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Draco picks up the spoon and stirs. Once, twice, three times the spoon makes its circumference around the coffee cup. With a mechanical whirl the hand of the clock moves. He pauses. Another minute gone. Twenty minutes to seven. Time to leave.
He downs the rest of the coffee and puts the mug into the dishwasher. Then he picks up his leather bag and grabs the car keys.
A last look around the kitchen reveals nothing out of the ordinary. Clean tiles, empty counters, all appliances shut off. He pats his pockets. Purse, keys, phone, bag, it’s all there. Everything is as it is supposed to be, yet he feels like he has forgotten something.
Draco leaves the flat, locks the door, walks down the steps to the street and takes a deep breath. The air is cold and damp. Just like any other day. He walks down the steps to the side of the road, gets into his gray Honda and merges seamlessly into traffic only a minute later.
He becomes part of the long line winding its way through the London suburbs. The steady purr of the engine and the stale air from the ventilation system keep him company as the line moves him smoothly across the gray pavement towards the distant city centre.
Tick, tick, tick the turn signal goes as Draco rounds a corner onto a bigger street. Lines from different directions merge and more cars join the stream. An endless orderly rush toward work, everyone queued up like they can’t wait to start another day at their mundane jobs. Or maybe they are too afraid or too tired to try anything else. Like he is.
A light turns red and the first car stops, causing a slow chain reaction of deceleration. One after another the cars in the line come to a halt. Their red brake lights glowing brightly in the dim morning light.
His forward motion momentarily arrested, Draco takes a moment to look around. He checks the other lanes, although he knows it is too early. Around him there is only a sea of gray and black and white with an occasional sprinkle of red in between. No blue.
The light turns green and in a reversal of the prior chain reaction the cars accelerate one by one. Faithful in their dedication to arrive at their destination on time. There has to be something else, somewhere. Something that makes more sense than following along predetermined lines in a continuous ebb and flow of routine. He can feel it sometimes, a familiar energy intersecting with his life, tickling his senses. Telling him that he used to have more than the mundane life he leads now.
A spark of blue in the corner of his eye. There.
Red again and as the lines stop, he takes care to break early. It leaves a small gap in the otherwise orderly line of cars. The blue creeps closer, and he can almost make out the shape of the driver within. It is her, but he knew that already. He can feel it in the buzz of energy that always comes and leaves with her. He isn’t sure why she is special, but he knows she is. Just like something deep inside of him always knows when to start looking for the spark of blue in the sea of grey.
Green. He accelerates slowly, allowing the other line to gain on his. The driver behind him pulls in close, urging him to move with the flow, but he does not speed up. One, two, tree car pass by. There.
Red. The blue car is right beside him when they stop again. She sits in the driver seat, just like every other morning. Today, her hair is piled on top of her head and secured in place with some kind of curved stick. Ornamental lines wind their way along the shaft in an intricate pattern. It seems familiar, though Draco has no clue where he could have seen it before.
The woman raises her coffee mug to her full lips and takes a sip. Draco waits patiently. Finally, she sets the cup down and turns his way. When she sees him in his usual spot, she smiles. Suddenly, golden light breaks free from the grey and warmth floods him.
Green. The lines lurch into motion again and Draco keeps one eye on his line and the other on the woman. Careful to adjust his speed to keep the blue car beside him.
It is odd. He feels like he knows her and yet he only sees her during the few minutes on his drive to work when their paths align. Every day. It is as if an invisible force draws them together. Yet he doesn’t even know her name, has never heard the sound of her voice. It is as if part of him constantly reaches out for her, only to rebound from the invisible barrier that keeps him in line.
If only he could break free and follow her. Find out where she works and then… He doesn't know. It would be insane to follow her. She would probably call the police and report him for stalking. And on top of that, he would be late for work.
He lowers the windows and lets in the cool morning air, by now heavy with the exhaust fumes. Beside him the blue car dutifully follows its line, but the woman looks over once more and also lowers her window.
Never had they been this close. Sharing the same air as they swim with the flow of the traffic.
A bump in the road momentarily breaks his focus, alerting him that it is time to change.
Tick, tick, tick the turn signal goes. Then the blue car swerves to the next lane and he swerves with it, taking its spot. Two lines moving in parallel, never touching, never crossing. It isn’t far now. Just one more intersection and then she will turn away at the next corner. The colour will vanish with her and he will be banished back to an existence without her blue, without the sun of her smile.
Yellow. Too fast the intersection approaches, across it waits another day of balancing accounts and dividing numbers into orderly columns until they make sense. Then going home to a life that does not. Every single fucking day.
A faint buzzing sound and the curly haired girl presses a button on the car radio to take the call.
“Granger.“
The wind carries her name from her lips to his ear as a whisper.
Red.
The line of cars decelerates, but Draco does not. The whisper echoes in his head. Granger.
It is only a name, but it means so much more.
It is an insult, an endearment, a plea, a prayer. Granger.
Draco’s body jolts forward violently as his car continues but the line stops.
Crack. Something shatters and memories break free. Image after image crashing down on him.
His hand reaches out and tucks a stray curl behind her ear. Her skin is incredibly soft as his fingertips graze her cheek.
It is dark in the hidden alcove where she waits, but the golden glow gives her position away. Only for him, always for him.
Stolen kisses, forbidden touches and always, always too little time. Until one day time runs out and the golden glow calls but he cannot come.
And it hurts, it hurts so much to stay away.
Darkness and pain punctuated by flashes of brightly coloured light that rip and slash and stun and kill. Amidst the chaos of the fights, he always keeps an eye on the comforting glow of the bond. Because as long as the bond is there, he always knows that she is alright.
They make him fiend, a liar, a freak and coward, but all he wants is to be hers again.
The last time he sees her is from behind iron bars. She is so close and yet she is far away. Tears roll down her soft cheeks as she cries for him and he cannot go to her. The golden glow dims. It knows what is to come.
The verdict is final. Someone raises a wand and then they take it all away.
The familiar energy of his magic fizzes out and with it the colour dies.
All that remains is the gray and the black and the white, enveloped in the red haze of pain.
Last, the golden glow winks out, hidden now only in her smile.
But they take that away, too.
Green. Around him the other lines lurch into motion again, resuming the flow. But Draco’s line has come to a screeching halt. Jammed into the space where his life used to be and where it is now cars line up. He forces them to break their pattern just as they forced him to keep his.
He is free.
A barrage of sound assaults his senses where there used to be only silence. Car horns fill the space between the unmoving cars and mix with the angry shouts of the driver in front of him.
Birds chirp and somewhere a radio plays. Draco smiles. He breathes in and his heart expands, reaches out and finally there is no barrier. From his chest a golden line of light shoots forward and chases after the little blue car. He knows the second it finds her. Something twists and realigns and there she is again, at home inside of his chest. Her name written on his very soul.
Hermione.