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"I will not be another flower, picked for my beauty and left to die. I will be wild, difficult to find, and impossible to forget."
~Erin Van Vuren
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Draco had been holding Maria's letter in his hands for a long time. 

He was sitting by the garden window, and was thinking and thinking about a certain someone. 

What you want is here, Maria had said. 

A vein on Draco's forehead throbbed painfully, and a pounding headache began building up at the base of his skull.

He had been utterly blind and ignorant. He had ignored all the signs his mind and heart had been giving him, all the things he had been feeling. He had just thought that he was confused, that he wasn't thinking right. Because just because someone is kind doesn't mean he had to fall for them. 

Only that was exactly what had happened. 

Draco's foot tapped away agitatedly at the floor. 

All the feelings that he had been ignoring for so long resurfaced all of a sudden and all at once, suffocating him. 

He had been lying to himself for so long. While he had been with Astoria, while he had been thinking that he liked Maria the way she liked him, and while he had been trying to convince himself that no, he did not feel anything other than friendship with regard to Hermione Granger. 

Merlin, even thinking about all this left his heart pounding. Clearly it wasn't normal. It couldn't be normal. 

And that day, their snowball fight...all the things he had felt, that he had wanted to do....

Things that he still wanted to do, sometimes.

Finally, painfully, Draco admitted to himself that yes, he had feelings for the bushy haired bookworm. 

The self confession left his head reeling. 

He couldn't understand her. She never looked like she wanted anything more than what they already were. Everytime they got too close, or became too aware of each other, she would distance herself, she would bring up Maria. But when Maria had been around, Draco had never missed the flash of pain that had often crossed Hermione's expression. 

He had been quite obviously unhappy on the day she had gone on her date with Terry Boot. He hadn't realised it as jealousy then, but he knew that something was off.

And barely a day went by when he didn't have to peel his eyes from the back of her neck whenever she tied her hair up.

But she didn't seem to be suffering the same way he was.

What did it mean? What did she want?

Did she like him too?

Draco folded Maria's letter with fumbling fingers. He ignored the painful beat of his heart as he stood up. 

Fuck it. 

Fuck everything. 

He was going to tell her. 

He had lied to himself and cheated himself for too long. He had denied himself love for too long. 

He would tell her how he felt. The results of the exam had been owled to them that morning, and even though Draco and Hermione hadn't met to discuss it yet, he was sure her marks were as high as always. He would confess his feelings to her, and then they would go out, and have Chinese takeout, or a churro, or go to any bloody museum she wanted. 

Before Draco had made a proper decision, he was tumbling down the stairs to the lobby, having barely managed to put on his coat.

"Mister Malfoy, are you alright?" Schoster asked, worried at the sight of Draco's flushed face and worried look.

"Fine, Frederich," Draco waved him away and darted out onto the sidewalk. 

People gave his ruffled appearance strange looks. Draco didn't even bother buttoning his coat and shot off down the sidewalk to where he knew a nursery was. 

"Hello?" Draco called out in an unnecessarily loud voice when he had barely stepped foot inside the warm nursery. He was much too preoccupied to pay mind to the exquisitely arranged flowers and pots of plants or their scintillating smells.

"Yes, how can I help you?" The nursery owner, a pot bellied man, looked him up and down curiously. 

"Flowers," Draco said lamely, feeling increasingly stupid, "Flowers, I need flowers."

Perhaps it was common for young men and women to barge into the shop demanding flowers while looking distressed or excited, because the man didn't bother asking for an explanation on what kind of flowers he wanted. 

"Shall I add some ferns?" The man asked, holding a bunch of small, pink and white flowers that grew in clusters on the stems. Baby's Breath. Draco's personal favourite.

"Add whatever," Draco said carelessly. 

The man arranged a few fern leaves into the small bouquet, and wrapped the whole thing up in the little brown paper. 

"How much?" Draco's fingers fluttered clumsily over the little muggle money that he had. Losing his patience, Draco placed three of the notes in front of the man, and dashed to the door, "Thanks!"

"This is too much by a hundred!"

Draco ignored the man and closed the nursery door. 

He was going to tell her. Damn it all. He would tell her, because he couldn't lie to himself anymore. It wouldn't matter whether or not she returned his feelings. He needed to get his thoughts off his chest. 

Draco apparated when he reached the alley between his apartment and the next. 

In his tizzy, he had landed an entire block away from Hermione's apartment. 

He rushed down the sidewalk, running into people and apologising profusely, something he would never have done in a good frame of mind. He pushed the doors of the building's entrance open carelessly, uncaring when they slammed against the opposite side. The flowers in his hands gave off a sweet smelling perfume that tickled his nostrils and he hoped Hermione would like them. 

Draco ran up the stairs, shouting back at the landlord, "You can write my entry yourself, I'll give you an autograph later!"

Ignoring the scandalised shouts of the landlord, Draco bounded up the stairs. 

He was going to tell her. 

The journey to her door seemed longer than usual. 

He finally stood before her door. His heart hammered, and one part of him, the cowardly part, was screaming at him to turn around and go away. The door looked like it was chuckling at his obvious indecisiveness. 

Draco swallowed, not too surprised to find that his throat was dry. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he raised a hand to knock on her door. 

A thump issued from beyond the door, followed by a muffled swear. 

The door clicked, and Draco's face lit up in a smile when he saw how happy Hermione looked. 

"Draco you won't believe what's happened!" She threw herself on him, wrapping her arms around his neck in an exalted manner. 

Something told Draco that all he had planned wouldn't be executed. 

Hermione pulled him inside the flat and shut the door. 

Draco was surprised to find that the books from her bookshelf had disappeared. A few cardboard boxes lay scattered around the floor. The overly colorful picture which had once hung on the wall was gone as well. 

"What's…" Draco was finding it hard to breathe. His grip around the bouquet loosened a little. 

"I've been selected to work at the RHMC!" Hermione exclaimed joyously, "I got my results today morning, and it's better than I expected, and there was a letter from Dorian Hailen, saying that I have been selected for the program!"

Draco surveyed her happy face, and her excited movements, "You're going...to America?" 

"Yes, isn't it great?" Hermione went to quickly detach Crookshanks from the curtains. 

All the air had been forced out from Draco's lungs. 

She was leaving for America. 

"We're going by sea," Hermione explained, "The ship leaves tomorrow, and makes port at New York. From there, we'll be taken to Albany."

"That's…" it was hard to speak with all the emotions that were flooding him, "Wonderful. I'm- I'm so happy for you."

She glanced at him with a somewhat  confused look on her face, and her eyes landed on the flowers in Draco's hands. Her expression changed in a split second, and all of a sudden she didn't look happy. She looked confused and nervous. 

"Flowers?" it was a whispered question, as if reluctant to fall past her lips. 

"I…" Draco was happy for her, he really was. But he couldn't understand why she had to go away just when he had finally figured out his feelings, "I got them because I...because I knew you'd do well in the exam."

Hermione took the flowers from his outstretched arms, "They're beautiful…"

She looked at the flowers, and Draco was sure he saw her eyes glistening. 

"So, the ship leaves tomorrow?" Draco felt the way his heart was slowly shattering, as if determined to make him feel every ounce of pain and more. 

"Yes," Hermione said, placing the flowers in an empty vase on the kitchen table. Then, her excited face was back again, "I am rather happy about it."

"Me too," Draco said, struggling to go back to being like how he had been before, "It's great."

Hermione suddenly began bustling about, "I have to meet everyone! Harry and Ginny and Ron and the Weasleys and Luna and Neville - I'll write to them, Luna and Neville - and Mr. Blak- there's so much to be done!"

Draco was a little disappointed. He had thought that maybe (one in a million chance) she would have spent most of the day with him, studying or-

They didn't have to study anymore. 

"You'll come with me, won't you?" Hermione asked, surprising Draco. 

"But- you're going to see your friends," Draco said lamely. 

"Don't be stupid, you're my friend too, and I am not going to waste this day without spending time with you," Hermione said in a no-nonsense manner, that deeply touched Draco. 

"Alright," Draco consented. 

So he wouldn't tell her how he felt. And that was fine, because they were still together. They had the whole day together and he would make the best of it, and make sure she only took happy memories with her when she would cross an entire ocean to reach America. 

They dropped by the apothecary first, because Draco knew that Mr. Blak spent almost all his time there. But they were only met by a note that read as such: 'Closed. Please owl your queries and orders to the adress on the board outside.'

"Do you think he's alright?" Hermione asked, worried.

"I have no reason to think otherwise," Draco said, "You can send him an owl."

Next, they visited the Weasleys. After a little protest from George and Percy, Draco arrived at a fragile understanding with the family after Hermione had mediated the argument on both sides. They went with Harry, Ron and Ginny to Grimmauld Place, where they spent the major part of the afternoon. Everyone was happy about Hermione's achievement. Surprisingly, Harry didn't fire questions at Draco like last time. 

The ship would set sail in the early hours of the next morning, leaving little time for Hermione to see anyone again. 

"You'll write to us, won't you?" Ron said as he held Hermione close for a brotherly embrace. 

"I'll write to you, I'll send you postcards," Hermione said with a small chuckle.

Now that they weren't talking or doing anything, Ginny looked saddened. 

"Oh, I'll miss you," Ginny held her arms out. 

Draco would have wrinkled his nose at all the touchy-feely going on, but, for once, he didn't.

Harry was almost unwilling to let Hermione go. He was the one who began crying first. 

"Come on, Harry, I'll be back before you know it," Hermione said bracingly, although Draco could tell that she was having trouble herself with keeping her tears at bay, "And I'll be here for your wedding. And Parkinson and Zabini's wedding, if they send me an invite."

The prospect of surely being able to see Hermione again without having to wait three years was somewhat reassuring, and Draco was therefore in a better mood when he and Hermione went to see Pansy and Blaise. They spent some time talking. Unfortunately, Blaise had prepared pasta (burnt, and half raw).

"I'll send you an invite, but you have to send me your address first," Pansy said when they were about to leave. 

"I will," Hermione said, then turned to give Blaise a handshake, "I like your apron."

"So long," Blaise said dramatically, proudly patting his 'Flower Boy' apron.

It was already late evening. Draco had long since permanently stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat. 

"Malfoy?"

"Yes?" He stopped walking to turn back and smile at her. She was looking at him with a worried look on her face.

"You're…unusually sombre," she said, falling into step beside him, and they began walking again. 

Draco wouldn't let her know about anything. He wouldn't do that to himself. Or to her.

"Yes, well, I'm awfully sad, you see," Draco said, smirking down at her. 

She waited for him to go on. 

"You're taking Crookshanks with you."