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The winter air bit at Draco's cheeks as he made his way towards her. Cold seeped into his bones as the morning frost crunched under his feet. It had been months since their last meeting.
His fingers fidgeted inside his coat pocket, nervous about what he was going to say.
Despite practicing the words over and over, they never seemed to come out right. How was he supposed to tell her that he was getting married to someone who wasn't her?
She had been his everything once upon a time.
He could remember countless afternoons spent simply watching her go about her day—listening to music, dancing under the stars, sneaking Muggle cigarettes between classes. He was obsessed with everything she did. He had once spent a whole potions lesson watching her meticulously chop gurdyroots. Slughorn had given him his first-ever D in potions that day, but he didn't mind one bit. It was worth it to be able to stare at her for as long as he pleased, to get to know her outside of who she was with him.
Honestly, he would have spent even more of it watching her had he known their time together would be so limited—cut short by a war neither of them had chosen to participate in, forced to serve on opposite sides.
The worst part was having to sit back and watch as she saved the Wizarding World alongside her friends. As much as he detested the Chosen One, Draco knew Potter would be the one to save them. Draco had full confidence that Potter would take care of Granger with every fiber of his being. She was safe with him. All Draco had to do was survive, and they would be together again.
But that's not how life had worked. Not for Draco Malfoy, a boy who had endured years of physical and mental abuse at the hands of multiple mass murderers, some of which happened to be his own family members. He didn't get to be happy, and he certainly would never get to be happy with her.
Besides… she would never look at him the same way again, not after that night.
Lucius had warned him that love would make him soft, but Draco had refused to listen. He had believed with his whole heart that loving her was nothing short of a blessing. In the end, it had made him soft. He had hesitated. And just like that, their relationship was gone, never to be resurrected.
He could almost see her now. The frost glittered around where she laid. Draco couldn't help but admire the beauty of the place she picked: on the bank of a river, water flowing rapidly despite the bitter January cold.
A well-worn path had led Draco straight to her. His feet were automatic, sensing the path they had walked hundreds of times in Sixth year.
He paused when he was finally in front of her, remaining silent, too nervous to speak.
He stared down at his shoes and the frozen earth beneath them. So very different from the last time they'd been here together. He chuckled softly to himself. It was funny how his memories of her had lasted. The ones of strawberry wine and seventeen, when they both were free.
"Draco, slow down!" Hermione called, attempting to catch her breath.
"Come on, Granger, keep up," Draco chuckled, turning to look at her.
"You know full well it is difficult for me to keep up with you and all that Quidditch training! Please, take pity on me," she begged. Draco had never been able to resist her puppy dog eyes. Actually, he had never been able to resist any version of her.
"Alright, fine," he said, closing the distance between them, a playful smile on his face. "If you can't keep up, I guess I'll just have to carry you."
He swept her off her feet, throwing her over his shoulder like she weighed absolutely nothing.
"Draco!" Hermione attempted to scold him, but it came out as more of a giggle.
"Sorry, darling, much quicker this way."
He could feel her rolling her eyes.
"Oh yes, I am sure efficiency is your only reason for doing this. Nothing to do with wanting to show off your strength or anything."
Draco gasped in mock offense, gently placing her back on the ground. "Well, if that is the way you feel, you can walk yourself."
He took two steps before she called, "Wait! I take it back. Please carry me. I am exhausted already."
He smiled, squatting down so she could hop onto his back. Hermione happily wrapped her arms around him, snuggling into the back of his neck and wrapping her legs around his torso.
Once they had arrived at the riverbank, she pulled out their shrunken picnic basket, casting a whispered engorgio to make it regular-sized once more. He helped her spread the blanket over the grass.
"It is almost as beautiful as you out here," Draco said, taking in his surroundings.
The most beautiful pink spread across her cheeks. Draco couldn't wait for a lifetime of making her blush like this. He couldn't help but look at her with stars in his eyes. Somehow, someway, this witch was his.
Loving her had carved a million tiny runways into his heart, guiding him to brand new reasons to cherish her every day.
He could barely contain his love for her. It was a privilege to love her, and he was the luckiest bloke alive.
Today was the day he would finally going to admit it to her, just not quite yet.
He took a moment to appreciate her beauty in this place. If only he could freeze this moment and stay just like this forever—her long chestnut curls blowing in the gentle breeze, golden rays of sun bouncing off her delicate skin… The soft light made her glow as she carefully unpacked their picnic food.
"Are you just going to stare at me all day, or are you going to help me unpack so we can eat? I'm starving!" she giggled, playfully throwing one of the apples at him. His seeker reflexes activated as he caught the fruit, biting into it with a big goofy smile on his face. He couldn't help it. Being with her allowed him to feel free enough to just be himself.
"Strawberry wine?" Draco questioned as he sat down next to Hermione after pulling the bottle from the basket. "Who in their right mind would drink wine made from strawberries?"
"I would!" Hermione scoffed, reaching to take the bottle from Draco's grasp.
"And what is so great about this strawberry wine?" he asked, raising a brow in suspicion.
"It's a Muggle invention, and it is quite delicious! Try a sip. It's sweet, bright, and very refreshing. Like summer in a glass."
He looked at her wearily as he conjured two glasses for their wine. She poured a small amount into each and waited for him to take a sip. Cautiously, he put the glass up to his nose. The smell was quite pleasant if he were being honest—fruity, with slight citrus notes, and a floral undertone Draco couldn't quite describe. He placed the glass to his lips, taking a small sip. Suddenly, his taste buds were singing. The wine was most definitely sweet, but not cloyingly so. The citrus notes were a fantastic counterpoint to the sugary berry flavor of the strawberries.
He looked up to find her staring intently at him as he took a second sip. He knew she was very interested in his thoughts about her wine selection. He couldn't help the smile that broke on his face.
"It's terrible," he laughed.
Her jaw dropped as her eyes narrowed at him. "It is not. You love it! I can tell by the way you didn't pour it out after sniffing the bouquet."
He chuckled again. "You're right. It is surprisingly delicious. Strawberry wine… who knew?"
"I knew. Thank you very much," she said, taking a sip of her own wine.
"You are right, I never should have questioned your palate. You have the finest taste. You've picked the best place for a picnic, the best food, the best wine."
"The best boy," she giggled.
"I am not a boy anymore," he said stubbornly.
"Yes, you are. Sixteen very much still counts as a boy."
"Oh, haha. Yes, I am sure you are so wise and mature now that you are seventeen."
"I am. Thank you very much," she said matter-of-factly.
"How did I ever fall for an old woman like you?" he joked.
"Old? It's not like I'm thirty!" she said, outraged, throwing a grape at him.
"Darling, I didn't mean to upset you like that. I apologize. After all, I have been raised to respect my elders," he said, almost managing to maintain a straight face the entire time.
"Oh, shut up, you prat."
"You love our banter, don't lie to me."
She narrowed her eyes at him for a few seconds before giving up and breaking into a fit of giggles. "You're right, I do love our banter."
This was it. This was his opportunity. He took a shallow breath, too nervous to fill his lungs completely.
"And, IloveyouHermione," he blurted out.
She froze. Draco stared into her almond-colored eyes for what felt like a century. Recognition finally flooded her face, and her lips parted to reveal the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes.
"I love you too, Draco," said Hermione as her smile continued to grow.
Draco never dreamed that their relationship would bloom into something as incredible as this. He just could not believe it. Which might explain why the only response he could think of was, "Really?"
"Yes, you dolt!"
He blinked. She laughed, moving closer to him on the picnic blanket.
"Do I need to say it again?" she asked. He nodded.
She placed a gentle hand on either side of his head and tilted his face to hers. "Draco, I love you."
And then she was kissing him ever so softly, like he was a fragile ornament she was trying not to break. He kissed her back, tasting the sweet wine still lingering on her lips. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him.
He pulled her closer, never wanting to let her go.
Wind rattling through the trees on the riverbank drew him out of this memory, like a cold hand ripping him from a pensieve.
"Honestly, I have no idea where to start." He looked down at her. "Maybe at the beginning?"
He took a deep breath. "I have had a fascination with you since our first day of school. Who was this mouthy Muggleborn girl and why was everyone so impressed with her? I sure got what I was asking for when it came to you. Sometimes, I probably deserved a little worse treatment from you," he laughed.
His anxiety lifted the longer he talked, like the words loosened the knot in his stomach.
"I think that time when your right hook connected with my nose was when I first felt a physical attraction. Then… Seeing you descend the grand staircase at the Yule Ball tipped me over the edge. I fell head over heels for you, but I was a stupid little shit who didn't know how to express my feelings, so I continued to make your life hell. I am still so sorry for that. If I could go back and change it, I would." He could feel the tears welling in his eyes, but he continued on.
"And then Sixth year came, and you finally brought me to my senses. You showed me that love was real, and that someone could love me for me. You accepted me, my good, my bad, and my ugly. I hate that there was so much ugly..."
He waited for her to scold his self deprecating humor, but she did not. It was a heavy silence.
"And you, you are so beautiful. So worthy of love. How could I not love you? Everything that makes you you. The caring, funny, gorgeous, know-it-all. I can't believe that I ever had a chance to love you. I still remember the day I told you I loved you…like it was yesterday. I was so nervous, I could barely get out the words," Draco laughed, and he heard her laughter echo in the breeze.
"I remember all the times we used to have. I know those days are gone and are never coming back, but I wish more than anything that they could. I wish I could call you mine once more. I wish I could fill this ache in my soul.
My father was right. He warned me that loving would make me soft. It did. Now I can't hear Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, or smell jasmine blooming in the spring, or pass a curly haired stranger in the park without seeing you."
Tears glittered his lashes, one blink from falling. He let them. She needed to see how much he was hurting.
"If I could lose you, I would. I would obliviate myself on the spot if I thought it would help anything. But I know it won't. I will have to carry the weight of my hesitation until the day I take my last breath."
The tears were flowing more heavily and Draco would have been embarrassed by the way he was sniffling if he were talking to anyone else.
"I came to tell you something. I know it might hurt, but I just did not feel right not letting you know." His breaths were shaky as he inhaled deeply, preparing himself for the worst part. "I am getting married tomorrow. To Astoria Greengrass. Please forgive me if you can, but I had to tell you in person."
Draco knew this would break her heart, and even worse, she would be disappointed in him. Despair curled around his ankles, threatening to overcome him.
"Darling, please speak to me," he begged, stepping closer to her. The frozen grass sparkled like unshed tears. She didn't say a word.
"I guess we were never really meant to be. Who were we to think our silly teenage love was enough to conquer this evil? We were nothing more than a Death Eater and a Muggle-born. Maybe if I was empty space and you were a formless shape, we'd fit. I’d like to think that there is a world for us out there somewhere. One where we can have our own happy ending, together."
His face was red and splotchy by now. The temporary relief of talking to her was long gone. Draco felt the weight of their situation sink onto his shoulders once more.
"Hermione, I just need to know why you did it. Why did you give up everything we were building together? How could you do that—even for Potter!" Draco couldn't help the desperation in his voice.
She had never told him why.
"Did our love mean nothing to you?" His voice was breaking now as the tears poured down his face. He stared down and watched as a tear hit the smooth marble stone. It was a dagger to the chest; he fell to his knees.
"I don't know how to go on, Hermione. How am I supposed to marry someone else? How can I go on with my life knowing you are no longer in it?" His eyes blurred with the seemingly endless flood of tears.
And finally he asked the question that he had been pondering since that terrible day. "You would die for him, but you couldn’t live for me?"
His heart was held together with used spell-o-tape that had long lost its stickiness. Finally asking this question out loud after all these years shattered it into a million pieces. He felt like he was watching Hermione take that curse for Potter all over again.
He had begged her to stay safe. He thought she had been safe with Potter, but of course the Chosen One had an enormous target on his back. Potter hadn't seen the curse coming, but Draco’s brilliant witch had. Without hesitation, she jumped in front of him just in time to absorb the slicing hex. It gave Potter the chance to defeat Voldemort, but at what cost?
Draco hadn't been able to get to her in time to stop the bleeding. He only had time to hold her hand as she uttered her last words. The ones that would haunt him forever. "I'm s-sorry I h-have to go. I l-love you."
That moment would haunt him for the rest of his life. He was forced to relive it over and over again, desperately trying to change the outcome, and failing every time. How could he love again, after losing her?
He just had to fall in love with a bloody Gryffindor who was willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good. Now he was left broken.
"I need you to know, that she can never compare to you. There will only ever be room in my heart for you, darling. Please forgive me, my love," Draco pleaded.
He ran his fingers over the intricately carved headstone, and just for a moment, he could feel her hands on his. A warm, reassuring embrace, letting him know that she would always be with him, even if he was married to someone else. In that fleeting moment, he was certain he would keep holding on to those memories even though he knew they were never coming back. Because he could never let her go.