A Wonderful Fortuitous Love

44. Caught

Searching, she lifted up several papers with one hand, irritation making her eyes narrow. “Look –” she aimed her fork again at her lunch – “this isn’t a good time, Draco.”

“Is it about that elf from last week? Twinkles or something rather?” he asked lazily, stretching out in his seat.

“Yes.” Abandoning the search on her desk, Granger resorted to pulling out her drawers. “She’s got the same problem Tully had, you know, eating slippers. I’m trying to see how common it is.”

“Are you really?” he asked with mock fascination, and she shot him a look.

“What do you want? And make it quick too, this is supposed to be my lunchbreak.”    

He waited for her to stop fidgeting with the items on her desk and meet his gaze before he answered. “I want to know what’s wrong with him.”

Her eyebrows arched for a second, and then she was back to business, sorting through files again. “I think you need to mind your own business,” was the curt reply, and Draco almost snorted.

“We stopped minding our own businesses a long time ago, Granger.”

“Never too late to learn again.”

Annoyance flared in the pit of his stomach, and he fought down the urge to glare. “What happened? You fight so hard to keep Weasley and the next thing I know you’re calling it quits? Do you even know what you want anymore –?”

There was a sharp snap as the plastic fork connected too hard with her plate of salad, the several broken pieces scattering over the desk. Apparently he’d pushed her too far too soon, only when she caught his eye, there was no anger. She looked… something akin to tired as she leaned back in her seat and fixed him with a level look.

“My grandmother once had this dog.” Her voice was soft yet matter-of-fact. “This truly amazing dog, you know the kind you read about that save people from burning houses or floods? She was like that. There was never an important part in my childhood when I can’t remember that dog being with me. We weren’t always together because I didn’t live with my grandmother, but she visited and I stayed with them so often I might as well have. She was so great. I was the only one she offered to share her food with, the only one who could pick up her bone in the middle of her eating it and not get growled at. My grandmother always joked around saying that she thought I was her puppy. She was just… she was my best friend.”

Draco sat up, leaned on the desk. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because when I was thirteen, and the dog was eighteen, she got sick.” Granger swallowed, her eyes glazed with the memory. “The vet said there was nothing they could do, she was old. They said we could have a few more months with her at best if we really wanted. But she was going blind and she was deaf and she was just growing weaker and weaker. Fading away. And my grandmother knew this, and she said no. Said that it had to be done. I was waiting in the next room and she came out and told me what was going to happen, told me to say my goodbyes. And I… I remember so clearly looking up at my grandmother, and asking why. It didn’t make sense to me. Why would she let her best friend go when she could easily have a few more months? And she sat down, took my hands, looked me deadest in the eye, and said because she loves her. Because she was hurting. Because if you love something, sometimes you have to let go. And that… that’s what I did to Ron.”

For a solid two minutes, Draco was at a loss for words. He had never really thought of anything like that before, being far too selfish to even consider letting anything he loved go. He hid this new and unexpected bewilderment though, rested his chin in his palm in order to appear indifferent.