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Chapter 1 : The Lost Girl
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He hates me, I know. The look of pure disgust is a clear teller, but if you look closer, look into the eyes of my ex-lover, you will see the deep desperation he holds, the love he can’t let go. At least it’s nice to know that I am not the only one still haunted by his eyes, even as We are no longer anything, he is still here, supporting me somehow.
“Hello.” His voice is strained, and what a nice way to begin our talk; formalities first, he is after all a Malfoy to the bone, persisting the claims some make.
“Hey…” The funny thing about it all is that he won’t look at me, he is avoiding my eyes.
Time passes and it has been so long since last time I have seen his eyes or his face. He is not forgotten, somehow though, I wish he were.
He seems to gather himself before asking stoically, “What do you want, Hermione?” Dear Lord he still calls me by first name, a plus I had not expected.
“Do you know how long it’s been since last time I saw you?” I ask, trying to get him to say more than one sentence at a time.
“Yes.” I do not succeed.
“How long then? Let’s see if I’m right.” I do not ask if he is right, because he probably is; he is always right, another one of his traits.
“Two years.” he grounds out.
“I was correct.” I smile, searching out his eyes, I do not find them and he is glad I don't.
“You always are.” I try desperately to trace some sort of emotion in his voice, but there is none; he is simply stating the obvious, there is no regret, no love, no hate.
“So are you.”
“True.” He smiles despite himself, and back is the young seventeen year old boy I fell in love with, the one who loved me back as fiercely as I loved him.
My heart jumps, just by seeing the flash in his eyes; the flash of emotions suppressed over the years. I need that boy back, bring the boy back and I can love again.
“I want you to listen, Draco.”
His grin stiffens and he straightens up, “I always do.”
“I know you do, but this time I want you to listen to every word I say, every little movement of my head, look and never forget what I’m about to say.” This is my last chance, my hope to bring him back to me, to bring back the man I thought I could never have.
“Okay.” He loves a challenge, and this is another one just for him. He is alert now, I have his attention more than ever; he wants to win. He just doesn’t realise that by winning, it is I who win.
“You probably hate me a lot right now, but for one last time I want a chance, one last chance before you can throw me out the window like a used tissue. One last story before I have to leave.” I sink, trying to gather my thoughts which are, at the moment, swirling around in my head at a dizzying speed.
My mind is slightly hazy by his smell, and I try desperately to stay focused.
“My story is another possibility to the road you chose to take; this is the story of my baby girl.”
His eyes are wide and puzzled and he is pale as a ghost. I continue even though I know that I am freaking him out.
“Her name was Rose the first, because yes, there will be a second. I named her myself, pictured her blonde bouncy curls framing her adorable eyes – your eyes, her soft face with my mouth and your smile. She would have had your will and my wit and she seemed like the perfect mix of us.
She would have laughed, danced around and sung with her small sweet little voice, and she would have been no musical talent because neither of us are, but the sound issued from her mouth would be like music to our ears, because she was our daughter.
She would have been a quiet baby, never would she scream, we would have had all the time at our hands; we would make love every night and you would look at me like you did the very first time you had me, because you still loved me that much.
And she would grow up and find love, get married like us and have babies, small little cute ones with button-noses and your eyes, only your eyes.
She would call you Daddy and me Mummy and God, I wish this was real.
But she would be ever so wonderful, our girl. It’s lovely saying our; we are one again, united about something and this time it’s the fabrication of our love.
The biggest difference that separates my story from our reality is that you would love me for once and for a change I wouldn’t be afraid. I wouldn’t push you away as I did and you would still be here by my side.”
I feel like a fool. Draco is staring at me now, finally he has seemingly realised I am standing here in front of him, arms wide open and eyes filled with emotions. Gob smacked I supposed he is, not able to form a word since he’s completely at a loss with what to say. He is looking at me with some sort of lost look in his eyes.
“I’ll just go now.” I get up and he does npt try to stop me, he just keeps staring out into the thin air. He is slightly palid, which only reminds me of my little angel.
I get down and out of the big white mansion and just when I am about to turn the corner I hear his voice close to my ear.
I turn, and look into his desperately frightened eyes. His blonde hair swirls in the wind that blows calmly across our skins. I try to read his expression, in the vain hope of seeing some sort of regret, some sort of sorrow. The bottom of stomach is a bottomless empty dark hole, in which everything is lost in. I have not felt whole or complete or any of the kind since that day. Sometimes I even see the blood on my hands when I go to the toilet in the middle of the night. It still takes time.
I sink, tears in my eyes and shake my head. “No,”
He relaxes and makes to comfort me, but I continue choking in sobs, because I need to say this.
“But I used to be.”
He stops completely and then pulls me into his arms. I’m sobbing now, big fat tears are leaking out and I am deeply confused. His scent is so close and it feels like he is taking me back and I don’t know, because he is in love yet again.
In love with this wonderful girl, Asteria I heard her name is. With blonde hair that is straight and not frizzy like mine, blue innocent eyes like the ocean, not brown chestnutty ones that only make him feel worse than he already feels.
I do not blame him; I was replaceable by a lot more uncomplicated girl such as Asteria Greengrass whom I right now hate with a fire as fierce as the sun.
He kisses the crown of my head and hums softly while I sob my heart out. And just as I dread, the tears begin to stop, and I cannot get any more out.
“You didn’t tell me.” His voice is quivering and I cannot figure out if it is rage or sorrow; I hope it is both.
“No I didn’t.” we are playing our little game again, cat and mouse; who can say the most without saying a thing? He usually wins and I usually wear my heart on my sleeve. Bleeding and contracting painfully as he stabs it repeatedly without even bothering to look guilty.
Today is no exception.
“Was it mine?” he knows this and he is just pissing me off. I push away from him, screeching, “Of course it was yours!”
He is sweating, white as a ghost. He looks like an angel somehow. Our daughter had looked like him. All deadly white and beautiful like a fairy; an angel. I never did find out if she had had his eyes; she had had his hair, his wonderful hair. It had covered her small head like small white tuffs - it was amazing how much hair such a little person could have on its head. It had been so soft.
“But you lost it?” He is so cold it is hurting me deep inside, he is calm and collected and I cannot take it. Finally sobs are bubbling in my throat and angry tears mixed with sorrow, run down my cheeks in an angry flow.
“She died, Draco. She died, and there was absolutely nothing I could do, nothing.”
“I’m sorry.” He does look sorry, very sorry and finally it seems like the emotions are showing. Despair, sorrow and pain upon finding out he has lost a thing he never knew he had. And maybe it is not just Rose Granger, but maybe it is also me.
“I know you are.” I sink and now it is late; I have to go. Rose was our little miracle, loosely lost in the glimmer of my eye and she is yet another dream, yet another lost hope and fantasy of what could have been us. Now I will return home and Draco will wait for Asteria at the mansion before he kissing her. Then he will invite her on dinner, propose to her, marry her in a church like we never did, and have children with her, children all with his eyes. Always his eyes.
I turn and leave, he is still standing there, he has sunken to his knees and he is shaking, crying for the first time I have ever witnessed. He lost and so did I and he still doesn’t realise.
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