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One Thing

Draco Malfoy had nothing left. He had no job. His family had disowned him. And even his best friend believed him to have gone completely mad. But there was one thing left anchoring him to sanity. One thing.

The store was a small one. It had floor-length glass windows, antique mirrors, and rows of gleaming white dresses. It sat at the corner of Diagon Alley. It was barely eight in the morning and the crowd was minimal. The store had only one customer.

He stood near the window, glancing in.

She was beautiful as always, but the sight of her in that gown was altogether breathaking. She looked like an angel without wings.

The dress, like all the others, was pure white. It had no straps, revealing her smooth, porcelain shoulders. The bodice was studded with diamonds. She twirled in front of the mirror, allowing the skirt to ripple along the polished marble floor like water. The seamstress said something to her, a compliment it seemed, for she smiled with a nod. She looked...happy.

He looked away.

The memories had begun to flood.

Lucius: "You marry her, you lose everything. Your inheritance, your business, your family."

Blaise: "Astoria Greengrass is gorgeous, single, and most of all - Pureblood. We are talking about your inheritance and your entire career, Draco. You need to set your priorities straight.

That had been one year ago.

He left her without a second glance and proposed to Astoria Greengrass. Narcissa had wanted them to wed the following month but Draco had refused, opting instead for a long engagement. He wanted to get married in the winter. When asked why, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

But he knew why.

Something was holding him back.

She was holding him back.

Draco will never forget the heartbreak that shattered across her face the night he broke things off with her. It was a face that haunted him for the months that followed shortly after, both in dreams and while awake. He told himself that there were more important things in life than love. Love was just a barrier from all things great, or so his father said.

But one day, all those lines turned blurry. And when he read the paper that day, something in him snapped.

VIKTOR KRUM TO WED HERMIONE GRANGER!

The headlines screamed at him in blaring red letters. A photograph of the couple holding hands waved at him. He set it on fire and left the house in a fit of fury.

He had not gone home that night.

He finished three bottles of Firewhisky, passed out in the middle of Hogs Head, woke up with a massive hangover, and a sheer determination that had been building secretly for months.

"This is your life Draco. What do you want? WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

She had screamed at him.

I want you. Only you.

Twelve months of brewing guilt had finally exploded. He went straight home, politely asked a shocked Astoria to leave, and then explained things calmly to his parents. They did not yell. They did not curse at him. They merely asked him to sign several papers, divesting from him his business, his inheritance, and his place in the Malfoy family.

He went straight to Diagon Alley.

Here.

Only to find her beaming in a wedding dress.

Let her go. Let her be happy. You've hurt her enough.

He started to walk away.

Until...

"Draco?"

He halted mid-step. He shut his eyes. God, how he missed her voice.

"Draco?" She called again, tentatively.

He turned slowly. Her face was a myriad of emotions: Surprise, anger, sadness.

His only showed one thing: Regret.

"Hermione."

He did not step towards her. He merely waited.

"What are you doing here?"

A beat.

"I came to see you."

"Why?"

Another beat.

"Because I've nothing left."

He could see the confusion flicker across her face. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Draco smiled crookedly. "You don't have to." He started to turn away, and then remembered: "Oh, congratulations, by the way. I hear your getting married."

She bit her lip, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. He could almost see the thoughts warring inside her head. But will she? Would she dare?

"Have you figured out what you want, Draco?" She asked softly, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I have." He replied slowly. "But I suppose it's too late for me now." He smiled again, that crooked smile, the one that carried such bittersweet regret. "I - I must be off now. Take care of yourself Hermione."

He turned around and walked away, half-hoping that she would come running after him, half-knowing that she wouldn't. He was a fool for thinking that she would come back to him just like that. But a part of him had thought that maybe -

"Draco."

He froze.

Could it be?

"It's never too late."

- a part of him had thought that maybe their love was great enough to break through obstacles, no matter how huge.

That part of him had been right.

Fin.

A/N: So I borrowed Hermione's line from The Notebook: (Noah to Allie: What do you want? What do you want?)

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