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Happy birthday, Granger.

He whispered it to himself, the words whisping through the steam of his morning tea. It was a twisted sort of tradition for him now, putting these words into the universe on this date, each time hoping his saying them aloud would manifest great things for her on this day, her day. 

Maybe there was a part of her that could feel it. Draco imagined when he said it, the piece of her heart that once belonged to him warmed, helping her glow even brighter, becoming even more Golden. The radiance she emitted into the world would burn brighter and draw in the people she loved nearer, like moths to a flame. 

Not that she needed it. She had never been so bright, so beautiful. 

And he was cursed to watch it all from afar, living off of crumbs, mere glimpses of the woman he loved from the other side of their intricate world.

It wasn’t always bad. Years ago, he saw her through the frosted window of Florean Fortescue’s. He’d stopped a moment to watch her, an indulgence he was far from deserving of. She’d freed her wild hair from where it had been tucked messily into her scarf to ward off the cold. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, and she’d stripped off her cloak to reveal a dress that complemented her curves so perfectly Draco nearly lost his resolve. He allowed himself a moment longer before slipping away into the fading dusk, carefully tucking away the image of her.

Sometimes he’d hear her laugh in the halls of the Ministry or see photographs of her in the Daily Prophet and become lost in imagining their alternate timelines, ones where the weight of who they were didn’t force them to abandon all the possibilities a future together could have held. 

He imagined a moment last year when he caught a glimpse of her across Diagon Alley, her eyes brightening while deep in conversation. A thread of joy curled up inside of him. He’d allow himself to take her in until the feeling knotted itself tighter and tighter, transforming into that familiar pang throbbing behind his ribs. 

There was something comforting about the pain. A reminder that he was still alive, perhaps. Heart beating, lungs taking air in and out against all odds. 

It wasn’t good for either of them. He was tempting fate to take more from them. It would only bring them closer to the edge of more heartbreak and tragedy. 

Still, he wished he could be the one she thought of today, the one she would spend her special day with. He would give her the world, the moon, the stars. All she’d need to do is ask. 

Draco sipped his tea, steam now gone, liquid gone cold and bitter. 

It would do him well to quash such daydreams. Hermione was happy now. She was free of the shackles he’d become for her. 

The best thing he could give her was his absence. 

***

Her best birthday had already come and gone. Hermione had come to terms with this years ago when she’d lost the person who made her feel most special, the one who elevated her above all else. 

Draco had been the only one in her life who saw her as something more than a list of achievements. He’d known her mind like it was his own, anticipated her every move before she so much as lifted a finger. 

He had a way of luring out the hidden parts of her. Convincing her to lay out, vulnerable and exposed, so that he could caress and admire her scars, heal the tender pieces of her heart. He’d stripped her bare and repaired the broken pieces she let no one else see, all while keeping his own wounds cloaked and tucked out of reach. 

Then Draco left, convinced she would be better off. You’ll be happier without bearing the weight of my mistakes , he’d said. He couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Afterwards, her Floo access had been blocked. Any owls she sent came back unanswered. If it weren’t for hearing his name through grapevines, she’d have thought he fled the country. 

And so she moved forward, as best as she could. Her life became a play, and Hermione put on her best performance. Her smile became practised but convincing enough, though it never quite reached her eyes. Her laughter was precisely timed but always forced, never bubbling up from deep inside of her like it used to, never filling her with joy. 

She took her seat between Harry and Ron, surrounded by the people she loved, all but one. Conversations fluttered past her awareness. All she knew in this moment was the deep ache of his absence. 

With a cake in front of her, sweet scents of fruit and frosting twisted the knife inside her. She smiled wide to camouflage the other emotions flowing through her as endearing, off-key singing wrapped around her. 

With the final notes drawn out, Hermione lifted her eyes to take in her friends smiling back at her over the candles.

She knew what she would wish for. It was the same each year. Leaning forward, she blew out the flames in a single puff. 

Laughing along while Ginny made a scene of testing a finger of frosting, her eyes landed on the window behind Ginny where a shock of blonde had her heart stuttering. She could almost swear his eyes flicked to her but his stride was so smooth, uninterrupted. The hole in her chest throbbed. 

No, he hadn’t seen her, she decided. It would hurt more to think he had noticed her. To think he would be affected by her presence so little when he could so easily make her heart start and stop on command. 

Ignorance would be better than empty indifference. 

Without another thought, Hermione pushed back from the table, chatter halting abruptly. She heard her voice mumbling something nearly incoherent and excusing herself as she rushed for the door. Determination surged through her as she charged through it, a small bell clanging after her as she raced after him. 

She was done wishing.