Snow Petals: Original Version

I view your profile in the waning daylight. Graceful, sloping nose, slightly pointed chin. Your silky blonde hair holds a few streaks of grey. Not grey from age, but from simply seeing too much, too soon, too young. And eyes. Your eyes. Eyes that used to be like a storm in full swing. A tumult of grey with yellow flecks. Flecks of lightning. Striking. Giving your face character and detail. Giving new meaning to "stormy grey eyes."

You sit there, right by the window. You prop your face, a face that is so much like a finely chiseled statue, on your palm. You gaze out the window at the snowflakes wafting to the ground in the twilight. A sigh escapes your lips and I know you're remembering.

I remember too. Mostly things about me and you, but things about the others as well. How we used to be, before death and destruction befell us. Before so many were lost and none were found. Most of all I remember how we laughed all the time. There was humor in almost every situation, even in the darkest moments, even in the final hours of the war, we could find something to joke about. But now, it seems as though nothing will ever be humorous again.

"Draco," I softly speak your name, and you turn to me. You gaze dully, waiting for me to speak. Draco means dragon. Dragons are fighters, one of the most fierce creatures, yet there is no fight left in you. I can see it in the way your eyes have dulled, the storm merely a memory, hidden by the smoke of a dying fire. The fire that once raged within you. I can see it in the way your mouth has drawn taut at the edges.

"It's time for me to go now," It pains me to leave you, so soon after having found you. You nod.

As I prepare to leave you speak suddenly, "Hermione?"

"Yes, Draco?"

"I was good, there at the end, wasn't I? When I realized the truth, I fought with the Light, didn't I?" Your voice is urgent.

"Yes, yes you did, Draco."

"Then why am I here?"

"Because former Death Eaters aren't easily pardoned, despite who they last fought for."

"Hermione, don't let them do it. Don't let it kiss me," there is fear in your eyes, terror, something you have never held before.

"There's nothing I can do Draco"

"I love you!"

"I love you as well, Draco."

"Then stop it."

"How?"

You motion to my wand, as you do, I notice how your once well manicured nails are dirty, chipped, surely not Malfoy hands.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," you swallow, but hold your head proudly.

"Avada Kedavra," the words seem to echo in the cold cell. Your elegant body crumples, but a smile dances on your lips. I bend down to give this lips, that are quickly losing warmth, one last kiss, "Goodbye, my beloved."

With nothing further, I walk out of Azkaban, leaving our love, your memory, and part of me behind.

Fin