FIC: The Letter [Draco/Hermione]
Title: The Letter
Author: bentnotbroken1
Prompt: H28
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermione
Word Count: 2164
Rating: G
Warning(s): Angst, open ending
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Draco's life just hasn't been the same since he let her go.
Every year, like clock work, everybody wonders why I’m unbearable in the Autumn. Why I’m always moody; heading to the office before the sun rises, burying myself in work all day until it disappears beneath the horizon. Mother’s friends stop by my office at her behest, bypassing my secretary to bring me lunch and badger me with questions. They comment on my pallid, sickly complexion and ask if I ever see the sun. Perhaps I should take some vitamin replenishing potions or exercise; they know a great personal trainer. I’m worrying my mother and I should think more of her. I need to take better care of myself and stop spending my nights in one bar or another. They say they aren’t trying to boss me around, of course. They just wished I’d visit mother more often.
It irritates me to no end but there’s not much I can do. I work with most of their husbands and it would be considered rude if I threw them out on their nitpicking arses.
But their words have a way of burrowing into my brain and eventually I cave. I shouldn’t be surprised, I always end up visiting her in the end.
"You really should take a personal day, Draco," my mother says, worried that I’ve taken on too many cases. "You’ll work yourself to death."
She doesn’t know that sometimes, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.
Of course, I’d never actually say the words out loud.
Afterward I find myself with a drink in my hand as I sit at yet another bar, listening to the jazz band playing in the background.
"Are you sure you’re alright, mate?" Theo asks behind a glass of Brandy. "You do look a bit peckish."
I’m fine. He doesn’t need to worry. I have everything under control.
Except, I really don’t.
Astoria huffs as I stumble into my bedroom at two o’clock in the morning, pissed off my arse for the third time that week. "Honestly, Draco. What has gotten into you?"
What has gotten into me?
Well, isn’t that the question of the century?
"Why do you insist on drinking yourself into a coma and working more than sixty hours a week?" She yells as I clumsily take off my clothes. "I hardly ever see you!"
I just have a lot to do. I’m trying to make partner. I need to prove myself.
She glares at me and crosses her arms over her chest. She doesn’t buy that load of bullshit for a minute. "Try again, darling. Your work ethic and nights out always seem to increase around this time of the year. So, what is it? What has you so worked up?"
Nothing.
She gives me a look that would have probably killed any other man. She’s not stupid.
No, Astoria is far from stupid, that’s why my parents insisted I married her. She knows there is so much I’m not saying. So much I’ll never say.
I can’t. I can’t tell her. She won’t understand.
She won’t understand why I have to do this. There’s a reason why I have to work until my eyes sting, dry and irritated by the lack of sleep. And if it’s still not enough I drink until I can’t think straight. I’m in a constant state of oblivion, because if I stop, if I walk outside and see the world as it is now, I think of what could have been.
I think of you.
Watching the crisp copper leaves falling off the trees brings me back to that last day and I can’t face it. All I see when I look around this colorful world is the pile of leaves you jumped into. I see you picking them out of your hair, your slender fingers working slowly as I smile down at you. I can hear your laugh as I tell you how ridiculous you look and end up laughing myself when you pull me down to join you. I smell the slightly musty scent as leaves and twigs stick to my clothes and taste the hint of vanilla on your lips when I kiss you softly. I feel the goosebumps on the back of your neck where my fingers brush your skin when I wrap my scarf around you.
If I go outside I’ll see the bright future I thought I had slip away again and again.
That’s why I don’t want to see the light of day, because watching summer melt into autumn always reminds me why you were my hardest goodbye.
I never thought that something so horrible would happen after such a perfect and beautiful day. I never thought I’d see your beautiful face scrunch up in agony as your heart broke in front of me. I never thought I’d hear you ask ‘why’ in a watery voice as you clung to my hand like it was a lifeline. You didn’t understand. How could I just end it like that? How could I treat you like you were nothing? How dare I? How dare I.
Sometimes I think I still feel your fists beating against my chest. Beating as hard as the heart inside me.
I hear your angry sobs in my dreams and no amount of sleeping draughts can clear my mind of your presence.
I suppose I deserve it. I’m reaping what I’ve sowed, as far as you’re concerned. You told me I’d regret it, and I do. I regretted it the moment the words came out of my mouth. I deserve the pain I’m in. After all, I’m the one that destroyed you, that destroyed us. I spat on our relationship without a second thought.
Actually, that’s not quite true. It wasn’t without thought. I’d stressed over the situation for days before I made the decision. It was the wrong one, obviously, but I didn’t know what else to do at the time. I caved under pressure. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go. If you’d stayed with me you’d have been made an example of.
There were threats made and I couldn’t take that chance. I couldn’t take a chance with your life.
Looking back, though, I can see that they were probably all empty threats. I shouldn’t have backed down so easily. I should have tried harder. I wish I had been stronger. I wish I could have ignored the familial and societal pressure to push you away, but I was a coward.
I am a coward.
I still can’t face you, even five years later. I avoid the fresh produce market like the plague and I won’t even think about strolling the paths around Fonthill Lake. If I see your friends I turn the other way and, on one occasion, hid in the loo until they left. I avoid eating in the restaurants I took you to. All of our pictures are in a personal safe in my bedroom. Anything and everything that could remind me of you has been tucked away, out of sight.
I thought it would help me, not to have reminders of you everywhere, but it didn’t really matter did it? I still think of you. I still see you in my sleep. I still see you in the leaves, in the sun, in the world when I step outside.
I can’t seem to get away from you.
And maybe it’s because I’m not trying hard enough. Maybe it’s because a part of me just doesn’t want to forget. You were the best thing that has ever happened to me.
I know you’re probably wondering why I’m even bothering to tell you this. It’s simple really. I’ve kept it in for years and I just can’t do it anymore.
I miss you.
I miss you more and more each day and I don’t know how I’m supposed to forget you. Every time I think I can move on, something happens and I’m right back at square one. Lonely, hurt, and hating myself. I bloody hate myself for what I’ve done. I used to worry that I’d ruined you, and that you’d be as bitter and angry as me, but I realized recently that I shouldn’t have worried because you’re strong. You’re so much stronger than me. You were always going to survive my stupidity.
I saw you with Viktor last month at a Ministry function, you know. You looked so happy, so vibrant, that my heart shattered in my chest. I know I have no right to act like a victim by saying that, but I wasn’t prepared to see how you’d moved on. You found happiness in the arms of another man, and I’m still just as miserable as the day I ended it. Yes, I’m engaged to Astoria but that wasn’t a match of my choosing. She’s not horrible, and if I had been with her first I might even find her quite likable, but she’s not you. She will never be you and maybe that is why happiness evades me. I can’t love her because I never stopped loving you.
Circe, I love you and it’s killing me, because a part of me wants to chase after you. A part of me wants to steal you away in the dead of night and make you mine once more. Sometimes I even pretend that the last five years never happened. I wake up and hope to Merlin that this has all been a nightmare because the truth is too hard to face.
The truth.
The truth that I loved you then, I love you now, and that I’ll probably love you until the day I die.
I know you’re probably scoffing at that admittance, and maybe you don’t believe me, but that’s okay. I don’t blame you if you think it’s all horse shite, but I just needed you to know that I’m glad that you’ve found love. You deserve it. You deserve to be cherished and not taken for granted. You deserve so much more than I ever gave you.
I’m sorry for ruining everything good we had and I only hope you can find it in you to forgive me one day. Until then I’ll be wishing you a long and happy life.
Forever yours,
Draco Malfoy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione stared down at the parchment, her tears smearing some of the letters as they fell from her eyes.
He thought she didn’t know. He thought she hated him for what he’d done, but he was wrong. Of course she’d been angry with him. He’d hurt her, shattered her heart and her dreams of a future with him, but she understood why he’d done it. She wasn’t oblivious to his families increasing hostility toward him and after she’d cooled off after a few days she realized he’d done it to protect her. He thought he was a coward, but she hadn’t been any better. She hadn’t fought for him either. She’d given up just as he had.
He was wrong about so many things. She hadn’t moved on. She wasn’t happy in the arms of another man. She was barely getting by and she’d drank herself into a stupor the day he’d gotten engaged to Astoria. She could tell he wasn’t thrilled when the photos showed up in the Daily Prophet the next day. She could have done something then, but she didn’t. She just wallowed in self pity and took on more work at the Ministry.
She was working with Viktor, but she wasn’t dating him. She didn’t love him. She hadn’t loved anyone in five years. Her heart very much still belonged to the infuriating, ridiculously blond git that had out of the blue owled her this letter and ruined a perfectly decent Saturday night.
How dare he just dump this all on her?
Was he really that dense?
She sighed and folded the letter perfectly before slipping it into her pocket and grabbing her coat.
Ten minutes later she was standing outside of the most luxurious flat she’d ever seen. She probably should be worried about what his wife would think of her just barging in, but at this point it hardly mattered to her.
She stomped up the walk and rang the bell, heart racing in her chest as she heard a gruff voice on the other side of the door. "Are you expecting company?"
A feminine voice replied "No," as the door swung open, revealing a tired looking Draco Malfoy.
When he saw who it was standing there his mouth fell open and he blinked a few times. She could tell he was trying to figure out if he was just imaging her so she smiled, "Hello, Malfoy."
"Gr-Granger?" His eyes widened and he quickly stepped outside and shut the door behind him. "What are you doing here?"
She pulled the letter out of her pocket. "I received a very interesting owl today." She told him. "We have a lot to talk about."
Author: bentnotbroken1
Prompt: H28
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermione
Word Count: 2164
Rating: G
Warning(s): Angst, open ending
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Draco's life just hasn't been the same since he let her go.
Every year, like clock work, everybody wonders why I’m unbearable in the Autumn. Why I’m always moody; heading to the office before the sun rises, burying myself in work all day until it disappears beneath the horizon. Mother’s friends stop by my office at her behest, bypassing my secretary to bring me lunch and badger me with questions. They comment on my pallid, sickly complexion and ask if I ever see the sun. Perhaps I should take some vitamin replenishing potions or exercise; they know a great personal trainer. I’m worrying my mother and I should think more of her. I need to take better care of myself and stop spending my nights in one bar or another. They say they aren’t trying to boss me around, of course. They just wished I’d visit mother more often.
It irritates me to no end but there’s not much I can do. I work with most of their husbands and it would be considered rude if I threw them out on their nitpicking arses.
But their words have a way of burrowing into my brain and eventually I cave. I shouldn’t be surprised, I always end up visiting her in the end.
"You really should take a personal day, Draco," my mother says, worried that I’ve taken on too many cases. "You’ll work yourself to death."
She doesn’t know that sometimes, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.
Of course, I’d never actually say the words out loud.
Afterward I find myself with a drink in my hand as I sit at yet another bar, listening to the jazz band playing in the background.
"Are you sure you’re alright, mate?" Theo asks behind a glass of Brandy. "You do look a bit peckish."
I’m fine. He doesn’t need to worry. I have everything under control.
Except, I really don’t.
Astoria huffs as I stumble into my bedroom at two o’clock in the morning, pissed off my arse for the third time that week. "Honestly, Draco. What has gotten into you?"
What has gotten into me?
Well, isn’t that the question of the century?
"Why do you insist on drinking yourself into a coma and working more than sixty hours a week?" She yells as I clumsily take off my clothes. "I hardly ever see you!"
I just have a lot to do. I’m trying to make partner. I need to prove myself.
She glares at me and crosses her arms over her chest. She doesn’t buy that load of bullshit for a minute. "Try again, darling. Your work ethic and nights out always seem to increase around this time of the year. So, what is it? What has you so worked up?"
Nothing.
She gives me a look that would have probably killed any other man. She’s not stupid.
No, Astoria is far from stupid, that’s why my parents insisted I married her. She knows there is so much I’m not saying. So much I’ll never say.
I can’t. I can’t tell her. She won’t understand.
She won’t understand why I have to do this. There’s a reason why I have to work until my eyes sting, dry and irritated by the lack of sleep. And if it’s still not enough I drink until I can’t think straight. I’m in a constant state of oblivion, because if I stop, if I walk outside and see the world as it is now, I think of what could have been.
I think of you.
Watching the crisp copper leaves falling off the trees brings me back to that last day and I can’t face it. All I see when I look around this colorful world is the pile of leaves you jumped into. I see you picking them out of your hair, your slender fingers working slowly as I smile down at you. I can hear your laugh as I tell you how ridiculous you look and end up laughing myself when you pull me down to join you. I smell the slightly musty scent as leaves and twigs stick to my clothes and taste the hint of vanilla on your lips when I kiss you softly. I feel the goosebumps on the back of your neck where my fingers brush your skin when I wrap my scarf around you.
If I go outside I’ll see the bright future I thought I had slip away again and again.
That’s why I don’t want to see the light of day, because watching summer melt into autumn always reminds me why you were my hardest goodbye.
I never thought that something so horrible would happen after such a perfect and beautiful day. I never thought I’d see your beautiful face scrunch up in agony as your heart broke in front of me. I never thought I’d hear you ask ‘why’ in a watery voice as you clung to my hand like it was a lifeline. You didn’t understand. How could I just end it like that? How could I treat you like you were nothing? How dare I? How dare I.
Sometimes I think I still feel your fists beating against my chest. Beating as hard as the heart inside me.
I hear your angry sobs in my dreams and no amount of sleeping draughts can clear my mind of your presence.
I suppose I deserve it. I’m reaping what I’ve sowed, as far as you’re concerned. You told me I’d regret it, and I do. I regretted it the moment the words came out of my mouth. I deserve the pain I’m in. After all, I’m the one that destroyed you, that destroyed us. I spat on our relationship without a second thought.
Actually, that’s not quite true. It wasn’t without thought. I’d stressed over the situation for days before I made the decision. It was the wrong one, obviously, but I didn’t know what else to do at the time. I caved under pressure. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go. If you’d stayed with me you’d have been made an example of.
There were threats made and I couldn’t take that chance. I couldn’t take a chance with your life.
Looking back, though, I can see that they were probably all empty threats. I shouldn’t have backed down so easily. I should have tried harder. I wish I had been stronger. I wish I could have ignored the familial and societal pressure to push you away, but I was a coward.
I am a coward.
I still can’t face you, even five years later. I avoid the fresh produce market like the plague and I won’t even think about strolling the paths around Fonthill Lake. If I see your friends I turn the other way and, on one occasion, hid in the loo until they left. I avoid eating in the restaurants I took you to. All of our pictures are in a personal safe in my bedroom. Anything and everything that could remind me of you has been tucked away, out of sight.
I thought it would help me, not to have reminders of you everywhere, but it didn’t really matter did it? I still think of you. I still see you in my sleep. I still see you in the leaves, in the sun, in the world when I step outside.
I can’t seem to get away from you.
And maybe it’s because I’m not trying hard enough. Maybe it’s because a part of me just doesn’t want to forget. You were the best thing that has ever happened to me.
I know you’re probably wondering why I’m even bothering to tell you this. It’s simple really. I’ve kept it in for years and I just can’t do it anymore.
I miss you.
I miss you more and more each day and I don’t know how I’m supposed to forget you. Every time I think I can move on, something happens and I’m right back at square one. Lonely, hurt, and hating myself. I bloody hate myself for what I’ve done. I used to worry that I’d ruined you, and that you’d be as bitter and angry as me, but I realized recently that I shouldn’t have worried because you’re strong. You’re so much stronger than me. You were always going to survive my stupidity.
I saw you with Viktor last month at a Ministry function, you know. You looked so happy, so vibrant, that my heart shattered in my chest. I know I have no right to act like a victim by saying that, but I wasn’t prepared to see how you’d moved on. You found happiness in the arms of another man, and I’m still just as miserable as the day I ended it. Yes, I’m engaged to Astoria but that wasn’t a match of my choosing. She’s not horrible, and if I had been with her first I might even find her quite likable, but she’s not you. She will never be you and maybe that is why happiness evades me. I can’t love her because I never stopped loving you.
Circe, I love you and it’s killing me, because a part of me wants to chase after you. A part of me wants to steal you away in the dead of night and make you mine once more. Sometimes I even pretend that the last five years never happened. I wake up and hope to Merlin that this has all been a nightmare because the truth is too hard to face.
The truth.
The truth that I loved you then, I love you now, and that I’ll probably love you until the day I die.
I know you’re probably scoffing at that admittance, and maybe you don’t believe me, but that’s okay. I don’t blame you if you think it’s all horse shite, but I just needed you to know that I’m glad that you’ve found love. You deserve it. You deserve to be cherished and not taken for granted. You deserve so much more than I ever gave you.
I’m sorry for ruining everything good we had and I only hope you can find it in you to forgive me one day. Until then I’ll be wishing you a long and happy life.
Forever yours,
Draco Malfoy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione stared down at the parchment, her tears smearing some of the letters as they fell from her eyes.
He thought she didn’t know. He thought she hated him for what he’d done, but he was wrong. Of course she’d been angry with him. He’d hurt her, shattered her heart and her dreams of a future with him, but she understood why he’d done it. She wasn’t oblivious to his families increasing hostility toward him and after she’d cooled off after a few days she realized he’d done it to protect her. He thought he was a coward, but she hadn’t been any better. She hadn’t fought for him either. She’d given up just as he had.
He was wrong about so many things. She hadn’t moved on. She wasn’t happy in the arms of another man. She was barely getting by and she’d drank herself into a stupor the day he’d gotten engaged to Astoria. She could tell he wasn’t thrilled when the photos showed up in the Daily Prophet the next day. She could have done something then, but she didn’t. She just wallowed in self pity and took on more work at the Ministry.
She was working with Viktor, but she wasn’t dating him. She didn’t love him. She hadn’t loved anyone in five years. Her heart very much still belonged to the infuriating, ridiculously blond git that had out of the blue owled her this letter and ruined a perfectly decent Saturday night.
How dare he just dump this all on her?
Was he really that dense?
She sighed and folded the letter perfectly before slipping it into her pocket and grabbing her coat.
Ten minutes later she was standing outside of the most luxurious flat she’d ever seen. She probably should be worried about what his wife would think of her just barging in, but at this point it hardly mattered to her.
She stomped up the walk and rang the bell, heart racing in her chest as she heard a gruff voice on the other side of the door. "Are you expecting company?"
A feminine voice replied "No," as the door swung open, revealing a tired looking Draco Malfoy.
When he saw who it was standing there his mouth fell open and he blinked a few times. She could tell he was trying to figure out if he was just imaging her so she smiled, "Hello, Malfoy."
"Gr-Granger?" His eyes widened and he quickly stepped outside and shut the door behind him. "What are you doing here?"
She pulled the letter out of her pocket. "I received a very interesting owl today." She told him. "We have a lot to talk about."