I will always remember the day. I don’t know what it was, or what happened to make me suddenly aware. I will never know what she did to make me love her…
I was watching her one day. Just watching her, that’s all. And then it happened. I realized she was one of the most wonderful things that would ever happen to me. I fell in love with Hermione Granger.
As days grew into weeks, I became so in love with her it scared me. Whenever I thought of her, it made me feel like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was a strange feeling, only one I’d heard about, but never had a chance to have for myself. The feeling was love, and it changed me in more ways than I knew love could. I would see her everyday, and some days I would be glad to see her, and some days I would hate it. The love that she made me feel wasn’t always good. I knew I could never tell her how I felt, so I slowly found my way into depression.
The weeks quickly grew into months, and still I felt the same. I tried not to think about her, but how can you not think about the one you love? I tried not looking at her, not thinking her name, not feeling anything about her. Nothing worked, and I slipped more and more into depression. Nobody knew, though, what was really going on inside me. I never told anyone my secret love for Hermione. I hid my depression from the world.
Then I started to try and hide my depression from me. It made me feel better when I was around people; it made me feel like a person again.
Slowly, I seemed to be getting over her. I knew she would never have me, and it somehow made me feel better. It was like a feeling telling me to forget about her, because she would never return my love. She saw me as a snotty, bratty, rich kid who got everything he wanted. She only ever saw me on the outside.
On the outside, I was a snotty, bratty, rich kid who got everything he wanted. It was not so on the inside, however. On the inside, I was a regular kid just like her. It may surprise her, but I did care about things that went on in the world, and I was scared of what would happen. My father had made a name for himself, and I was not to destroy that name.
So, as everyone saw me as a snotty kid, I had to live up to that name. It nearly killed me. But the day I fell in love with her, that all changed. I was okay with myself, I wanted to be who I really was, I wanted her to see the real me. I tried again and again to get her to see the real me, but it never worked.
I was too scared to let her see.
As my life wore on and I became less and less aware of Hermione, my life seemed better. I was no longer depressed. I could actually look at her. Everybody had their old Draco back. Sometimes though, I would look at her and remember the hard times she had caused. I didn’t know whether I should love her for the love she made me feel, or hate her because the love she made me feel drove me to depression.
My life seemed wonderful, no more depression, no more wishing I could just tell her how I felt. People seemed to notice I was happier, and that I was even more different than myself before Hermione. Looking back now, I think the newfound happiness I had was fake. It wasn’t real. The happiness I had was just a way to get my mind off her. I made myself be happy so I could get back to my life.
Sometimes I wonder what changed me. I wonder why I ever got over her. I actually began to miss the love she made me feel. Sure, I enjoyed not being depressed, but I missed the love I felt even more. Some things only happen once in a lifetime, and I thought my love for her would be like that. Once I had forgotten about her, I couldn’t love her again. I laugh at myself now, because I was wrong.
It was like the day I first realized I loved her. I don’t know how it happened, but it did. I completely fell for her again. Now I was scared.
I hated the time of my depression; I hated it with a passion. I would not let myself become like that again. I turned my depressed love for Hermione around. Now, instead of feeling sorry that I couldn’t tell her everything, I made it into a good thing. I loved her, and I was going to be happy about it, and I was going to enjoy the love I had for her.
Still, nobody knew of my secret love for Hermione. Nobody could ever know that. I would look at her and smile, knowing that I loved her, and maybe she would love me in return. Of course, I knew I was asking a lot. Hermione, love Draco Malfoy? I knew she never would. I seemed to have begun my depression again, but I couldn’t let that happen to myself. I wouldn’t let myself be depressed because of my love.
Now that I was happy because of my love for her, things seemed to be going my way. I was almost ready to tell her the truth. In fact, I was ready to tell her. So the day came when I knew how I was going to reveal my secret love for her. When I was ready, she was standing by those damned friends of hers “ Potter and Weasley. I couldn’t be nice to her in front of them, so I yelled at her:
“Hey, mudblood, come here for a second, would you?”
Now, this was after she had grown up a little bit, and didn’t need supervision from her two friends. She casually walked over to me, but she had a gleam of hatred in her eyes. Potter and the weasel walked away, and I shoved Hermione into an empty classroom.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” she screamed at me. I didn’t reply. I looked at my shoes, searching for the words to tell her.
“Hermione,” was all that I could think of at the moment.
“Yes, Malfoy, what do you want?” she asked, ready to hit me any second.
“Six years I have watched you with Potter and Weasley,” I began, and Hermione shifted her position, looking anxious, confused, and frightened. “I’ve always been rude to the three of you, especially you… calling you dirty names…”
“A mudblood?” she asked casually. I nodded.
“But it wasn’t until a few months ago… I don’t know what you did… but…”
“Out with it Malfoy, I haven’t got all day,” she spat.
“That one faithful day a few months ago… I saw you differently. I fell in love with you.”
“Malfoy, why don’t you-” she said, almost like an automatic recording. Then what I said sunk into her skin. “What?” she asked, like I was crazy.
“I… I love you,” I replied. For some reason, it was extremely hard for me to say it again.
“Malfoy, have you gone insane?” she said, seeming like she was trying to figure out if she should be nice about it or rude.
“In a way.”
“Malfoy…” she said dangerously, I think she was finally realizing I was being serious.
“I love you, Hermione. I’ll say it again and again, I love you,” I said, now getting mad. I was beating myself on the inside for ever letting myself tell her. She stared at me.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” I replied. Like I said before, Hermione had grown up now. She could see that I was being serious. She was going to be serious right back to me, and treat me like I wasn’t somebody she had hated for the past six years.
“Draco,” she said. I braced myself. I expected the worst, but still hoped for the best. “For six years we’ve hated each other. And now you love me?”
I nodded in agreement.
“I just don’t know what say, or think, or feel," she went on.
“Say you love me, think of us together, feel like you need me,” I said, almost hopefully.
“I would love to, Draco. I would love not to have to do this; I would love not to be in this situation.”
“A situation? It’s not a situation, Hermione. Is love a situation?”
“Of course it isn’t.”
“So what situation are you talking about?”
“Mine. The one I’m in. Draco, I would love to be able to walk away guilt-free, but that is just not possible.”
“Why not?” I asked, although I knew what was coming.
“I’m sorry. I don’t love you, Draco.”
She said those last words quietly. I looked in her eyes, searching for the smallest trace of love somewhere. I found none. I looked around at my surroundings; my eyes had a strange burning feeling that I had never experienced before.
Hermione quietly turned her back to me and left the room. I fell to the floor. I started to cry. All my love that I had for her, all those depressing months of loving her, for nothing. Nothing at all. Hermione didn’t love me, and she never would.
I’m sitting here now, five years later, writing down everything to her. Telling her how I still love her, and that I’ve never loved another woman. How I’ve never forgotten anything that happened that year. I watch my owl fly away into the sky, going to find Hermione. If I’m lucky, she’ll reply and tell me how she’s doing. If no reply comes, well, I’ve dealt with rejection once in my life, why not a second?
A day goes by… no reply… a week goes by… still no reply. My new owl returns to me. No reply from Hermione. She won’t speak to me. Hermione, the only love I ever had, and will have, will not speak to me.
My life is useless. There is no point going on. There is nothing for me. I’m broken. I have all the love in the world for her, and she won’t take it. She won’t take me. I’m left completely heartbroken. Words cannot describe my anguish. No one really knows what it’s like to be rejected by the only one you love. No one will ever understand me. How could they? My love for her is completely wasted, and I have nothing to live for.