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Title: Forever
Author: Tyrror
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: PG-13


If I had two dozen roses,
Would it change your mind?

Hermione’s world crashed down around her as her grandmother’s words once again echoed through the dark recesses of her mind just as they had in the dream she’d been having all night.

“It’s up to you to choose, but it’s your choice to regret…”

It looks like the old woman had been right in every sense of the phrase.

It had been two years since that fated evening in the halls at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry when a girl with bushy brown hair had been confronted by the self-acclaimed Slytherin prince and both of their worlds had been thrown into chaos. It had been the two best years of her life, but now she lay here, alone, her arms groping for what she knew she wouldn’t find. Just like her grandmother had said, she would wake every morning and worry whether or not he would be there, but today was the day she really had a reason to worry.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, and saw nothing but black satin.


She had run down that hall at a speed that would insinuate that Death himself were after her, or at least a dementor. With such speed it should have come as no surprise when she turned a corner and bowled into her query, yet both of them shared the same look of shock as they hit the ground…hard. Pulling herself up quickly, Hermione attempted to apologize…she didn’t get far.

“Oh gods…”

“So, it wasn’t enough to just toss me aside like old parchment, you had to come back for one last ‘hurrah’ and push me to the ground as well? Why don’t you kick me while I’m down here as well…finishing touch and all.”

Draco’s voice had lost all sense of dignity and respect. Now all that was left was anger, pure, unrelenting anger. Blue orbs dug deep into the soul of Hermione from their position somewhere near the floor as Draco, currently propped up on his elbows to prevent himself from laying fully on his back, glared at her.

“I’ve come to talk.”

Hermione’s voice wasn’t quite as confident as she was hoping it would sound, and her words didn’t have nearly the effect she had hoped they would.

“Oh, now she wants to talk. I think we’ve seen where talking gets with you, Granger.”

She realized it suddenly. He’d given up. Draco had come to the final conclusion that there was nothing he could do to make it work, so he was reverting back to the way things used to be and hoping for some sort of consolation prize. She had to do something. She had to make him see that she wasn’t here to mock him, that she wasn’t here to make this worse. Hermione’s overly-witty brain wracked itself trying to think of something to do, something do say, but kept pulling blanks, and she was cursing herself inside because of it. Then another tear fell. It slipped silently from his left eye and he batted at it so quickly she almost missed it. He pushed himself up farther and moved to say something, but she cut him off.

“It wasn’t fake.”

It wasn’t a question as would have been more reasonable given the situation, but she knew the answer with more certainty than anything at the moment and so it was merely a statement of fact. Draco, now in a half-crouch as he started to rise, stared open mouth, the words he was about to say still half-formed in his mouth.

“Malfoy’s don’t cry…”

She was suddenly very interested in the hem of her robe where it just covered the tips to her shoes, unable to look him in the eye. Slowly, and with all the effort she could muster, she forced her head up the few centimeters it took to look down into his face.

“…it’s undignified.”

His eyes shot quickly away, studying the shadows behind a statue of armor nearby, but she watched him. There was a hint of hope that flashed across his face and vanished just as quickly.

“Maybe your not as dense as I had thought.”

He still hadn’t looked at her, his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance. He kept himself in that distance, making sure that no matter what else may happen, he couldn’t be hurt any further. Above him, a smile graced the face of the brightest witch of her age as she responded.

“People say I learn fast…”

She kept her face locked on his as he risked looking back at her. Her hand came down and hovered before him, just one more thing for him to stare at.

“But maybe this time, we can learn together, Draco?”

A pale hand came up and clasped hers just tight enough to help him rise, but not so tight as to make her panic.

“Depends on what we’re learning.”




‘True love is forever…

though I thought I’d try two dozen this time…”

With a look that was now much more perplexed than the stunned disappointment of only moments earlier, Hermione untangled her legs from the black satin sheets and slipped her feet over the edge of the bed. Standing gingerly on the hardwood floor of her apartment’s bedroom, she took one step before letting out a small yelp and falling back onto the bed. Removing her eyes from the note to which they seemed to have been glued, she glanced around the full room for the first time all morning and was quite shocked to find what could only have been two dozen roses scattered at random across the floor, on the furniture, and just about anywhere else she may have looked.

“You talk in your sleep…”

A snide voice from the doorway commented.


“…and you really ought to look where you’re going.”
Her hand moved without much conscious thought and Draco soon found that the space between himself and a large black pillow was closing rapidly. The door slammed shut moments before the pillow struck the white-washed wood and slid helplessly to the ground.

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December 2012

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