"Five days since you laughed at me saying 'Get that together, come back and see me,'.
Three days since the living room. I realised it's all my fault but couldn't tell you.
Yesterday, you'd forgiven me but it'll still be two days until I say I'm sorry."
-Barenaked Ladies 'One Week'
Three years changes a man.
Three years ago, his hair had been overgrown and messy, his dress sense was nonexistent and he could live off his surroundings for as long as a month.
But now, his hair was trimmed and tidy, his suits pressed, his shoes shined and the thought of sleeping outdoors made him feel queasy.
But one thing had remained stubbornly and fixedly unchanged.
He was still in love with the same girl.
Three years ago, he'd made a mistake, something he usually wasn't willing to atone for but he was here, on her doorstep, roses in hand and fist poised, ready to lay his heart at her feet.
A concept he was unashamedly reproachful of.
Maybe it was all his parental issues; his father and mother never quite showed the desired amount of affection when he was a child. Or maybe, the tales of love his friends would bring him also brought a sense of woe and despair; there was nothing to gain from it, just an overwhelming sense of loss and depression.
Well, he wasn't about to sit around and wait for that to happen to him.
He went out of his way to avoid love, to avoid feeling those emotions that would ultimately spell heartache and instead, broke as many hearts, in as many different destinations of the world as he could. Paris, London, New York, the women were all the same to him, to be toyed with at his leisure. Of course, he'd taken every precaution. Never left even a trace of his identity and instead, disappeared into the background of the city.
Sure, there were times when he felt bad about it; he wasn't completely heartless. But he'd remind himself that it was better than being on the receiving end.
As a child, he'd always wondered why people married. Marriage, at the young impressionable age of twelve had seemed like a tedious way of ensuring one got what he wanted. To his twelve year old mind, it seemed tediously unnecessary.
But everything was susceptible to change and as his fist landed dully on her front door, he found himself wanting more than anything for her to just say yes already.
Once upon a time, she'd been the type of girl who knew what she wanted but three years later, she was still no closer to realising what she wanted as Harry was to taming his hair.
Three years ago, she thought she was going to marry the man of her dreams, start a family and live happily ever after. But now, the idea seemed stupid. Why was she so eager to start a family? Why was it imperative that she have children and become a submissive housewife?
Hermione Granger was many things. But she was not submissive.
Draco Malfoy knocked loudly three times and felt his heart rate speed to superhuman proportions. The flowers he'd picked out seemed awfully stupid, the tie he was wearing seemed too bright and mismatched and his shoes were too shiny and corporate.
He heard shuffling and his palms started to sweat, gripping the bouquet tighter. The lock was scraped back and with a soft whine, the door opened slowly.
"What are you doing here?"
He gulped. "I'm here to apologise."
Hermione folded herself into the armchair and realised that he wasn't going to apologise; unfortunately, the realisation was years too late.
He was an arrogant, immodest prat.
And, well, she knew all that.
Was it a wonder he broke her heart?
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K Rowling. Please don't sue me. I'm too poor for that.
Yes, new story! I was supposed to take a break. But then this idea sort of starting forming in my head. It took a while for me to write it down but I finally got there.
Bit short, I know. My bad. A super thank you to Lauren (Hysteria and Chaos) for beta-ing!
Are you ready for a new adventure?