At first, he's certain he's dreaming. Or hallucinating. Isn't that what they called it, imagining things that weren't there? Or was it schizophrenia? He wasn't too particular with the terms and the bottom line was that he was crazy.
Or getting there, at least.
They're in a crowded street in Diagon alley, plenty of people milling around and yet, just like in the movies, there's a break in the crowd, a few subtle shifts from a few well placed bodies and suddenly he's staring into the face of someone who's long gone.
He blinks and the winds picks up, blowing a few blonde strands from the stranger's face and even from this distance he can glimpse the slate grey eyes. His eyes open wide in shock and he blinks again, certain it would be gone when he reopens them.
The figure is there, though. Not exactly the same, not even remotely recognizable but every particle of his being is screaming, it's him, it's really him.
"Hermione!" He stutters, reaching out wildly for her hand. She's walking right beside him, but it still feels too far away and as his fingers claw at the air, panic filling him in a rush, he almost screams, his fear subsiding only when the answering warmth of her fingers finds his.
"Hey? " She questions and the wind whips a few tendrils of her chocolate brown hair into his face and he blinks. By then , the crowd has shifted and moved, covering up what it had unintentionally revealed and he's staring at a milling throng full of unrecognizable faces and he wants to scream in frustration.
"I.. uh.. I thought..."
I thought I saw Draco. I'm sure I saw him.
Hermione continues to look at him, only vaguely curious. She has dark circles underneath her eyes, from hours of working overtime for meager wages and he feels a pang. Every second of her twenty nine years is clear in her face, her face tired and weighed down with the misery that comes from losing her dreams . And who was he to add to her burden, when he's already screwed a lot of things up.
"It's nothing." He says firmly , smiling reassuringly and squeezing her hand. She smiles vacantly and pulls the scarf tighter around his neck, tucking back and errant strand of his hair behind his ears.
"We still need to get catfood. Come on."
He lets her drag him along, but can't resist the urge to glance back at the spot where he'd spotted his...
He shakes his head furiously and follows her swiftly.
Draco is dead. He's dead and he's not coming back.
A foolish thing to tell yourself, especially when it's been twelve years already but he finds himself clinging to the words like they were his personal mantra.
Clinging like his sanity depends on it.
A/N :- Umm.. *screams *. I was on a kinda sorta long hiatus. The reason?... umm... I'm getting married! Yay..! lol... unimportant shit, sorry.
Anyways, here's me pinkie promising to finish all my WIP fics. Thanks for sticking with me :)