𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃 | d. m

9. PS. I Love Draco

August, 2006

Six months had passed since I convinced Draco we'd both be better off, and life had taken on a surreal quality. The guilt and sorrow that had once consumed me had dulled to a persistent ache, a constant reminder of the choices I had made. Summer had arrived, painting the world in warm hues, but I felt cold inside, detached from the vibrancy of life.

My new apartment was smaller, tucked away in a quieter part of town. The walls were a neutral beige, the furniture sparse and functional. It was a stark contrast to the place I had shared with Draco, but it was my sanctuary, a place to rebuild and reflect. The morning light filtered through sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as I sipped my coffee, the aroma comforting in its familiarity.

I had thrown myself into my work at the Ministry, seeking solace in routine and responsibility. The faces of my colleagues were kind but cautious, aware of the storm that had passed through my life. I spent my days immersed in paperwork and meetings, the hum of activity a welcome distraction from my thoughts.

After the breakup, I requested a transfer to a different department to avoid running into Draco. My new position in the Department of International Magical Cooperation offered a fresh start, away from the constant reminders of our shared past. However, the Ministry was only so large, and our paths inevitably crossed from time to time.

One particular morning, as I walked through the atrium of the Ministry, the bustle of wizards and witches around me seemed more pronounced. I caught sight of Hermione in the distance, her auburn hair a beacon in the crowd. She was speaking with Ron, her expression animated and focused. My heart clenched at the sight, a mix of longing and regret washing over me. Her pregnancy was unmistakable now, her belly round and prominent. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing over me.

Our eyes met briefly, and I forced a small, tentative smile. Hermione's expression remained neutral, her gaze quickly shifting away. It was a silent acknowledgment, a far cry from the friendship we once shared, but it was all I could hope for at the moment.

Back at my apartment that same night, the evening light cast long shadows across the room. I sat on the small balcony, the air warm and fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers. The city's noise was a distant hum, a soothing backdrop to my thoughts. I couldn't stop replaying the brief interaction with Hermione in my mind, her indifferent gaze a stark reminder of the rift between us.

As I sat there, my phone buzzed on the table. I picked it up, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Draco's name on the screen. It had been months since we last spoke, our lives diverging in painful silence. With a deep breath, I answered the call.

"Evaine," Draco's voice was slurred, the familiar arrogance barely masking his obvious inebriation. "How are you?"

"Draco? It's late, are you okay?" I asked, concern lacing my voice.

"Why do you always ask that?" he snapped, his words blending together. "I'm not okay, Evaine. Not without you."

"Draco, are you drunk?" I asked, my heart sinking.

"Maybe," he mumbled, a bitter edge in his voice. "But that doesn't matter. I miss you, Evaine. I miss us."

Tears stung my eyes. "Draco, this isn't helping either of us."

"Helping?" he scoffed, his voice rising. "You think I care about helping? I care about you. About us. And it's tearing me apart."

I closed my eyes, the pain in his voice cutting through me. "I miss you too, Draco. But we both need to heal. This isn't the way."