of many.
Notes: Prompt #34 "I don't know what to say except it's Christmas, and we're all in misery." --Christmas Vacation.
Warnings: Set in 8th year (Christmas '98). Largely unrequited feelings on Draco's part. Hermione/Ron.
If Draco looked off the north side of the Astronomy Tower, he could see where Dumbledore fell. If he looked to the east, he could see Hogsmeade, or, more precisely, the lights of Rosmerta's pub. So Draco looked south, over the snow-covered trees of the Forbidden Forest, watching fresh snow fall from the sky without really seeing it.
“The Yule feast is about to begin.” Her voice was quiet and filled with the same compassion she had been showing Draco all term. “You should go downstairs.”
He turned to face her, leaning against the cold stone. Snowflakes, turned prismatic by the castle's ambient light, landed on Granger's bushy curls, and her big, brown eyes were long-lashed and dark. She was pale and pretty and so far out of reach it hurt to look at her. “Why should I?” he asked.
“Because it's better to be with others than up here alone counting your sins.”
Draco showed her his back again, but purposefully kept his tone light. “If that's what I was doing, I'd be here 'til spring, wouldn't I?” She appeared at his elbow as if by magic. Hermione was always like that now: moving on silent cat feet, alert, ready for action. Gone was the Hermione Granger who clattered around, bent under the weight of her books. Another casualty of war. Saddened by the thought, Draco muttered, “I'm not good company tonight.”
“Everyone's having a hard time, Malfoy.” She was so close her arm brushed his when she shrugged. “It's the first Christmas after the War. We all have someone to miss, and we're all miserable for it.” She rested her hand on the wall next to his, close enough to touch. “You miss Snape,” she suggested wisely.
Draco brushed a small pebble off the wall. “And Crabbe.”
She did touch him then, patting his hand lightly as it clenched into a helpless fist. “It's all right, you know.” She was looking out over the dark forest. “It's all right to miss them but still be happy about the way the War ended. There's nothing wrong with that.”
It was close to an absolution, and he grasped at it like a rope thrown to a drowning man.
“I miss Remus and Tonks,” she spoke barely above a whisper, “who should be getting ready for their son's first Christmas right now. I miss Fred; I miss him so much more than I ever thought I would.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and they were both silent for a while. Hermione watched the snow, while Draco looked down at their joined hands.
“It will be strange see the whole family for Christmas except him.” She was strong again; she almost never cried anymore. “It's going to hurt.”
He cleared his throat. “You're going to the Weasley's for the holiday, then?”
Her hand twitched in his. “Yes, Ginny and I leave tomorrow. It will be good to see everyone again.”
“Especially Ron.”
It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway. “Yes,” she said simply, gently drawing her hand from his.
Draco wanted to rage and cry, to kiss her, or to have never met her, but he just nodded. There was no magic strong enough to undo the things he had done, to take him back to a time before his mistakes were made when he'd had a chance-or even a second or third chance-to be hers and have her be his. He smiled so she would smile in return.
“Shall we go in?” She nodded toward the door.
“Give me a few minutes,” he said, still smiling. Hermione touched his shoulder briefly before leaving the tower without looking back because she never looked back anymore, and Draco was left alone to count his sins and envy Ron Weasley.
Author: greenschist
Rating: PG
Word Count: 652
Summary: Draco knows this is just the first of many.
Notes: Prompt #34 "I don't know what to say except it's Christmas, and we're all in misery." --Christmas Vacation.
Warnings: Set in 8th year (Christmas '98). Largely unrequited feelings on Draco's part. Hermione/Ron.
If Draco looked off the north side of the Astronomy Tower, he could see where Dumbledore fell. If he looked to the east, he could see Hogsmeade, or, more precisely, the lights of Rosmerta's pub. So Draco looked south, over the snow-covered trees of the Forbidden Forest, watching fresh snow fall from the sky without really seeing it.
“The Yule feast is about to begin.” Her voice was quiet and filled with the same compassion she had been showing Draco all term. “You should go downstairs.”
He turned to face her, leaning against the cold stone. Snowflakes, turned prismatic by the castle's ambient light, landed on Granger's bushy curls, and her big, brown eyes were long-lashed and dark. She was pale and pretty and so far out of reach it hurt to look at her. “Why should I?” he asked.
“Because it's better to be with others than up here alone counting your sins.”
Draco showed her his back again, but purposefully kept his tone light. “If that's what I was doing, I'd be here 'til spring, wouldn't I?” She appeared at his elbow as if by magic. Hermione was always like that now: moving on silent cat feet, alert, ready for action. Gone was the Hermione Granger who clattered around, bent under the weight of her books. Another casualty of war. Saddened by the thought, Draco muttered, “I'm not good company tonight.”
“Everyone's having a hard time, Malfoy.” She was so close her arm brushed his when she shrugged. “It's the first Christmas after the War. We all have someone to miss, and we're all miserable for it.” She rested her hand on the wall next to his, close enough to touch. “You miss Snape,” she suggested wisely.
Draco brushed a small pebble off the wall. “And Crabbe.”
She did touch him then, patting his hand lightly as it clenched into a helpless fist. “It's all right, you know.” She was looking out over the dark forest. “It's all right to miss them but still be happy about the way the War ended. There's nothing wrong with that.”
It was close to an absolution, and he grasped at it like a rope thrown to a drowning man.
“I miss Remus and Tonks,” she spoke barely above a whisper, “who should be getting ready for their son's first Christmas right now. I miss Fred; I miss him so much more than I ever thought I would.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and they were both silent for a while. Hermione watched the snow, while Draco looked down at their joined hands.
“It will be strange see the whole family for Christmas except him.” She was strong again; she almost never cried anymore. “It's going to hurt.”
He cleared his throat. “You're going to the Weasley's for the holiday, then?”
Her hand twitched in his. “Yes, Ginny and I leave tomorrow. It will be good to see everyone again.”
“Especially Ron.”
It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway. “Yes,” she said simply, gently drawing her hand from his.
Draco wanted to rage and cry, to kiss her, or to have never met her, but he just nodded. There was no magic strong enough to undo the things he had done, to take him back to a time before his mistakes were made when he'd had a chance-or even a second or third chance-to be hers and have her be his. He smiled so she would smile in return.
“Shall we go in?” She nodded toward the door.
“Give me a few minutes,” he said, still smiling. Hermione touched his shoulder briefly before leaving the tower without looking back because she never looked back anymore, and Draco was left alone to count his sins and envy Ron Weasley.