The Internal Devices

Chapter 37

Sometimes Draco imagined he was a small cottage, nestled in the belly of a forgotten desert, surrounded by his only love–the stars. The constellations twinkled humorously each night, vowing to return, and he believed them. After all, they had promised. He was happy and safe and healing in the sands, never bothered by the unknown or the lingering heat. But then the stars went out. The light was gone. She left him.

When Hermione disappeared, Draco didn't rage. He didn't scream. He didn't cry. Everything went quiet, and he gracefully sank to his knees, clenching the letter. It was such a familiar feeling, being left. He didn't even feel surprised; part of him had always expected this. No one ever seemed to stay. She left him.

He glanced down at the worn parchment and smiled grimly. Theo had no idea how right he'd been, and that was over a year ago. Draco's feelings had only grown. It was almost a relief for the truth to be out, even if his entire world was crashing down on him. He ripped at the carpet mindlessly. She left him.

Theo's letter no doubt came as a shock to Hermione. Even after reading it each morning, Draco never quite got used to the pang of guilt and sadness that came from seeing his best friend's handwriting. After Theo...the only thing that really made Draco want to live was Hermione, and now that she had left, he wasn't sure what to do. A small voice inside his head whispered that maybe, just maybe, she would come back. Maybe she just needed a second to process. Maybe she didn't hate him. He tried to squash the voice down. She left him.

Still, there had been moments when he thought she might feel something for him, like the night at the symphony. Times when he caught her staring as he buttoned up his shirt. Mornings when her cheeks would burn as he tugged on her hair. Nights when she snuggled closer not out of grief, but in want of his touch. He remembered lazy weekend discussions over novels in which she would beam at him for showing an interest, or those times when he stood so close it sounded like she forgot how to breathe. But it was all speculation. They had tiptoed around this conversation for as long as they had truly known each other, even in school after that day in the infirmary. He was full of uncertainty. She left him.

They had been good for each other. Without Hermione, he would have been swallowed by grief, and there was no way he would have ever resurfaced. She'd given him a purpose in looking after her, and motivation to not only survive, but to live. Salazar, they'd created a healing spell that might save countless lives. That was about as much good as a person could do. It should be enough, and yet...she left him.

Draco stood and began pacing, ripping a hand through his hair. Gods, this woman was devouring him. She had been gone not fifteen minutes and he was going mad. He hadn't had a peaceful moment since that first encounter in the library when she had sliced clean through a bookshelf and his heart in the process. When he witnessed her brilliance in the lab, he was a goner. Then she waltzed into the common room in that green dress, and he almost passed out. Her annotations in Jane Eyre that offered him forgiveness. Her smiles when they studied. Her gentleness with Theodore. Her bravery when fighting a bloody dragon. Her ridiculous hair that smelled like hyacinths.

What was wrong with him? He looked down at his shaking hands and realized how afraid he was. He was terrified, and the fear made him angry. He couldn't let her walk away without telling her the truth. She needed to hear it from him, not from an old letter. He'd been such an idiot, but he didn't know what to do, didn't know where to go. His pacing became frantic, and he let out a growl of frustration. Yes, she had left him. But that didn't mean he couldn't go after her. They had promised. They had promised not to leave each other, and he intended to keep that promise, even if he had to search the ends of the earth to find her. Draco snatched up his wand, stuffed the letter in his trousers pocket, and took a deep breath. He'd go to the lab first, then check the park–