One Thousand Times Before

One Thousand Times Before

The first time you watched her walk out of a door you were in fourth year. Okay so you'd seen her walk through doors plenty of times before but the first time that you actively watched her and really paid attention to her and that door it was fourth year. It was towards the end of the Yule Ball and you had seen her arguing with Weasley. Everyone thought you were off somewhere snogging Pansy but really you were still hidden in the Great Hall, with the bottle of Firewhiskey you had managed to sneak in. (Those rumours that McGonagall had caught you with it and gave you detention were a lie, of course. You weren't that stupid.)

So there you were, sitting in your little darkened nook and gulping down the Firewhiskey (which, by the way, was doing tremendous things to your fourteen-year-old-never-had-alcohol-before body), when you spotted her storming towards the doors in all her blue-gown-and-abnormally-tidy-hair glory. You smirked because that's how you were. You were a bigot and a racist and a bastard and you prided yourself on it. You were happy that she was so obviously upset after she'd had the perfect girly night - actually looking pretty and being the date of a famous Quidditch player. She was a Mudblood and didn't deserve the privileges she had been awarded and it was about time something shook her from that pedestal. The only thing that angered you was that Weasley had been the one to bring tears to her eyes and not you.

Then again, maybe you had been wrong, and the haze of alcohol might have made you see things that weren't actually there. Maybe she hadn't really been crying. After all you had said some horrible things to her over the years but never once had you seen her cry. You didn't think there was anything Weasley might say that was worse than what you had. And if she was so sad and upset, you thought that she would pause at the doors and take a swift glance over her shoulder at her friends before fleeing, like girls did in those magazines of your mother's. But she didn't. She never looked back once. She just strode across the floor with her head held high before sweeping out of the door.

Not that it really mattered anyway. You never thought about it again after that night.

***

The second time was three years later, after the Battle of Hogwarts.

You were with your parents at the side of the Great Hall, none of you really knowing what you could do. There were injured and dead lying everywhere and somehow you knew that there wasn't going to be an escape for your family. It had been obvious where your loyalties had lain. Your parents were whispering together (that is when your mother wasn't smothering you with hugs and kisses), probably trying to conspire about a way to keep everyone out of Azkaban. You knew it wasn't likely to work though. And so you had just sat there, quietly, with your head resting on a fist and staring into space.

And then you had spotted her. Battle weary with her robes torn and smears of dirt across her forehead. She was moving from cot to cot, checking on those that were injured. You saw her glance towards the sea of red hair and then lower her head. She took a breath and then moved towards them. You watched as she placed a hand on Weasley's shoulder. He turned his head to look at her and then she pulled him into a hug.

You shift your gaze and stare at the floor. You don't want to see them. You don't want to see their pain.

You don't look up again until you spot her mess of hair shifting at the edge of your vision. You see her immediately, shuffling towards the door. She pauses there and looks back around the Hall. You think that her eyes pause on you and your parents for a few moments but then they're gone and you figure you were probably hallucinating. There is a morose, dead expression on her face that you know doesn't suit her.

She turns and leaves through the door silently. No one notices except you.

You didn't think you'd ever see her again.

***

The third time it happened was at your trial.

You had spent six months in Azkaban waiting for your trial (which had been pushed up thanks to the Malfoy money and your youth) and you knew that you never wanted to go back there. So you had been sitting there, next to your lawyer, the full Wizengamot assembled, and then in she had walked.

You knew she would be there; she had been subpoenaed after all and had no choice. But it still surprised you to see her there, sitting patiently and waiting for her turn. She stared at you with blank eyes that made you look away.

When she was called to the stand you payed close attention to her hands. You could see them twisting her skirt as your lawyer questioned her. You saw that she was reluctant to speak on your behalf but you knew that she would tell the complete truth. It was just who she was. She told the court that you had tried to get out of identifying the Golden Trio to your Aunt Bellatrix, that you had hesitated and tried to stall telling them and that you hadn't been one of the people to torture her.

You were lucky to get off without having to serve any more time. You knew that her testimony was the only thing that had saved you. She slipped away silently as soon as the verdict was read.

Your lawyer was shaking your hand and congratulating you but your eyes were trained on her back as she left.

***

The fourth time was at the Ministry's Christmas Ball. You had both come with dates and yet somehow you had ended up tipsy, together, and in a secluded corner sharing a bottle of Firewhiskey (and yes, all of that had brought back huge flashbacks of fourth year and that stupid Yule Ball). You hadn't seen her for a year, not since that day in court, except for a few times at a distance, and yet there you were getting rip-roaringly drunk with her. Certainly not something you ever would have expected to happen.

You took a swig from the bottle before passing it back to her. "Thanks for the testimony Granger," you slurred.

She giggled. "What testimony?" She took a huge gulp of Firewhiskey and started spluttering as it burnt its way down her throat.

"At my trial. Thanks." You stared at her hair and then reached out to twist a curl around your finger. "And that's the last time I'm saying it."

"Uh-huh, okay. No problemo neighbourino." She tilted her head and stared at you intently before bursting into laughter. "You're funny, you know that?"

You chuckled. "Yeah, right bundle of laughs I am."

She lifted a finger and dragged it along your cheek. "You're cute too." Her finger fell from your face and landed at the top of your dress robes.

Your hand was still in her hair and you pulled her closer while trying to wiggle your eyebrows at her (though it didn't work very well, the alcohol was taking its toll on your brain functions). "Is that so?" Without giving her time to respond you leant forward and kissed her.

It quickly escalated and soon your tongue was down her throat and her hands were inside your shirt and your fingers were playing with the zipper at the back of her gown. And then she pulled away with a saucy little smile on her face. She picked up the bottle of Firewhiskey and left the darkened corner you were in. She crossed the ballroom to the doors and then turned around to look back at you. She discreetly looked around to make sure no one was watching and then raised the bottle to her lips and took another swig. She gave you that "come hither" look and curled her finger to make you follow before slipping out of the ballroom.

You were smashed and it was Christmas and you left without your date but none of that even registered in your mind.

You were blind drunk and spent all of the next morning vomiting but you still remembered every tiny little detail of that night.

***

The fifth time was after you'd been with her for a few months. You had finished eating dinner at a fancy restaurant that you had picked, and the two of you had been arguing about who would pay. She had wanted to pay half of the bill.

"Granger," you had drawled, reminding you both of memories that were better forgotten, "I insist."

She had frowned slightly before relenting. "Fine," she had said. "But I am not going to let you pay every single time Draco Malfoy."

You had simply smirked and stood up. You went to pay for dinner and smiled when you felt her step up behind you. She wrapped her arms around your middle and leaned up on her toes to kiss the side of your neck. "I'll meet you outside," she had whispered into your ear before pulling away.

You turned your head and watched her walk towards the door. Her hips and dress and hair all swayed as she walked. She had paused and sent you a sensuous glance over her shoulder. You smirked again and she returned it, as if she had been smirking all her life.

You think that if things had been different she would have made an excellent Slytherin.

And then she stepped out the door.

***

The sixth time was inside your apartment and she was yelling at you. Screaming at you. And she was crying (and not the supposedly "pretty" crying either, no this was puffy eyes and red nose and sniffling).

"I love you!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, even though you were only standing three feet away. "I love you, but I can't do this anymore!"

You just looked at her and said nothing even though your heart was pounding in your chest. You wanted to cross over to her and take her in your arms and kiss away all those tears. But you knew she would only push you away so you stayed rooted to your spot and watched the breakdown.

She gasped for breath as she looked away from you and dragged her hands through her unruly hair. You took a step forward and reached for her arm but she pulled away from you immediately. She stared up at you with desperation and pain in her eyes. Your heart splintered at what you saw in her eyes.

"Say something, please," she whispered. "Tell me you love me. Make me stay."

Still you said nothing. Your heart was crying out, yelling as loudly as she had been only two minutes ago, wanting you to tell her. You opened your mouth only to close it again and watch her with sad eyes. You couldn't do it.

She nodded sadly, tears continuing to stream silently down her cheeks. "You can't." The pain in her voice as she whispered those two words almost killed you. She stepped close to you and kissed you softly on the cheek. "I'm sorry Draco," she murmured. She turned around and then was gone.

And you were left all alone.

***

The last time was on the day of her wedding. To another man.

You hadn't been invited (not that you'd been expecting to). You had known that you shouldn't have been there, that she would rip you to pieces if she saw you, but you hadn't been able to stay away. And so you had stood outside, across the road, and waited. And watched.

You waited for two hours hidden under a Concealment Charm, watching the lifeless building as the ceremony took place inside.

And then suddenly the doors opened and there she was, smiling brightly as Weasley held her at his side.

She looked beautiful. You could tell that it was one of the very few times that she had aimed at making herself look gorgeous. She had done it for Krum at the Yule Ball and she was doing it now for Weasley. It was something that she had never done for you.

Which made you think: had she not thought you important enough for her to try and look beautiful? Or was it that she had felt comfortable enough around you that she didn't think she needed to be anything other than herself. You very much hoped it was the latter option.

You were tempted to drop the Concealment Charm, march over there and claim her as yours (never mind the fact that you got married three months ago and now she was too). But you didn't. Contrary to popular belief you were no longer the spoilt brat that threw a temper tantrum when you didn't get what you wanted. You knew that you had already made your choice. You didn't tell her and now, because of that, she had made her choice too.

She was standing with Weasley and Potter and they were all laughing and smiling. The Golden Trio. The perfect freakin' trio. It made you sick to watch them and you desperately wanted to leave but you couldn't. It was like watching someone who had just been Splinched. You knew it was horrible but you couldn't drag yourself away.

You wondered if she was happy. A small part of you hoped she was despite how miserable you felt.

You stayed there watching all the guests milling around, offering their congratulations to her and Weasley. And then everyone was moving away, getting ready to drive to the reception hall. Everyone cheered as she and the Weasel stepped into the white limousine.

As they drove off you knew what would come next. She would have children, and live her life, and you would never be a part of it again. You knew that while you would certainly see her at various social events and other places, you would never again be able to speak to her, to interact with her, to know her.

And that knowledge broke what little remained of your already shattered heart.