“You look well.” He says as I sit.
One hand casually stirring his coffee, the other resting on his lap.
“Thanks.” But no “you too” comes out.
“So…” he trails off.
Fuck. This was such a stupid idea. This is like another form of torture itself.
“What was so important that you had to see me in person, Granger?”
“I- um.” Dear Gods.
“I just wanted to give you this. It- um… it felt like something to give in person rather than an owl.”
“Right,” he still sounds, and looks puzzled as I slide the envelope over.
“I’m- uh,” fuck stop stuttering, “I’m officially RSVPing as ‘no '. I wish you, and Astoria all the best, but I’m afraid that I'll be busy that day.”
And for the rest of eternity as I try to avoid you, and your new wife. I’m still not looking at him, admiring the cafe’s peeling wallpaper instead.
“Hermione,” I suck in a breath at hearing my name. It's been so long since it has come out of his mouth.
“I’m sorry-'' But I don’t want to hear it.
Playing with hands underneath the table, I start.
“Did you know that there's this theory- or I guess it's more of a saying- that parallel lines will never meet? Which, I mean, you, and I both already know that, but… these lines will spend their whole lives side-by-side and they’ll never touch. Ever. Yet, assuming that they have thoughts, and feelings, they probably know everything about each other. I mean if you spend the entirety of your life with one person by your side, wouldn’t you know everything about them? The way they go on tangents about books just released, or the different smiles they have for different moods. What words they like whispered in their ears when they're on the cusp of falling asleep, or breaking down. They’d be each other’s soulmate even though they’ve never touched. Never kissed. Never had any comfort past just a couple of words.”
I finally look up, and his grey eyes are dark and calculated.
As if he understood what I was saying. As if he understood that we were a pair of parallel lines.
I continue.
“However, sometimes lines get curves, or zig-zags, and then break. Although it's rare, so rare that one line would leave the other, it happens. It finds another line, and touches that one instead; in every way possible. And falls in love with that one, while the first line- the one they’ve spent their whole life with is left alone.”
My stare at him is unwavering.
“I won’t sit here, and tell you that I love you. That would be rude and unfair, and selfish. So I’m not going to tell you how many birthday wishes I spent on you. I won’t. And it would probably be cruel to say how I would have rather preferred never touching you than seeing you with someone else.”
I hear a deep inhale.
“I can’t share any of that with you. Not now.”
He’s silent, and I wipe a tear from my cheek. A silent piece of proof of my vulnerability. Of my capability to love.
“I can be happy for you, and sad for myself, but I’ll always be grateful. Grateful for the time we spent together as parallel lines.”
I reach over, and lightly touch his hand with mine.
“Glad to have finally intersected with you, Draco Malfoy.”