Only Memories

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The next day was a Saturday, which you used as an excuse to stay in bed for as long as possible. It was already winter, and thus the bitter air outside of your bed seemed more than unpleasant. You did not arrive for breakfast, nor lunch, and the only thing you fed yourself with was the water bottle beside your bed. You knew that getting out of bed meant having to see Draco, and that was the very last thing you wanted. It always seemed like life got worse during the winter; every year, you had a particular day during the winter in which you struggled to get out of bed out of pure misery. Your absence rose worries amongst your friends - you expected that - but it also rose worries amongst other individuals who you expected less.

"Has anyone seen [F/n] today?" Hermione asked, sitting in the Great Hall closer to dinner time, realising that you'd missed all meals and were nowhere to be seen in the halls, not even seen arguing with anyone. That was worrying in itself.

"No," Harry sighed, "she's been acting weird again, hasn't she?"

"She has," Ron agreed. "Do you think it's because of M-"

"Winter blues," Hermione quickly said, lowering her eyes at Ron.

"I said something," Harry sighed, "a while ago ... and I think it's been daunting on her. I shouldn't have said it. But I don't see why she should care so much."

"What did you say?"

"I told her what we talked about ... that Malfoy is probably one of them."

Ron and Hermione pursed their lips, staring at Harry with worry growing in their eyes. Now they partly understood. Hermione turned around to take a look at the Slytherin table, and glad was she to find Draco and Blaise upon it with their friends, except with Malfoy's attention being on the Gryffindor table and scanning it up and down for a certain individual which he could not find. When he failed to find her, his resorted to looking up and down the rest of the Slytherin table, then the Hufflepuff table, then the Ravenclaw table, but discovered that it was ultimately empty, and dinner was coming soon.

"She's missing her third meal today," Hermione sighed, "I have to go and see her and make sure she's okay."

The Great Hall started to fill with students coming in for dinner. The tables began to fill up, as the teachers also began to enter to sit at the far end table. Soon enough, the tables were filled with dinner and the students were picking at the food and eating, as opposed to three Gryffindors who could not force themselves to eat whatsoever.

"Should we come?" Ron asked.

"No, you stay. I'll take her some food." With this, Hermione rose and picked up her own plate. On the plate, she placed down some food - different varieties to give you an option, followed by a glass of water. Draco watched her leave, inspecting her plate and the glass, only being left to assume who it was for.

Hermione walked through the corridors carefully, ensuring that all the water and food was still at your disposal. She walked fast, nevertheless, to reach you as soon as possible and soothe any of your worries which she inferred you had. For Harry to say something like that to you - when she knew the extent to which your heart was possessed by Malfoy - she ached for you. Thus, upon reaching the common room, she made her way into the girls' dorm. All that possessed her ears upon walking in was a muffled sob of a lonely individual, in their bed. She stood at the door in silence for a couple more seconds, hearing your audible tears and your whispers as you talked to yourself under the duvet.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid boy!" You whispered aggressively through sobs.

"Hey," Hermione said softly to avoid startling you as she approached your bed. "It's only me." With this, she took a seat on the side of your bed. You had gently budged up to give her space, but you remained under the duvet to avoid her seeing your tears and red, swollen eyes. "It's okay," she whispered out carefully, outstretching her hand onto the duvet where you figure was, gently brushing her hand across you and soothing you.

"I'm hungry," you finally whispered out, still not revealing yourself.

"Well, it's a good thing that I brought dinner," she said in a more up-beat voice, hoping to raise you back onto your feet. Hearing this, you felt slightly relieved as you slowly brought yourself out from under the duvet. Your hair was an absolute mess and you looked like you were a Victorian child with influenza, ready to die any minute. You were pale with dark circles under your eyes, dry and pallid lips, and an expression of severe despondence. Hermione ached to see you, [F/n] Potter the optimistic girl, in such a state. And there was not a bone in her body that doubted that it was Malfoy's fault, whatever he'd done to you.

"Am I being dramatic?" You asked in a hoarse voice, lifting yourself up to sit in your bed. Hermione used her hands to brush your hair out of your face to make eating more accessible to you.

"Dramatic? Of course not."

"I think I am," you sighed, "but it just hurts."

"I know, [F/n]." She thus lifted the plate of food and placed it onto your lap, giving you the easiness of picking at the food and eating it. "But ... can I ask ... what is it that actually hurts?"

You did not answer immediately. First, you ate some of the food, pondering over your own thoughts and your own aching. Good question, Hermione - what is it that actually hurts?

"I don't know," you whispered, staring at the food, pausing. "Just ... him."

"Did he do something?"

Hesitantly, you nodded gently.

"And what did he do?"

"I think ... I think he betrayed me," you sighed, staring at the food, "but I don't know if he meant to."

"Betrayed you?"

"I just want to be happy with him. I want him to be happy. Sometimes I'm certain that he feels the same way, that all of those years ... we really were falling in love with each other. But then there are moments when I just don't know ... when ... when maybe Sirius was right. There's so many things I'd do for him - just for him to be safe and happy. But, Hermione, I don't think ... I don't think he'd do the same for me."

Hermione frowned at your words. If that was the case, she knew that her hatred for Malfoy in the first place was not baseless. But Hermione also could not help but think that, perhaps ... perhaps Malfoy just struggled with himself. Perhaps he did not intend to hurt you. And yet, he did.

"He's just a boy," Hermione smiled after a moment, tucking your hair behind your ear. "You can't waste your energy on him if ... if it's just going to hurt you. I know it hurts to hear this, but sometimes it's better to let go of people. We can't ruin ourselves for the sake of others; for people who can't even appreciate us. You deserve better, [F/n]. No boy should make you lie in your bed, crying, missing meals. You're so wonderful ... and you deserve someone who will be honest with you and will love you, and most of all, will put in the energy you do."

"But what if he does feel the same way about me and I'm just being dramatic?"

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

"Well ... yes."

"That's enough. Maybe ... maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Have you considered that possibility?"

"But it's just so ... it's so perfect."

"Malfoy is not perfect. Not perfect for you. Oh, [F/n], when will you see that you can do better? His friends ... they're all cruel to you ... and he just sits like the coward he is and watches."

"He treats me well in private."

"Treats you well in private," she scoffed, "and what about the outer world? If you saw me with a guy who ... let me be treated like shit by his friends, would you allow it?"

"Of course not."

"Then do you see my point?"

You sighed, looking back down onto your food with a disappointed sigh.

"How about we go to Hogsmeade tomorrow? Me, you, Ron and Harry? Hopefully it'll cheer you up. And also ... it's due to snow tonight. We can get hot chocolate and play in the snow," she smiled hopefully.

A part of you wished to stay in bed and rot in it. However, you knew that that was the worst thing you could do to yourself. Thus, hesitantly, you nodded your head at her proposal. So it was! Tomorrow - tomorrow you would go to Hogsmeade with your dearest friends. Because yes, perhaps sometimes ... sometimes things are made to be memories, but that's all that they are. They were made to be memories. 

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