Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to JKR. Everything else belongs to yours truly.
Summary: Draco and Hermione have been dating for a while when she initiates a seperation. Join them in a journey between the past and the present as we find out what really happened - and what's just about to happen.
A/N: This is quite a long story (compared to my usual writing style) and jumps between the past and present a lot. I hope it's not too confusing for all you guys out there. It was sure confusing for me to write - past present tense made me tear my hair out. So, do please excuse any errors - I've tried as best as I can, and I couldn't find any errors. Nor could those people who helped proofread it.
This story was based on a prompt on "Challenges & Plot Bunnies", a draco/hermione site. The link to this site is in my profile.
Finally, R&R please!
"If you love something, set it free; if it comes backs it's yours, if it doesn't, it never was."
Set It Free
It was a Friday afternoon, and everyone was out of the school building. Those who played quidditch were playing quidditch; those who didn't were simply lazing by the lake, talking and laughing. Friday afternoons were a time of relaxation and unrestrained happiness.
Hermione Granger, however, was one of the exceptions to the rule. She sat in the dark library, poring over volumes that were thicker than an anaconda's body, her eyes scanning each page at lightning speed before she flipped to the next page, to the next mass of words that were too tiny for the normal human being to see. Once in a while she'd let her eyes trail over to the tinted windows that overlooked the quidditch pitch, hoping that she'd see him. She never did.
Draco Malfoy was the other exception to the rule. He sat in his bedroom, eyes shut and hands folded across his stomach as he reclined on his earthy-green sheets. He opened his eyes ever so often, and made to get out of bed and walk over to the door, but he always stopped midway through the room, because he remembered his promise. He knew she'd be at the library – she always was, every Friday afternoon. But he would not go there to peek at her, because she did not want him to. Draco even refused to go for quidditch practice, because he knew that she always chose the seat in the library that overlooked the quidditch pitch.
Regret was something Draco Malfoy never wanted to feel, but the decision he had made was causing him to constantly doubt his own sanity. He was barely inches away from getting the thing he most wanted, yet he had loosened his grip on it and let it fly away – far, far away. There was no telling whether or not it'll return to him or not, because even as he watched her stride further and further away from him, he knew that there was a chance she would never turn back.
---
It was two years ago, when he had first seen her. Draco had always been aware of her existence, but it was only then that he had actually seen her for who she really was. Not the bushy-haired know-it-all, nor the brains of the trio, but as Hermione Granger. Just Hermione Granger.
"Stop it, Harry," she had snapped, grabbing Harry Potter's outstretched wand hand and pulling it down. "It's not funny anymore." Her eyes had flitted over to where Draco had been standing, clutching at the side of his cheek, which had been bleeding from a wound Harry had inflicted.
Draco had waited for her to mention something about it being against the rules of Hogwarts to use magic in the corridors between classes. Or perhaps she'd look at him in that spiteful way, and tell Harry that "there was no use in wasting time with people like him". Draco hated the way she looked at him, like she had never met someone so despicable in her entire life. She had a knack for twisting people's emotions around her little finger – even Draco's.
And so he had waited for the self-righteous words that he thought he knew she'd say, but he could have had waited forever and she'll never have said them. Because when she had turned to him, there had not been any hatred or disdain in her eyes, but pity.
"Don't you think it's time for you to stop?" she had asked, glancing at Draco as she asked Harry this. Her hand had remained on Harry's arm, preventing him from inflicting any more damage to Draco's face. "Don't you think we've all gone through enough?" she had looked at Draco, long and hard, as if trying to determine what horrors lay in his past, that could make him into the devil he was today. Finally, when she had spoken, her voice had been quiet, but her words had rung louder than anything Draco had ever heard before. "It's not like we hate him or anything," she had said, pronouncing each word clearly and crisply. "He's kind of annoying at times, but it's not like we really hate him, Harry."
Harry had turned his gaze to Hermione, his eyes wide with shock. "We … don't?" he had asked, as Hermione had finally released her grip on his hand. "We don't?"
Some previously unseen anger had flashed in Hermione's eyes for a split second, before it was gone, and she sighed. "It's not the time to hate anyone, Harry. This is the time to forgive, to redeem, to save," she had replied, choosing her words carefully. Then they walked away silently, but, just before they rounded the corner, Draco had seen her glance behind.
It was then that he had seen her.
---
Hermione closed the book with a resounding thud as she finished reading it. The sense of satisfaction that usually accompanied her reading of an entire book never came, as she sat in the silence of the library, wondering if she had made the right decision.
But then again, of all the knowledge of the world, all the knowledge that was encompassed in books, nothing spoke of how to love right. There were books on the merits of love, the demerits of love, the emotions of love, and the definition of love, but nothing talked about what were the right decisions to make when it came to love.
She had started a relationship with her mortal enemy, Draco Malfoy, a year back, despite knowing that her best friend, Harry Potter was in love with her. It was a decision that she had regretted throughout all of the two months that she and Draco were together – it was because she had carried this regret along with her, that she could not remain with Draco for long. Her heart constantly turned to Harry, when he smiled at her in that bittersweet way, or when he offered her an extra slice of pie. Everything seemed to remind of her of what could have been, if she had only chosen Harry instead.
So she had left Draco, to return to her solitude, in order to think things through. Hermione clenched her fists and slammed them against the table, her breath catching in her throat. At that time, it had seemed to be the right decision to make. But was it really? And how would she ever know?
---
It was exactly ten months ago that she had suggested the idea to Draco – of a year-long separation. Hermione would never forget the way he had stared at her, as if she had gone completely mad.
"Why?" had been his first word to her. Draco had forced a smile that had made Hermione feel guilty.
She had turned away from his face. "I need to clear my mind," she had replied, skillfully skirting the topic of Harry Potter. "I need to think things through."
Draco had looked remorseful then, as if he believed the fault to lie completely on himself. It had been this look of his that had almost made Hermione falter – she didn't want Draco thinking that was anything he had done wrong, for despite being her nemesis for the past five years, he had still been a wonderful boyfriend. Even if they had never been official, something that Hermione had found niggling at the back of her mind constantly.
"I love you," he had whispered hoarsely. "I really do. You're the reason I realised my mistakes, that I came to my senses. You offered me a helping hand, simply because you let me know that I was still redeemable. You let me know that, despite everything, you had never hated me." Draco had inhaled sharply at this point, as if he was trying to hold back tears.
Hardening her heart, Hermione had nodded clinically, like a doctor would after listening to the lab report. "I know you do," she had replied, her voice as flat and emotionless as possible. "But I don't know if I can ever love you the way you love me."
"I don't care!" Draco had shouted, slamming his fist into the stone wall that Hermione had been standing before. Blood had trickled down his knuckles and along the grain of the weathered stone as Draco let his head hang; he had stared studiously at the ground for the longest period of time possible.
Drops of dew-like tears had slid out of the corner of Hermione's eyes, but she barely noticed them there as she placed her hands on Draco's shoulders soothingly. And though Draco had been so convinced of how much he hated her, her touch comforted him and he finally let himself cry.
---
The sun had set, and Draco knew this, for though he could not see this happening, he knew from the sounds of his classmates' laughter in the common room that it was too dark to stay outside any longer. The commotion outside grew louder and louder, until Draco could stand it no longer. He made his way out of his room, and out of the common room, and he stood in the cold corridors alone, unsure of where to go from there.
He did not consciously think of her, but somehow his thoughts squeezed through to the front of his mind, and Draco found himself wondering is she was up in bed already. Knowing Hermione, she was probably still in the library, so deeply engrossed in a book that time became unimportant and irrelevant.
Sometimes Draco found it amazing, how absorbed she could be in a book, that she'd become completely oblivious to everything happening around her. The sun would set, and the library would empty, and she'd still be sitting in the same spot, her eyes moving across the page as she attempted to take in as much information as possible. She'd never have any idea about what was going around her, because all that mattered in that moment was the book that she was reading. Everything else became unimportant and irrelevant. Sometimes, this fascinated Draco.
Other times, he would realise that he was exactly the same way when he was with her.
---
Sometime during the two months they had spent together, they had gone to Hogsmeade together, both of them abandoning all previously made plans with their friends, just to spend the time together. It had been common knowledge at that time that the two of them were no more the mortal enemies they had once been. Whether or not they were actually dating was unclear to the spectators – as it was to the two people involved.
Their relationship had been a muddled one, but it had also been a very comfortable one. It was surprising how two people who had previously always been at loggerheads could become friends that were able to spend hours in each other's company without ever feeling bored or weary.
So no questions had been asked about this Hogsmeade visit – and even if someone had had something to say, there wouldn't have had been any answers anyway.
Draco had allowed Hermione to lead him into Flourish and Blotts', thinking that they'd only spend a little time there. Little did he know how long Hermione could spend in a bookstore, simply combing through all the shelves more thoroughly than a Reconnaissance agent. But while he should have been angry or at least annoyed, Draco had been neither. Instead, he had walked along beside her, helping to pick out the good books from the bad.
But as he had sifted through the titles on the shelves, Draco had found himself sneaking glances at Hermione. He had watched the way her slender fingers slid across the spines of the books, her head tilted to one side to read the titles that were printed sideways down the spines.
Hours had passed in complete silence as they worked their way from one end of the store to the other, but when Hermione had finally let her fingers run over the last book, they both had been surprised to realise that night had fallen. Smiling at each other secretively – for they had not bought a single book from the store – they had walked slowly up the slope, back to Hogwarts castle.
Then Draco had grabbed Hermione's hand gently, and their fingers interlaced, Hermione's small hand fitting perfectly in Draco larger one. It was almost as if they had come out of the same mould. During that slow walk back, Draco had snuck glances at Hermione every few seconds, a little part of him wishing that the road would never end, even if just so he could spend eternity with her.
---
The year of their separation was coming to an end, yet Hermione still did not have an answer the question she had initiated the separation to answer. Her heart sank as Madam Pince shut the doors of the library behind her; it was time for the library to close, and time for Hermione to return to bed, regardless of how reluctant Hermione was to do so.
It was time for Hermione to make a choice – to accept or not to accept Draco – regardless of how uncertain she was about her ability to make the right decision.
Tomorrow, she told herself, tomorrow I'll decide.
As she stood before the Fat Lady, Hermione tried to remember why she had even started going out with Draco in the first place. Sure, she had never actually hated him; it was more a feeling of mild repulsion when he was concerned. But that didn't mean that she was in love with him, so why did they even begin? Was it possible that everything was a mistake?
Hermione smiled to herself as she contemplated this. The very fact that the issue troubled her was a signal to her, that Draco meant more to her than she dared admit. His presence had become something part of her daily routine; sometimes he'd insult her, sometimes he'd smile at her, but he'd always appear before her.
His absence for the past year – for he had been hiding from her, as per her wishes – made Hermione feel as if there was some part of her that was missing.
---
After the incident in which Draco began to see Hermione in a different light, it still took an entire year before he fell in love with her. It was a slow process, but the time it managed to withstand was simply a reflection of the depth and strength of love Draco felt.
It had been a Friday afternoon, coincidentally enough, when Draco had bumped into Hermione in the corridors of the school. She had been heading towards the library, and he had been heading from. But in that chance meeting, something inside Draco had sparked, giving him an inexplicable courage that had inspired him to blurt everything out to Hermione.
Malfoys were rarely undignified, but they too, were sometimes clumsy with words. That was one of Draco's times.
"Stop!" he had practically shouted at her as she passed him in the corridors, and stop was precisely what Hermione had done. Why she had listened to him instead of ignoring him, as she usually would have, remained a mystery to everyone concerned. Perhaps it was a twist of fate that let Hermione momentarily forget who Draco was and what he stood for.
It had not been an exceptionally romantic moment, for Draco had been speechless – something he never was – and Hermione had been flushed – something she never was, either. But as Hermione turned to glance at Draco, a common understanding passed between them, and words soon became a redundant form of communication.
Hermione, simply by looking at Draco, and remembering everything he had done for her in the past year, had known that he was going to ask her out. And, though she had not been conscious of this fact, she had already known how she was going to answer him – for, despite her knowledge of Harry's crush on her, Hermione had indeed been slightly interested in Draco.
Draco, simply by looking at Hermione, had also known that she knew what he was about to ask her. What he had not been certain of, however, was how she'd respond to his question. This risk, however, was one that he had been willing to take, because he had just blurted the question out anyway.
"Will you go out with me?"
A moment of silence had passed between the pair, until a smile invaded Hermione's features. "Okay," she had replied, so quietly that it was unsure whether or not she had actually spoken. It had been a moment of rashness – not that this was a bad thing – for her, but it had also been the only response that had seemed appropriate, given the circumstances. True, Hermione would have never have agreed if she had hated Draco – but then again, she didn't, for Draco would never even have asked if she had hated him.
At that moment in time, before Hermione had started to question the many fine details of their relationship, she was truly happy with her decision, confident she had made the right one.
---
Draco, after staying outside the common room for an hour, had returned to his room. Everyone was asleep, and he too crept into bed, though he was unable to sleep instantly. Something told him that the end was nigh – soon, Hermione would either decide to be with him, or leave him forever.
It was with this thought in mind that Draco fell asleep, and it was also with this thought in mind that he awoke the next morning. Everyone in his room was still snoring lightly in their beds, but Draco could no longer go back to sleep. He climbed out of bed and grabbed his broomstick, making his was to the quidditch pitch for some early morning flying. Hermione wouldn't be in the library so early.
He flew slow circles around the pitch first, wondering why he still thought of her so often, despite it having been one long year already. One would think that time would have washed away the image in his mind of her smile, the sound of her laughter, and the scent of her shampoo. But everything was still as clear as ever, even the way she had told him to stay away from her.
It was almost as if she wanted nothing to do with him, and that was exactly what Draco feared. Perhaps the separation was her way of making the break up easier to accept, though Draco couldn't help but feel that, if it indeed was her way of breaking up with him, it was a very cruel method. His thoughts lingered on her all the time, and he had to constantly, consciously remind himself to keep his distance from Hermione.
And she, too, had to constantly remind him of this.
---
"Granger?" Draco had whispered after potions lesson one day, as she packed up her things and walked out of the door. He had been waiting outside the room for her – he had reckoned that they could still be friends during the separation. This was also his excuse for approaching Hermione – he simply could not stand not talking, speaking or even looking at her. And it had only been less than a week since Hermione had initiated the separation. Draco had no idea how to last one entire year.
Harry and Ron had stopped in their tracks, shooting Draco suspicious glares. For while they had never objected vocally about Hermione and Draco's relationship, they secretly disapproved of it. To them, Draco would forever be the ferret that was unworthy of redemption or forgiveness. They also believed Draco to be the one who had broken up with Hermione – she had never explained the separation, for it was something too complex to be put into words. Her relationship with Draco was one of those things no one would ever understand.
"It's fine, I want to talk to him too," she had said, and Harry and Ron had left reluctantly. Once they were out of earshot, Hermione had turned back to Draco. "I'd like if, for this one year, you didn't talk to me," she had said, looking down as if she was ashamed of what she was saying. "I need to decide whether or not I really love you, and I can't do that if you're always by my side."
Draco had gaped at her for a moment, before composing himself. "Can't we even be friends?" he had asked, unable to hide the accusing tone in his voice. "Do you really want to cut off all relations with me?"
Reaching out to touch his shoulders, then hesitating in mid-air, Hermione had replied, "We're friends, but we can't act like friends. Not for this year, at least. After this year, I promise, everything will go back to how it's supposed to be."
"But what if you never come back? What if you decide you … you can't love me?" Draco had spoken slowly, for the thought of that was shocking to him. "What if you can't love me?"
Hermione, with a small and bittersweet smile, had said, "Well, then maybe that's how it's supposed to be." She had paused, contemplating what life would be like if she really wasn't meant to be with Draco. Even though they had only dated for two months, those two months of passion and emotion were more than sufficient for them to realise how important they were to each other. But Hermione knew the difference between concern and love, and she wanted to ensure that she was not merely concerned for Draco. "Maybe that's how it's supposed to be."
Leaving Draco to mull over that, she had turned and left him. And she had remained apart from him for an entire year already.
---
It wasn't a conscious decision on Hermione's part to wake up early and go to the quidditch pitch, but more of a subconscious one in which Hermione was seeking out Draco's face. Somehow, she knew that she'd find him on the quidditch pitch, which explained why she was standing at the edge of the field, looking up at the green and silver blur in the air, and the grace with which he moved on his broomstick.
Hermione was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that it was entirely possible that Draco might refuse to accept her back into his life. After all, a year had passed, and Draco could have realised that life was better without Hermione being around, after all.
Glancing back up into the sky, Hermione was Draco stop abruptly in mid-air, staring directly at her. Then he shot back to the ground, jumped off his broom, and turned away from her, running to the locker room. He was running from her.
"Draco!" Hermione called, rushing after him. But there was a lot of distance between them, and Hermione would never catch up with Draco if he continued running at that speed. "Draco, please wait!" Her words rang clear through the silence of the early morning, but Hermione did not expect Draco to stop. She wondered why she was even calling out to him if she was so certain that he would not stop for her.
Surprisingly enough, he did stop. As he halted right in the middle of the field, Hermione found that she could no longer bring herself to run any closer to him. She was afraid that he might start fleeing from her again, the way she had fled from him for so long.
If how she was feeling now was an accurate representation of what Draco had been feeling for the past year, Hermione thought, then she was a terrible person. Because she felt terrible, even after watching Draco run from her for barely a minute, which effectively meant that Draco probably felt a thousand, a million, a billion times worse than she did.
"What, Granger?" he asked icily, keeping to his side of the pact that they act as enemies, not as friends, until Hermione made her decision.
Despite knowing this fact, Hermione was so startled by his tone that she took a moment to recover and compose herself. "It's time," she said simply, but her words carried a meaning significant to both of them. Draco turned around to face her, his jaw set and face emotionless, but his eyes betraying the fear he felt.
---
Hermione had shouldered her way through the crowd of people that were gathering around the entrance to Flourish and Blotts', where there was an autograph session with a female author who matched Lockhart in all her fancy mannerisms. All she had wanted was to have a quiet afternoon browsing the shelves of Flourish and Blotts', but she had so unluckily met someone else with a similar intent – Draco Malfoy.
It hadn't been so much the fact that he had ignored her blatantly as he brushed past her on his way to the back of the store, but the fact that this behaviour was a result of the decision that Hermione herself had made. A decision that had seemed, at that point in time, a right one.
"Hermione?" came Harry's concerned voice. "What's wrong?"
And that had been all that was required for Hermione to pour everything out to Harry. Surprisingly, Harry had been a lot less critical of Draco, and even seemed to understand exactly why Hermione could love and hate one person so intensely. For that, Hermione had been immensely grateful. Perhaps good friends were harder to find and hence so much more precious than a one true love.
But then again, maybe not.
"Why?" Harry had asked quietly, not harshly or judgementally, but just as if he had been as curious as she was.
Hermione shrugged. "Have you ever heard the phrase: If you love something, set it free; if it comes backs it's yours, if it doesn't, it never was?" she replied with a question. As Harry nodded, Hermione smiled. "Yeah, that's why," she said, as if that answered all questions.
"Are you the one being set free, then?" continued Harry relentlessly, "Or the one setting free?"
All the clarity Hermione had thought she possessed had vaporised with that simple statement. She had always seen the issue as Draco setting her free, and giving her time to consider if she really loved him. She had always wanted to know if she had ever belonged to Draco, if her heart had ever been with him.
But Harry's words had sparked a more insightful side of her. Perhaps she was the one setting Draco free, because she simply needed to know if Draco really loved her or not. There was always the chance that he was only infatuated, and Hermione truly needed to know if Draco would return to her, even if she had hurt him and released her grip on him.
Which made the entire affair so much scarier than it already was, because there was always the chance that she would turn back to Draco, only to find he had left her forever.
---
"It's time," came her voice, clear and painful. Draco turned to face her, silent and expressionless, when all wanted to do was to run from her, as if that would delay the hurt any longer. He nodded at her awkwardly, and waited for her to make her decision. A decision that he had been waiting for, yet dreaded at the same time.
"I …" she began, words forming in her mind but unable to find a way to leave her mouth. She gaped openly, repeating that single-syllable word a few times, until Draco lowered his head dejectedly.
He stared dumbly at her shoes, as if avoiding her gaze would make him hurt any less. "I get it," he mumbled, then straightened and looked her in the eye. "I get it. You don't need to say anything else." With that, he nodded to her curtly and turned to leave. He walked towards the school building, taking large and purposeful strides, as if concentrating on the most mundane of tasks would numb his mind for long enough, so that he wouldn't cry in front of her.
"Wait!" she shouted, but Draco ignored her as he continued walking. "Wait!" she shouted again, and suddenly, Draco felt a pair of arms circling around his waist and a petite figure slamming up against him from the back.
Hermione rested her head on Draco's back, tears forming a small pool of dampness on his shirt. "I told you to wait," she mumbled into the material of his shirt, and Draco couldn't pull away from her despite how much he knew he should. "I haven't finished talking." She inhaled sharply, tightening her grip on Draco as if afraid he would run off. "I … I left you a year ago," she mumbled, "And I told you that, after a year, everything would go back to how it is supposed to be. Well, this is how it's supposed to be."
Draco placed his hands on hers to loosen his grip and turned to face her. "You mean … we're …" he began, but he did not complete his sentence as Hermione nodded against his chest. Draco let a smile light up his features. "You want to know why I let you go?" he asked, hugging Hermione close to him, and Hermione nodded again. "Have you ever heard this phrase: If you love something, set it free; if it comes backs it's yours, if it doesn't, it never was?"
In surprise, Hermione leant her head back to look at Draco. "Yeah," she replied quietly, her eyes wide. "It was the reason why I wanted to leave you. I had to know if you loved me, and if I loved you."
"Have you found your answer?" Draco asked, pausing in the middle of his explanation.
Smiling musingly, Hermione nodded. "Yeah," she whispered. "I love you." Then she tilted her head at him. "Have you found your answer?"
Draco smiled back at her, pulling her even closer to him as he placed one hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair. "Yeah," he thought silently, but Hermione could hear him, and she closed her eyes. They had set each other free, and they had both returned to the one place they felt the safest - in each others' arms.