Forsaken

Hogwarts

September 23^rd, 2014

So you said goodbye with a smile on your face, and walked off into the rain. And you never looked back, despite my cries that must have rung in your ear like the bells of doomsday come. But you didn't hear them, did you? Your eyes were blind, and your ears deaf to my soulful wails, even when I got down on my knees and cried so hard, that my tears mixed with the raindrops, and neither was distinguishable. They said I blacked out there, for two hours. Colin Creevey found me around nine when he went to visit the kitchens. He found me, they said, lying face down in a puddle of water, my clothing soaked and my body shivering with pneumonia.

I stayed in the hospital wing for two weeks, feverishly sick. Harry and Ron sat by my side every day, praying for a quick recovery. When I finally woke up, they were right there, watching me. They comforted me, when I was little more than a wreck, trembling of fear and anguish, crying of lost love and heartbreak. They gave me the strength it took to survive that year, and more. Where were you while Harry carried books to me for every class? Where were you while Ron brought up my food from the Great Hall with my favorite dishes? You said you cared about me. You said you'd stay with me to my dying day, through happiness and illness. You made an oath to me, as close to wedding vows as can be, and I made an oath to you too.

So that's why I'm writing to you now, nearly sixteen years later. Because I want to tell you, that when you left me behind on a cold December morning, I wasn't the only thing you gave up. Remember the tryst we had in the Astronomy Tower, in the dead of night? When you said you loved me, and I responded likewise? I think of it all with an air of cold detachment now. Almost amusement, because it was all in the heat of the moment. And so was what had happened. What did happen? Nothing very important. Or at least, that must have been to you. Who ever said not to give away something you couldn't take back was wise. But I was foolish, and I gave you everything I had to offer at the tender age of seventeen. My heart, my virginity, and my trust. And I was left with but two reminders of that night. One, a memory of the intimacy we shared, and the other, Eliza. She has gray-blue eyes, like my mother's, and long wavy blonde hair. She's fair-skinned and has the loveliest smile. She's got a mind like her mother, sharp and witty, but she's got her father's nose. She loves to read and creates enough mischief around the house during the summer to rival the Weasley twins, but I love her anyway. She just started her seventh year at Hogwarts, and will be applying for a job at Salem Academy of Witchcraft as soon as she finishes her education at Hogwarts. She thinks her father was dead sixteen years ago, right after she was conceived, and in a way, that's the truth. For me, you were dead sixteen years ago, and I saw no reason to disrupt my daughter's life. She has a vivacious, successful future ahead of her. She won't get rejected from the Ministry of Magic because she has a two-year-old child. She won't have trouble finishing her NEWTs because she's more than five months along. And she won't have to cry at night and think of someone who's not there and left her to face life alone

But I did. I used to think of how much easier life would be if you were there for me. I wouldn't have to work two jobs at the Daily Prophet and Hogwarts, enduring gossip from Witch Weekly and Rita Skeeter. I'd have someone to come home to at night, when I retired to my chambers, weary and worn with a baby to take care of.

One of those nights, I left Eliza in Harry's care. He's married to Ginny now, did you know? They're happy and have a set of twins named Michael and Georgiana. But that winter night, Eliza was only fourteen months old and I was feeling drowsy after a day's work at school. Minerva invited me to a cup of tea at the Three Broomsticks and Madam Rosmerta joined us.

* * *

"Some tarts, dear?" Rosmerta smiled brightly at me. I shook my head politely. Dinner at Hogwarts had been filling, and all I wanted was to nurse a cup of tea by the fireside. Customers were few at the pub, and a newly hired girl was taking orders. Snow fell lightly outside in the pitch dark, but inside, the roaring fire made me feel slightly dizzy.

"So, what's new at Hogwarts?" she asked Minerva. The aged professor replied with a sigh. "The newest of the Weasleys have arrived," I smiled discreetly, remembering young Diana's arrival two months earlier. She had been decked out at the Sorting with multiple fireworks in her robe pockets and fired off a Dungbomb each time a Slytherin was Sorted, and a Filibuster's each time a Gryffindor was Sorted. Severus had been livid and taken forty points from Gryffindor before a gently smiling Daisy Sprout reminded him kindly that she wasn't in Gryffindor, or as a matter of fact, any house yet.

The talk dragged on, and I almost fell asleep, thinking of our times at Hogwarts, and the wonderful adventures we shared. Inevitably, my mind wandered to Eliza and you. By this time, Rosmerta had brought out some Butterbeer, with a slightly higher degree of alcohol, and I was a bit tipsy. When the topic switched to the Astronomy Tower and how many students still made out there, I couldn't help but remember our little rendezvous that night, and quite suddenly, I found myself crying. Not little sniffles and silent tears. More like uncontrollable sobs that wracked me from the bottom of my soul. Rosmerta was alarmed and tried to comfort me. She didn't know about Eliza's parentage. No one did, except for Harry, Ron, Ginny, Albus, Minerva, Poppy, and me. And Albus and Poppy, rest their souls, are dead now. Everyone else thought it was someone I met in France, where I'd spent the Christmas holiday.

"Tsk, tsk, dear! What's wrong? Oh, Minerva, is she okay?" Rosmerta patted my shoulder. I tried to stop crying and stand up. Choking back a few tears, I wiped my face and tried to resume my composure.

"Maybe we should return to Hogwarts. It is late," I said to Minerva, slightly reposed. Minerva watched my face quietly. At last, when I'd stopped crying, she nodded. Rosmerta had the presence of mind to suggest the fireplace for Flooing, and Minerva agreed. I stepped in front of the fireplace, wiping away a few stray tears and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. Minerva stopped me with a hand on my arm. I knew what she was going to ask before she opened her mouth.

"Yes," I spoke quietly.

"Are you sure?" the hesitant question came.

"I am," and with that, I threw the glittering powder in and called loudly and clearly, "Ravenscroft!" and stepped inside the roaring flames. A haze of green fire blinded me before I stumbled out into a beautiful entrance hall. Ravenscroft Hall was one of the more lovely Potter properties that Harry had inherited from his dead parents when he came of age. After his marriage to Ginny, the two moved to Ravenscroft, which was only three or four miles away from Ottery St. Catchpole. Steadying myself with an armchair, I swept some soot off my robes and looked about. A radiant young woman rushed in with Eliza in her arms.

"There you are, dear!" Ginny Potter embraced me gingerly, careful not to crush Eliza. "Here's your precious, who had lots of fun with Harry's hair tonight," she said with a twinkle in her eye. Soon enough, Harry came into the hall, running his fingers over his mop of unruly black hair. With a hint of petulance in his voice, he started talking.

"Merlin's Wand, that little girl of yours has the grip of a goblin, honestly," Shaking his head once or twice, he put his arms around Ginny and smiled. "How was the gathering with Minerva and Rosmerta?" I shook my head and made my face expressionless as I answered.

"It's late; I should go," I took Eliza from Ginny's arms and gave a forced smile before hurrying back to the fireplace. I could hear the shocked silence behind me as the glittering powder rose above me in a cloud of green smoke, and I disappeared into the flames.

* * *

I spent the rest of that night staring at the fire in my bedroom. Eliza was fast asleep in the crib aside my bed, and I was almost overcome with sleep, but stayed awake, thinking. I couldn't go on like this. Memories of you, vivid and realistic, haunt me at every step along the way. I had to be stronger. I couldn't let Eliza down. She wouldn't have a father figure, but I would be her father and mother. I would be there for her and support her in everything she does. I would be there to give her a helping hand and the word of encouragement that she needs. I would be everything you could never be.

So how does it feel, to know that when you left me behind, you abandoned a whole world of happiness, joy, and beauty? How does it feel to know you have a daughter who thinks you're dead? I guess you'll never know the happiness that I've experienced these sixteen years. She's been worth all the long hours on the job, endless flood of suspicious looks and cold insults, and each tear that was shed for you. Goodbye, Draco, and I hope you can live with the fact that you threw away the only thing capable of redeeming you sixteen years ago. My love.

Hermione Granger