Hullo, it's me

Chapter I: Draco

…

He placed a red rose by her gravestone and traced the letters engraved on it: In loving memory, Hermione Malfoy.   

He sat down on the dirty floor, resting his head against the tombstone, picturing her by his side.

“Hullo. It’s me.

I wanted to talk to you.

I know, I know. It’s been months since we’ve talked. I just couldn’t bring myself to it. You know, talking to you, it’s just… I don’t even know the word for it. Is there a word for it? Strange is the first that comes to mind. It’s strange talking to you. Don’t get me wrong, I love talking to you, but it’s—strange. It’s cold. That gravestone of yours, it… Merlin, it– The coldness of it, it makes it…  

It makes it real.

I know I’m not dreaming. I want to be dreaming, I want for this to be a nightmare. But it’s so cold. It’s bitterly gelid, it freezes my heart—It’s this morbid sensation, where I truly believe it’s stopped beating, but then – It thumps on, and on and on. And I know I’m not dreaming. And I know I can’t wake up.

But this is a nightmare, nonetheless.

I wanted to talk to you because I can’t believe you’re gone. It’s like—Poof! You’ve disappeared. Gone, vanished into thin air – You came and went so quickly. And I feel like I couldn’t get a proper grasp of you. And yet… I still feel how your fingers intertwined with mine when we held hands, how your lips danced against mine when we kissed, how I held you by your hips when we made love. The warmth, the nearness, it… Merlin, I never wanted those moments to end, never wanted to let you go.

But death’s deadly clutches held you tighter than I ever did. Tighter than I ever could.

Merlin, the rain—It just comes pouring down from the sky, doesn’t it?

Ah…

Scorps is such a bright boy. Absolutely brilliant, like his mother. Drives me mad, at times, with his self-righteousness, his bravery… He’s a Malfoy, should be housed in Slytherin, but he carries so much Gryffindor in him. He is a little bookworm, a little Know-It-All. He can be a real swot at times, I think he does it intentionally, just to get on my nerves – Or to remind me of you, to make me feel less lonely.

Children are so much more gifted than we give them credit for, wouldn’t you agree? Our little boy sees how sad I am, how much I miss you – And although he misses you just as dearly, if not even more, he still puts my longing for you above himself.   

He’s a little lion, not a little snake – But with those curls of yours, I don’t know why I ever expected otherwise. They bounce on his little head when he runs around. Or they get all in his face when he hops off his broom. It’s so adorable, I wish you could see it!

I wish…

I wish you could see him. He keeps on growing every day, and he has so much of you in him. He’s your spitting image, not only because of his locks – of a platinum shade, a trait of mine. It’s those almond-shaped eyes, that pointy nose of yours. That lovely cupid’s bow. It’s all in him – I see you every time I look at him. It’s like you’re there.

But you’re not, of course. I…

I know that.

I wish you could see me. I- Being a father- You’ve gifted me with the most precious gift. I make sure I kiss Scorps good morning and brush through those little curls of his every day. I make sure I read him a bed-time story every night. I make sure we say good night to you before he goes to bed: He’s got a picture of you on his nightstand – You hold him in your arms and spin him around – Scorps is still so very tiny in that photo! – and you both burst out laughing. Merlin, I remember when I took that picture. I remember the sound of your laugh. You stole my heart.   

Scorpius will wave you good night and he’ll blow you a kiss.

Sometimes, he’ll catch it in his small hand, reach out for my cheek and caress that tender kiss onto my skin as I tuck him in. His silvery eyes will widen and shine when he tells me: ‘For you, papa. She can’t kiss you, but I can.’ – He’s such a treasure. You gave me a treasure, my love. I cherish him every day, even if the little rascal makes me bawl my eyes out.   

I wish I could see you. One last time. With your skin still glowing and your beautiful auburn hair still on your scalp.

I…

Dear fucking Salazar, I miss you so much.

Why you and not me? It breaks my fucking heart, it’s so fucking unfair!

I wish we had gone to Saint Mungo’s sooner. I wish we had gone to the Muggle hospital before—

I know. I know, my darling. It’s just… Wishful thinking. I know it won’t change anything, but it’s what keeps me going. Day by day. Night by night.

Without you.

Scorpius will come to cuddle some nights. Says there’s a boggart hiding under his bed. I hold him in my arms and rock him to sleep, ruffling his hair and placing kisses on his forehead. If that doesn’t work, I will charm the room to make it look like the cosmos, and he will ask me about the constellations. I tell him about the Scorpion constellation, how it sits in the middle of our galaxy, and how it’s one of the brightest constellations in the night sky.

Until we eventually fall asleep to the stars.

And then, by morning, I will wake up to Scorpius drying the tears off my face. Sweet, darling boy shouldn’t have to see me crying in my sleep, he’s far too young to have to show such maturity. But he does, and he goes on to hug me, telling me he misses you, too.

And I never dare put any more burden on his precious little golden heart – or on mine, for that matter – so I occlude. Just so that I can father him, comfort him, and not the other way around.

He misses you. I miss you.

We miss you.

You were so brave. Up until the last moment, you fought a battle with a bravado only a true Gryffindor could have mastered. You knew how slim your chances were, you understood your dire diagnosis. And instead of fighting for a miracle, you fought for your peace… And I was so angry with you for that, because I didn’t understand that you weren’t giving up – You saw the crude reality of your situation, and instead of fighting against it, you decided to make the most of it, and decided to go peacefully. 

And that’s a battle you won.

It’s us who lost.

It’s me.

Oh, shut it, I’m not moping around! I’m just sitting by your side, reminiscing, letting the rain fall on my skin, so that I can’t distinguish my own tears from the rain drops. It’s not the same! I’m not sulking!

I’m just… Remembering you. Missing you. Talking to you.

But, fuck me, it hurts. It stings. It burns me from the inside out.

I still hear your voice. I still smell your unique scent. I still see that gleeful sparkle in your honeyed eyes. I still feel the way your curls twisted around my finger when I played with your hair. I still feel the warmth of your skin on mine.

I feel it all, Hermione. It’s as though you never left – I still see the last image I ever saw of you: With your eyes closed, looking so very peaceful, I could’ve sworn there was a slight smile painted on your face – It looked like those Saturday mornings, when you were still cosied up in our soft bed, the sheets wrapped around your soft body, asleep.

But now I’m here. Resting my head on a tombstone with your name on it. Having to come to terms with the fact that you might be asleep, eternally, with your body neatly placed in a coffin, buried under the cold ground.

Seeing the casket lower into the depths of the soil while holding our Scorpius in my arms while he cried is by far the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do.

He waved you goodbye and blew you a kiss.

He wished you goodnight and threw his favourite teddy bear after you, wishing you sweet dreams.

Then he kissed my cheek and nestled his little head on the crook of my shoulder – Poor little thing had spent all of his strength and couldn’t bear it any more.

He still can’t.

He’ll hide it for my sake – again, brave little lion – he’ll run around and play, showing excitement for the tiniest things, but I see the enormous sadness in his eyes. I told him I was coming to see you today, asked him if he wanted to tag along. He couldn’t even bring himself to say no, but the way he looked down to the ground said it all. 

But he sends you kisses and hugs and hopes his teddy is keeping you company. He said he’d come next time.

To be honest, I don’t know when that will be – I hope you’re not mad. I hope you understand. It’s just… It’s too early.

But I just wanted to talk to you. Just wanted to say ‘Hullo, it’s me’ and let you know I’m there. Just wanted to tell you we miss you, we love you, and we still say goodnight to you.” 

…