And So I'll Wait

Three years later

Hermione was growing tired of having to be so strong. She’d been the rock, the person everyone had leaned on for a very long time, and she couldn’t afford to break down, not now. It had been a year since Harry and Malfoy had stopped replying in the notebooks. A year since Ron had been admitted to St Mungo’s, dropped off by an anonymous wizard who had hidden their face. The healers weren’t able to tell them when, or if, he would wake from his coma. He had been kept in intensive care, with Molly all but moving in to be close to her son. The indomitable Weasley matriarch had been reduced to a shell of her former self, and she knew the witch only ate when Hermione dragged her home to join her packed house for dinner. She’d never been so grateful for her parent’s house being so large.
The Prophet had declared her friends missing, presumed dead, and Hermione was rapidly reaching the end of her rope.

She knocked lightly on the bedroom door, and made her way inside the dark room.

“Gin? It’s Hermione. I’ve brought you breakfast.” She said softly, setting the tray down on the bedside table. The Harpies playing in the quidditch world cup had been a match for the history books, for a few reasons. They’d smashed through the glass ceiling, being the first all female team to ever win the competition, but that had come at a cost. In catching the snitch, Ginny had risked everything, and had fallen from her broom. It was a miracle she’d survived at all, and they all felt lucky that they hadn’t lost her. She had not come away unscathed, however, and had broken almost every bone in her body. She’d needed to use a wheelchair, even with all the magic the healers had used, and was on the long road to learning to walk again. The usually vibrant witch had lost faith quickly, especially after Ron was admitted just down the hall from her, and once she was home, she barely left her room. The only time Hermione ever saw flashes of her old friend was when she was with her sons, and so she had insisted on Ginny moving in with them. Her friend had shut down almost entirely, never leaving her room, spending her time either staring blankly into the middle distance or sleeping.
With yet another person under Hermione’s care, she was stretching herself thin, but she had no choice. People needed her, it was as simple as that, so she put herself second. Or seventh? Eighth? She’d lost count of the amount of people that relied on her these days. It was tiring work, but she’d do it all again in a second.
She hadn’t ever considered that the boys would be with her for longer than a year. Perhaps that had been remiss of her, but she simply hadn’t thought of the possibility. Here she was, three years on, with two seven year olds and one nine year old, a central parental figure in their lives. She’d always made sure that they knew their parents, she told them tales of all four of them often, even if she hadn’t known Astoria too well. Hermione felt it was important that the boys didn’t replace them with her in their heads. She wasn’t Mum, she was Mione.

Closing Ginny’s door gently behind her, she made her way back downstairs.

“Good morning, Narcissa.” She smiled at the witch, who was reading the Prophet at the kitchen table. Malfoy’s mother joined them for breakfast every day, a ritual that had become important to Hermione. She hadn’t expected to bond with the woman in the way that she had, but as they both clung to the same hope of Malfoy one day coming home whilst staying strong for Scorpius, they had found common ground.
“Morning Hermione. How is Ginny today?” She lowered the newspaper, eyes full of genuine concern.
Hermione shook her head slightly. “Not so cognizant, unfortunately. I’m hoping she manages the breakfast tray I took up to her, but she looked right through me.”
“Poor, poor girl. I suppose we can only hope that tomorrow is a little better for her.”
“I hope so. Have you had tea already?”
“No, I was waiting for you.” She smiled, and Hermione grabbed two mugs from the cupboard.

Her entire life was Scorpius, Albus, and James these days. When she’d told Ron that she thought her journals were really something that day in the kitchen, she’d been right. She’d started selling them in her shop, and they’d proved so popular that she was able to hire a few people. In a strange turn of events, her shop was now run by one Theodore Nott, pureblood slytherin and close friend of Malfoy’s. She wasn’t sure how they’d never met before, but his interest in books rivalled her own, and she trusted him implicitly. He was always thorough and diligent, and it meant that she didn’t need to worry about her shop and could focus on the boys at home.
It wouldn’t be too long before James would be off to Hogwarts, a thought that terrified her, and she wanted to ensure that the three had a bit of a head start in their education. She’d always intended to tutor them, and had done so from the day Malfoy and Harry left, but she had admittedly ramped things up a little recently.

“Morning Mione. Grandma.” Scorpius said cheerfully, sliding into one of the chairs. “Anything from Dad?”
“No, sorry Scorp.” Hermione replied, and he nodded, smiling sadly. He’d asked every day since communication stopped.
“What are we doing today?” He asked, as Narcissa buttered him some toast. Hermione had worked hard to not let her spoil her grandson too much, particularly when James and Albus weren’t getting that same kind of treatment, but there were one or two things where Scorpius had special attention. Not having to make his own breakfast was one of them.
“Well, our Wiggenweld potion is almost done, so we can take a look at that. I thought you might like to fly today, too, seeing as it’s such a nice day.” Yes, she’d taught the boys how to make a potion they would learn in their first year at Hogwarts a few years early, but they’d all been enthralled with the process, and it never hurt to be ahead. The flying, on the other hand, Hermione wasn’t quite as passionate about. In fact, she hated it, but she knew that had they been here, Harry and Malfoy would have taught their kids to fly, so she pushed aside her own fear and took them out whenever the weather was nice. She didn’t let them go too high, and they had to stay within her garden, but all three boys came alive when they were in the air. The apple definitely didn’t fall far from the tree, and she could see so much of their fathers in them when they were on their brooms. She made sure that they knew about the link, the epic battles Malfoy and Harry had on the quidditch pitch as seekers, and they were all keen to take up the sport when they started Hogwarts, much to Hermione’s chagrin. She couldn’t have had less interest in quidditch, but again, she knew that Harry and Malfoy would have introduced their sons to the sport, so she had done so too. It also helped Ginny, she’d noticed the witch watching from the window whenever the boys flew, and so she made sure they were always where she was able to see them. She knew Ginny longed to fly with them, teaching them the tricks she’d learned during her professional career, and perhaps one day she might be able to, but for now, she was confined to her wheelchair.
They’d had a number of discussions about Hogwarts. She’d told them a bit about the war, but hadn’t gone into too much detail. She knew she’d need to before they started school, but if she was honest, she was holding off. She didn’t know what Harry and Malfoy would have said to them, about the war and the part they each played in it, and she didn’t want to overstep and say something wrong without them there. Instead, they spoke about the good times she’d had, about the four houses and where they thought they’d end up.
James was a gryffindor, no doubt about it. It was as if Harry had cloned himself, his son was a carbon copy with his messy black hair and boundless amounts of energy. Albus, however, Hermione wasn’t sure about. He was really quite different to his brother, content to sit back and observe rather than actively take part in things. She would put Galleons behind him being a ravenclaw or slytherin, if somebody forced her to take a guess. Scorpius was a similar story. He was definitely no gryffindor, but would be quite at home in any of the other houses if she was honest. She could definitely see slytherin traits in the boy, something his father would be pleased about, but she wouldn’t be too shocked if he was a ravenclaw instead. Quietly, she hoped that Albus and Scorpius would end up in the same house, having observed the special connection they had developed during their time living with her.
She wished more than anything that Harry and Malfoy were here to speculate with her. She wished that they’d been able to see the people their children had become, that they hadn’t missed so much.

“We’re going flying? Awesome!” James said, barreling into the room. Albus trailed behind him.
“Mione says we can look at the potion today too.” Scorpius said, and Albus smiled.
“It’s done?” He asked her, and she nodded. “Cool.” Albus was a child of few words, he always had been. It was part of the reason she hoped he’d have Scorpius for a house mate when they started Hogwarts, he needed someone with him that understood how he operated. It wasn’t disinterestedness, or even shyness, it was just the way he was.
“How is Mum?” James asked a little quieter, sitting on the chair next to her.
“I think we should let her rest this morning, but I’ll check on her a bit later and we can see if she’s up for visitors then, alright?”
“Ok.” He nodded. It was unsettling for them to see their mother in her current condition. Ginny had always been so full of life, so bright and warm, and now she was the exact opposite. She was stuck in a spiral of grief, unable to face a world that didn’t have Harry and Ron in it. When she was alone at night, Hermione knew exactly how she felt. She allowed herself to fall apart alone in her bed, where nobody could see her. She mourned her friends. She mourned Malfoy, and what they might have been. She lamented the time they’d wasted. She counted her lucky stars that she still had James, Albus, and Scorpius, still had some small part of the men she missed so completely. If she’d allowed herself, she might have ended up like Ginny, feeling listless and questioning how she was meant to carry on, but she had been trusted to care for three young boys, and that was what she was going to do, for as long as they needed her, whatever life threw their way. For Harry and Malfoy, for Ron and Ginny, she wouldn’t let them down.

“We were so high up, Mum, did you see from the window? I really want to be good at quidditch when I start Hogwarts, just like you and Dad.” James babbled, sitting on the edge of Ginny’s bed as she nursed a cup of tea. Albus quietly leaned on her shoulder, listening intently as James regaled them with the day’s activities. Scorpius was on Hermione’s lap. He was a little big for it now, but she felt it was important that he felt involved when the Potter’s had their family time, what with both of his parents being separated from him. She held him tightly, and he rested his head on her, breathing deeply.
“I did see you all, it was very impressive. I’m sure you will be great, James.” Ginny smiled, the dark circles beneath her eyes betraying how tired she was. “Hey, I need to talk to Mione, do you reckon you could find something to occupy yourselves with for a bit?”
“Of course, Mum. Come on, Al.” James hopped off the bed, and held out his hand for his brother to take. Scorpius wriggled from her grasp, running after them. Ginny patted the space on the bed next to her, and Hermione joined her friend.
“How are you doing, Hermione?” She asked, and Hermione shrugged.
“I’m alright.”
“You’re lying.”
“Obviously.”
Ginny leaned her head on Hermione’s shoulder, and sighed. “I’m sorry I’m not very helpful, you’ve taken on so much all on your own.”
“Don’t say that, Gin. You need to give yourself time to process everything, that’s completely ok to do. Don’t you worry about me, I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. The boys are everything to me.”
“And when is it your turn to process everything we’ve lost? When do you get to be vulnerable?”
“When they come home.”
“Hermione, you shouldn’t have to carry on like this.”
“I never said it was fair, Gin, but it’s what I have to do. You and Harry and Malfoy all asked me to care for your children when you were unable to. I will continue to do that for as long as you need me to.”
“We don’t deserve you.” Ginny teared up, and Hermione wiped her face gently.
“Yes, you do.”
“Alright then, Malfoy doesn’t.” They both laughed, and Hermione wrapped her arms around her friend.
“It’ll be ok, Gin. We’ll get there.”
“There are days when I struggle, when I lose all hope and everything seems so dark, and then I remember that you’re still here. You’re still fighting for all of us, shouldering everybody’s troubles, staying the course. I don’t know what we’d do without you, Hermione.” She remembered the conversation with Malfoy all those years ago when he’d told her the same thing. She swallowed thickly.
“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
“I know. That is the only thing that keeps me going, the fact that I know you mean that.” Her eyes began to flutter, and Hermione unwrapped her arms, lifting off the bed gently as her friend fell asleep.
As she made her way down the hall, she quickly wiped away the tears that had escaped. Often, when she panicked about something, she’d repeat a mantra in her head. ‘You’ve been through worse’. The only problem was, she wasn’t entirely sure that she had.

***

It had been a bad day. She didn’t really have good days all that often anymore, but she knew a bad day when she saw one. Albus had woken up screaming, a terrible nightmare about his dad, which had in turn spooked the incredibly empathetic Scorpius with whom he shared a room. James had been upset because his brother was upset, which, in turn, put a dampener on everyone’s spirits. Hermione had held Ginny for nearly an hour after the woman had broken down, feeling guilty that she couldn’t be there for her son in the way she wanted, and Molly had also been struggling when she dropped off lunch for the witch, having had another conversation with the healers about the lack of progress Ron was making.
She sighed deeply, nursing a cup of tea. She was sitting on the old swinging bench in the garden, enjoying the evening breeze. The boys had gone to bed already, and she’d taken up some dinner to Ginny that would probably go uneaten, and she had decided to take a moment for herself.

“I don’t know how you do it.” Narcissa said, making Hermione jump. “Apologies, my dear, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She gestured to the bench, and Hermione made space for her.
“Don’t know how I do what?” She asked, and Narcissa smiled sadly.
“I was just sitting at home in my very empty manor feeling quite sorry for myself, and I found that I was willing it to be time for breakfast so I could come here again. Before I knew it, I’d stepped through the floo. When I say I don’t know how you do it, I mean all of this. Everything that has happened, I don’t know how you stay so strong with so many people relying on you.”
Hermione breathed out, and shrugged slightly. “As far I’m concerned, there isn’t another option. The war made it clear just how important family is, I know you understand that more than most. When these people need me, I’m here, as simple as that.”
“You have always been a very impressive witch, Hermione, and for longer than I care to admit, I have been so misguided as to be ignorant of that fact. I see you now, and I cannot think of another person alive that is as determined, loyal, or resilient. We are all so incredibly lucky to have you care about us, and one day, I hope to be able to repay you for that.”
She quickly wiped away a single tear. “Thank you Narcissa. I promised Draco that I’d look after Scorpius whilst he was away, and I will continue to do that to the best of my ability until he’s home, I promise.”
“And once he and Mr Potter are home? Will you finally rest?”
“I fully intend on taking the world’s longest bath, to be completely honest.”
The older witch chuckled. “I dare say you’ve more than earned it. We will get through this, Hermione. I truly believe that.”
“As do I.” They’d get through it, that wasn’t a lie. She wasn’t as convinced they’d get through it entirely unscathed, however. She was rapidly running out of hope, and she didn’t know for how much longer she could hold everyone around her up when she herself was beginning to crumble. She just prayed that Malfoy and Harry would be home soon, in one piece ideally. The weight of responsibility was eating her alive, and there wasn’t much of her left to give.