Hermione watched the fire’s flames dance their seductive ballet, mesmerizing her into deep thoughts. Thoughts of Ron, of Harry and Ginny and how they must be having a romantic honeymoon, thoughts of how that should have been her and Ron. Pulling away from the fires hypnotic glow she took a large sip of her merlot. Her thoughts now wandered to Draco and how he had noticed the blood on her hands. He never so much as noticed her as a human being before and she wondered what he was playing at and why he stayed behind to torment her.
“I don’t even know why Harry invited that git to his wedding anyways,” she spoke aloud to herself. She placed the goblet of merlot down and picked up her fountain pen and journal. She laid the dairy across her lap and started a new entry:
Some would think it silly of me to write to you in the form of this journal, but to be completely honest, to myself; this journal has been my saving grace. See my darling even in death you are still here to rescue me.
Well Ginny and Harry finally got married, but you already know this because I could feel you there. Ginny looked radiant and they both seemed so happy. No one deserves to be together more then they do and I am sure if you were sitting her next to me you would agree. I often wish you were sitting next to me on nights like this. For if you were here and I could touch you and feel you my life might not seem so empty. And if you were you would make me laugh, really laugh. I think I miss that the most, the way you were able to pull me from whatever stress or despair and just make me simply laugh.
I am sure you noticed, but Draco attended the wedding. We shared some choice words after the ceremony although I am sure you heard. Now I know I should not even be giving this a second thought, but I can not for the life of me figure out why he was lingering. Why didn’t he head to the reception with the rest of the guests? Did he just want to torment me? Please do not hate me love in saying this, but I almost thought I seen some empathy in his eyes. Then again that could have been the wine I drank before the ceremony.
Ron, he noticed that my hands were stained with blood. I guess from holding my bouquet so tightly during the ceremony. It was not much blood; I did not even notice myself that is until he brought it to my attention. He has never paid enough attention to me as long as we have known him, why now? I am sorry darling but I can not help but wonder. And forgive me, I can’t stop thinking about it; the message behind his eyes.
I don’t know maybe I am just looking for something, anything at this point in my loneliness. Life has got so complicated since you left five years ago. It seemed as though I had just found you, we had just found one another and then you had to depart. I miss you Ron, more then you could ever know. But then again I am sure you do, at least I hope you do. I know you can’t read this but I hope you hear it when the words come from my lips to these humble pages. They have all told me that it will all be worth it, worth it in the end. Some how I have started to lose hope in those words. I linger on in this life without you, unable to move forward, unable to let go. Let go of you…
Without even realizing where he was Draco found himself standing outside of Hermione’s flat.
“How the bloody hell did I get here?” he asked himself. Grasping the fact he was slightly intoxicated he went to flag down a cab, but then something caught his eye. There she was, in the window. Quickly he found a tree to dart behind and peer at her unseen. He watched her touch the window as she looked to the nighttime sky. Curious and drunk he too looked to they sky, maybe there was something interesting up there he had missed.
“Bloody star gazer,” he sniffed. He glanced back at her and found he could not release her from his stare. “What the hell is wrong with me,” he thought, “What the hell did Tom put in that drink.” But Draco, even though slightly inebriated, knew that alcohol was playing no part in these recent feelings.
“Hermione,” Harry spoke with grief in his words, “I…I’m…well.”
“Harry if you have come to tell me Ron is not going to walk through that debrief door I don’t want you to talk to me at all,” she said fearfully.
“Mione, listen to me,” he said grabbing hold of her arms, “Ron…” but before he could finish she had read his face.
“NO,” she screamed, “NO, WHERE IS HE HARRY. IS HE AT ST. MUNGO’S?”
But before he could finish the minister of magic was approaching them. Hermione was seeing her worst nightmare come true.
“Hermione,” Harry spoke, but she couldn’t hear him her eyes were focused on what followed the minister, a brown casket with a very familiar wand placed on top.
Draco rounded the corner to see Hermione collapsing into Harry’s arms. He had caught her and they fell to the ground together. She was sobbing uncontrollably and he watched as they took the casket into a special room, for inspection he supposed. He was there, he tried to stop Ron from being a hero, but Ron was stubborn. Draco and Harry both tried to save him, to buy Ron whatever time they could until medical attention arrived. But the curse and wounds were too severe. There was nothing they could do. He remembered seeing the tears fall from Harry’s eyes as he cradled his friend’s lifeless body in his arms. Draco remembered feeling not only saddened by what had just happened but that if it were him there would be no one there to cradle his body, or cry for him.
He watched Hermione’s world come crashing down around her, he remembered how he felt when his father was killed. Though an evil man, Draco loved his father. It was his father who had taught him all of his young life to hate and despise mudbloods. His father had been the one who had brainwashed him, yet he still loved him. Now the very mudblood he tormented all through his teenage existence was falling apart. The same mudblood that saved his life only a year ago, something she did not have to do but she did and he had never forgotten it.
Draco stood there, watching her and remembering. He remembered Ron’s funeral. He remembered Hermione looked like stone, all her emotions had washed away and she seemed an empty shell. Ron had been her life, both Ron and Harry, but Ron was the love of her life. He remembered how even though he felt he should not have attended, he wanted to for her. He knew she never noticed he was even there but he felt he had to be.
He gave her one last look, and he felt her loneliness. Angry and confused he walked down the street and caught a cab.
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