Chapter 23
Hermione
Birds were singing outside Hermione’s window when she awoke the morning of graduation– too early, far too early to be up, but here she was. She lay in the early morning light, looking around her dormitory. Memorizing it. She stared at the pillars of the four poster she lay in the intricate designs etched into the wood, wrapped in her mum’s handmade quilt– images of a Gryffindor flag, a toothbrush with the Granger & Granger Dentistry logo beneath, a stack of books, with titles of classic literature lovingly stitched onto the spines, a silhouette of Crookshanks (now living in Australia with her parents), a pair of ballet slippers, a wand with light pouring out (for the first spell she’d ever cast– Lumos), a seashell for their annual beach trips, and an oak tree– the kind she’d grown up climbing and reading under in her backyard. Her heart ached as her fingers traced over each image, desperately wishing for her mother in this moment. She should be here, Hermione thought as the tears began to pour. They should both be here. Watching her graduate, cheering her on as she said goodbye to her home away from home, ready to take on the world. Her kind, loving, humble parents, who never really understood the wizarding world, but did their best to be supportive, for her. Their only daughter, whom they now had no memory of. She wondered if they ever felt the same hollow ache that she did now, but maybe didn’t understand where it was coming from.
It wasn’t fair. But then again, none of it was fair. It wasn’t fair that Harry had lost both parents as a mere infant, that he’d never known his mother’s love or heard his father’s laugh. That once he’d finally found the closest thing he could to a father, Sirius Black had been killed by the same malevolent woman who'd tortured Hermione, who’d murdered and cursed countless other innocent witches and wizards. It wasn’t fair that Ron had lost a brother, sweet, goofy Fred; that George was now a more stoic, lonely version of himself without his twin. It wasn’t fair that Theo’s father had taken everything from him– his mother, his childhood, his inheritance. It wasn’t fair that Malfoy’s father had forced him into taking the Dark Mark, had used him as a pawn in Lord Voldemort’s war, had taught him to spew hate and vitriol at his classmates at the tender age of eleven. And yet, despite all the unspeakable tragedies they’d all endured, all the reckoning they’d had to do, Hermione and her friends had made it this far- they were graduating from Hogwarts today.
Hermione remembered when the very castle she laid in now, cocooned in her warm bed, had been in shambles– both physically and metaphorically. When bodies had been lined up side by side, when dark magic still hung in the air, when those who had survived wandered around aimlessly, all in such a profound state of shock that they couldn’t comprehend that the war was over. And yet, they’d all come back. Her fellow eighth years all bore scars too deep to heal, had seen things no teenager ever should, but they had still returned to Hogwarts. Home. To rebuild, to try again, to prevail. To press forward, to seek out a future free of war, prejudice, and hatred. Hermione thought of the way Malfoy had apologized to her, to Harry and Ron, the way they’d built an actual, genuine friendship despite everything. The way she’d fallen for Theo– her shy, brilliant, loving, genuine Theo. How Molly had practically adopted him, fussing over him in the way Hermione knew Theo craved. Cultivating friendships that may have otherwise never blossomed, she remembered with a smile. Clever McGonagall– little did she know her pen pal program would lead to Slytherins and Gryffindors spending holidays with each other, sneaking out of their dorms together to look up at the stars. Or maybe she had known. Hermione wouldn’t be surprised.
Finally, Hermione decided it was time to stop wallowing in memories and make some new ones. She stretched luxuriously as she stood from her bed, knowing it was the last time she’d wake up at Hogwarts. The first of what would surely be many pangs of nostalgia swirled in her chest, but she headed to the loo to shower and get ready for the day. Her dress hung on the wardrobe– a soft white eyelet Muggle dress that fell just above her knees with a plunging neckline and cap sleeves. She’d spotted it out in Muggle London and had fallen in love with the subtle gold thread that was stitched into the fabric, with its soft feminine shape. Once she’d tried it on, Ginny had practically forced her to buy it. “You look like a bloody goddess,” she’d told Hermione. She’d thought about changing into it just for the feast and ceremony, but figured she didn’t get many opportunities to wear a dress like this, and put it on after drying off. She used a few Sleakeazys on her hair, determined to at least make her curls cooperate today, then put on Theo’s necklace and her favourite small gold hoops. Finally, she was off to go meet Harry and Ron.
As they made their way to Hagrid’s hut, Hermione was filled with such warmth, such gratitude for this very moment. With the sun just beginning to peek through the clouds, the grounds still quiet, smoke from Hagrid’s chimney creating plumes in the air, if she closed her eyes she could almost see the three of them as children walking this very same path. None of them spoke for a few minutes as they walked, as if they were all sharing the same precious memory, too fleeting to interrupt with words. As soon as Hagrid opened the door, Hermione felt herself lifted up into a nearly bone-crushing hug– their friend was clearly feeling just as emotional as she was.
“Er, sorry ‘bout that, Hermione. Just couldn’t help myself. Was just thinkin’ of you as a pint-sized version of yerself,” Hagrid said, quickly blinking the tears away from his eyes.
He shook hands with Harry and Ron, although he yanked them both into hugs with equal fervor. “Ah, just look at the lot of you. Everything you’ve been through, and you’ve grown up before my very eyes.”
After several cups of tea and some very long conversations, the trio and groundskeeper had laughed, cried, and reminisced on just about every memory they could possibly think of. Hermione’s heart felt full to bursting, and the day had only just begun. They bid their farewells to Hagrid, promising to come back and visit. And they would, Hermione knew. After dragging her friends on the rest of her pre-planned “goodbye tour” which included the library, the second-floor girls’ bathroom (much to the boys chagrin), their favourite professors’ offices, the hospital wing, the edge of Black Lake, and even the Room of Requirement (which had been repaired recently, but wasn’t quite the same as it had been before it’d been engulfed in flames), they finally reached their last stop. Letting their legs dangle, they took in the view from the Astronomy tower in shared silence. Hermione knew they were all thinking about the same two wizards who’d died here, about that fateful night that had set things in motion, that had ultimately begun the war.
Harry was the first to break the silence, staring down at the ground far beneath his feet. “Such a long way to fall,” he said quietly.
Ron shifted uncomfortably beside him, glancing at Harry before looking down at the sprawling Hogwarts grounds below. “Sure is,” he shuddered slightly. “So much happened here… feels like we’ve lived an entire bloody lifetime in this place.”
Hermione smiled a bit. “We certainly have. And the whole time, we thought we knew everything. We thought we had it all figured out. We were children, for Merlin’s sake.”
Harry nodded, his gaze still fixed on the distant horizon. “I’ve been thinking about that. About how much of what I thought I knew wasn’t true. About Dumbledore, about Snape. We were so sure, weren’t we?”
“It’s one of my biggest regrets here, you know– that we didn’t know who Snape was until it was too late. You know what Theo told me?” Hermione asked, and the two looked at her with interest. “McGonagall told him recently Snape knew what was going on with him… at home. With his father. He was trying to come up with a plan– to get Theo out. To save him.”
“Merlin,” Ron said. “And trying to keep Harry alive, too. He wasn’t who we thought at all.”
“Why did he have to make himself so bloody unlikeable, though? It’s as if he didn’t want people to know he was good– if he hadn’t given me that memory, it would’ve died with Dumbledore. No one ever would’ve known who he was– that he was on our side,” Harry said, his jaw working with frustration. “It still doesn’t make sense to me.”
Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. “I think I sort of get it,” she said slowly. “Theo’s a bit like that, too, you know. He’s so good, and yet... he doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t believe people like him deserve love or the approval, even when it’s staring him right in the face. It’s like the stupid Muggle saying– we accept the love we think we deserve. Perhaps Snape didn’t think he deserved recognition for his acts of good, or love, even. Maybe he thought the poor choices he made eclipsed the good ones.”
There was a silence as they all mulled over Hermione’s words, until Ron spoke.
“Bloody depressing stuff,” he muttered. “Maybe he just needed a hug.”
Hermione snorted. “I’d have loved to see you try, Ron.”
And then the three of them dissolved into laughter, imagining Ron extending his arms to the surly professor, suddenly thawing his frosty demeanor.
“He would’ve hexed you on the spot,” Harry said, lifting his glasses to wipe his eyes.
“Hell, he would’ve hexed all three of us on the spot,” Ron chuckled. “Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, I’m certain the two of you had something to do with this as well. Detention for all three of you. Fifty points from Gryffindor!” He said, adopting Snape’s haughty, drawling tone.
“Why are you so good at that?!” Hermione asked, her stomach aching from laughter.
“You could be his understudy,” Harry added. “Hey, maybe you could take over his job! Think they’d hire you as a Potions professor?”
“Ha! Ron’s utter shite at Potions. The Snape imitation would only get him so far before everyone caught on,” Hermione said.
Ron elbowed her. “Not all of can be prodigies at every subject, ‘Mione,” he said, but he was smiling. “Have you decided what you’re going to do after this? I know you’ve aced all your N.E.W.T.s.”
Hermione shrugged. It was still a sensitive subject, for some reason, which the boys knew. Before the war, she’d been full of big dreams of becoming Minister of Magic, of taking the wizarding world by storm, but she wasn’t so sure now. She’d loved all her classes this year, but couldn’t figure out where she felt that pull she was looking for. “Not really,” she admitted. “It’s scary, you know, feeling so directionless. I used to think I knew exactly what I’d want to do. I had a five year plan– even a ten and twenty year plan,” she laughed darkly. “Now it’s all bollocks. None of it seems right anymore.”
Ron put a friendly arm around her. “S’alright. I dunno what I’m going to do either. But if the plan doesn’t feel right anymore, can’t you just make a new one?” He asked.
Hermione gawked at him. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “I… I guess it didn’t occur to me that I could,” she said quietly.
“Of course you can. It’s your life, ‘Mione. You get to decide what happens in it,” Ron said simply. She glanced at Harry, who was looking at the redhead with similar surprise.
“You’re quite the sage all of a sudden,” Harry said.
Ron shrugged. “Yes, well, the war has aged me. Just call me Dumbledore,” and then he peered over a pair of invisible spectacles. “My dear boy,” he said in his best Dumbledore voice.
Hermione shrieked. “You’ve got to stop with these impressions!” But she was grinning as she looked between her two best friends, feeling lighter than she had a few minutes ago– like the future wasn’t so scary anymore.
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A month and a half later, Hermione stepped out of the fireplace into the warm embrace of the Burrow, where Theo greeted her eagerly.
“Well? How was it?” He asked, his eyes full of anticipation. Gods, he was so sweet. So excited to hear about her day. She loved him.
Hermione grinned at him. “Exhausting. But good– really good,” she said. “I’m dying for a shower, though. Then maybe dinner?”
“Of course,” Theo said, giving her a chaste kiss before she headed upstairs, quickly bypassing any of the Weasleys before they cornered her and asked how the day had gone.
The two of them had been staying here since they’d graduated, something they both were simultaneously grateful for and frustrated about. On one hand, it was a wonderful thing to have a place to stay while they found their footing, to be fed and doted on by Molly Weasley, to have their friends living under the same roof. On the other hand… it wasn’t. Hermione felt like a spoilt brat for even thinking it, but sometimes she thought she’d go mad with all the noise, the constant interruptions, and desperately wished for peace and quiet. A place she could be alone with Theo. She knew it would happen eventually, that this was just a short phase in their lives, but she couldn’t help but grow restless sometimes. Things were good, though, she reminded herself. Very good.
Hermione had just completed her first day of training as a researcher for the Department of Magical Artefacts, a job she was absolutely thrilled about. She had always been so fascinated by Ancient Runes, and loved research so deeply that this career path felt like the most natural progression in the world to her. It was Theo who’d planted the idea in her head in the first place, and thanks to his encouragement, she’d applied and gotten an interview right away. Things had been more challenging for Theo– as he’d predicted, the association with his name had caused some problems to arise. It had been so frustrating to watch him grow more and more disheartened with every rejection, especially when Hermione knew firsthand how much he had to offer. However, everything had changed with an owl from Headmistress McGonagall two weeks ago.
McGonagall, remembering the conversation she’d had with Theo shortly before graduation, had reached out to one of her contacts at Oxford. Professor Eleanor Aldridge, a Muggle-born witch, was the head of the Healing department in the wizarding division at Oxford. She had taken a particular interest in Theo, especially after she’d met him for coffee and he’d explained his hope of somehow integrating Healing and Muggle medicine. With his high marks, strong references from all his professors and Headmistress McGonagall, and with Professor Aldridge to vouch for him, Theo had been accepted to the Healing program a few days ago. Professor Aldridge had seen this as an opportunity to create an interdisciplinary program, allowing him to take courses both on the Muggle and magical side of the university. Theo had been working with Aldridge to create an outline for the program, its core focus areas being Muggle Medicine and Surgery, Magical Healing Practices, and Alternative and Holistic Healing. Hermione was so incredibly proud of him, and although he had several years of school to go, she knew it would be worth it. Theo fretted at the fact that he wouldn’t be earning any money, although he’d received a scholarship to pay for school and part of his living expenses, he hated the idea of Hermione being the one to support them both.
Hermione didn’t mind, though. Molly had imparted some wisdom, as she often did, over tea one day. “Hermione, dear– don’t ever let money be the thing that defines your happiness. There are plenty of ways to build a home, even when your pockets are empty. Bill and I, we had our struggles. Money was always tight, especially when the children were little. But we made do. We were in love– we still are, and that love kept us going. It sounds simple, but love gives you strength—strength to get through hard times, and strength to keep working towards a future. The difficult times will come and go, but your dedication to each other, your trust– as long as you nurture that, it can withstand anything.” She smiled at the memory as she toweled off, pulling on a comfortable pair of sweats and Theo’s new Oxford sweatshirt, oversized and soft. She padded downstairs and found him in the kitchen, helping Molly prepare the roast.
“Does it need more rosemary? I could pop out to the herb garden if you need,” Theo was saying. Hermione grinned as he milled about the kitchen, still unaware of her presence. To her amusement, he was wearing one of Molly’s aprons, a bright floral print.
Molly caught Hermione watching, and smiled at her knowingly. “I think it’s just perfect, dear,” she said to Theo, patting him on the arm.
Theo glanced up and caught Hermione’s eye, his cheeks coloring. “I just didn’t want to get gravy on my jumper,” he muttered.
She kissed his cheek. “You’ve never looked sexier,” she whispered in his ear, knowing Molly was too busy clanging pots and pans to hear. He turned an even deeper shade of red. “Maybe you should wear this to bed tonight,” she said, giggling as she pinched the fabric of the apron. “Only this.”
“Hermione,” Theo gritted, covering his eyes. “You’re relentless,” he said, pulling the apron over his head. “Come on then, tell me about your day.”
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A year and a half later
“Good morning,” Hermione said as she stepped onto the balcony, still in her pyjamas. The warm summer breeze greeted her, tickling the bare skin on her legs.
“Good morning– er, afternoon, love,” Theo replied, rising to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. “Sleep well?”
“Very,” she said, gratefully accepting the mug of coffee he handed her. “Have you been up long?”
Theo grimaced. “Afraid so. I’ve been working on this blasted paper for over a week and it’s still nowhere near finished.”
Hermione gave him a sympathetic look. “The methodology one?” He nodded.
Theo was over a year into his program, and Hermione was lucky if she got a date night these days. Since he was studying both Muggle Medicine and Healing, Theo’s workload was twice as heavy, causing him to pull many all-nighters, often crawling into bed as Hermione was getting ready to leave for the Ministry. She missed him, but her pride and admiration for his work ethic overwhelmed her, and she knew this time in their life was temporary. Hermione made a decent salary, and between that and Theo’s living stipend, they were able to afford a small flat in Islington. They lived frugally, which neither of them minded, although it had been a bit of an adjustment for Theo. Despite their busy schedules, they made time to eat dinner together every night, updating each other on their respective days. Their flat was modest but homey, the perfect size for the two of them, with large windows, plenty of natural light, and a balcony that overlooked the bustling street.
They took care of each other, just as Hermione had told him they would. When she had a bad day at work, he was there, waiting to listen. When Theo encountered someone who called him a Death Eater, Hermione kissed the pain away and reminded him he was so much more than the name he shared with his father. Or when Hermione woke up with that familiar heaviness in her heart, craving her mother’s touch and to hear her father sing again, Theo laid in bed with her for as long as she needed, stroking her hair and letting her cry as he held her. And on those other days when she awoke, feeling so completely content, so at home, looking into Theo’s green eyes, she was reminded how rare this was. How lucky they were.
“Do you think you’ll be able to get enough done to join us later?” Hermione asked hopefully, sipping her coffee.
“I was hoping I would, but it’s not looking very likely,” Theo said, looking deflated. “Are you upset?”
Even still, Theo held onto some of that fear, some of that worry that Hermione might wake up one day and realize he wasn’t good enough for her, that he’d do something to drive her away. Utter bollocks, she’d think, but she always reassured him regardless.
“Of course not, love,” she said, smoothing his hair back. “I’ll miss you, we all will, but there will be plenty more birthdays to celebrate. I’ll tell Gin to hold back on the Howlers.”
Theo chuckled. “Right, definitely don’t want to get on the birthday girl’s bad side. Give her my love, yeah?”
Several hours later, she kissed Theo goodbye and walked out the door to go meet her friends. It was a balmy August night, and with the restaurant only a few blocks away, Hermione decided to walk rather than Apparate. Ginny waved eagerly when she saw her, clad in a gorgeous black dress that hugged her curves, her red hair falling in waves around her face.
“Happy birthday, Gin! You look stunning,” Hermione said, embracing her friend.
They headed inside and Hermione was greeted by a group of familiar faces– Harry, Ron, Luna, Neville, Draco, and Hannah Abbott, who was now dating Neville and had become close with the group recently. The restaurant was loud and trendy, buzzing with chatter and bass-heavy music. Not Hermione’s scene, but she was enjoying herself nonetheless. They toasted to Ginny, who had just graduated from Hogwarts and had recently been recruited by the Holyhead Harpies as their new Chaser. Hermione had gotten her a new charm for her bracelet, a delicate gold Quaffle with the Harpies logo engraved on it. Ginny squealed as she added it to her bracelet.
“This is from Theo,” Hermione said, handing Ginny the small parcel. He’d enclosed a note along with the gift:
Happy 18th to the fiercest Harpy I know—try not to get yourself killed, please.
Quidditch Recovery Balm
Made using a combination of various Potions and Muggle sports medicine, this balm should be applied after every Quidditch match. It’s meant to soothe bruises and swelling from Bludger hits and rough landings, ease muscle soreness after long practices or games, strengthen joints and reduce stiffness (especially useful after cold-weather matches). Happy playing!
-Theo
Ginny’s eyes teared up a bit as she read. “He’s a good one, I’ll admit it,” she said, squeezing Hermione’s hand. And he was– he’d spent weeks perfecting the balm, brewing different combinations of things until he’d gotten it just right. Hermione squeezed back. She turned to Ron, who sat next to her, eager to catch up. He'd recently joined Harry as an Auror, and it made Hermione smile to think of the two of them working alongside each other. The rest of the night was filled with a few too many drinks, many dirty jokes courtesy of Ginny, and lots of laughter.
“I’ve got to use the loo,” Hermione gasped out as she doubled over, tears of laughter running down her face.
She quickly made for the bathroom, rushing into the stall. When she was finished, she washed her hands and leaned into the mirror, brushing off her dress and inspecting her lipstick. She rarely wore it, and always felt a bit silly whenever she did, like a child playing dress-up with Mummy’s makeup.
“Excuse me,” someone said, and Hermione registered a woman’s face staring at her in the mirror. She turned to her slowly.
“Yes?” Hermione asked hesitantly, hoping it wasn’t someone who wanted to shake her hand and thank her for her Very Heroic War Efforts.
“I’m so sorry, it’s just– where did you get that necklace? If you don’t mind my asking,” the woman said.
Hermione studied her curiously, then reached for her necklace. “This? Why do you ask?”
“I– I recognize it,” she said.
Now Hermione eyed her strangely. “Okay…” she said, unsure how to respond. Perhaps she's a bit nutters, she thought.
“I apologize– I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m just shocked to see it, that’s all. It has initials on it, doesn’t it?” The stranger said, trying to move closer. Hermione took a step back, her heart suddenly thumping as she bumped into the sink. “Oh, Merlin! I’m scaring you. I’m so sorry. Perhaps it’s just a coincidence, but my sister had a necklace exactly like that before she passed away. If I could just see the initials–”
“What’s your sister’s name?” Hermione asked slowly, her heart pounding even faster now.
“My sister’s name is– was,” the woman corrected herself, a flicker of sadness crossing her face. “Leila.”
Hermione gasped. “Leila? Leila Victoria Shafiq?” She asked, knowing what the letters on her locket stood for as well as she knew her very own name.
The woman was staring at Hermione as if she were a ghost. “How do you…” she whispered, the rest of her sentence left unsaid.
Hermione stepped closer, unclasping the necklace and handing it to the woman. “Someone gave it to me,” she said softly. “Her son– my Theo gave it to me.”
The woman let out a sob, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle it as she gripped the necklace. “Her son? She had– she has a son?”
“You didn’t know?” Hermione asked, wide-eyed.
The woman shook her head, eyes brimming with tears. “It’s a very long story– my father was a cruel, cold man. He married off my older sister– he married Leila to an equally cruel man- Theodore Nott. I am guessing that’s your Theo’s father?” Hermione nodded, and the woman’s face darkened. “Leila fought as hard as she could against the betrothal, but my father refused to listen. After she was married, I heard from her off and on for about a year, and in her letters she described the way he treated her. And then suddenly, her letters stopped.”
“That was likely when she got pregnant with Theo,” Hermione said sadly.
“Ah,” the woman said, her face clouded with pain. “When she stopped writing, I was sure something terrible had happened- that Nott was controlling her even more than he had before. I begged my father to intervene on her behalf, to end the marriage and get her out of Nott Manor, but to no avail. In fact, he promised me to another Pureblood, an awful man named Evan Rosier.”
Hermione pulled a face at the mention of the Death Eater. Although he’d been dead for years, killed by Moody before Hermione could barely walk, she knew he’d been one of Voldemort’s first followers along with Nott Sr.
“So you know of him, then,” the woman said, seeing Hermione's expression. Before she could continue, Hermione interrupted.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt– I’d absolutely love to hear more. But would you like to go sit? I’m here with my friends– my name is Hermione Granger, by the way– but perhaps we could find a quiet spot somewhere else?”
The woman smiled at her then, and Hermione noticed how beautiful she was. She had long, dark hair and skin the color of sun-kissed sand, her green eyes several shades lighter than Theo’s. She wondered if Leila and her looked alike.
“Ah, of course– I’ve been prattling on and on, and we haven’t even properly introduced ourselves. My name is Selene Shafiq. It’s lovely to meet you, Hermione,” Selene said, clasping Hermione’s hand in her own, which was warm and soft. “I’d love to find a place to sit, if you don’t mind.”
After providing a breathless explanation to her friends, who hurriedly ushered her out with several variations of “GO, Hermione!” She stepped outside the restaurant to meet Selene. They found a quiet bench to sit, tucked away from the thrum of London’s nightlife.
“I hope I’m not interrupting your own dinner plans,” Hermione said as they sat.
Selene shook her head. “No, not at all. I was here to meet up with some friends, but the night was turning a bit sour for me anyways. We don't have as much in common as we used to. Truthfully, Hermione, this is one of the first times I’ve left my home in many years.”
Hermione stared at her. “Years?”
“Yes. That’s part of the story, you see. Would you like to hear the rest?”
Hermione nodded eagerly, feeling like an overzealous firstie. “Very well then. As I was telling you before, my father promised me to Rosier, perhaps as a way to punish me for my acts of rebellion, for my refusal to bend to his beliefs. My mother did her best to defend us, you see, she was the one who taught us not to fall prey to his twisted ideals, but my father was crueler and crueler to her each day. I tried to run away,” Selene said. Hermione leaned forward in anticipation. “However, my father managed to track me down. I was living as a Muggle– or, attempting to, for about a year. He dragged me back home, furious that I had angered Rosier with my disrespect– he now refused to marry me at all. My father tried to marry me off to several different wizards, each as distasteful as the next, but I fought back as hard as I could.”
“How did you fight back? That must have been terrifying,” Hermione said, in awe of the witch.
Selene nodded solemnly. “It wasn’t pleasant. None of them wanted a wife who spat on them and called them every curse word in the book, even if she was a Pureblood,” she said, smiling wryly. “So to punish me, my father kept me locked away in one wing of our Manor. It wasn’t so bad, really– I had a few house elves for company, and he wasn’t smart enough to take away my magic, so although I didn’t have a wand, I mastered wandless magic rather well. The worst part was being cut off from everyone– even my mother. I never got to see her before she died.”
Hermione found herself reaching for Selene’s hands. “You’re so incredibly strong,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “I think– I didn’t know her, but I think you would’ve made your sister proud.”
Selene’s hand jumped to her mouth. “Oh, Merlin! My sister! My sister had a son,” she said, as if Hermione’s words from almost an hour ago had just begun to sink in. “Theo? His name is Theo?” Selene whispered, brushing a tear from her cheek.
Hermione smiled tearily. “Theodore, but he prefers Theo.”
Selene nodded. “What is he like?” She asked, clutching Hermione’s hand tightly.
“He's wonderful,” Hermione answered immediately, her heart filling as she thought of Theo. “He’s brilliant– he’s studying to become a Healer with a dual concentration in Muggle medicine.” Selene’s eyes widened. “He’s incredibly kind, generous, and hardworking. He's humble to a fault. He– he hasn’t had an easy life,” she said hesitantly, unsure how Selene would react.
Selene’s face fell. “I was afraid of that. His father– is he dead?”
Hermione shook her head. “In Azkaban. For the rest of his life, thankfully. Theo’s childhood was not a pleasant one– not after Leila passed. But he’s so strong. He’s overcome so much, and he’s got so much to give the world.”
“And he has you,” Selene said softly, smiling at Hermione.
“Yes,” Hermione said. “He has me.” She stood up suddenly. “Do you– would you like to meet him?”
Selene’s eyes widened. “You mean right now?”
Hermione nodded. “We’re just a few blocks away, actually. Our flat, I mean. I think you two need to meet each other.”
She could see that the witch was nervous, but she nodded. As they walked, Hermione told her more about her nephew, and in turn, Selene shared more of her own story. Hermione learned that because of her isolation at the Shafiq Manor, Selene had no access to newspapers, the post, nothing– even the elves were barred from sharing information of the outside world. She had no idea who Harry Potter was, barely any idea who Voldemort was. She was still trying to piece together everything that had happened during the ten years she’d been imprisoned. After her father had finally passed away a little under a year ago, Selene had slowly and cautiously reentered the world. Hermione’s heart ached for her, but she was overwhelmed with joy for Theo, who thought he had no family aside from his sad excuse for a father. She wondered how he would react, what this would mean to him.
“This is it,” Hermione said anxiously. “Perhaps I should go in first, make sure he’s- I'll be right back.”
Selene nodded, wringing her hands nervously as Hermione closed the door behind her.
“Theo?” She called out, and he popped his head up from where he sat at the kitchen island, his books and notes spread out all over the counter.
“Hello, love. You’re home early– everything okay?” He asked, his eyebrows knit together in concern.
Hermione took a deep breath. “Everything’s fine,” she said slowly. “More than fine, actually. There’s– there’s someone who’d like to meet you.”
Theo eyed her with suspicion. “What do you mean?”
“Just come,” she said, extending her hand. When he took it, she gave it a squeeze as they approached the front door. She hesitated, wondering if she should say more, but decided against it. Hermione opened the door, and Selene stood on the welcome met, smiling nervously.
“Hello,” Selene said breathlessly. Hermione opened her mouth, wondering if she should introduce them, but then she saw Theo’s face and realized she didn’t need to. So Selene and Leila did bear some resemblance, she thought. His eyes were wide, his mouth ajar, and she could feel his pulse racing as she held his hand.
“You’re–” Theo began, but seemed unable to form any other words.
“Why don’t you come inside, Selene?” Hermione cut in, taking Selene’s hand and leading her into the living room. “Let’s all have a seat, yeah?”
Theo followed wordlessly, settling on the sofa next to Hermione. Selene sat in the armchair across from them, fiddling nervously with her purse. “I’m so sorry to barge in on you like this,” she said. “I’m sure Hermione will fill you in, but we ran into each other tonight and once I found out about you, I had to come meet you. I hope you don’t mind, Theo.”
“Selene,” Theo said, his voice rough with emotion. “Selene…?”
“Shafiq. Selene Shafiq,” she said quietly.
Theo gasped slightly, turning to Hermione in confusion. “How did you– I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time even knowing what to say at the moment,” he whispered. Hermione squeezed his hand.
“I recognized your dear Hermione’s locket,” Selene explained, smiling at her, and Hermione noticed she shared Theo’s dimples. “We got to talking and put two and two together, and I realized my sister had a son. I didn’t know you existed until tonight, Theo,” she said, gazing at her nephew– looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
“You’re her sister,” Theo echoed. “How– where have you been?” Hermione eyed him nervously. Was he angry? No, she realized. He looked confused. Hurt. Curious, perhaps.
“It’s a long story,” Selene said, smiling sadly. “Would you like to hear it?”
Theo nodded, and Hermione stood. “Why don’t I go make some tea? I’ll give you two a moment,” she said.
Several hours later, they said goodbye to Selene with plans to get together the following week. Hermione was exhausted, and looking at Theo, she could tell the feeling was mutual.
“Bed?” She asked, reaching for his hand.
He nodded, and they headed off to their bedroom. Hermione crawled under the covers, pulling Theo close. “How are you feeling?” She asked, running her hands through his hair.
“A bit of everything, maybe,” he mumbled against her hair. “Lots to process.”
Hermione kissed his forehead. “It is.”
The silence hung in the air for a few moments before Theo spoke again. “I have an aunt,” he said. “She’s sort of wonderful, isn’t she?”
Hermione smiled. “Yes, she is. And so are you. I’m so happy for you, Theo.”
He kissed her softly. “I wonder if I ever would’ve found her– if you hadn’t ran into her like that tonight. It almost feels like fate, doesn’t it?”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Hermione said, snuggling against him. “Maybe you were meant to find each other now– maybe your mother sent you to each other, or something,” she said, feeling a little silly.
“My mother sent her to you,” Theo said, and Hermione turned to stare at him. “I don’t know if I believe in fate, in the afterlife, any of that. But if my mother had any hand in this—any at all—she didn’t just send Selene tonight. She sent me to you first. And every good thing in my life has followed.”
----------------
When Hermione awoke the next day, Theo wasn’t in bed. Unsurprising– he was the earlier riser between the two of them, and often got up hours before Hermione to do schoolwork. However, when she wandered into the kitchen, she found it empty, save for the steaming mug of coffee, croissant, and folded note on the kitchen table.
Good morning, love
Sorry I’m not there to greet you. Had a few errands to run today. Will you join me tonight for date night? It’s been awhile.
–T
Hermione enjoyed her breakfast on the balcony, losing herself in a book for a few blissful hours. Afterwards, she showered, taking her time, shampooing her hair twice, shaving her legs, exfoliating– an “everything shower,” as Ginny called it. Hermione was feeling particularly randy– it had been several days since they’d had sex, and months since they’d had a date night. She lotioned up from head to toe, picking out a pretty set of lingerie, and set about drying her hair. She decided to keep it down, because Theo loved it that way. Glancing through her closet, Hermione chewed her lip, wondering where they were going tonight. Knowing Theo, it wouldn’t be somewhere stuffy or overly fancy, but she wanted to be on the safe side, just in case. Hermione selected a dark green dress, pretending it wasn’t Slytherin green, and tried it on. She actually had never worn it– she’d bought it for some Ministry event and ended up borrowing one of Ginny’s instead, although she didn’t know why. It looked good on her, she decided. It was a spaghetti strap number– she’d have to go braless, a little less modest than she’d usually be– perhaps that was why she hadn’t worn it to a work function. But tonight she was going on a date with her boyfriend, who was definitely going to get laid afterwards, and she wanted to blow his mind a little. Shake things up. She sprayed an extra spritz of perfume.
“Salazar,” Theo said when she stepped out of their bedroom. “You look fucking gorgeous.”
Hermione smiled as she leaned up to kiss him. “Thank you, love. You clean up rather nicely yourself.”
Theo wore a navy Muggle suit, his brown hair combed away from his eyes. Truthfully, Hermione was ready to say sod it all and skip the whole dinner. “Any interest in a quickie before we go?” She offered, biting her lip.
Theo glanced at his watch. “Fucking hell– yes, but I’m afraid we’ll miss our reservation. Afterwards?”
“Where are we going, anyways?” Hermione asked curiously.
“You’ll see,” he grinned. “We’ll need to Apparate. You ready?”
Hermione nodded, taking his hand. When she opened her eyes, she looked around in confusion. She didn’t recognize the location.
“What is this?” She asked, glancing around. They were outside in some kind of garden, surrounded by flowers of different hues and variations. A willow stood tall above them, its leaves cascading down like a waterfall. There were twinkling lights above them, and Hermione realized with surprise that it was coming from floating candles in the sky.
Theo smiled shyly. “The Botanic Gardens at Oxford. I thought we could do something a little different tonight, if that’s okay.”
Hermione gazed up at him. “Of course,” she said. “It’s beautiful– I love it.”
Theo gestured to a table, a bottle of wine and two glasses on it. They sat, and after uncorking the wine and pouring them each a glass, Theo pulled a basket out from under the table. “Dinner’s in here,” he said nervously, pulling out two plates. Clearly he’d placed them under Stasis charms, because they were still steaming. Hermione eyed the plate, eyebrows raising.
“Did you make this?” She asked.
He shook his head sheepishly. “Had to outsource. Do you like it?”
She took a bite. “It’s delicious,” Hermione said earnestly. It was a garlicky pasta, maybe some sort of white wine sauce, with prawns and lemon zest.
They ate and drank wine, enjoying the solitude of the spot, the summer breeze. It was the most romantic date they’d ever had, and Hermione was feeling even more inclined to shag Theo’s brains out, when he suddenly stood. “Shall we take a walk?” Hermione took his arm and they began to stroll through the gardens.
“Hermione, I have to tell you something,” Theo said. She looked at him nervously, waiting for him to continue. “My Aunt Selene– she had a lot to say, as you know. But you weren’t there for all of it. She told me… there’s a vault, at Gringotts in my mother’s name. Selene said it should’ve gone to me ages ago- but it’s mine now. Ours.”
Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Your mother had her own vault?”
Theo nodded. “Apparently, it was something my grandmother kept from her husband– my grandfather. She wanted her daughters to have a safety net, their own money if they needed to escape their husbands and start over. Obviously, it’s too late for my mother, but Selene said she’d want me to have it.”
“That’s– Merlin, Theo! That’s amazing!” Hermione hugged him tightly.
“It is,” Theo said, pausing as if there was something more he wanted to say. Hermione tilted her head, waiting. “Do you want to know the first thing I did, after I had the account transferred to my name?”
“Yes,” Hermione said, wide-eyed.
“I bought this,” Theo said, pulling out a small velvet box and bending onto one knee.
Hermione gasped. “Theo– are you–”
“Hermione, I meant it when I said that everything good in my life has been because of you.” He exhaled softly, looking up at her, his voice steady but full of emotion. “When I met you, I didn’t believe the life I dreamed of would ever be possible. That I was worthy of love. You were so patient with me– when I kept my distance, when I didn’t know how to let you in, when I struggled to believe that I could have something good and keep it,” he said, smiling up at her.
“You’ve shown me how good life can be. You never gave up on me, on us. You showed me that love isn’t just something you earn by being perfect—it’s given freely, over and over, even on the hard days.” He reached for her hand, his fingers brushing over her knuckles, making her shiver. “Because of you, my life is full. Because you believe in me, because you love me even when I made it so hard to. But Hermione– I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. I want to wake up next to you every day. I want to love you until the day I die.”
He fixed his green eyes on her, full of vulnerability, full of love. “Will you let me do that? Will you be my wife, Hermione?” He opened the box, revealing a sparkling ring.
“Oh my God– Theo– yes!” Hermione sobbed, crouching down and throwing her arms around him. “I love you, I love you. Yes, I’ll be your wife. Of course I will.”
Theo was crying too as he kissed her, pulling them both up to stand. “I love you too, Hermione. I’m so lucky to love you.” He took her hand and slid the ring on– a beautiful, solitaire diamond on a thin gold band. Simple but elegant.
“It’s perfect,” she gasped. “I can’t believe I get to marry you."
Theo waved his wand and a song began to play. "Will you dance with me?" He asked quietly. "I never got the chance to ask you at the Winter ball."
"Of course," she said, taking his hand. They danced under the stars, her head against his chest, closing her eyes to the sound of his heartbeat, breathing in his familiar scent.
Hermione pulled away suddenly, eyeing him suspiciously, tears still in her eyes. "There was no reservation, was there?"
He shook his head, blushing. "No. I was just too bloody nervous for a quickie."
"I guess you'll just have to make it up to me when we get home then, yeah?" Hermione said, leaning up to kiss him.
"Mm, now you've got my attention," he muttered against her lips.
"And I didn't before?" Hermione teased, pulling back to look at him.
"Of course you did. You've always had my attention, Hermione. Always."