The Advisor’s Admission
Malfoy’s grey-blue eyes met Granger’s brown and he didn’t shy away. Keeping his voice at a reserved tone, he put his hands into his trouser pockets casually and shrugged.
“I’m here with my Auror,” he replied, stating the fact as though it was obvious. “Not sure if you’ve heard but I’ve been conscripted into community service.”
“Oh, I’ve heard,” Granger answered. He watched as she took a step back from the loft’s railing and crossed through the upper corridor over to the staircase. As she descended, her eyes fixed on him the entire time, he took a moment to assess her appearance. The last time he had seen her had been during the Battle; dirt, blood and mud had been on her hooded jumper, her jacket - she had had a cut on her cheekbone, a few more sparse knicks across her face. Her hair had been wild with a tied braid that had come loose, strands falling to frame her face.
He could see that the cuts had healed without scarring. She wore a long-sleeved white blouse that had a silken bodice and white mesh sleeves with an opaque cuff at each wrist. Straight-leg black trousers cascaded down her legs, bearing a peek at her matching black high heels. Her hair was down, charmed to have less frizz and she had pinned back a few pieces with some grips. Her only other accessories were a few necklaces, all gold and dainty, stacked and layered on top of her blouse. He realized that she had makeup on, something he hadn’t observed her wearing since the Yule Ball. Whatever she had done highlighted her brown eyes somehow but he couldn’t say with what - he had never paid attention to whatever Pansy had done at school. Granger’s lashes looked longer and she had little flicks at the corners of her eyes, made with black pigment of some kind. It looked good. She looked good, all things considering.
The way she fixed him with such an intense and fiery gaze reminded him of their heated interaction in sixth year, the first of many.
Draco had gone up to the Headmaster’s office with a tin of poisoned sherbet lemon sweets in the pocket of his robes. At that point in the year, Katie Bell had failed to deliver the cursed necklace and Weasley had somehow drank from the poisoned mead, thanks to the idiocy of Professor Slughorn. But Draco had to admit that he was running out of ideas on how to kill Dumbledore, short of casting the Killing Curse on the old man. Snape had offered to help, of course, but Draco had been insistent on completing this mission on his own. He had strode with confidence up to the large statue of a griffin that hid the entrance to the Headmaster’s office and was about to say the password when a sudden realization dawned on him.
If he didn’t kill Dumbledore, it wasn’t in the Dark Lord’s nature to be forgiving. If he didn’t succeed, he had thought the obvious consequence would be the death of his parents. But would he die for failing? Is that why Snape was trying so hard to be involved in all of this? The Dark Lord’s greater plan had seemed to unfold before Draco’s very eyes and the gravity of it had sent the Slytherin to his knees. The world had spun and Draco had felt the blood rush from his face as his body shuddered and he retched on the floor. Disgusted by his own weakness, Draco had stayed on his hands and knees until he stopped vomiting and then used his wand to cast a Scouring charm on the cobblestones and his robes, cleaning up the sick. When he was able to return to his feet, Draco had fled, heading back through the corridor and down the winding staircase until he reached the corridor that housed the trophy room. The world had started to spin again and he had quickly climbed into one of the shadowed alcoves, resting his head against the cool stained glass of the window to help combat his panic. Thanks to the storm outside, the sound of heavy rainfall against the glass was strong and it soothed Draco, giving him something to focus on other than his roiling stomach and racing heart.
He had only been alone for a few minutes when Granger had entered the corridor, alone. She wore her Gryffindor robes and uniform, and held nothing in her hands as she rounded the corner and spotted him. With a startled cry, she had stopped in her tracks and her hand had flown up to her chest. Clearly, his presence had frightened her.
“Malfoy! What - ” She had fought to regain both her composure and her breath. “What are you doing here?”
He had pushed down his residual anxiety and fear, and composed his face to hide it, choosing to sneer down at the Gryffindor that had been a thorn in his side since their first day of school.
“Steady on, Granger. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” With the fluidity of a serpent, he had slipped down from the sheltered alcove and placed his feet back on solid flooring once more. Taking a second to right his robes, and making sure the outline of the tin wasn’t visible in his pocket, he smirked down at her. “I should ask you the same question - I was up here minding my own business until you came along. You’re the one intruding.”
She hadn’t drawn her wand yet. Had it been Potter who had found him, they would have been dueling already - the same could be said for Weasley. He had watched as she had straightened her shoulders, stood to her fullest height and glared up at him with such venom. It’s a shame she was a Mudblood, really. She had the haughtiness of a Slytherin, for sure.
“I was asked by McGonagall to deliver a small note to Dumbledore. We passed by each other near the Transfiguration classroom,” she said. “It’s in my pocket. I figured he’d be in his office on a gloomy day.” She gestured with her chin to the rain echoing off the windows. “You haven’t seen him, have you?”
“I reckon he’s probably with Potter,” Draco replied. “The two have been close lately - more so than usual - haven’t you noticed?”
There was a flicker of fear in Granger’s eyes for a moment. Feeding on her vulnerability, Draco pushed forward with his mind and tried to use his developing Legilimency skills to invade her mind and find out what she was hiding. She winced as he pushed into her thoughts, and unknowingly pushed back, barricading her mind with a thick wooden door that was barred off. The fear dissipated in her eyes and she had looked up at him with suspicion. He kept his face neutral, feigning innocence.
“Dumbledore is a mentor for Harry,” she replied, carefully selecting her words. “It’s not unusual for them to spend time together. Regardless, whatever they talk about is none of my business.”
“Well, your little mission may be out of luck,” Draco had answered. “The old tosser isn’t in his office today.”
Granger had raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Draco continued.
“Like I said, Granger, he’s probably off with Potter doing Salazar knows what. I would go back to McGonagall and tell the old bat to give the message to Dumbledore, herself.” Granger bristled when he insulted the Transfiguration professor, her mouth setting into a hard line and her jaw clenching. Draco had chosen to goad the Gryffindor student a little further. “Better yet, run back along to Gryffindor Tower and go play house with Weasley - oh, wait, you can’t anymore, can you?” He smirked as her face grew red with anger. Perfect.
“Rumours have it that ever since that Brown girl got her nails into him, you’ve been a little put out, Granger. What’s the matter? Sad that you don’t have anyone to pant after you, anymore?”
Granger had swallowed hard and though she tried to keep a strong front, Draco had heard the wavering in her voice.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she had answered. “Ron and I - we’re just friends. We’ve always been just friends.”
Draco had scoffed. “Granger, the freckled git has been salivating after you like a dog after a bitch in heat for the last few months, at least. Don’t tell me that you didn’t notice.” He put his hands into the pockets of robes, nonchalant. “Or, let me guess - you did notice and not only that, but you gave in. You let him fuck you like you were his bitch, let him get his cock wet and then when you were vulnerable, he discarded you and left you for Lavender. Am I right?”
What went from wavering strength in anger turned to full-on rage, and in a split second, Granger had slapped him, hard across the face. He felt the sting against his cheek as his head whipped around from the force and he cursed as he stumbled back. He hadn’t forgotten how hard she could hit, having been struck by her in third year, as well, but Merlin, it hurt!
Above the ringing in his ears, he heard her hiss her next words.
“You’re a cruel bastard.”
Draco had rubbed his jaw for a few more seconds, chuckling darkly at her insult. Was that the best she could do? When he stood at his full height once more, he realized their positions had changed thanks to her assault and he was the one who stood nearer to the middle of the corridor while she was closer to the castle walls.
“A cruel bastard,” he mused, repeating her words on his tongue. “Oh, Granger, you flatter me.” He stepped closer, trying to intimidate her. “Say something else.”
She sneered. “You’re a vile, pathetic arsehole that has no friends, no support and nothing that gives credit to your life other than your last name. Those that call you a friend are only around you because of your power and position, not because of the bonds you’ve made. You’ve never had an honest interaction with someone in your life, nothing that wasn’t motivated by obtaining something for your own personal gain.”
“What would you call this interaction?” Draco had asked. “I was minding my own business when you barged in and now we’re here.”
The brunette wouldn’t be baited. “It’s an unfortunate mistake,” she replied. “But my point still stands - you’re egging me on about Ron, you’re trying to get reactions out of me. It’s still all about what you’re gaining.”
“So, you’re telling me that you haven’t fucked Weasley?” Draco had pressed, stepping closer.
This seemed to annoy Granger and she had huffed, running her fingers through her curls. “Why do you care so much about if I have or haven’t shagged Ron?” she demanded. “I mean, it’s not like you have a claim on me - no one does. I could shag whomever I wanted whenever.”
Both Draco and Granger realized what she had said in the same moment and she blushed crimson while Draco had smirked maliciously.
“So, you want me to claim you, Granger?” he had asked in a menacing whisper. He narrowed his eyes, calculating what her next move would be. “Have you been dreaming about me since you don’t have Weasley to warm your bed?” Her cheeks heated some more and he continued, stalking closer until her back was against the castle wall and he was mere inches from her. “Tell me, Granger, do you fuck yourself wishing it was me?”
In that moment, she had stared up at him with that same intense and fiery look that she regarded him with now. He had been sure that if Snape hadn’t come into the corridor when he had, the two would have kissed in that moment - or done worse. Draco let his memories die off as he trailed his eyes over Granger’s face. He could feel the palpable tension, and he could tell from the way that Granger’s cheeks heated that she could feel it, too. Well, this was about to get much more interesting.
She crossed her arms.
“The news that you are now in the position of community service has been all over the Daily Prophet,” she said. “It’s hard to ignore.”
Draco’s lips curled in a light smirk as he twisted her statement. “You’ve been trying to ignore me.”
She scowled up at him but did not offer any correction.
“I asked you what you were doing in my office,” she said, keeping her arms across her chest. “Your presence at the Ministry with an Auror in tow does not fully answer my question.”
He wouldn’t be intimidated and showed nonchalance by leaning back against the edge of her desk, placing his hands on the top of it for support.
“I have a project in mind, a way to give back to the community,” he answered. “And a way to support Hogwarts. But in order to fund that, I need my father’s help. Mother’s signature obviously has weight at Gringott’s but Father’s is more coveted. Now that I’m of age, I do have access to most of the Malfoy finances except a specific trust. I need either of my parents’ signatures to access it. My Auror - he goes by Jacobs - has said that in order to go to Azkaban without getting attacked by the Dementors, we need a note or something from the Head Auror. I was offered the chance to explore while we waited for our appointment so I did and now I’m here. But trust me, had I known this was your office - well, I probably would have entered anyway. I didn’t even know the interim Minister was allowed to have an advisor. Not to discredit you, Granger, but how exactly would you be the most qualified person for the job? It’s not like you have Ministry experience.”
He watched her scowl deepen and couldn’t help but grin.
“I was the most knowledgeable candidate when it came to Hogwarts and what the students deserve out of their education,” she replied. “It’s one of the Minister’s top priorities while he is serving, so he thought I was the best person for the job. Besides, in case you haven’t heard, Harry and Ron joined the open invitation to be Aurors. So, I will get to see them around the Headquarters quite frequently, at least.”
“Ah, yes, the Golden Trio,” Draco mocked, using the nickname for Granger and her friends. “Together forever, it seems.”
“It certainly seems that way,” Granger replied. “Now, can you please go, Malfoy? Yesterday was my first official day so I’ve been using the time to go through files and get things sorted. I don’t remember Thicknesse or Scrimgeour having advisors, but whoever supported Fudge was absolutely awful at categorizing. Not to mention that I’m also receiving all of the job applications from hopeful candidates wanting to work at the Ministry so I really do have a lot on my plate.”
As if her words had summoned their presence, envelopes flew through a slot at the top of her door and landed on her desk, similar to the Ministry memos. Draco watched as Granger flicked her wand and the envelopes flew up to the files, sorting themselves alphabetically.
“You want me to leave so soon?” Malfoy teased, getting the witch’s attention to focus back on him. She rolled her eyes. He grinned.
“Malfoy, I really am busy.” She gestured gently towards the door with her chin. “It was lovely to see you, albeit the initial shock, but I really have to - ”
He cut her off. “I waited for you to write back to me, you know. You never did.”
He watched her eyes narrow and she wrinkled her nose, confused. “I’m sorry, Malfoy. What are you talking about?”
Draco shrugged. “You promised, after that night, our night, that you’d write to me. That despite everything, you’d keep believing in us. And then I never heard from you.”
Realization washed over Granger’s face and he observed her fingers as they ran through her hair. He could tell she was trying to choose her words carefully.
“Malfoy, that night - our night - … it changed everything. After you and I - “
“ - had sex and admitted that we loved each other?” Draco supplanted bluntly.
“ - recognized our feelings,” Granger corrected him with a glare. “It was the same night that you let the other Death Eaters in the school. After Snape killed Dumbledore, you left the school with them. I didn’t know what to think.”
“That’s not fair,” Draco replied. “I told you what my plan was.”
“No, Draco.”
The use of his first name made his heart leap.
“You told me that your plan was to mend the cabinet to help the Death Eaters get in,” Granger started. She began to pace the length of her office, unable to sit still when she was heated.
“Once they were in, you said that you knew Snape had made the Unbreakable Vow with your mother so you knew that he would kill Dumbledore in your place. Then the plan was that you would stay at the school, remaining an innocent witness to the whole ordeal, and Snape would go with the Death Eaters, taking the blame and full responsibility. That was the plan. You were supposed to stay.”
With me. Draco heard the last part of her words, even if she didn’t say them out loud. His palms twitched. He wanted to reach out for Granger, to console her, wrap his arms around her and apologize over and over for his lack of bravery and what he had put her through. But he remained in place.
“I helped you mend the cabinet because I wanted you to succeed if there was even a small chance of you being spared from all of that,” Granger added. “I knew that it meant Dumbledore’s life, but that was a sacrifice that I was willing to make if it meant helping you. Do you really think, had you failed, I would have been able to just stand by as news of your death was splashed in the papers? Do you really think, Draco, that I would have been able to go with Harry and Ron, and help them find the Horcruxes? I would have been broken.”
She paused and Draco noticed that a few tears had rolled down her cheeks. She was frustrated with him, and angry, and he knew that. But if she had cared for him that deeply, why hadn’t she written to him? He was allowed to be angry with her, too.
He sighed.
“I know it wasn’t the plan to go with them,” he admitted. “But in that moment, after watching Dumbledore fall from the tower, I knew I couldn’t stay. If I said I was just a witness, and stayed at the school, I still would have been asked to act as a mole on the inside. Finding out how Hogwarts was going to defend itself in the upcoming Battle, probably tasked to try and kill other professors, maybe even McGonagall. I was going to endanger everyone if I remained. And if Voldemort had been so enraged by my separation that he thought I had completely switched sides, he could have decided to wage war on the school, then. The Battle would have started, and none of us would have been prepared. There was no way to know then what we know now, about Potter and the Horcruxes and just how many of them there were. We had no idea. It would have been a lost cause, Voldemort would have been unstoppable and could have killed all of us. Every single one. I couldn’t risk that.”
I couldn’t risk you, he felt like adding. Draco watched her wipe her eyes and sigh. She cleared her throat.
“As for the writing - Draco, I don’t know how I could have been expected to,” she began. “I wanted to, believe me - but I had Obliviated my parents’ memories and temporarily moved in with the Weasleys. The other Order members, along with Ron and myself, moved Harry to the Weasley’s house for safeguarding. We lost Mad-Eye. George lost an ear…. And then I was helping with Bill and Fleur’s wedding, where we got attacked. There wasn’t any time to - ”
“To write me a single letter,” Draco finished. Granger nodded. There was a brief minute where neither of them said anything. Draco stuffed his hands back in his pockets.
“Listen, Granger, I didn’t know you had Obliviated your parents,” he said. “But that summer, I found your address and sent you a few letters. Don’t worry,” he added, when he saw the panicked look on her face. “I used a code name: Scorpius. Do you remember?”
They had spent many a date tucked away in the Astronomy Tower trying to find constellations together. Scorpius the Scorpion had been one of Granger’s favourites. He watched her nod. He continued.
“After your parents had moved, some of the other Death Eaters searched your house for evidence of where you might be. They found the letters, filled with confessions of trying to make love work past the war and some fond memories of our stolen nights away. For some reason, and I’m actually rather offended by this - they thought you were having a secret affair with Potter and the letters served as evidence. It was why hags like Rita Skeeter published it as frequently as they did in the Prophet in the last year - they were sure of it.”
Granger moved to sit on one of the office armchairs. This was a lot of news to take in. “I can’t believe you wrote to my house,” she said, more to herself than to Draco. Then she was looking at him with an odd expression - was it hope? Wistfulness?
Her voice was quiet. “What else did you say in the letters?”
“I told you how much I wished the war was over and that I would do everything in my power to keep Voldemort off your trail. I had a feeling that you were going to go off galavanting with Potter - and I promised to do what I could to keep you safe. That’s why, at the Manor, when you three were brought in - ”
“You lied,” Hermione finished. Her eyes widened again as she connected the pieces of the puzzle together. “I thought you were lying to the other Death Eaters to save Harry - but you were doing it to keep your promise …to me.”
Draco nodded. “I did what I could.”
He let the phrase sit poignantly between them. There was silence where they did nothing but look at each other. All of their emotions, said and unsaid, passed between them. He saw her wrestle with her thoughts, struggling with what to say. But when she didn’t speak, he cleared his throat and chose to fill the silence.
“I know that I’m not a good man, Granger,” he said. “I did torture people during the War and while I didn’t kill, there were times where I thought I easily could. I am a broken person that is trying to heal, and for once, I have a choice - a say - in my actions. So I am choosing to try and make things right.”
Her voice was still quiet when she replied. “Can you tell me more about your project?” she asked.
He smiled softly in response, almost sadly. “I’ll let it be a surprise and speak for itself,” he answered. “But I’m sure that you’re going to love it.”
“Why me, in particular?” Granger asked, fiddling with her hands in her lap. How Draco longed to hold those hands in his own, have them run through his hair, rake down his back -
“Because you’re what inspired it,” he replied. “The whole thing.”
He turned on his heel and made for the door. He heard the creak of the armchair as she rose from her seat, followed by the sound of her footsteps on the carpeted floor. She was coming after him.
“Malfoy?” she called, hesitant. He turned around to look at her. A thousand emotions flitted across her face. “I’m sorry for not being brave enough to write to you,” she said. “I suppose that, given the circumstances, I was scared that you wouldn’t choose me, in the end.”
“I would still choose you, Granger,” Draco heard himself say. Again, heavy silence filled the office. The tension grew between them, they were both breathing a little heavier now. “You are the love of my life.”
“Don’t you mean were?” Granger corrected weakly.
Draco shook his head. “I said what I said, Granger. And I would choose you. Over and over again. No matter what it meant for me, no matter what side of a war I was on. Salazar’s sake, at one point, I would have argued that knowing I was going to see you agian one day, even if you hated me, was my only reason for living.”
There were tears in her eyes again but he could see she was determined to not let them fall this time. “Draco, you can’t mean that,” she replied softly. “You can’t still love me. We could never -”
“We could never be together in the old world,” Draco agreed. “But the War is over now, Granger, and the world is changing. Maybe there is a chance.”
“I’m with Ron now,” Granger added. She grew annoyed when he smirked. His familiar cockiness was back, the softer version of Draco that he had exposed, now gone.
“As if Weasley would ever stop me,” he replied. “Do you love him?”
Her answer was simple, if a little too quick. “Yes.”
Draco decided to press the situation a little further. “Do love him like how you love me?”
Her answer only took a moment, but he saw her take a breath in as if to steady herself. When she exhaled, her face was doleful and she smiled weakly.
“No, Draco,” she replied at last. “My love for Ron is not like the love I have for you. They’re incomparable.” She looked down momentarily at her heels before retraining her eyes to his face. “Our love is tumultuous, at best. We never really let it come to fruition. It could be a beautiful thing once it’s ripe, but like a fruit that remains on the vine, unpicked, it also becomes rotten and tainted.”
“But with each new season comes a new crop of fruit,” Draco said. “So what I’m hearing is, there’s another chance for our love to bloom - ”
Granger interjected. “Draco, I need you to hear what I’m saying. My love with Ron is steady. I will not say that he has never wavered, but he is human, as we all are and is allowed to make mistakes. His love is dependable. He is safe and warm and kind and wants only for my happiness and our combined happiness, together.” She sighed. “The war took so much from us - he wants a happy home, a blissful home, where we are protected and no longer need to worry…”
“And you want that?” Draco asked. “I never pegged you for a housewife.”
She shrugged but her face faltered and he could see her indecision. “I deserve to have a safe life,” she answered.
“And you don’t think you could be safe with me?” Draco pressed. The brunette groaned.
“Draco, you’re currently a pardoned Death Eater who has been sentenced to community service rather than a prison,” she said. “You literally have a bodyguard in the form of an Auror who is to report on everything you do or say. But he’s also there for your protection because, unfortunately for you, you have many enemies. A life with you would mean always looking over our shoulders, always worrying about if we were going to be attacked - there would be no safe haven for us. There could never be an us, Draco, not in this world that we live in.”
“I would give it up,” Draco heard himself say. “I would give it up in a heartbeat if that’s what it meant for your safety. We could move into a Muggle neighbourhood and I could…”
Granger shook her head, motioning for him to stop talking. “Draco, I need you to let me go.”
This made the Slytherin falter. He was sure that his heart stopped beating. “What?”
She repeated her phrase. “Draco… I need you to let me go. Please.”
“No,” Draco said quickly. “No, I - Granger, I never thought I would even see you again, let alone be in a position where I could - where we could…”
“Draco, we can’t do anything or be anything,” Granger said softly. “It’s too dangerous. Maybe before the war, we could have tried, maybe there would have been some way. But now… now there isn’t. Ron is what is safe and what is expected of me and what is easy. He will keep me safe, our house will be filled with love and warmth and we will be happy.”
Her words stung and Draco felt his features harden. Anger immediately exploded in his chest, filling his body with a dark heat as it consumed him. He could feel his heart pumping, could hear the heartbeat pounding in his ears. Everything was too real and too raw and it hurt. He lashed out.
“Well, isn’t it just lucky for you that you have that luxury,” he replied. “To be able to choose to take the safe and easy path in life, Granger… must be something. Really.”
Hermione’s face fell when she realized she had hurt him. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, you did,” Draco answered. “But that’s fine. If that’s what you want.” He made to leave and turned for the door a second time. A hand on his shoulder stopped him. He tensed.
“Look,” Granger said hotly. “You can’t just come back into my life after a year - a year where we went through a war on opposite sides - and ask me to love you! A part of me died the night Dumbledore did.” She continued on, not bothering to hold back now that everything was out in the open.
“You were supposed to stay, Draco!” she shouted to his back. “You were supposed to choose me, to love me, to be better than what the Dark Lord had planned for you.”
He snapped. Turning around to stare down into the face of the woman that had consumed and tormented his every waking thought for almost two years, Draco was furious. How could he love and hate something so equally?
“What would you have had me do?! What would you have done if you were me?! It was either I go with the Death Eaters and keep the façade or stay behind and risk the endangerment of everyone thanks to the Dark Lord’s wrath, including you.” His hands clenched into fists. “If you want to pretend that you had it all figured out, please enlighten me!”
She was stammering, trying to speak but no words passed from her lips. He pressed on, enjoying her discomfort, her pain.
“Do tell me, Hermione, what brilliant plan would you have cooked up in that brain of yours that would have spared me? That would have spared us?”
She took a step back at his use of her first name. “What did - ?”
He cut her off. “My world was dark, Hermione, with no light, except for you. If Voldemort had found out about you, had exposed my weakness and went for the kill, do you think I could have survived that? I was a mess just watching my aunt interrogate you in the Manor, let alone the idea of you in the Dark Lord’s hands….”
His fury was boiling inside him, ready to combust. He felt like he should strike something, break something. Anything to stop this bubbling, boiling, dark anger. He was so fevered that he was trembling. Frustrated and overwhelmed, he sunk to his knees and growled in frustration, feverishly pulling at the buttons of his collar to try and relieve the pain, the stress. One popped off and skittered along the floor. The cat’s head popped up from the desk, intrigued by the new distraction. He didn’t give a fuck about the cat. As he stewed, and the darkness started to overtake him, Malfoy was vaguely aware that Granger had joined him on the floor.
He felt her hands flit over his face, trying to soothe him. “Draco,” Hermione pleaded. Her voice sounded far away, as if in a dream. “Darling, please.”
He recoiled and pushed her hands away. She was thrown off-balance and fell backwards onto her bottom. He hadn’t meant to do that but didn’t care enough in the moment to apologize. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed.
She wouldn’t be deterred and sat back up. Reaching for him again, she took a light hold of both of his hands with her own. “You’re safe,” she promised. “Draco, you’re safe at the Ministry in my office, with me. No one can harm you here.”
“I said don’t touch me,” Draco snarled.
“And I need you to come back to me,” Hermione retorted. She laced her fingers with his. “Do you remember when we used to do this? How you’d have panic attacks and I’d help you through by just holding you like this? Feel my hands. Feel my heartbeat. You’re safe, Draco,” she repeated again. “Come back to me.”
Of course he remembered. She had soothed him more times than he cared to admit, saved him from himself. But that was Granger - she had always been determined to see the light in everyone, to save them even if they didn’t want to be saved. It was one of her greatest prides and greatest faults.
He took in a deep breath, then another. He felt her heartbeat as they sat, palm to palm. They said nothing. They did nothing. Just breathing. When he had relaxed, and the anger inside him no longer raged, Hermione released his hands and brought him into a comforting embrace, resting his head on her shoulder and wrapping her arms around him.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured into his hair. “Oh, Draco, I’m so sorry. We just realized too late.”
“But I love you,” Draco whispered into the fabric on her shoulder.
“I love you, too,” Hermione replied. “But sometimes…” She sniffled. “Sometimes love isn’t enough. You need stability. And - and reliability. And - ”
“Everything that is not me,” Draco said pointedly. Hermione nodded, not bothering to deny it. She couldn’t. Slowly, she released him from her embrace and he sat up.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I can’t love you like how you deserve to be loved, Draco. Being in a relationship with you would mean that I would have an even bigger target on my back than the one I have already. And I have my own list of enemies - I don’t want to put you in further danger by putting you on their lists. Can’t you see?” She reached forward and cupped his left cheek tenderly with her right hand. “We’re safer apart.”
Draco said nothing. She kept her hand on his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb.
“Please,” he heard her whisper. She was begging. “I need you to let me go. Let the idea of us go. I’m not the girl that you fell in love with anymore.”
The Slytherin grimaced. “The war changed us.”
Hermione nodded. “It did,” she agreed. She dropped her hand from his cheek and rose from her place on the floor without another word. Crossing over to her desk, Draco watched as she ran her fingers through her cat’s fur, using Crookshanks as an emotional crutch in the moment.
“I guess I’ll be going then,” Draco said. He got up slowly from his place on the floor and straightened his clothes. “I’m glad we aired out what we had to say. I have no regrets with how I’ve loved you, Hermione. Weasley is lucky to have you.” He pulled at his tie. He heard her breath catch but she said nothing. He headed for the door once again.
“Draco?”
Her voice stopped him in his tracks. He paused, but didn’t speak.
“It was lovely to see you.”
That was it? That was all she had to say? He waited, hearing her take a breath. Her voice trembled when she spoke again.
“I wish I had been brave enough then. And I wish… well, I guess I wish I brave enough, now. I’m so sorry.”
He closed his hand around the doorknob and turned, stepping into the corridor.
“So do I, Granger,” he said with a scowl. The door closed behind him, leaving his heart trapped in the room beyond. “So do I.” As he walked off, he heard the beginning of her sobs echo within her office. Great, he thought. Just great.