3. Darling, Can’t You Hear Me?

We are lost in each other’s gaze, until she breaks the connection by seating herself opposite me numbly. She places the ring into my palm, still staring at me searchingly.

She finally breaks the silence, uttering in barely more than a whisper, “I thought you were dead…all these years…I thought he’d killed you!�

I blink, not entirely registering her words, deeply touched simply by her tone. She actually sounds as though she thinks I matter. As though she cares that I had suddenly disappeared in our final year at Hogwarts.

I can see her urging me to speak, but I cannot find words to express how I feel. Eventually, I manage to stutter a response. “No, I…I wasn’t killed…�

Well, not physically anyway.

“Then where were you all these years?�

Hermione is talking to me as though no time has passed, as though it is as normal to see me as it is to brush her hair each morning.

She suddenly seems to realise what she is asking. Shaking herself, she changes her question. “How do you come to be here?�

This, I can answer with more ease. “I live here now,� I reply simply. “You?�

“Well, I’m editor of Witch Weekly now,� she says with a hint of pride. “I’ve been asked to appear at the New Year’s firework display here.�

I smile weakly in recognition. Yes, there are always fireworks over here. I also smile because it is comforting to know that the girl of my dreams is achieving what she rightfully deserves. She beams back at me, her warmth radiating towards me, filling the gaping holes in my heart.

“Congratulations,� I say, a strange sensation filling my body. “I’ve always known you’d get where you wanted to.�

She blushes a deep strawberry colour and nervously traces the leaf on the table just as I had done a while before. Abruptly jolted back to reality, I register properly for the first time what is happening. I see Hermione’s nervous smile, and know that I shouldn’t be here. I do not deserve her time.

Without warning, I stand up and find myself saying the phrase I keep repeating.

“I’m so sorry.�

I attempt to leave at that moment, but I feel her hand grab my wrist and pull me back. I turn reluctantly and she loosens her grip a little.

“Why are you leaving? What are you saying sorry for?� she asks, confusion once more clouding her enchanting eyes.

“I don’t deserve your time. I’m not worth it,� I insist. “It’s been great seeing you again. Good luck for the future, Hermione…�

Taking advantage of her slackened grip, I tug my arm away and march determinedly out of the door. I can feel a stinging in the corner of my eyes, but at the same time a sense of accomplishment. I could have fooled her into thinking I was a respectable person, but I didn’t. I was completely honest and I felt better for it. Really, she is better off forgetting me completely.

I amble along the street, pondering my life from here. Seeing Hermione again has given me a wake-up call, and it hurts me to think that I must go back to a life of solace and depression. But that is all I truly deserve, for one’s actions cannot be erased. I am a coward, and I shouldn’t even be standing here today. Why did I think that seeing the world outside my head once more would help me? All I have done is make myself even surer that I am not worthy of anyone’s time or respect.

All my life I’ve always thought that one way or another I would win. Yet I stand here today with nothing. I feel a lump rising in my throat, and my eyes are so full of tears that some spill over. I brush them away, feeling stupid for letting my emotions take control.

I continue my everlasting journey back, the guilt in my mind weighing down my soul, thirsting for forgiveness, forgiveness that will never come. So I am forever stuck in an abyss of despair. For who can ever heal this wound inside me that runs so deep?

Rain starts to fall again, disguising the tears now streaming freely down my hollow face. The cold water trickles through the gaps in my hair, making contact with my neck. I stand still, hoping that, in some way, the water can cleanse my soul too.

“Draco! Draco, where are you?� I can hear Hermione crying.

I hear the slap of shoes on the pavement growing louder as she approaches, and quickly hide myself in the shadows of a tall building nearby. She draws level with me, and I see her stop and cry my name hopelessly into the night. Suddenly, she stops and turns towards me. Too late, I realise that I am breathing heavily. She has heard.

Hermione walks over to me, determination glinting in her eyes. I stare back at her, my insistence equalising hers.

“Draco, why don’t you just tell me what it is that has made you like…like this…?� she pleads softly, gesturing at my face.

And, for the second time this day, I feel as though she has brought my delicate barriers of disguise down with a few words. I walk shakily towards her.

“Why do you care?� I ask, not sure what I want her to reply with.

“I care because I thought you were dead, and you aren’t – but you’re barely alive anyway…no-one deserves a life like that,� she reasons, pity filling her voice.

“You don’t understand…I do deserve a half-life…�

“Then make me understand, Draco I beg you…�

I look at her, straight in the eye, and my willpower begins to fade.

“Come to my place tomorrow,� she insists, scribbling an address down on a scrap of parchment. “Tell me everything then...I want to help you…�

I take the piece of parchment, an internal battle raging inside my head. Finally, I nod my head slowly, not knowing what this will mean.

“Oh Draco…� she whispers in relief, “…don’t forget…�