Hermione's Biggest Regrets

Summary: I've been so stupid. I had a shot at happiness, and I threw it away without giving it a second thought. It's true: "you don't know what you've got until it's gone." He's gone now. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry… All about the angst, with hope for the ending.

Disclaimer: Too late to say that I don't own??? Okay…

----------New Years, 2006----------

New Year brings the old-fashioned New Year's resolutions. I can't possibly think of anything, even though my friends want me to find someone in the coming year. The only resolution I can think of is finally making things alright with my biggest regret. But I don't know how to do that anymore. I'm afraid it isn't even possible anymore, afraid it's too late.

I am going to entrust my biggest regret – and at the same time my biggest secret – to this piece of paper. I don't know if anyone is going to read it, but at least I will have gotten it out.

Take deep breaths Hermione, you have to do this. I have to do this.

I have a reputation for knowing everything, a reputation of being a know-it-all. I am supposed to know everything there is to know in this world, and yet I am particularly clueless sometimes. Especially when it concerns love and relationships.

It took me years to figure out that I liked Ron, and it took me even longer to realize he had feelings for me too. And you would expect that relationship to have a happy ending, with no regrets besides not getting together sooner. You would be wrong.

It ended much faster than the both of us had anticipated. It only took Ron a few months to say yet another of his completely stupid things. He can be so incredibly ignorant and oblivious to other people's feelings. I hate it when he says those things without thinking. It got us into yet another fight, and this time there would be no cutesy making up. It was over.

I don't regret the relationship, it made me realize that Ron and I were and always will be better off as friends. We bickered and argued too much to be in a relationship. We both had too much quirks that the other person hated in a boyfriend or girlfriend. Sometimes I even wonder why we became friends. I guess Harry was and is a kind of bridge between us.

My biggest regret is about neither Ron nor Harry. It is about an other boy, a boy you wouldn't expect. A boy I shouldn't have to regret anything about, but I do.

My biggest regret is about Draco Malfoy. There, I admitted it for the first time.

And this biggest regret is not about not slapping him in the face before third year, or not hexing him so he would stop calling me a Mudblood, or stopping him from his attempt to kill Dumbledore, or letting him in at the Order of the Phoenix that day. It's nothing like that.

Merlin, I can't admit this. It's too embarrassing. It's too unbelievable. I can barely believe it's true myself. I barely believe myself when I think about it. I can't tell, but I have to.

My biggest regret is not giving Draco Malfoy a chance to prove himself when he told me he had fallen in love with me, that he could make me happy. I regret laughing in his face every single time he told me this. But of course, as usual, I didn't realize this until it was much too late for stupid regrets and apologies, no matter how sincere. He was gone.

He had died in the damn war against Voldemort, trying to save Harry's life. He was probably doing it to win my trust, even though he never spoke to me in the last few months. It would only end up in him talking about his feelings, and me laughing in his face.

Merlin, I can't believe I laughed in his face when he told me he might love me.

I think I was scared. Draco Malfoy was an enigma; one no one could get. I never liked things I didn't understand, hence my hatred for Divination. But I didn't know if he was telling the truth or that he was lying to me. I couldn't read him. I didn't know if I could trust him.

I have deduced that he had to be scared too. I mean, he is – I'm sorry, he was – the son of Lucius Malfoy. It wasn't exactly expected of him to fall in love with Harry Potter's best friend, and a Muggle-born at that. It was expected of him to marry Pugface Parkinson in some kind of arranged marriage, serve Voldemort, and preferably kill me in battle.

He had to go through so many things to tell me about his feelings and I had the guts to laugh in his face. Merlin, I am the most horrible person in the world. I could have at least given him a chance, or I could have been more polite in my rejection. I was terribly rude.

If I had not been so rude, I could have been happy right now. I could have been together with him, or at least kind of friends with him. He wouldn't have been gone. He is gone because of me. If it had not been necessary for him to prove himself to me, he wouldn't have died trying to save Harry. He would have been standing next to me, protecting me, even though it was completely unnecessary for him to do so, because I can take care of myself. He wouldn't have died because of me. I blame myself for his death. It is my fault after all.

I never told this to anyone, my regrets, because they wouldn't understand. They all knew about his feelings, and they know about my rudeness. But they never liked him, and they wouldn't understand the fact that I changed my mind about him. They still hated him in the final battle, and Harry still can't understand why he would die to save him.

Telling my friends about my regrets would destroy them. I would lose all my friends, and they are all that I have left now that he is gone. I couldn't possibly ruin things even further.

I don't know how I started regretting how things were. I know that with every battle, I was more worried about Malfoy's safety – and how silly that was, because I couldn't even talk to him in a normal way, or call him by his first name like he requested. I know that it hurt when he stopped talking to me, even though I would have continued laughing at him if he had continued to talk to me. I know that I wished I could be alone with him and tell him about my confusion, no matter how humiliating that would have been for me. I know that I started wishing that things were no longer going to be the way they were. It had to change.

But of course, when I finally mustered the courage to go talk to him and tell him the truth, it was time for the final battle. For his final battle. For his death. I was too late.

I remember that summer so well. It was the best and worst time of my life.

----------Summer of 2000----------

He's gone. I can't believe it, but he's gone. The war is over, but he's gone. I'm too late.

That is, of course, the incredibly irony of it. Karma is a bitch. This is most definitely fate's revenge for my being such a bitch. I should have told him before the battle.

And to top this mess off, I found a letter in my bedroom. It has my name written on it, in a handwriting that seems strangely familiar, but I can't quite place. I think it is his handwriting, and I'm becoming afraid of opening that letter, afraid of the contents.

When I finally decide to read the letter, my hand is shaky. I'm still scared of what this letter will bring, what his message to me will be. The last I'll ever hear from him.

Hermione, or Granger, or whatever you prefer,

I feel like that stupid Darcy Muggle writing this letter to you, hoping that you will give me a chance. I remember him doing the same in that awfully long movie-thing you made half of the Order watch last year, to get to know more about Muggle life. He got his chance in the end, and I am still hoping you will give me mine.

I know I am hoping in vain, because you will laugh in my face again, the way you always do when I try to talk to you. I never knew you to be so rude as to step on someone's heart.

You know that I still hate you, right? I hate you for the afore mentioned stepping on my heart, and your fake superiority. I hate you because you are still annoying know-it-all bookworm Granger after all of those years. I hate you because I think I might love you.

I won't repeat my feelings for you. They disgust you just as much as I do. I guess that it is fitting for an asshole like me to fall for a girl who can never love him. What is that stupid Muggle saying again? Life is a bitch? Something like that.

You hate me more than anyone, I know. Sometimes I think that you hate me even more than Voldemort, when I've done nothing to make you believe I am worse than that creature.

I refuse to apologize for our fights during our Hogwarts years. You were just as much a part of that as I was. You hurt me just as much as I hurt you, only you hurt me in a more physical way. Sometimes I think I can still feel that punch from third year.

This is my last desperate attempt for you to give me that one chance. After this letter, you will never have to endure anything from me anymore, I will promise you. No catch, I promise. I just need to ask you a few questions before you will never hear of me anymore.

Do you hate me because of my name Granger? Because if that is the truth, you are fooling yourself. I don't know how many times I have told you that I am not my father, and never will be. You think just because my father was a Death Eater, I would be the same. Well, it's not so simply black and white Granger. People have minds of their own, to make their own choices with. (And I will ignore every comment about me being a ferret instead of a person.)

Are you afraid of giving me a chance because of your friends? If you are, you are not the person I thought you were. You don't need Potter's permission for everything. I thought you were smart enough to know that Granger. Prove me wrong if you dare.

Today, in battle, I will do my best to help you whenever necessary – even though you probably won't need it. You are Hermione Granger after all.

If I don't make it out alive, so be it. I know Potter and Weasley will probably be jumping for joy if that happens. I'm not asking you not to jump along, or not to join the party that will undoubtedly break out. I'm not asking you to mourn. I do want to ask you to take care of yourself, which you undoubtedly will, and to make sure Lucius won't live. I can trust you to take care of that for me, right? I know you would love to do so.

If I make it out alive and you still despise me after the battle, tell me so and I will leave without a word. You will never have to see me again. You have my word on that. And I know you are doubting about trusting me, but you can trust me on this.

A last goodbye,

Draco, or Malfoy, or ferret, or whatever you prefer

----------Winter 2000-2001----------

I can't believe that I am doing this. I can't believe that I am in the graveyard almost in the middle of the night, so Harry and Ron won't find out, just to go to Malfoy's grave.

I'm here to yell at him about that letter. Ever since I got it, I can't forget about it. I can't stop thinking about what he wrote in that letter. I can't stop thinking about my possible feelings, even though it is much too late for that. I can't forget about him and I hate him for it.

"Draco ferret Malfoy, I hate you!"

There, I threw it out. I know it is a little disrespectful to be doing this at his grave, but still. I know the other people I see wandering around will think I am crazy, but Merlin, this is the only way for me. The visiting Muggles can mind their own business.

I know he would hate being buried at a Muggle graveyard, but it was the best place to bury him, since he wouldn't be allowed with the other Malfoys. There were curses on the Malfoy tombs, and he couldn't get in. This was his only option. Harry and Ron really liked it, but I couldn't help but think that he could have been buried at the graveyard for the Order.

"How could you write me that letter and then die on me! Damn you Malfoy!"

I think the other people around will call the nice men in the white jackets to pick me up if I don't stop screaming soon, but I have to. I hate him for doing this to me.

"If you just told me to my face, in private, I would have given you that chance."

I still hate him. I think I hate him even more because he did this to me. I want to get him out of my thoughts and out of my mind. He's not coming back, I know so, so I want him gone. I can't keep thinking about him. It's my fault he is gone. Oh Merlin.

"It is your fault I couldn't be happy at the great victory! All your fault!"

I am shouting this at the top of my lungs, ignoring the curious looks I am getting. I am blaming him because that is what I do. He's gone, so it is easy to blame him for everything.

"Oh Merlin, I'm so sorry Malfoy. I can't believe you would risk your life to prove to me that you were not a bad person. I can't believe you would do that for me, even though I hurt you so badly, and you thought I hated you. You are the reason Harry is still alive, and I bet he didn't even come here to thank you. It's my fault that you're gone, and I couldn't even apologize for being such a bitch to you when you told me you might love me. I should have given you that chance ages ago. I could have been with you right now. You wouldn't have died alone with no one to care for you. I'm sorry I was too late Malfoy."

By this time I am almost whispering. Tears are running down my face slowly, and I can't seem to get rid of the bulge in my throat. It hurts so badly, knowing I was too late.

"Draco Malfoy. 1980 to 2000. Overcame bad faith to die a hero. He will be missed."

As I read those words, those words I had thought of, I felt a little pride. Nobody would see these words, and know that I caused them to be there, but they would be there. They would be there because they were true. He died saving Harry, he died a hero.

"I hate you because I miss you. I'm sorry for everything Draco. I'm sorry."

And with that, I left the graveyard, running from the grave of the enigma who loved me.

----------Tenth Anniversary of the Great Victory, 2010----------

It's been ten years. Exactly ten years since that day. Voldemort has been dead for exactly ten years. It's time for the Anniversary, which has become a national holiday. People don't have to work on that day, and there are parties all around the world. It's a day of joy.

Well, it's a day of joy for most people, but not for me. It should be a day of joy for me, because I was one of the people fighting in that battle, but it is not a day of joy for me because it is also the anniversary of his death. It is exactly ten years ago that he died.

One would think that my guilt would have started to fade over the years, that I would have started to forget about him. But I still can't forget, and my guilt won't fade.

I am in the middle of a celebration dinner, wearing a fancy dress, eating expensive food, sometimes talking to some of my friends, and all I can think about is him. How he would have been here if he had not died so long ago. How he would have looked. How I would have wanted to walk next to him and talk to him. Just how it would have been.

I look around at all of the happy people, the married couples, the loving looks, and I sigh. It seems as if everyone has found that one person. Harry and Ginny are still happily married, after two kids and one more on the way. Ron is engaged to one of his Quidditch team-mates, a beautiful girl named Gabrielle Delacour, Fleur's younger sister. Minister of Magic Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood have been married for five years now. They seem happy.

I am still alone after all these years, with only my memories of him to keep me company. His face haunts me in my dreams sometimes, asking me about why I hate him. But every time I try to tell him I don't hate him – quite on the contrary – he dies again. I wake up crying.

I drink my fourth Firewhiskey of this hour, barely registering the burn down my throat because I am too busy covering up the tears I desperately want to hide. I look into the empty glass with a sense of regret. This can only make me forget him for one night, I know, but that one night without nightmares and haunting eyes is worth the hangover I will have tomorrow.

My friends barely realize that I am not alright, no matter what I tell them. They are too caught up in their own happiness to think about their lonely, hurting best friend. It is their good right, of course, but it still hurts deep down. My regrets are slowly breaking me.

If I had defied my friends and had chosen him, I wouldn't have been so broken. I wouldn't have been hurting by myself, drowning sorrows with Firewhiskey. I would have been whole, I would have been together. There would be nothing to drown with Firewhiskey.

Or is that a too optimistic picture of loving Draco Malfoy? Would he have driven me nuts within the year? Would I still be lonely now? After an ugly break-up, and the loss of my friends because of this choice, could I be happy? Could it really be?

I keep picturing myself and him as the whole package. We could have been a real family, in the whole stupid traditional 'Dan Quayle, golden retriever, grow old together, wear matching jogging-suits' kind of way. Well, not the jogging-suits, but you get my point. We could have had something real, if only I had not been so stupid to let my happiness depend on the opinion of my friends. If only I had told him about my confusion. If only…

"I have something very important to say, something important to bring to the attention."

In my drunken haze, I don't see the shocked looks covering people's faces. It's so easy to ignore every thing besides the things I desperately have to get out.

"Hermione, you are drunk," my dear and very sober friend Harry speaks.

"I know everyone here remembers Draco Malfoy." Murmurs of agreement fill the enormous room. "He was the typical Slytherin bully at Hogwarts, as many people know. But what almost nobody knew, is that there was more to him than that. Nobody knows that he sacrificed his life to save bloody Harry Potter in the final battle ten years ago, because Harry over here wanted it to be a secret." Surprised gasps follow. "Almost nobody knows that he didn't hate everyone at the Order of the Phoenix. He told me he was in love with me so many times that I lost count, even though I laughed in his face every single bloody time." More surprised gasps, and the scribbling of a pen from some reporters present. "And nobody knows that I am sorry for laughing at him. I regret not giving him his chance, like I should have done. Nobody knows that I dream about his death every night, because I bloody well miss him. I miss Draco bloody Malfoy! There, I finally said it out loud."

And with that last screamed statement, I transform my knife into a Portkey and leave to my apartment. I can't Apparate with my state of mind, it is too dangerous. I search for my bed in the dark, because I am a little too far gone to put on the lights. It will help my already enormous headache. The second my head hits my bed, I fall asleep.

----------The morning after, 2010----------

I wake up with a headache, and I rub my temples in annoyance. I grab the bottle of hangover relief potion I have on my nightstand and drink the required dose. After I wait a few seconds, my hangover is gone. I sigh in relief and get up from my bed, to get dressed for work.

I will have to face the world after my terribly embarrassing little speech at the anniversary dinner yesterday. I am not even going to bother reading the papers, knowing I will have made the front page of the Daily Prophet, and maybe even more papers. That Rita Pulper could never resist gossip about me, even though I can blackmail her.

When I arrive at work, I am getting very awkward looks from my colleagues. Some of them look at me with obvious distaste in their eyes, some wear broad encouraging smiles. Some people even have a peculiar curious look in their eyes. I wonder why that is.

When I open the door to my private office, I see there is already a man inside. Maybe he is the reason for all of the curious looks I am receiving. I think that could be the truth.

"Excuse me sir, but what are you doing in my office?"

Then, the man turns around and my breath catches in my throat. Merlin, he looks so much like him; like he would have looked if he had lived through the war ten years ago. His hair is just about the same colour blond, his eyes are that same grey-bluish colour that holds your eye, his posture looks about the same, and the expression on his face is so alarmingly similar to the expression he wore when he told me he might love me. It's frightening me, and I can barely breathe anymore. I feel like I could fall on the floor and cry right that moment.

"You… him… Oh Merlin," I stutter while my mind is going a mile a minute.

"Excuse me miss, I didn't quite understand that," the man says in a mocking tone.

I had almost gotten my act together again, but then he said that. He couldn't possibly be anymore similar to him. That voice, that taunting and mocking tone. Oh Merlin, I think I am going to lose it right now. He should not be allowed to be so much like him.

"I'm sorry, but it's just that you look a lot like someone I used to know. He's been gone for a while now, and it shocked me to see someone who looked this much like him."

The man's face breaks into a smirk. He is slowly tearing me apart and he doesn't even know that he is doing it. Life really is a bitch; sending this guy to me, a guy who is so similar to a man who loved me once, a long time ago, is such a cruel thing to do. I think I know now what Malfoy meant when he wrote about stepping on his heart. The irony.

THE END

Only if you want it to be.