So many nights I'd lie awake
Hoping you were doing okay
And maybe you were but you weren't alone
I gotta admit when I found out her name
And learned she's been sleeping in the bed you made
I went out and tried doing the same
She wanted to hate him. She wanted to scream at him until her throat felt like it was bleeding. She wanted to punch his chest. She wanted to see him break the way he had broken her. She had never begged anyone until that dreary night all those months ago. She let her pride shatter into a thousand pieces, along with her heart. She had whispered with trembling lips, ‘Please don’t leave me.’ Vulnerability and desperation in her plea.
It had been a love that consumed her. Yet, it seemed it was a love that was destined to remain a bittersweet reminder of a love that would never be.
She wanted to hate him. But she couldn’t.
She hated that while her heart was breaking, he was moving on.
Hated dreaming that one day they would find their way to each other again.
Hated knowing that while she was hurting, he was completely fine.
She lay awake at night going over every little detail of their last few weeks together. Every conversation, every touch, every gesture, every look.
If she had known their last hug, their last conversation, their last kiss, was going to be their last, she would have held on forever.
The hardest part in all of this was the fact she was driving herself crazy trying to understand why he gave up.
Having to confront the bitter truth day after day when she saw him. The bitter truth that her love would remain unreturned.
The stabbing ache in her heart when she saw him almost brought her to her knees. Saw him with her.
3 MONTHS AGO .
She walked down the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley, eyes cast downward watching her feet move one after the other. She was moving as if she was on autopilot. Nothing felt the same anymore. She didn’t feel the same anymore. She felt hollow. Empty.
It had been one month since that night. The longest month of her life. An entire month of waiting for him to say it was all a mistake. An entire month of praying to every God that he would realize they were meant to be. An entire month watching her fireplace hoping he would come through unannounced and tell her he wanted her back.
She watched every night until her eyes grew too tired to stay open, but he never came.
The girls had asked her to meet them at the cafe on the corner. A typical monthly tradition they had started a few years after the war. It was something they all looked forward to. Even though they saw each other frequently, this was for just the girls. A routine she once adored, she was dreading with every fiber in her body.
She wanted to say no. She wanted to stay in bed. She wanted to be alone.
But that was the problem. She didn’t want to be alone. She was tired of being lonely. She just wanted him.
It took everything in her that day to put on her shoes and walk out the door. Her post break-up attire of pyjamas or his old Quidditch jersey were not appropriate so she settled on washed out jeans and a frumpy old sweater that belonged to her Dad.
Hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans, she continued down the street oblivious to the onlookers watching her from each side of the street.
As she approached the wooden door, she paused and took a deep breath before entering. The bell above letting the rest of the patrons know someone had arrived.
Looking around she spotted Ginny, Padma and Pansy Parkinson sitting at their usual table off to the side. They were all deep in conversation, Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed as she spoke back and forth between the other two women.
Glancing up. Ginny caught her eye and waved her over, her expression immediately softening and a smile gracing her freckled face.
Hermione raised her hand, almost pathetically really in a slight wave and made her way over to the group.
“Hello sunshine,” Ginny smiled as she stood and greeted the brunette with a tight hug which she returned half heartedly.
“Hi Hermione,” Padma grinned at her, a look of sympathy graced her face.
“Granger,” Pansy nodded. Even after four years of friendship, marrying Hermione’s best friend, and dating her best friend for almost three years, she was still Granger. It was comforting. At least Pansy wasn’t changing.
Nodding in acknowledgment at the ladies, she sat down and started playing with her thumb fingernail. The three women looked at her with a sadness in their eyes, even Pansy was looking at her like she felt sorry for her. That was NOT going to work.
“We’re so glad you came,” Ginny reached forward and placed her hand on top of hers that rested on her lap, “How are you?”
She opened her mouth and looked around, two pairs of brown eyes and one of blue waiting with baited breath for her to speak.
She hated this. They were treating her as if she was some broken doll.
“I’m okay,” she forced a smile.
Ginny nodded in acceptance while Padma gave her a small smile of pity. Pansy sat stone faced.
“We’ve missed you. Is there anything we can get you? Coffee? Tea? Oh, I think Mrs. Crawley has some freshly made scones, I’ll just go grab so-”
“Ginny, I’m fine,” Hermione stopped the redhead from getting up from her seat, forcing a smile, “Really.”
“Really?” Pansy raised a perfectly plucked, black brow at her.
Hermione once again looked around at her three friends watching her expectantly, and exhaled, “Okay. I’m not okay. But can we please pretend for one hour that I am? I need to do something other than crying and going over every little detail in my head trying to figure out what the bloody hell happened.”
“Bloody hell? You sound like my fiancé,” Padma joked, winking at the curly-haired woman. Hermione cracked a small grin.
“Is that what you want?” Ginny asked her.
“Yes.”
Ginny nodded, “Of course. Whatever you need.”
“Anything Hermione,” Padma smiled.
“What they said,” Pansy said, picking up her teacup and taking a sip.
“Thank you,” she mustered up a small smile of appreciation before clearing her throat, “So, what have I missed?”
“Well, Padma was just telling us about her and Ron’s wedding plans,” Ginny nodded in her direction.
“Oh? How is it all going Padma?” Hermione asked, taking a small sip of the water glass that had been waiting for her.
“It’s...” Padma glanced at Ginny.
Ginny let out a small chuckle, “Don’t hold back on my account. You may be marrying my brother, a fact I'll never understand, no offense, but I know what a prat he can be.”
“It’s not Ron,” Padma mumbled, averting her eyes from the redhead.
“Then what is it?” Pansy asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Its-it’s well...it’s your Mum, Gin.”
Ginny let out a bark of laughter, “Oh, believe me, I’ve seen her lately. Why do you think I told Blaise we are eloping?”
“You and Blaise are getting married?” Padma exclaimed leaning forward, placing both hands on the table.
“Well, not right now. I just see how absolutely bonkers Mum is planning everything. Seriously, she is worse than she was with Bill and Fluer. I didn’t think it was possible. I refuse to go through that with her. We will kill each other. I don’t envy you Pad.”
Padma groaned and placed her forehead on the table.
“Is it really that bad?” Pansy asked, looking at her friend with wide eyes.
“Let’s put it this way,” Padma raised her head, “We went dress shopping for my white wedding dress for the ceremony at the Burrow and your mother picked the most gods-awful cream dress with ruffles and feathers. Feathers Ginny!”
“Good Godric,” Ginny looked horrified.
“And when I was shopping for my lehenga she wanted lime green and hot pink. Those aren’t even my colours!”
“That is an utter crime,” Pansy scowled, “You should just let me design both dresses.”
“I can’t ask you to do that Pans.”
“Why not? I’m designing the bridesmaid’s dresses too.”
“Are you sure?”
“Would I offer if I didn’t want too?”
Padma bit the inside of her cheek and then broke out into a large grin “I’d be honoured to have a Pansy Parkinson original for my wedding dresses.”
“Potter.”
“What?” Ginny furrowed her brows.
“I’m changing my name,” Pansy declared to the group, nodding once.
“You always said you wanted to keep your maiden name for your business.”
“I do. I’ve already established my name in the fashion industry, but we’ve been married for over a year now and I think it's time. Plus, and if you tell anyone this, I will hex you, I want to have Harry’s last name.”
Ginny and Padma awed at their friend, “You want to be a Potter!”
“If you say anything I will deny it,” Pansy glared at her friends, but there was no malice.
“Pansy Potter. It just rolls right off the tongue.”
All three ladies giggled and then looked at the brunette who had yet to join in the conversation.
“Hermione?” Ginny asked, nudging her friend's knee with her own.
Hermione hummed and looked up, catching the other women staring at her with concern.
Ginny sighed, “Are you sure you're okay?”
Hermione nodded, “Yes. Sorry. I’m sorry. I just got lost in my thoughts there.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Padma asked gently.
Did she? Maybe talking about it would help. Maybe actually saying the words out loud would bring her closure. Maybe.
“I just-” Hermione’s voice barely above a whisper, “I just don’t understand.”
“None of us do Hermione. Honestly, we thought you two were ‘it’. You seemed so perfect together,” Padma replied.
“I thought we were,” Hermione shook her head, “I have been racking my brain just trying to understand, trying to come up with some rational reason why he did this.”
“Granger, he’s my best friend and I don’t even understand it,” Pansy rolled her eyes.
“He won’t return my letters. I haven’t seen him since that night. It’s like he's avoiding me,” the hurt evident in her tone.
“He’s avoiding all of us,” Ginny noted, “Even Blaise. No one has seen him other than work and even there he’s working mostly alone. He even asked Robards for a solo assignment the other week.”
“I just wish I knew what the hell happened,” Hermione placed her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands.
“He’s avoiding me too. Me. Out of everyone, I thought he would at least speak to me. I swear to Salazar once I see him, I am going to hex his balls off,” Pansy sneered.
The sound of the bell ringing from the door made the girls stop talking and look towards the newcomer. Or newcomers.
“You might not need to wait long,” Padma voiced causing Hermione to look up from her palms.
There he was. Walking through the door, a warm, gentle smile bloomed on his pale face as he gestured for the person beside him to enter. He looked good. His stark blonde hair was perfectly styled, parted and slicked to the side. He must have cut his hair. The sides were shorter than the last time she had seen him. His perfectly straight teeth were on display. He wore a dark navy suit, so dark that it almost looked black, but she knew it wasn’t. She knew because she had bought him it. She watched as the person he had gestured to walked in front of him and then turned back to face him. She was beautiful. Exquisite. He placed his hand on her lower back and guided her to an intimate booth at the other corner of the cafe, completely oblivious to the woman whose heart was crumbling on the other side of the room.
“What the fuck?” Ginny whispered, her eyebrows furrowing as she watched the scene in front of her.
‘I’ll avada him right now,” Pansy scowled in his direction.
“What is he doing with Astoria Greengrass?” Ginny hissed, her brown eyes glaring at the blond and his ‘companion’ a mere ten meters away.
“What does it look like? They’re on a date Weasley,” Pansy glaring daggers at the couple.
Hermione felt like she couldn't breathe. Her heart, while already broken, shattered more in that moment she saw him with her. A pain so indescribable it left her dizzy.
“Hermione, I’m so sor-” Padma started to say before Hermione interrupted.
“I need to get out of here,” Hermione breathed out, the hot tears threatening to fall.
Just as she made a move to ride from her chair, she heard it. Laughter. His laughter. Laughter, he had only ever saved for her and their special moments. The times they were alone, just them. The time they danced in her tiny kitchen, only the two of them illuminated by the bright moonlight. The time she shoved her ice-cream cone in his face as they walked down muggle London. The time he took her flying knowing she hated it with a passion, and she screamed when he dipped them low near the river. The time she took him to a muggle pub with karaoke and she belted out ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA and he looked at her like she hung the moon. His eyes always crinkled when he laughed, one dimple on the left side of his cheek. And now here he was, one month since he had broken her heart looking at someone else with the exact same look, a look she thought he always had reserved for her.
He looked happy. He didn’t look heartbroken. He didn’t look like he had been pining for her. One month later, and he was already dating while she felt like her entire world was falling apart.
“Hermione-”
Standing up abruptly, her chair topped backwards causing it to crash on the hardwood floor. The other patrons, including him, paused their conversations to follow the sound.
Grey met brown.
The smile on his face slowly faded as they continued to lock eyes for what felt like a lifetime.
She felt like the walls were closing in on her. Her shallow breath rang in her ears.
Hermione broke eye contact first at the first threat of a tear waiting to fall and moved around the table to walk quickly out the door of the cafe, never once turning back.
She vaguely recalled hearing the sound of Ginny shouting her name, but she kept walking quickly down the street as the tears started to fall. Breaking out into a run, she felt a sob escape her as the wind tangled her unruly curls. Without thinking she thought of home, her cozy little home. But thinking of home made her think of him. There was still so much of him he left at her little flat. Shirts, ties, his red toothbrush that she bought him as a joke, letters, countless pictures she had of them from her muggle polaroid camera. He was her home.
‘Crookshanks. Think of Crookshanks,’ she said to herself as she came to an abrupt halt and shut her eyes tightly, thinking of her sweet little Crookshanks.
With a ‘pop’, she was standing in her kitchen and faced Crookshanks who was lounging on top of the counter.
A few seconds later, she heard another ‘pop’ and Ginny appeared a few feet from her.
“Hermione! What were you thinking?” Ginny scolded, rushing towards her friend and looking her over for any injuries, “You’re in no state to apparate. You could have really hurt yourself.”
As much as Ginny hated to admit it, the older she got the more she sounded like Molly Weasley.
Before Hermione could respond, her kneed buckled just as Ginny caught her. Together, with her friend's arms wrapped firmly around her, they slid to the floor. Her sobs echoed throughout the room as she gripped her friend's arms. Ginny ran a hand through Hermione’s curls, rocking her back and forth softly.
“I’ve got you Hermione, you’re not alone,” Ginny soothed making Hermione cry harder.
They sat together, wrapped in each other as Hermione’s tears slowly stopped, a stabbing pain in her throat from the sobs that broke out.
“I’m not this girl Ginny,” Hermione wept as the redhead continued to comfort her, her face stained with old tears as new ones created a new path, “I’m not the girl who cries over someone. I’m Hermione Granger. I’m supposed to be strong. Brave. I’m not supposed to fall apart over a boy.”
“You can't have it together every minute of every day Hermione, you’re human. You’re allowed to feel sad. You’re allowed to cry. Heartbreak is messy.”
“I didn’t even cry this much when Ron and I broke up,” she let out a sharp laugh, “I was sad of course, but it didn’t feel like this.”
Her sobs eventually quietened, and her sniffles subsided. She wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but she took comfort in her friend's arms. She didn’t need to do this alone. Not anymore.
The sound of Crookshanks meowing in the background broke the silence. Hermione sat up and wiped her tears with the back of her father’s jumper.
“Why does it hurt so much?” Her voice sore and cracking from the sobbing.
“Because you loved him that much Hermione,” Ginny gave her a sad smile, “It wasn’t like this with Ron because you didn’t love him like you loved Malfoy.”
“I just want the pain to go away,” she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion.
“It will, I promise. Take it day by day Hermione. Let yourself fall apart but try a little each day. That’s all you can do. You’ll become you again. And one day you’ll realize how far you’ve come.”
“You promise?” Her voice was delicate like a child's.
“I promise.”
“They say time heals all wounds but,” Her voice broke, and her lip quivered, “But how long before my heart forgets him? Because right now I feel like I can barely breathe.”
Ginny clenched her eyes shut and brought the sobbing girl to her chest, holding her just a little tighter than before.
He made it look so easy, moving on. He had looked so content, happy even. She only saw him for that brief few minutes, but she knew. She just knew that this was different.
She had found out from Ginny, who had found out from Blaise, that he had started seeing Astoria Greengrass two weeks after their break-up.
Two weeks.
That’s all it had taken him.
Two weeks and he was laughing with someone else. Flirting with someone else. Kissing-
No, she couldn’t even think of that.
She wasn’t sure what had been worse. Witnessing them together that day in the cafe or finding out he had moved on a mere two weeks after ripping her heart apart.
The word pain didn’t seem to do it justice. He had taken a piece of her with him the moment he said, ‘This isn’t working anymore.’ He walked away with a piece of her heart that day, a piece he wasn’t returning which was evident from his date with Astoria Greengrass.
In spite of everything he had put her through, in spite of the constant longing she tried to ignore, she would lay in bed at night unable to find the solace she so desperately craved in sleep.
She would think of him. How he was. Where he was. Who he was with.
Was he happy? Would he think of her if he saw an orange cat? Would he smile when he saw a curly-haired woman pass by him? Would he miss her if he walked by bookshops? Were there days he cried for her? Did he lie awake the same as she did in the quiet of the night and let himself think of her? Did he stare at the ceiling while wishing for sleep and wonder if she was with someone else, too?
He made it look so easy. He made moving on look so bloody easy while her heart ached for him.
Exhaling, she continued to stare at the ceiling, trying to stop her mind from wandering to the one person she wished to forget.
Her tears were long gone. Maybe she had cried her eyes dry. Maybe you were only allotted a number of tears per person, and she had used his up.
There was so many things she wished she could ask him.
Why didn’t he try? Why did he give up? What changed in those last few days?
There was no doubt in her mind that if he had at least tried, they would have lasted forever.
But she hadn’t been worth the effort, had she? She hadn’t been worth the work and sacrifice. She wished so desperately that she could erase him. That she could move on like he had.
She tried.
Gods, she tried.
1 MONTH AGO.
“I don’t know Gin, I’m not ready,” Hermione muttered as she walked arm-in-arm with her friend.
“Oh come on Hermione. It’s been three months. He’s clearly moved on. Oliver has been asking about you for weeks since he found out you and Malfoy broke up. It’s only one date.”
Hermione bit her lip, “I don’t know.”
“What do you have to lose? You get dressed up, put on some make-up, feel good about yourself for the first time in months, have a nice dinner with a handsome man. Even if you don’t feel anything romantic, you'll have a nice night with good conversation.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Hermione agreed.
Ginny stopped dead in her tracks, “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”
Hermione let out a laugh, “I said you’re right. Now come on, if I’m going on this date I need a new dress. I refuse to wear anything I wore with him. ”
“There’s the Hermione Granger I know and love,” Ginny kissed her cheek and pulled her forward, leading her to ‘Pansy Potter Designs’.
Pansy and Ginny had settled on a black dress. Shorter than she would have liked but according to the ladies, Hermione had legs for days and it would have been a crime not to show them off. It had slightly puffy sleeves at the shoulder and stopped just above her elbow. It was more revealing than Hermione would typically go for, with her cleavage on full display due to the cutout and three bows down the middle holding the material together. She hated to admit it, but it did make her breasts look good. She left her curls down and free and finished off the look with black and white pointed heels. Her makeup was subtle but enough for her to feel pretty.
And she did, feel pretty that is. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time. It felt good.
Standing in front of her floor length mirror, she tugged on the hem of her dress slightly. Nerves overtook her and she felt her heart starting to race.
The sound of a knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts.
Taking one deep breath she gave herself one more once over in the mirror and then walked towards her front door and turned the handle.
Oliver Wood stood on the other side of the doorway, a taupe trench coat over a cream shirt and brown trousers. He had slight stubble on his face. He looked rugged, handsome. He was holding one beautiful long-stemmed red rose. A smile spread over his face which she forced one in return.
“Hermione,” he greeted, “You look beautiful tonight.”
Something in those words made her wince. He had always told her she was beautiful. Every morning waking up together. Every time they danced. Every time they made love.
She wanted to smile, she should smile at that. But she couldn’t bring herself too.
“Thank you Oliver,” she nodded in acknowledgment.
He handed her the rose, “This is for you.”
Accepting the rose, their fingers brushed together slightly and she felt strange. The first time she had touched him had been like an electric shock had soared through her body. Her fingertips had been on fire. This, well this felt nothing like that.
Shaking her head slightly, she mustered up a small smile of gratitude, “It’s lovely, thank you.”
‘Pull yourself together Hermione,’ the voice in her head scolded.
“I’ll go put it in some water, would you like to come in? I’ll just be a moment,” she gestured inside. Oliver nodded in acceptance and stepped through her front door, closing it behind him.
Her flat wasn’t anything special by any means, but it was warm, cozy, hers. She had spent the last few weeks removing all traces of him and their, now, past. After their first unexpected run in, she had seen him more times than she would like to admit. Never once did they break breath to each other, never once did she catch him looking at her, while her eyes couldn’t tear themself away from him. He was always with her. Smiling, holding her hand, she swore one time she caught a kiss on the cheek, but she quickly turned away before she had to witness that.
He was treating her as if she didn’t exist. As if the almost three years they were together hadn’t happened. As if every conversation, every future plan, every touch, every kiss had never happened. He was now nothing more than a distant memory that was getting further and further away.
So, she did what any woman whose heart was broken would do; she grabbed a large bottle of red wine, put some Joni Mitchell on her muggle radio and burned every letter and picture and threw out every article of clothing or piece of jewelry he had ever gifted her. There was one thing she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of though as much as she tried and there it lay ton the back of her couch where Oliver Wood stood staring at it with a blank expression.
‘Bollocks. I meant to put that away,’ she cursed herself as she walked back into the living area.
Clearing her throat, she forced a grin and grabbed her purse, “Ready to go?”
Oliver nodded and he too forced a smile, turning away from the green piece of cloth, “Aye, lead the way.”
The walk to the restaurant had been uncomfortable at best, an awkward silence falling over them. Hermione loathed awkward silences, so she did what she did best, she rambled on about useless drivel. Oliver couldn’t help but smile at her as she pratted on and on.
During dinner she found herself looking over her shoulder, as if she was being watched. It was if she was cheating on him. Like every person was judging her for being out with someone else. It didn’t feel right even though it was more than apparent that her former lover had moved on as she saw their weekly dates plastered all across the Daily Prophet. It still felt like she was betraying him, though.
She would look up and catch Oliver’s gaze, his brown eyes watching her intently with such warmth that in any other circumstance it would have given her butterflies. She would feel her breath hitch in her throat and have to break his stare, the feeling of unease washing over her. Any other woman would love to be looked at the way Oliver Wood was looking at her, with admiration and longing.
‘Get a grip Hermione. He’s not coming back. Oliver is nice, he wants to know you. Give him a chance,’ her brain reprimanded her.
Her heart twisted in her chest, ‘I still miss him, even after everything he’s put me through. How can I move on when all I want is him,’ it wept.
The war raged on between her brain and heart, it was so loud it was almost deafening.
Shaking her head, trying to stop the battle her head and her heart were having she took a long drink from her wineglass.
“So Oliver, tell me more about yourself,” Hermione clasped her hands and placed them on the white tablecloth.
“This feels like an interview,” he laughed and quirked an eyebrow.
Hermione cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “Sorry. I’m sorry,” she covered her eyes with her hands, “I haven’t been on a first date in a really long time. I’m, well,” she let out a laugh, “I’m a little rusty. Though that feels like an understatement.”
“I think you’re doing better than you realize,” the corner of his mouth turned up on one side. He really was handsome.
She felt a genuine smile form across her face, “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Is it working?” He smirked at her.
“Maybe,” she shrugged playfully and smiled into her wine glass.
They shared a laugh and she suddenly felt lighter, hopeful even.
The rest of their dinner went by smoothly after the ice had been broken. They shared small talk and she even laughed at his stories of him and Percy Weasley from their Hogwarts days. He teased her relentlessly about her refusal to try the stuffed mussels he had ordered and she laughed at his look of disbelief when she recalled the story about riding a dragon.
“You rode a dragon?” his eyes were wide.
“Yes, Harry, Ron and I did,” she said it so nonchalantly that Oliver gawked at her.
“Spoken like it was an every day occurrence,” he snickered.
She let out a laugh, “Well we did get up to some wild things back then.”
“I thought you were never a fan of flying,” he recalled.
“No, no I can’t say I have ever been a fan truthfully. Except maybe once,” she replied as immediate memory flashed through her mind.
●●●
“Get on the broom,” he stood with the broom between his legs, one hand holding onto the top while the other gestured for her to approach.
“What? No. Draco you know I hate flying,” she furrowed her brows together.
“You hate flying by yourself or with Potter and Weasley. You won’t be alone or with those two idiots. You’ll be with me.”
She chewed the corner of her lip, “I can’t. Come on, can’t we just apparate to this place you want to show me?”
“We could, but the best part of getting there is the journey. I want you to see it. I want to share it with you.”
Hermione groaned and covered her eyes, “Don’t say things like that. I hate flying Draco, I don’t want too.”
“Granger, get on the broom.”
“No,” she folded her arms in protest. There was absolutely no way in hell she was flying. She refused.
“Granger. Get. On. The. Broom.”
“No, I like my feet planted firmly on the ground thank you.”
“Granger,” he looked at her with those grey eyes that melted her every time, “Will you please get on the broom?”
She shook her head, “Nope.”
He groaned and tilted his head back towards the sky, “You are infuriating.”
“Likewise,” she raised an eyebrow at him.
He looked at her and flashed her that smile, the same one that always made her weak in the knees.
“Hermione,” his voice was soft, gentle. It sent shivers up her spine.
She gulped, “Yes?”
“I would like to take my girlfriend flying. Now, will you please get on the broom.”
“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’.
“Granger, get your tight little arse on the broom now.”
“Make me,” she challenged him.
He raised an eyebrow at her before standing up straight and throwing the broom to the ground. Never breaking eye contact with her, he walked straight towards her and placed his hands on her hips.
“Draco what are yo-”
The words were cut off as she let out a squeal as her feet left the murky grass and she was hoisted over his shoulder.
“Put me down,” she growled as she wiggled around, gripping onto the back of his black jacket.
“Make me,” he mocked her as he walked them towards the broom that lay on the ground.
“Draco Malfoy, put me down this instant or I swear to Godric I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” he scoffed, “Strangle me to death with your curls?”
“Don’t tempt me,” she grumbled.
She let out a yelp as he plunked her down, her feet touching the grass once more but before she could say anything, he picked up the broom and mounted it between their legs, her back pressed tightly against his chest.
“Hold on tight Granger,” she could hear the smirk in his voice as he breathed in her ear. He kicked hard against the ground and they soared up through the air. Without warning, he dove swiftly down towards the lake below them. She gripped the handle of the broom tightly just below his and let out a bloodcurdling scream that rattled in the back of her throat. Clenching her eyes so tight it felt like her head was going to explode, she felt the air rush through them.
His laughter boomed throughout the crisp, night, air, “I’ve got you Granger.”
“I hate you,” she seethed through clenched teeth.
“Well, we know that’s a lie. You love me,” she could practically hear the smirk.
She did. More than she knew possible.
She felt them level off, her hair blowing behind her.
“Bastard,” she grumbled.
His chuckled rumbled in her ear, “Come on, open your eyes.”
“No,” she shook her head, her eyes still tightly closed.
“I won't let you fall Hermione,” his voice was low in her ear.
“You promise?”
“I promise. You're safe with me. I'll never let anything happen to you.”
And she believed him. Slowly she opened her eyes and gasped at the view. The fear suddenly vanished.It was beyond breathtaking.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed out, completely in awe of her surroundings.
“It is,” and while she couldn’t see she just knew he was looking at her.
She turned her head and saw that he had indeed been staring at her. She gave him a smile which he returned.
“Still scared of flying?” she felt his arms tighten around her slightly, as they hovered in mid-air.
“Surprisingly it's become one of my new favourite things,” she responded and then exhaled as he pressed his lips to her forehead.
She could have stayed like this forever. Here, in this moment with him. Nothing else mattered.
●●●
“Hermione?”
The sound of Oliver’s voice snapped her back to reality.
“S-sorry, I got lost in my thoughts there,” her voice shook slightly, feeling her heart beat in her throat.
“I’ll say,” he chuckled, “So you changed your mind then?”
“W-what?” she furrowed her brows in confusion.
“You changed your mind about flying then?” he asked, grabbing his own wineglass and taking a sip.
“Oh,” she blinked a few times, “I-I don’t-I don’t mind it now, I suppose.”
“Good,” he grinned, “Maybe I can take you flying one day then.”
She felt her stomach twist but forced a tight smile, “Maybe.”
She couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling as they continued on with their dinner. She found herself distracted, unable to concentrate on Oliver’s stories as much as she tried. She knew it had been too soon. He may have found it easy to move on but she wasn't him.
The sound of a piano flowed throughout the dimly lit restaurant. They both glanced over and watched a young man delicately play the keys. They watched as couples walked towards the center of the room. Older couples holding each other in a tight embrace. Newer couples, some awkwardly stepping on each other's toes while others looked nervous as they smiled sheepishly at the other.
Oliver looked back at her and his mouth lifted at the side, “What do you say? Want to dance?”
“Oh,” Hermione blinked, “I-I’m not sure.”
“Come on, if I remember correctly, you said you love to dance.”
She did. It was something she had loved from an early age.
‘Go on Hermione,’ her mind encouraged her.
“Yes, that would be lovely,” her lips formed a small grin.
Oliver stood up and offered her his hand which she accepted albeit a little cautiously. He guided her towards the area where the other couples continued to dance closely together.
He took her hand in his and placed one gently on her hip. He kept some distance between them but they were close enough she could smell his cologne.
Cinnamon and spices.
She couldn’t help but feel a pang in her chest thinking of him. She knew it wasn’t fair to compare but she couldn’t stop herself. His cologne always smelled of citrus and cedar. It no longer lingered on her pillow, and she missed it.
“You’re a good dancer,” she heard him say low in her ear. His breath was hot against her skin.
“Thank you. You are too,” she complimented. It was true, he was.
“It’s easy when you have a beautiful woman in your arms,” he flashed her a charming smile.
Hermione felt a blush creep up on her cheeks as she gave him a shy smile in return.
“Do you like to dance?” she asked him as he twirled her around once before bringing her closer to him than she was before.
“I don’t mind it, but I find myself enjoying it more at the moment.”
She let out a nervous laugh as he suddenly dipped her backwards and another memory rushed to the foreground.
●●●
Walking into her kitchen, she stopped in her tracks as she watched him mutter profanities under his breath and tap the silver box. He waited and when nothing happened, he would tap it harder. She put her hand over her mouth to stop from giggle as she heard him grumble.
“On,” she saw him point to the box as if it would magically respond to his command.
“Play music,” she heard him say.
He started poking the buttons and continued to watch it with furrowed brows.
“What are you trying to do?” She asked as she made her presence known, a small laugh escaping her.
“Trying to work this bloody muggle rabio thing. I think it's defective,” he gestured towards the stereo that sat on her kitchen countertop.
She stifled a laugh, “I think you mean radio.”
“Yes, that. It’s impossible to get to work,” he threw his hands up in the air in defeat.
“Or,” she said as she walked towards him and held the three prong plug between her fingers, “You could try plugging it in.”
She placed the plug in the socket then twisted the silver dial. A sweet melody filled the room and she looked at him triumphantly.
She mockingly gasped, “Would you look at that?”
“Swot,” he grumbled, “No one likes a showoff Granger.”
“Oh, but you do,” she teased and approached him, wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on her tiptoes to press a delicate kiss on his nose.
He huffed but placed his hands on either side of her hips.
“What were you trying to do anyway?” she asked.
“My plan before you so rudely interrupted-”
“Helped.”
“My plan ,” he emphasized before pinching her side, “Was to ask my beautiful girlfriend to dance.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow, “Here? In my tiny kitchen?”
“Where else?” He grabbed her hand and spun her around before bringing her to his chest.
She let out a laugh, “But you hate dancing.”
“True,” he mused as he placed one her on her waist while holding the other in his, “But I realized a long time ago that I would do pretty much anything to see you smile Granger.”
The smile on her face lit up the room at that comment. She could stay in this moment forever. Truthfully, she could stay in any moment with him forever.
She laughed out loud as he suddenly dipped her backwards, her head tilting towards the hardwood floor.
His eyes crinkled at each side as he smiled down at her as she continued to laugh.
“You’re a wonderful dancer you know,” she mused as he brought her back up towards him, their faces only a few centimeters apart.
“Only for you,” he whispers, his breath on her lips.
Leaning in, he claims her mouth with his before bringing the hand in his up towards his shoulder. She reaches behind him with both hands and caresses the back of his neck while his hands grip her waist tightly all while they continue to sway to the music.
“I love you,” she whispered, their lips still touching ever so slightly.
“I love you too.”
●●●
The remainder of the date went as good as she could have hoped. It took everything in her to force every thought, every memory of him to the back of her mind and be present. Oliver had been a perfect gentleman. He asked to hold her hand on the walk back to her flat, which she allowed. He offered her his suit jacket as she shivered from the cool air. He had been patient with her all night, kind. Part of her wanted to kick herself. He didn’t deserve her not being fully present.
As they approached the concrete stairs to the building of her flat, she felt her heart start to race. The classic ‘kiss after the first date’ moment approaching quicker than she wanted yet her steps seemed to be slower than she thought possible. The sick feeling started to creep up her throat and she swallowed it down quickly, a sour taste still present in her mouth.
‘He might not kiss you, it’s okay. Don’t panic.’
They stood in front of the large, brown door in an awkward silence.
“Well,” she cleared her throat as she took off his suit jacket and held it out to him, “Thank you for letting me borrow your jacket.”
“Anytime,” he grinned as he took the jacket from her hands, their fingertips brushing together gently, “I had a great time.”
“Really?” She laughed, despite herself, “I felt like I was an utter disaster.”
“Nah,” he shook his head, the smile still lingering on his face, “You were wonderful.”
He leaned forward slowly, and she felt herself stiffen, panic rising throughout her body. Time seemed to slow down as she watched him approach her. His mouth barely touched hers before she panicked and turned her head quickly, his lips making contact with her cheek.
She pulled back and made eye contact with him, seeing the look of disappointment in his eyes, “I-I had a nice time too, Oliver. Thank you. I should-I better go. Goodnight.”
She turned the handle before he could respond.
‘G’night Hermione,” she heard him mutter as she hastily shut the door.
Quickly running up the stairs to her flat, she felt the hot tears threaten to fall. Once she was safely in the comfort of her own flat, she shut the door and slid down the door and let herself fall apart. Pulling her knees up towards her chest, she buried her face into her hands.
‘I’m such an idiot. He’s happily with someone else and I can’t even let a nice man kiss me goodnight.’
She chastised herself over and over while continuing to cry into her arms, the mascara streaking down her face.
‘If only getting over him was as simple as he made it seem.’
She wished she could ask him how he did it. How did me move on so easily from her. How could he act like what they had was nothing. He should be long gone from her mind. She shouldn't be giving him a second thought. If his heart could change and forget her so easily, it wasn't built like hers.
After what felt like hours, she wiped her tears and stood up. The green fabric catching her eye on the back of the couch. The one thing she hadn’t been able to throw away. His old Quidditch jersey. She brought the material to her nose and inhaled. Citrus and cedar. It still smelled like him. His scent had left her pillows a while ago but this, this still made her feel like their time together wasn’t just a fever dream.
Holding it close, she walked towards her bedroom and placed it neatly on her bed. Changing from her black dress and heels, she put her arms through the cotton and pulled it over her head before crawling into her bed sheets, makeup and dried tears still staining her face.
She was still hanging on to him. Hanging onto every look, every forehead kiss, every smile, the feel of his fingertips on her skin. She was still hanging on but he had let go a long time ago.
“I still love him,” she whispered into the quiet of the night, fresh tears building around her brown eyes, “But I don’t want to love him anymore.”
She cried herself to sleep that night and dreamt of him.
Her date with Oliver had been a disaster in every aspect regardless of her trying. She wanted to be ready, but she just wasn’t. No matter how much she had tried to convince herself. She owled him the morning after and explained, well everything. The perfect gentleman he was, he understood. He told her to take her time and that when she felt she was ready, he would be waiting for her. She smiled at that. It gave her hope.
PRESENT.
Things had been getting better. She had been getting better. She had started sharing letters with Oliver two weeks ago, the promise of a second date not far from reality. She was feeling good. Finally.
Until this morning. Until The Daily Prophet landed on her windowsill early hours of the morning. There it was. There they were. Happily gazing at each other, not a care in the world. Like nothing else existed but them.
The Wedding of the century!
Malfoy heir to wed Pureblood socialite Astoria Greengrass this fall
She hadn’t cried in two weeks. Yes, she counted. Not until this morning, and it felt like she was reliving the past six months over and over again. The bold print seemed to mock her as she stared at it, the words now blurry from her tears.
Engaged. He was engaged.
She had finally come to accept the fact he wasn’t coming back and he was happily dating but engaged? It was another blow to the chest that knocked the wind out of her. She shut her floor network off and buried herself in her books. She found escape in the pages and words.
Something washed over her after a few hours of solitude. An epiphany, maybe. She wasn’t sure. But she knew what she needed to do.
Placing the book on her bed, she walked over to her desk and sat down. Grabbing a fresh quill and ink, she took the parchment and started writing.
Dear Draco,
I’m not quite sure why I’m writing to you. I don't expect you to respond, you haven’t to any others so why would you now? Perhaps I’m doing this for closure. Perhaps it’s more for myself than anything. I’m not sure.
Your engagement was just announced in The Daily Prophet this morning and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Maybe what hurt the most was how happy you look. You both look exquisite together, as much as it pains me to say. You look at her like you how used to look at me and it’s a pain I can’t even describe. As I write this, your smiling picture looks back at me on the front page and I’m not sure what hurts more, the fact you moved on so easily or the fact I’m still waiting for my heart to stop breaking wondering when it’ll be my turn to forget, too.
I’ve tried so hard to forget. I’ve tried so hard to move on. Our friends think I am and if they asked me if I still loved you, I would deny it. But the truth is, I still do. I don’t think I’ll ever stop. No matter how hard I try. Some days I wake up and miss you so terribly that it makes me feel physically sick.
Truthfully, I don’t think I was ever that person who believed in true love or that there was one person in this world for everyone. I didn’t think you could be completely compatible with anyone. Then I got to know you for you. Without prejudice, without the war looming over us or the aftermath. Just you and me. And I realized pretty quickly that you were that for me. I thought I was for you too.
I still think about that day. Part of me knew. Part of me knew it was going to happen. I could tell. The way you looked at me. There was a difference. I knew something had changed. I don’t understand it, maybe that’s part of the reason I feel I can’t move on.
I want to move on. I want to live. This is killing me to write but, I want what you have with her. I want what I thought we had. Maybe I’ll never find it again. Maybe I will. All I know is my life will always feel a little emptier without you in it. The perfect puzzle piece in the shape of you that no one will ever fill.
I love you. I always will. But I need to let you go.
With every piece of my broken heart,
Hermione
Folding the piece of parchment, she placed it inside the envelope and sealed it before addressing the front. She stood and walked towards her window. Gripping the handle, she turned it and pushed the glass pane with her free hand until it opened. The slight breeze cascaded around her curls.
As if he could sense her, a large mottled brown owl swooped down onto the outer ledge and hooted at her. A present from him. She had always used his owl or Harry or Ron’s when sending letters back and forth. The Malfoy’s were known for their eagle owl’s around wizarding London. He had gifted her the gorgeous creature the first birthday she celebrated with him.
Giving his side a few light strokes, she attached the letter to his leg.
“You know where this goes Dionysus,” she gave him a soft pat, “Don’t worry. It’s the last one. I promise.”
The owl looked at her oddly, as if he was sizing her up and down before he gave one last hoot and took off into the mid-afternoon sky.
Letting out a sigh, she watched him leave with the last words she would ever express to him. The owl got further and further away until he disappeared within the clouds.
“Enough,” she whispered to herself, “That’s enough now.”
‘Beautiful things happen when you let your heart heal. You’ll find yourself again. You’ll find love again. You deserve a love that is genuine, a love that makes you stronger. You’ll be able to look back and see how far you’ve come. You’ll be able to see how strong you were after everything you endured. You’ll be happy again.’
She smiled to herself and exhaled deeply.
If that wasn’t something to look forward to, she wasn’t sure what was.
'Cause I'm still looking over my own shoulder like I'm doing something wrong
We both know you gave me every reason, why am I still holding on?
Something about him sitting so close just ain't sitting right
You move on, don't think twice
I can't even let him kiss me goodnight
Kiss me goodnight