For You, Always For You

By: atruwriter

2/2

Hermione Granger walked down the quiet empty halls of Hogwarts, an emptiness still stinging her heart. She stopped in front of the Great Hall, taking in a calming breath before she entered. All four tables turned to stare at her, but she kept her head high, her shoulders back. Sitting down in the center of the table, between Harry and Ron, she clasped her hands together and waited for the inevitable. Professor McGonagall, or Headmaster really, had called her to her office early that afternoon. She had been given a copy of the Daily Prophet before anybody else would receive it the next morning and it held a special message. Hermione had set it up for the Headmaster to get it as such and knew that she would be receiving this beckoning. They had discussed what would happen and McGonagall had agreed to read it out to the students during dinner. Hermione was sure that the reason everyone was staring was because she was late and McGonagall wouldn't say anything until she arrived.

The proper looking Headmaster looked out amongst her students, smiling briefly and nodding. "Thank you for your attention," she began. "I have with me here, tomorrow's Daily Prophet. Inside, is a letter from a strong, intelligent student that we lost this summer. Miss Granger has asked that it be read to you all and I ask that you please keep your comments to yourself. Thank you," she said, lifting the paper and adjusting her glasses.

"I, Jordan Timbers, reporter for the Daily Prophet, have spoken to the young women who asked me to place this letter in the paper and I send out my deepest sympathies to her, as I have never read such an honest and open hearted goodbye letter in my life. It is obvious in my opinion that the young man who wrote it loved her very much, and that he made an honest effort in trying to do something good for this world. I warn any who read the following letter that it has offensive language in some parts, that it looks down on pureblooded customs, and that it impresses the answer of "No" on all those who question whether they should join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in his crusade against the good witches and wizards of this world. I am fully aware that I may be attacked for putting this in your paper, good readers, but I feel that you should all know this young man's last words. Thank you, and please read carefully," she read, clearing her throat and casting her eyes around at those before her. She stared down at Hermione for a moment, who nodded at her to continue.

"Hermione,

If you are reading this, then I've done something ridiculously stupid and gotten myself killed. Don't cry love, I'm sure I deserved it. The world is a cruel place and I've added to that over the years. I'm ashamed to say that it took me seventeen years to realize that I was no better than you, or anyone like you. As a Slytherin, an heir, and a pureblood, it's hard to admit my faults and know that what I've done was wrong. But you changed me. For six years, I watched as everything I'd been taught drained away as lies. Don't listen to anyone who calls you mudblood and please accept my deepest apologies for ever marring you with such a name. You don't fit any description implied in the title, or that of anything I've been told you would be.

If you don't already know it, pureblood's are raised to hate muggleborns. We are taught from an early age to be disgusted by them, despise them for reasons we really don't understand. We are not to question this way of thinking, or a cane will quickly meet us with a message of obedience. I did question though, I did wonder, and I hope that others have too. Because I wasn't able to find the best thing in my life until I stopped believing in the ways of my father.

There was a time when he was my hero, and I'm sure it's the same for all pureblooded sons. He represented the strong, the powerful, the person we strive to be. But when you strip away the lies, you're left with a selfish, cruel man, who cared nothing for his son and had a love affair with power. He spoke of being great, of ruling the world by the Dark Lord's side. He made it sound grand, like a journey that only those who are worthy would be able to walk. However, I soon found out that the journey I would take part in, would be filled with murder and death, blood and the loss of innocence.

I admit to you, to anyone who asks, that I held a wand to Dumbledore's chest. I was told to kill him, for the respect of the Dark Lord and the betterment of my family. I let the Death Eater's into the school with a Vanishing Cabinet connected to Borgin and Burkes, I Imperio'd Madame Rosmerta, and I hurt Katie Bell and Ron Weasley, in attempts to get at Dumbledore that I poorly put together because I simply didn't want to be a murderer. I didn't kill him though; Snape, his not so loyal friend did that. After years of training, of boasting that I could be a Death Eater, I proved myself wrong. While I stared down at him, all I could think was that you wouldn't do it. And if you wouldn't, how could I? My entire Hogwarts career had been spent trying to outdo you, or at least stand equal to you, but you had always proved to be better. So, I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him. It wasn't fear of those who were approaching, it was being named a killer. I would have his blood on my hands, I would have his death over my head. And if you couldn't live with something like that, how was I strong enough to?

I feel a sense of pity for all those Slytherins who will soon choose to take the Dark Mark. Those who follow in their parent's footsteps because in all honesty, that was the worst thing I had ever done. And they might be able to convince themselves that it will be different for them, they might think it was just me, that I wasn't strong enough, but they'll figure it out. When they hold a wand to an innocent, when they see the death of a child or a mother, they'll know. Some of us are made for death, made to kill. It was what I had been raised to do and still I faltered. For every dark wizard that is bred, there is a good one born.

Take Weasley and Potter for example. Potter grew up without his parents, in a family that hated him, and he managed to keep his innocence to some extent. He came out on top in some ways. Yes, he lost his family, he lost a life, but he can feel good about himself knowing that he will never do anything to hurt any innocent. He has a good heart, a sharp mind, and I believe that he will win in the end. He deserves to. Then there's Weasley. A boy who was marred as a blood traitor just for being born as himself. He was raised the right way though. Without discrimination and in a family that obviously loves him. I regret what I've done to the two of them, they were only looking out for the greater good of the people around them. They're brave; strong against the weight of Voldemort's fury. I admire them for that.

I have no reason to doubt that I died by my father's hand, but I hope that the Order arrived like they should have. I knew you would do what was right, I knew you would bring them to capture him. He shouldn't be allowed to walk amongst the rest of you. I have seen what he's done and it's far worse than you can imagine. Death takes both the best and worst of us, I think the majority of us don't know which we are until we're weaved separate at those pearly gates. I hope that I've been forgiven for my actions, that I'll be granted entrance to the same place you will. But I have no reason to trust that I will. I've done some horrible things in my life, and I regret never being able to apologize to the people I've hurt.

I'll tell you what I don't regret though: my last week of life. There is nobody I would've rather spent it with than you. I believe your letters are the only thing that kept me from agonizing over the fate that I'm going to face come this Saturday. You're sleeping right now, with your hair fanned out over the pillows. Do you know what an angel is, love? It can be many things. A messenger of god, a winged woman in white robes, a guardian spirit. But it can also be a regular person; one who possesses beauty, kindness, purity. You're my angel, Hermione. My angel of mercy, and my heavenly reminder that there is something worth fighting for in this world.

When I die, I want you to know that I didn't feel anything. I didn't hurt, I didn't beg, I didn't cry. Through the worst of it, I'm going to think of you, and I know that it'll be enough to keep me strong. Love is not a weakness, it truly is a gift. If I never get to tell you, then I want you to know that I love you. I think I've loved you longer than even I've realized. You were always the unattainable. The girl at the top while I was the boy who strived to reach your greatness. For every scathing word I said about you, there was a lie. Because as I pushed myself to hate you, I constantly found myself loving you instead. You should know that you're the only person to ever make this life worth living. That seeing you tonight almost changed my mind from going to see him, from walking to my death. But my father and I have unfinished business and I'm sorry to say that it will likely cost my life.

What I do tomorrow night, has everything to do with blood, hate, and the war that rages in the background, it's purpose is one small step to changing the world. He won't listen to me when I tell him that he fed me lies, but I'll tell him anyway. He'll pretend he doesn't know I'm telling the truth about your intelligence, your equality. But that doesn't matter, because he'll always remember those words. He doesn't matter, but my death will forever remind him of his mistakes.

Death is never for nothing. It always means something; to one person or many. If you're the only person who cares, I can handle that. Because in reality, you're the only person who's ever cared. The only person I've ever cared about. When I'm gone, you remember what I told you. You live this life for the both of us. And when all is said and done, when you die old and grey, having lived a world of possibilities, I will meet you at those gates. Don't doubt it, love.

Until then,
Forever yours,
Draco Malfoy

Headmaster McGonagall folded the paper, placing it on the side of her stand, lifting a hand to quickly wipe at her face. "For those of you who did not read the news, Draco Malfoy was sadly killed by his father early this summer. Lucius Malfoy escaped Azkaban prison and in an attempt to have him captured again, Draco offered Hermione Granger a way to find him. He sent word to his mother, telling her that he would be coming to her for help on Saturday. He knew she would then send word to wherever her husband was hiding and he would surely meet Draco to..." Swallowing, she looked down for a moment. "To reprimand him for his inaction in killing our beloved former Headmaster. Draco made it appear as if he would be arriving at 6, however he left for 5:30, knowing they would then have some time alone. It is to my understanding, that Draco believed his father may be given the Dementor's Kiss if he was found beating Draco, or having killed him, which is what he wanted and will get," she said firmly.

The four tables broke out in startled and shocked whispers, each student having an opinion on what was read, who the letter belonged to, who had died. Hermione couldn't make out any of what they were saying, she stared silently at Headmaster McGonagall, wondering what the woman thought of it all. She ignored Ron patting her back, rubbing her shoulder in a calming, understanding motion. Hermione felt as if she were outside of her own body, half listening, barely breathing, just being.

Motioning for everyone to quiet down, McGonagall shook her head. She waited for the students to quiet themselves, returning their attention to her. She stared out all of them, her eyes clouded and her face pinched in a sad, upset fashion. "He was not a cruel boy, he was confused and raised improperly. He was no killer though, and you should all read carefully his words of wisdom before he died." Lifting the paper, she held it up in her tight, small hand. "There is a message here to all those who believe they are doing the right thing, but are really just following in steps we don't understand. Some of us have been taught differently, some of us may even believe young Mr. Malfoy got what he deserved. We do not all believe the same thing. This War will separate us just as death will. And you have been given the opportunity to change your mind, to rethink your place in this world."

Sighing, she looked out over the divided four tables of students. "I'm sure you all remember him as the boy who tormented you, who belittled you, and criticized your thinking. But here in my hand is his apology, his redemption for his actions. You too can be saved, before you fall upon a fate like his," she told them, her voice shaking. "You are young, smart, and you have a whole future ahead of you. Do not make the same mistakes. Do not let yourselves fall into a life like that of many of your parents. Draco made the right choice, he just did it too late. You still have time," she said, softly.

Hermione watched as her favorite professor stepped down from the podium, her eyes blurred from tears. It had taken her the entire summer until she finally managed to send her letter off to a respectable reporter, having it published word for word. She wanted the world to know him, to know what he really felt, how he thought. She wanted their schoolmates to know that he wasn't a heartless boy who had picked on them for the fun of it, but simply a person who had been raised to act a certain way. A boy she loved, who loved her back. And a student that had made the right decision in the end, knowing it was wrong to kill and hate.

She felt a hand cover hers and knew it to be Harry's; he had been helpful during the last few months, always there with a shoulder to cry on. He never asked about Draco, and Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to tell him. She stated facts, explained what was happening when they went to Malfoy Manor. She told him they had written to each other, but never about what their letters said. She told him she went to visit him on his last night, but never spoke of what they did. That was theirs. It was just Draco's and hers. She didn't want to share that part of him, not really. His letter was an apology to the rest of the world, an explanation, and that was why she sent it in. Perhaps it would influence others, maybe not. The fact is, McGonagall was right. Draco had given them all something to think about, something to mull over before they simply accepted their fates.

Standing from the table, Hermione cast her broken eyes at those around her, no smile on her face, no reassurance or understanding. She was mourning, she wasn't going to hold a strong front for them. This is pain, this is what people feel when they lose someone. And she'd show it to the whole world that she was hurting over Draco's death. They all deserved to see it, to feel it, to know that he was loved and missed. Walking from the Great Hall, she wrapped her arm around her middle, hugging herself tightly.

Making her way through the empty halls, she headed to the Head dorm. Draco had been selected long before Dumbledore's death to be Headboy, but his room lay empty now, because they didn't have a replacement just yet. She walked into the Slytherin adorned bedroom, the same as hers aside from the colouring. Crossing to the window, she leaned against it, closing her eyes and feeling the fading summer breeze across her face, drying the warm tear tracks.

"I'll be waiting for you." His words echoed in her mind and a strangled cry escaped her throat. She opened her eyes, staring out at the expanse of world before her. There were days when she'd see an owl and wonder if his reply hung from its foot. There were moments during the summer where she'd pass the Sunstrip Motel and see the curtain moving in the breeze at his window, making her wonder if he was walking around inside, naked to the cool air. There were times when she wished to close her eyes and never open them again, to let her tears shake her into oblivion. It hurt, constantly it did.

There was an ache left behind, telling her that he was gone and she'd never meet anybody like him. Nobody would ever say what he said, or hold her the way he did. She was supposed to go on and live a life without him, and suddenly it felt like that week was the only one that she'd ever feel right in. It was almost like this surreal seven days of her life that were lived outside of reality. Where it was just them and that was all that mattered. She wanted to go back, to live it over and over again. It felt like the future was empty now, void of anything to look forward to.

It scared her, knowing that she could fall in love with him so easily. She'd always had a fascination with him. Throughout her life at Hogwarts it was as if she were trying to prove him wrong. To prove to him that she was worthy of his acceptance, his acknowledgment. And then he was standing there in her front lawn, telling her everything she had strived for had always been there. He'd always known she was better than what he called her, he'd always looked up to her, was jealous of her even. She had been the reason he didn't kill, as if she was in the back of his mind, making sure he didn't do anything wrong.

Hating him had been hard to keep doing for all those years, while she really just had a point to prove. Loving him though, it had come easily to her. When he was himself, when he was speaking honestly, he was a real person. He was a nice boy who had grown up in a loveless family. It surprised her how quickly her feelings had changed, but he had shown his real self, and it was so much more than he'd even shown in the past. She couldn't let that person wallow in self pity until he went to meet his father on a suicide mission. She reached out, hoping he wouldn't push her away, and was pleasantly surprised with a pen pal. He told her everything, ranging from how his father treated him, to what he thought about house elves, honestly. And when that seventh night was upon them, she really wanted nothing more but to be with him.

Draco had given her a gift; acceptance, love, and life. He had made a statement to the world; with his death, his words, his renewed beliefs. He had pulled her self confidence up, telling her that the truth was she was better than all those who put her down. He had loved her body, her mind, her soul. He thought of her before himself, and he wanted her happiness to go on and never to be questioned. Yes, Draco Malfoy gave her a priceless, beautiful gift. And she would live up to what he wanted for her, she would have a family, live her life to the fullest, and wait for the day that she would meet him again.

It was morbid in some ways, living life waiting for the end. But some people only keep going for others, they only live their lives because the people they loved wanted them to. There was a cause that Hermione had to fight for, that Draco would want her to participate in. And she would enjoy her life, she would one day press the pain somewhere nobody would see it. She'd lock it away for his sake, and find the good in the world to get her through. But she would always have him with her, kept tightly in her heart. She'd hold his dreams in her grasp when she read the box of parchment in her bedroom, she'd keep his hopes for her in her mind when she did something for the greater good of the Wizarding world. She'd live life as it should be lived. With love, laughter, friendship, and joy. For him, always for him.

Much Love,
-Amanda