She waited.
Oh, how she waited.
She counted the seconds, the minutes, the hours, the days.
The weeks, the months, and the years.
Oh, how she waited.
Hermione waited and waited for Draco to return to her.
She waited for the second, the minute, the hour, the day.
The week, the month, the year.
She waited for the instant he would return.
Oh, how she waited.
But he never came.
Hermione cursed the Gods.
Hermione cursed the Earth that kept on turning.
Hermione cursed the sun that rose in the East and set in the West.
Hermione cursed the moon that rose high into the night sky every evening.
Hermione even cursed the stars.
She cursed the stars for being so bright, how their light made her nauseous.
Oh, how she waited.
She haunted her home.
Floated from room to room.
She collected dust as she waited.
Hermione was no more than a forgotten book on a cluttered shelf.
The promise to be read next, the promise to be returned to later in time, the promise that had been broken.
Oh, how she waited.
She wore black that day.
She wore her rings.
She wore mascara-tainted cheeks.
She wore his favorite lipstick.
Oh, how she waited.
She watched them lower him into the dirt.
She heard them all say their goodbyes.
She listened to their condolences.
She tasted the salt of her tears.
Oh, how she waited.
Hermione remembered the day he left.
It had been like any other day.
He went to the apothecary for work.
She went to St. Mungo’s for work.
Oh, how she waited.
There was an accident.
Critical condition.
Explosion.
Toxic fumes.
Call Hermione Granger-Malfoy.
Oh, how she waited.
She remembered seeing him.
Maimed.
Mangled.
Covered in burns.
Barely breathing.
Oh, how she waited.
She said his name repeatedly.
She held his hand.
She watched as he took his final look at her.
I love you –
Oh, how she waited.
Widow.
That’s what she was now.
A widow.
Nothing more than the late wife of Draco Lucius Malfoy.
Oh, how she waited.
Hermione once thought you could die from a broken heart.
But she was wrong.
She was so very wrong.
Because she was still alive.
She wished for her end.
She wished for it daily.
Oh, how she waited.
Hermione’s birthdays kept coming.
Hermione’s life kept on going.
All while she waited.
I can’t watch her like this anymore.
Hermione, please, Draco wouldn’t want this for you.
Draco would want you to live your life.
Draco would’ve wanted you happy.
Draco would’ve wanted you to move on.
But still, she waited.
And she would wait forever and a day.
She would wait until her one-hundredth birthday.
Seconds, minutes, hours, days.
Weeks, months, years.
She waited, oh how she waited.
Until she didn’t have to wait any longer.
“Hello, love.”
Hermione was young again.
Hermione smiled again.
Hermione jumped into his arms again.
Hermione squealed with unbridled joy.
“I waited for you, Draco.”
Oh, how she waited.