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If not forever then just for tonight,
Give me all of you,
Trust me, I know that we'll be fine.
11:00pm
He can recall the exact moment the letters arrived.
They’d lain curled up in his bed together, limbs entwined, as the grating sound of talons scraping against glass jarred them from a fitful sleep. He pulled her impossibly closer, neither prepared to shatter their perfect reality.
Eventually, however, unable to bear the noise any longer, Draco stood and opened the window—removing two heavy, cream envelopes from the owl's leg, and sending it on its way.
He gulped, inhaling a lungful of air, before turning and climbing back into bed with Hermione and holding her against his chest.
“Are you ready?”
His hand felt damp as it caught the tears sliding a path down her cheeks. “No—no, I’m—Draco, what if—”
“—Stop, no—” he interrupted. “We can’t jump to conclusions, not yet.”
She nodded once, and then twice. “Right, yes, you’re right,” she whispered, gripping her own envelope so tightly it looked as though it might rip apart. “On three?”
11:10pm
He tries not to remember what happened afterwards, though the memory is never far, lingering in the dark recesses of his mind.
They’d read the letters against a backdrop of watery sunlight, vision blurred with burning tears and the echo of empty promises.
“We’ll be fine,” he’d repeated, over and over again, pressing the words into her skin.
The Ministry of Magic is delighted to announce the betrothal of Astoria Elodie Greengrass to Draco Lucius Malfoy.
The Ministry of Magic is delighted to announce the betrothal of Hermione Jean Granger to Ronald Bilius Weasley.
11:15pm
He smiles faintly as he recalls how quickly she’d channelled her grief into research. Hermione Granger was never one to lose her tenacity for long, after all.
She’d sat cross-legged in the middle of their living room surrounded by haphazardly scattered books, walls plastered with pieces of parchment, lengths of legislation flapping quietly in the air.
“Anything?” he asked, sitting behind her and pulling her to his chest.
Relaxing in his arms, she shook her head. “Not really—divorce is only possible in the case of an abusive spouse, and adultery results in a one way ticket to Azkaban. They’ve made it very nearly airtight.”
He stiffened. Hope flooded his veins. “‘Very nearly’?” he repeated.
“There seems to be a miniscule... loophole, of sorts. I’m not sure what it’s purpose is, but it appears that couples who were together for at least a year prior to the Marriage Law enactment can meet for one day a year without fear of imprisonment—as long as it's in a private location and no penetrative sexual activity occurs.”
He nodded slowly; it wasn’t much, but it was something.
“We’ll be fine, won’t we?” she asked, voice trembling.
“We’ll be fine.”
11:30pm
The first year they’d been separated was the hardest.
Almost too much to bear.
Weeks passed in a blur of Firewhiskey and intrusive thoughts. Whilst he attended to his marital duties adequately, clinically, he was haunted by images of heated looks, lingering touches, a name called out that wasn’t his.
He quit his job at the Ministry.
It felt like torture to watch her and not pull her close, and he couldn’t bear to see her watch him with red-rimmed eyes.
He sequestered himself to the manor, either sleeping, drinking, or researching. He tried to avoid any news of the outside world—though it wasn’t always possible.
Each new Daily Prophet article published about the Granger-Weasleys lodged a new, protective, shard of glass around his heart, only to be shattered the moment he watched her run to him on their one day together a year.
11:45pm
He hates the way their day ended last time.
He’d been on edge from the moment he saw her swollen belly, felt the gentle fluttering of tiny feet from a baby that wasn’t his—could never be his.
“You’re not the same person anymore.”
“I know that!” he replied angrily, exasperated. “If I’m not with you—how can I be the same?”
“There’s more to life than me, Draco.”
“No, there isn’t.”
A pervasive, uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Pushing them further apart.
She closed her eyes. “I have to go.”
Watching her walk away from him, he tried to convince himself that they’d be fine.
11:55pm
He knows he needs a better strategy to deal with their situation—knows what he’s currently doing is only serving to push her away.
He’ll talk to her about it today, they’ll fix this.
It’s almost midnight and his pulse flutters nervously, impatiently.
‘We’ll be fine,’ he thinks.
12:05am
It’s five minutes past their usual meeting time.
Their fifth time alone in five years.
She’s not here.
He takes deep breaths, hoping to calm the relentless thumping of his restless heart.
12:20am
A single piece of parchment floats languidly in front of him.
He opens it with trembling hands.
Dear Draco, it reads, I’m so sorry...
His eyes burn and tears fall onto the page, smudging Hermione’s neat handwriting.
It had begun with a letter, and, so, he supposes, it makes sense for it to end with one, too.