He'd Wait
He’d once told her he’d wait forever for a glimpse of her smile.
They were sat together under an oak tree by the black lake, the sunshine dappling her tan skin through the leaves. Her face was etched with pain, a frown embedded on her lips. She let him apologize, say everything he needed to. She listened as he detailed his sins committed for a family name that now stood for nothing, for parents who shouldn’t have asked it of him in the first place. Her forgiveness was more than he deserved. But she gave it to him anyway. And when she cried, unable to hold back, pain and grief overwhelming her, he’d said, “You’ve been through so much. More than anyone should have to bear. But I’m going to make sure you find happiness again.”
She shook her head. “You’ll be waiting a long time for that.”
He shrugged. “For you, I could wait forever for just a glimpse of your smile.”
She’d accepted his apology without question, but this made her pause, brow raised. “Your words are pretty, but let’s leave the lies in the past.”
He’d convinced her of his sincerity around the first time she let him kiss her, her soft lips tasting like peppermint and new love. When he pulled back, her smile was so gorgeous it took his breath away. They were walking through Hogsmeade, bundled in jackets and scarves. The icy wind nipped at his nose and sliced through his warmest jacket, but he walked back warm in the glow of her.
On their wedding day, she cried again, but her eyes shone through the tears. As she looked around the ballroom, everyone they loved gathered there; her smile shone so beautifully. And when she vowed to be his forever, he vowed to make her smile every day of their lives.
He held her hand now in the sterile room, so different from the house she’d made into a home for their family. The halls here were quiet, no giggling children, no off-key singing as she worked, no mewling cat . He looked deep into her honey-brown eyes, but they held no recognition. The corners of her lips tilted down. “I should know who you are, shouldn’t I? I feel like I’m supposed to, and It hurts you that I don’t.”
Draco shrugged. “It’s alright, I’m Draco.”
Sometimes, she’d remember him as the horrible git he’d used to be, and she’d curse his name. Some days, she remembered things as they were in 8th year, flirting and tentative, tiptoeing around how they felt for one another. Sometimes, she remembered them as newlyweds, new parents. She’d ask over and over if she could hold Lyra. Sometimes she didn’t remember anything at all, but he’d wait.
“And I’m …?”
He squeezed her hand. “You’re Hermione.”
She nodded. “Yes, yes, I’m Hermione, and you’re my husband.”
Draco pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “That’s exactly right.”
She smiled, bright, beautiful, breathtaking.