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ᗩ/ᑎ ᑭ.O.ᐯ.
The war has taken so much from so many people. It's taken lives, it's taken love, it's taken everything that's stood in its path and used it to fuel the fire of hatred that Voldemort started all those years ago.
The war has been going on for so long, too long, and you fear that it may take your hope with it too.
You wish you'd had the courage to tell Draco how you felt, because you fear that it may be too late now.
You wake every morning with a heavy weight in your chest, knowing that he may not be alive today or tomorrow or the day after and you'll be helpless against it. You'll be helpless and regretful.
Because why didn't you tell him when you had the chance? Before Voldemort was a serious threat the only real obstacle that would've stood between you two was public opinion.
Harry. Draco's parents. Ron and Hermione. Pansy and Blaise. Just public opinion.
Just people that could've expressed their disdain at your relationship, but what could they actually have done to stop you? They wouldn't have threatened your lives the Voldemort would. Or should you say has, the way he has threatened your lives.
He already hates you and Harry, and resents Draco, what would stop him from striking you both dead immediately at the news?
The only way you and Draco might see come kind of future together is if you win the war. No. When. When you win the war, you and Draco will have a future together. You'll finally tell him that you like him, that you love him, that you have for years. Ever since you got partnered up in Potions in third year. You'd hated it at the time, so had he. But you warmed up to each other. You started to like each other. So much. Too much.
You never told him. You were scared of what he'd say. You couldn't risk him not reciprocating your feelings because oh my, the embarrassment would destroy you. The rejection would disintegrate you. It was better to feel in silence, to suffer and pine after him from a distance enough away that could be observed as hatred. Everyone assumed you were staring at him with dislike whenever they caught your eyes lingering on him too long. Why wouldn't they? You're a Potter after all. It makes sense.
It makes so much sense. So why couldn't you just hate him?
"Potter."
"Careful Malfoy, say my name too much and I'll start to think you like me."
He scoffs but smirks, "As if. I have a thing against people that fraternize with gingers."
He was like that with you. He never really insulted you personally, choosing instead to go for the people you hung around. He was softer with you. Kinder. Gentler. Happier. "Oh come on, Pansy doesn't think Ginny's too bad."
