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It’s been five years.
Five years since she had said goodbye in the doorway of their office.
Five years since her voice had interrupted his thoughts, since she had stolen his coffee during late nights and left hers on his desk in return.
Five years.
And still he looked for her.
No one else did anymore. Most believed she had gone back to the muggle world. Not being able to bear the weight of the war anymore.
He knew it wasn’t true — couldn’t be.
She loved magic too much. Loved her friends. Loved him.
So he kept looking.
He lost his job after one too many missed days. After one too many leads followed, too many questions asked, too many doors slammed in his face.
After that he disappeared too.
Became a recluse. A mad man obsessed with his missing lover. Following every trail like a lost puppy.
The dark circles beneath his eyes told the story of sleepless nights and dwindling hope, but something in his chest refused to let go. He had spent his galleons on information, called in every favour, blackmailed men who once would have made him tremble.
Because he knew.
She was out there. Somewhere. Still alive.
‧˚₊‧ ┈┈┈ ⟡ ┈┈┈ ‧₊˚⊹
The forest felt familiar the moment he stepped into it.
She had told him about it once years ago. A place she used to visit with her parents before the war. She had only described it in passing, but Draco had memorised every word.
And now here it was.
In the distance he saw a small cottage. Smoke coming out of the chimney. Brown curls could be seen from a window.
His breath caught.
After all those years —
He took a step. Two slow step before breaking into a run.
The door opened just as he raised his hand to knock.
And there she was.
He almost sobbed at the sight of her, but —
She looked… different, wrong.
“Hermione,” he breathed.
“Draco.” Her voice held the same shock as his. “What are you doing here? How did you—”
He thought he would feel happiness. Anger. Sadness at seeing her again. He only felt confusion.
She was eerily still. Her eyes were wrong, empty of the warmth he had grown to love.
She reached for his hand.
Cold.
Freezing.
His stomach dropped.
She — No. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t be. Not her.
“No,” he whispered, stepping back, horror blooming in his chest. “No, Hermione—why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you, I could have—”
“Draco.” Her voice sharpened. “Look at me.”
Something in her voice made him obey.
“Come inside,” she said softly. “I’ll explain. I promise.”
Promises were sacred for her… kind. So he stepped inside.
The cottage looked exactly like the one they had once imagined together—late nights, tangled sheets, whispered dreams of a future neither of them thought they’d have.
“It’s been five years,” he said, his voice rough.
“Already?” she murmured, a strange distance in her gaze. “Would you like something to drink ? Tea? Coffee? Wine ?”
“I never stopped looking for you,” he said, the words breaking out of him now. “How could you leave me? Hermione, I would have—”
She sighed and guided him gently to the sofa.
“I thought less time had passed,” she admitted quietly. “And… people like me aren’t welcomed in our world. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“But I would have helped you,” he insisted, desperation bleeding through every syllable. “I would have gone with you. I would have—”
“Died for me?” she asked softly.
He didn’t answer.
She looked down at her hands.
“The night I left you… I was attacked. I woke up somewhere unfamiliar, with no memory of how I got there. And then I saw it. The bite.” Her voice trembled, just once. “I didn’t believe it at first. Then the symptoms came. And I was afraid.”
“So you ran,” he said hoarsely.
“Not from you. Never from you.” Her eyes lifted to his, and for a moment he saw her again, his Hermione. “From what I had become.”
“How did you survive?”
She swallowed.
“At first—I didn’t. I refused to feed. I thought it would be better to die than hurt anyone.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Then they found me. Others like me. They have… a code. They helped me. Taught me how to live like this.”
Silence stretched between them.
“I couldn’t come back,” she finished quietly. “After everything.”
Draco crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his hand closing around her arm, trembling. “I cannot lose you again.”
Her gaze sharpened with fear. Real fear.
“You don’t understand,” she whispered urgently. “You’re not supposed to know. It’s illegal. If they find out I told you—if they think you’re involved—they will kill you, Draco.”
He thoughts about the last five years, how miserable he had been. The coldness, the emptiness. How he had dreamt to have her again. To feel her again. With an unsettling certainty he realised his decision was already made.
“Then make me yours.”
Her eyes widened.
“For eternity.” he said, voice steady. “If that’s what it takes to never lose you again.”