Come Find Me | Dramione

Chapter 36: I Will Always Find You

He looked around at the quiet office, breathing it all in and running his fingers over the dark wood of his desk.

His desk. His own office.

Draco had once been searching for a purpose—a search and a gut feeling that had led him to the Ministry of Magic. Led him right to Granger.

He adjusted a frame on the wall that held the first draft that he and Granger had worked on together. The Dragon Protection Case. He stared at her signature next to his.

Salazar, he missed her.

He saw her everywhere. He swore he heard her laugh echoing down the library stacks or saw her smile in a cloudy sky. But it was only fleeting. Just whispers of the witch he loved, the memory of her echoing in his mind.

He had been lost. An utter wreck when she had left him.

He couldn't understand it. Why he couldn't hold her close in his arms and help her through the rough road that would come. He had even begged Theo for the Apparation stone so that he could find her and convince for her to reconsider. To come home.

His friend had refused, and he guessed now he was grateful.

But nothing could staunch the hole in his heart where she had been.

Narcissa had arrived a few days after the trial, having pulled every last string the Malfoy name still held to try and make it back from her business trip in Japan in time for the trial.

A mercy, he thought, that she hadn't been there to witness it.

What she had thought about his love for Hermione Granger, about the lengths he had gone to protect her, he hadn't known. They rarely spoke of her, as he rarely spoke at all.

But his mother hadn't left his side, and while he would usually resent that constant hovering, he had been glad for it in the end.

Because it had been her, who had broken through the cold walls he had put up to hide his broken heart.

He had sat with her at the grand dining table at Malfoy Manor one night, months of unanswered letters and longing warring on him. He had only stared at his plate, pushing around uneaten food with his fork.

"Draco," she had whispered.

He ignored her.

"I cannot bear this anymore. You have to eat. You have to keep moving—"

"She is gone."

"And she will be the better for it."

He lifted his eyes to her.

She rose from her seat, leaning against the table next to him. His stare returned to his food, but she lifted his chin, placing her hand on his cheek. "After the war, after your father was sent to Azkaban, I sat in this house and felt as if I had no way out. I was in an incredibly dark place, but I stayed here for you. To make sure that you were not haunted as I was. And the moment I saw that you did not need me, I fled."

His mother, who had always been so lively, so strong. He hadn't known how deep her own demons raged. Had only assumed she grew bored of London and wanted a change of scenery.

"The time I spent away, the time I took to heal, is the only reason I can even stomach to be here now," she continued. "Hermione needs this, love. She needs it. The trauma she's endured is something that no witch should ever have to see. I know you want to help her. But she has to do this on her own. She can't work through this any other way. Give her time, Draco. Let her heal, and if her love is true, she will come back to you."