Disclaimer:
Not mine, not mine, not mine. Satisfied?
A/N: Not one
of my better stories, it’s my first actually. It’ll do…
To Mr. Draco
Malfoy, Azkaban
Dear Malfoy,
I didn’t
mean to.
I didn’t
mean to fall in love with you, Draco Malfoy. It was totally accidental. One
moment I’m staring at the place where your body was, and the next moment I’m
staring at a tiny white ferret, which is bouncing up and down, higher and
higher, and in that moment—I knew I loved you. I knew because I couldn’t have
been so frightened for anyone unless I loved them. Knowing you, you’re probably
laughing your head off at this point. Shut up, it wasn’t funny. My eyes were
transfixed on that little dot of white, going up and down, up and down, higher
and higher, and I wanted to yell at you for doing this to me, for provoking
Harry in front of Mad-Eye Moody, of all people. How could you be so stupid?
I didn’t
mean to insult you all those times with Harry and Ron. It was just reflexes.
You would spit out all those insults about Ron’s mother, his family, Harry, me,
and just stand there with your cold grey eyes looking like you didn’t feel a
thing. I thought I was going mad, then. I hated you and loved you; I wanted to
never see you again and I couldn’t get you out of my head, I would find myself
searching for you at the Great Hall, in our shared classes. Potions was the one
class where someone—you—actually rivaled me, not just because of Snape and his
low favoritism, but because of you. I’d spend whole chunks of time just staring
at you, memorizing your features. Did you know that when you think, your
forehead creases just a little right above your eyes, just in the shape of
Harry’s scar? And that when you bend over to stir a cauldron, a lock of
platinum hair falls right across it in a perfect 45 degree angle? Bet you
didn’t know that, and don’t smirk. I didn’t meant to memorize it.
I didn’t
mean to visit you in the hospital wing that night. It was something deep in
within me. Did you know that, that I came to visit you one night after Harry
hit you with that awful spell from his stupid Potions’ texbook? It was past
curfew—don’t snigger, it wasn’t the first time I broke the rules—and I borrowed
Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. I didn’t tell him, and he still doesn’t know. I
slipped past Madam Pomfrey and sat down on the little wooden stool beside beds
there, sat there for the longest time, just staring at you. Seeing how the
moonlight slanted in from your bedside window and lit your hair into a sort of
halo, all spread out around your face. You looked almost like an angel there,
lying asleep with your pale skin glowing, your lashes catching the glimmering
quicksilver, your perfect sleek hair, so unlike mine, giving you a radiance
that made me catch my breath like you do when you see something beautiful. Too
bad you couldn’t act like one when you were awake.
I didn’t
mean to stare at you when McGonagall made you Head Boy, after the war was over.
I thought Ron, or even Harry, even though he was never prefect, would be Head
Boy. Or if it had to be a Slytherin Blaise Zabini, since he’d been made
replacement prefect after you left. Not you. Never you. You killed Dumbledore!
You should have gone to Azkaban with your Death Eater father. But Professor
McGonagall intervened and said you should at least complete your schooling
before being carted off to Azkaban. And then she made you Head Boy, of all
things. So of course I stared. I didn’t know it would hurt you so. Don’t deny
it, I saw the hurt in your eyes before you covered it up with a sneer and a
‘Mudblood’ comment. Those didn’t hurt anymore, you know. You used them too
often. Don’t worry either, I’m not fooling myself into thinking that meant
something. I was just another person who thought you were Death Eater scum,
even if I was one of the Golden Trio and your nemesis’ best friend. But I
thought you should know that I didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry for it. Everyone
deserves a second chance. Even you. Especially you.
I didn’t
mean to convict you, that day that was your screwed-up trial. It was fixed, and
everyone knew it. No one wanted a drawn-out trial over someone who was
obviously guilty. You saw me standing up there, giving evidence in a shaky
voice, and I saw the despair in your eyes. The hurt, and the knowledge that
nothing was going to save your skin now. Please, Draco, I’m so, so sorry. Don’t
tell me it doesn’t matter now, it doesn’t matter what I meant. Please, don’t
you think I’ve told myself that a thousand times every night since your trial,
that I’ve cried myself to sleep everynight after I gave that awful, damning
evidence. I tried, Draco, I really did. I did my best to make you sound like
the person you were, forced by circumstances far beyond your control. I made
Harry tell your side too, how your wand hand dropped before Snape came charging
in. How it was Snape and not you who actually fired the killing spell. I didn’t
know they’d twist my words around like that. Don’t sneer and tell me I was
supposed to be bright. Please Draco, I can just see your face this moment. You
never had any patience with weakness. You didn’t have time for it. But please,
please, just listen to me. It wasn’t meant to be like this. Never. I never
hated you Draco Malfoy, and I loved you for a very long time. I didn’t mean to. I swear, I never
thought you were going to—that they would…they’re going to give you the
Dementor’s Kiss tomorrow night. I heard Harry and Kingsley Shacklebolt discuss
it last night. I write this letter now, by candlelight, shivering with cold and
something more I cannot, or will not, name. I’m giving this to Hedwig and
hoping that she will find you before they come to take you away. I will be
there, at the… you know. Please, if you have gotten this letter, and if you
forgive me, just look at me, and I’ll know. I always knew, from your eyes.
Please, please, read this and know that I, Hermione Jane Granger, loved you,
and that I still love you. Please, read this and say you forgive me. For
hurting you, for loving you, for hating you, for killing you. And above all
just remember, I didn’t mean to. I swear
to God, I didn’t mean to.
Please, I’m sorry,
Hermione
The
execution of Mr. Draco Malfoy took place on Tuesday, on the eleventh of August.
There were no witnesses except two Aurors, a male with dark hair and glasses,
and a female with brown hair. The said execution was clean and quick, except
for a brief problem with the prisoner, who seemed to want to resist, or
possibly delay the execution for a minute. Somehow, he managed to get his head
free for a minute and looked straight at the aforementioned female witness and
whispered a few sentences that nobody except the Aurors and one of our squad
members heard. The prisoner was supposed to have said, “Goddamn it Hermione,
you’re supposed to be so smart, but you never get it, do you? You say you knew
everything from my eyes, but you still don’t know. Fuck you, I loved you too.” Squad members later
reported that there was no such person as ‘Hermione’ in the vicinity and that
the prisoner was either delusional, or it was a secret message to be passed on
to anyone within hearing. This theory is being investigated.
--NB,
apparantly, after hearing these words the female Auror was inconsolable and was
led off in tears and hysterics, to be comforted by the male Auror. Inexplicable
behavior.
