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- "No Draco," a lonely tear rolled down her cheek, "I don't want to forget you." -
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Both Hermione and I knew that there would be a turning point in our relationship. In fifth year, we thought it would be my father. Then, I thought it would be my mark, then my deeds, but now it was clear that the turning point was murder. She couldn't love a murderer, and I couldn't allow her to. She was destined to be with someone who wouldn't make her choose between what is right and what she loved. She was destined to be with someone who wouldn't break her heart on a monthly basis, but instead be a constant light in her life. She was destined for Weasley, and we both knew it.
For the last few months we had talked about today and what it would mean for us. How we would react in the events following. How we would pretend like each other never existed. We had both shed tears at this thought, but now, it was more real than ever. Today was the day. Today was the day I would lose her forever. Today was the day I became a murderer.
I had pushed this day as far as I could, but tonight was the perfect opportunity. The old man is going away for a few hours tonight and when he returned, I would take the opportunity and kill him where he stood. The idea terrified me, but not as much as being on the opposite end of the curse.
I entered the Great Hall for dinner that night with a solemn, defeated expression on my face. This was the last dinner I would truly enjoy at Hogwarts. I forced myself to glance at Professor Dumbledore, happily chatting away with the other professors. He had no idea that this was his last meal, his last time talking to these people, the last time sitting at the head of the staff table. Today was the last day that Professor Dumbledore would walk this earth, but no one in this room knew apart from Professor Snape and myself. Only us, and by the end of the evening, Hermione as well.
I caught her attention and gave her our signal. The one we had devised on our last regular visit to the Room of Requirement. The signal that meant we needed to talk that evening. I tapped my ear, then scratched beside my nose, and she did the same, confirming our date. That excited me, but also saddened me. Tonight would be the last night I would hold Hermione Granger. Tonight would be the last time I would kiss her lips. Tonight, Hermione would forget about me.
She wouldn't know she forgot though. I haven't told her my real plan for our last night together, for she would be wholeheartedly against it. I would alter her memory. She would still remember me of course, but only the parts that make her hate me. It would be like the past year never happened, like I had shut her out of my life on the first day of term like I should have. Instead of me, she would kiss Ron in the library, take Ron to Slughorn's Christmas party, and sneak out at night to watch the stars with Ron. It would be like I never loved her.
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She met me exactly at eight o'clock that evening in front of the Room of Requirement. Silently, the two of us entered to our balcony and sat together, holding hands. Tonight, there was a blanket folded neatly to the side.
"What is it Draco?" she cooed.
I looked to her, a defeated look in my eyes, and I could tell she knew what I was going to say. She nodded, "It's happening tonight, isn't it?"
My glance confirmed it for her, and she started bawling. I halfheartedly pulled her into my arms and we hugged and hugged until her eyes ran out of tears to cry and she was just sniffling. "I love you," she reminded me.
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"And I love you."
"I'm never going to forget this," she told me. Oh, how wrong she was.
"Neither am I." I pulled the folded blanket around us, and I laid down, pulling her on top of me. She wrapped her arms around my chest and buried her face into my neck.
I gently rubbed her back and her hair, telling her all the little things I love about her, "You are beautiful, more so than any flower or painting. You are strong, you can face anything that comes in your path. You are determined and smart. You smell like fall and fresh parchment. Your voice is like a song. You are quirky, but in the cutest sort of way. I love it when you flip your hair, it just does something to me. There are a million more reasons, but those are all I have the dignity to say."
She clutched me tighter, "My Draco. Mine." A choke echoed in my empty chest. After everything, she still wanted me. She still wanted me to be hers.
"My Hermione. My red rose," I said to her.
We lay there, admiring each other, and at some point, she had unbuttoned my shirt to run her fingers down my barely recognizable scars from Potter's curse. There was nothing really sensual about her touch though, it just felt natural, like this was always meant to be. I caught myself with the last thought. No, this was never meant to be. This relationship between Hermione and I was rewriting destiny instead of following it. We were never meant to be friends. She's a muggle-born, and I am a pureblood whose parents would never allow for such dirt to ruin the family's pureblood status. She is a muggle-born who would be much better off with a muggle-loving father-in-law like Arthur Weasley, than a muggle-hating father-in-law like mine. She was never supposed to love me, and I was never supposed to love her. Life would have been so much easier if we had stuck to the script. But we hadn't, and here we were, wrapped up in each other's griefs.
"Why are you so perfect?" she groaned.
"Me perfect? You are well aware I am anything but."
"If you didn't have that mark on your skin, then you would be." She traced the mark, careful not to touch it as I had warned her what happens if she did. She sent electricity through me. Her warm touch was almost too much to contain within myself. I pushed her gently up, and she readjusted her legs to wrap around my body, and I kissed her, passionately. This kiss showed her that I had never known true passion before this day, that she was my flame, my one and only love. The way she returned my kiss made it seem like she finally reciprocated my feelings, that I was her one and only as well. What ever happened to Weasley? I caught myself wondering, but instead I refocused on her. My girl. She's mine. She is mine, at least for this night.
When our kiss concluded, she lay back on my chest, her arms underneath my head, holding onto me fiercely, afraid to let go. I ran my hands curiously down her sides, trying to brand each angle into my memory forever, so that when I fall asleep, I could still imagine her weight on me, her shape on me, her warm, tired breath on my skin.
She was drifting off, and I let her. I needed her to be unconscious for when I adjusted her memory. As it was, it would rip me apart knowing that she would never be able to remember me, but seeing her eyes as I wiped my love from her mind would rip me into pieces. It would rip me almost as bad as killing Professor Dumbledore.
When I thought she had fallen asleep, I slipped her arms from around my neck to the cold floor. I slid out from under her and felt the sting of cold nighttime air on my bare chest. This sting was the only thing that reminded me that I was still alive, that I hadn't died in her arms. I picked up my shirt and wand off the floor and slipped the shirt back over my head. I had only begun to button the shirt back up when she spoke.
"Draco?"
I froze. She wasn't supposed to be awake. I couldn't do it if she was. She stood up, but I held her back, "It's time Hermione."
"But just let me hug you goodbye," she begged. It was a simple request, harmless, so I let her. "Bye Draco," she whimpered into my half-buttoned shirt.
"Goodbye Hermione."
When she broke contact, I pulled my wand at her. It was time for me to do it. It needed to be done. "Obliviate."
"Protego."
"Hermione," I sobbed, "Don't you understand? I have to do this. I have to do this or they'll kill you."
"No Draco," a lonely tear rolled down her cheek, "I don't want to forget you."
"Hermione please, you can't know, you can't."
"I won't tell anyone, just like I promised. I'll... I'll go and be with Ron. I'll even marry him if you want. I'll never tell a soul, I swear. Please Draco, please," she hopelessly begged, "I will never love anyone as much as I love you."
"Obliviate." This time I caught her off guard. My charm hit her as she was performing another shield charm. She had been knocked out, and I ran to scoop her head to protect her from hurting it as she fell to the ground. Gently, I covered her with the blanket we shared and with my lips brushing her ear, I whispered, "I love you too Hermione Granger. I always will."
I pocketed my wand and admired her sleeping figure as I finished buttoning my shirt. Painfully I turned around and left her sleeping peacefully in the Room of Requirement, where I knew she was safe in her dream about Ron Weasley. When she woke, she would not remember my lips, the feeling of my hair between her fingers, and she would never remember my loving sentiments. I sobbed like I had in the bathroom, knowing that the memory of us will only ever be known by me.