IX.

(Six Months Ago)

Hermione sat against her and Draco's bed, knees to her chin, lightly sobbing and sniffling. Draco sat next to her, in the same position, but no tears ran down his face. He looked at her from the corner of his eye when she looked directly at him. She was angry and he was frightened.

"I know I'm a prat. You don't need to remind me."

Hermione smirked and shook her head at him. "I know. I just need to figure out what I am now. It's awful that things are like this, but it's the way everything was meant to be."

Draco sighed and entwined his fingers in hers.

"If it'll make you less sad, I'll die by your hand." He smiled at her and she smiled back. "And we can start talking normally again. I hate not having you in my life. I'll grow up, I promise."

She whispered, "It doesn't hurt to hold on?"

"It hurts worse to let go."

 

Neither of them would have called themselves a safe bet. They both knew that they weren't.

(Five Months Ago)

"I can move away if you want."

Hermione shook her head at the thought of that. "No, just keep to yourself and I'll stay out of your way." She sighed. This shouldn't be so confusing. 

"Do you want me to come and get all my stuff?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't care. No matter what, I'll be stuck in an almost empty apartment," she mumbled, "It'll always be cold, dark and I'll just want to die half the time. It's like you're pouring salt in my wounds."

Draco sighed and shook his head. "You're being dramatic."

 

(Five Months, Two Weeks Ago)

"You can either call it quits or get a grip!" Hermione yelled at him. Tears ran down her face. He'd suggest a break between them and she knew it was only because he wanted to see what torture it would cause her. "You don't think that's a solution to our problems! You just want me to miss you and come crawling back to you like an idiot!"

 

Draco looked up at Hermione from across the board room table. She was playing with her thumbs and awkwardly watching them. They locked eyes quickly, but both looked away twice as fast. He could see tears in her eyes when she looked at him. He hated that. She was calm and reposed most of the time. Instead of her normal ivory skin tone and lively but tamed hair, her skin was pale and papery while her hair was on end most of the time. If anything, her hair was back in a bun to keep it from getting in her face. He missed her. He loved her. But she was second hand smoke, in his eyes. Whether or not he was with her, he would still be injured in some way. He thought it was best to leave her be. He was thankful that she could forgive, but he was hoping that as time went on, she could forget.

 

Song - The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot