Chapter 1
May 2, 1998 : 139
“Expelliarmus!”
Hermione watched as Draco’s head whipped around and tracked his wand as it flew through the air. She saw devastation and horror consume his eyes as the long piece of wood landed in her grasp. And as the words, “I love you,” fell from her lips, she visibly saw his heart shatter into a million pieces.
Then, everything went silent.
When Hermione opened her eyes, she was met by a blinding light. She blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the brightness that surrounded her. Once her vision cleared, she took in her surroundings. She was at King’s Cross, only it was different.
For starters, it was clean, almost sterile. Then there was the energy radiating in the air. The students weren’t excitedly running around and muttering quick goodbyes to their parents before rushing onto the train. Instead, they were reuniting. The platform was crowded with individuals of various ages, all of whom had tears streaming down their faces as they tightly held onto their loved ones.
“Hermione,” an elegant voice echoed from behind.
Turning, Hermione’s gaze landed on the source of the sound - it was Narcissa. She felt a pang of apprehension in her chest. Was she angry with her for being with her son? Was she angry at Hermione for threatening to ruin the purity of their bloodline? Did Narcissa even know that they were together?
There were too many unknowns that left Hermione unsure of how to approach the situation. So instead, she remained silent and prayed that Narcissa would break the silence between them.
“I was hoping I wouldn’t see you here today,” Narcissa sighed. “Though, I’d be lying if I said that I was surprised.”
“P-pardon?” Hermione stuttered, confused by her statement.
“Love is a powerful thing,” she replied before turning and making her way down the platform.
Hermione didn’t know if she was meant to be following. That was until Narcissa glanced back at her and tilted her head slightly, signalling for her to do so. Once Hermione caught up and was at her side, Narcissa continued speaking.
“As I was saying, love is a powerful thing, Hermione. It can be beautiful, magical even. It can also be so strong that one is willing to give their life to save the one that they love. With that being said, it can also sometimes blind us, cause us to make poor decisions, and ignore certain signs that are telling us to run the other way. Take me, for example.”
“Oh, I-well, I don’t-” Hermione fumbled over her words as she found herself, once again, unsure of what to do.
Was this a test?
Did Narcissa want to see if she’d speak ill of her husband?
“You needn’t filter yourself around me, Hermione,” Narcissa said with a soft smile. “I’m aware that my husband is many things, a good man rarely being one of them.”
Hermione offered her a smile in return and a slight nod, still feeling hesitant to verbalise her own opinions. As the pair continued their way down the platform in silence, Hermione took the time to observe the people surrounding them.
To her left was an elderly gentleman who was holding a woman, who looked to be in her mid-thirties, in a tight embrace. Based on the tears staining their cheeks and the few coherent words she overheard the man say, Hermione felt safe in her assumption that they were family members - perhaps even a father and daughter reuniting.
Straight ahead were two men in their mid to late twenties. For a moment, they just stared at one another, each refusing to speak because they knew that once they did, they’d break. Hermione watched as the taller blond finally took a step in and placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder. Immediately, the slightly shorter brunette threw his arms around him.
They were friends, Hermione decided. Best friends even.
For each group of people that they passed, Hermione intently observed their interactions and conjured a backstory for all of them. It made things easier for her, to imagine a full life for them, because she couldn’t bring herself to admit that a majority of them, especially the younger ones, were robbed of their futures - that she was robbed of her future.
Hermione’s observation of everyone was interrupted when Narcissa came to a halt and said, “May I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Hermione replied.
“You loved Draco, yes?”
“Yes,” she replied confidently. “I’ve never loved someone as much as I love him.”
“You say love as in, you still do?”
Hermione nodded. “I’m always going to love him. Death will not change that.”
“Thank you,” Narcissa said quietly with tear-filled eyes. “All I ever wanted was for him to see that he was capable and worthy of being loved. It brings me peace to know that someone was able to see what I’ve always seen in him.”
“That he’s good,” Hermione added.
“Yes.”
“Then I feel like it’s important for me to thank you.”
“What for?”
“For raising him to be the good man that I fell in love with,” Hermione explained. “He always spoke fondly of you, and I can see why.”
“You’re too kind, Hermione,” Narcissa smiled, her voice cracking slightly. Letting out a deep breath, she stepped off to the side and elegantly raised her arm, gesturing for Hermione to board the train.
“Where does it go?” she asked nervously.
“I’m not sure, but from what I’ve heard, you aren’t the type to be scared off by the unknown.”
Hermione always thrived on having a plan for everything. A plan for her day, month, and year. A plan for how to get out of whatever sticky situation Harry and Ron manage to get them into, and a plan for how certain moments in her life were supposed to go. Dying at the age of eighteen wasn’t a part of that plan nor was meeting her boyfriend’s mother for the first time in the afterlife. She had always planned for her and Draco to go over to the manor on the weekend for tea or dinner one evening. That was how she was meant to meet Narcissa. And most importantly, she had always planned for Draco to be with her, but he wasn’t.
There was no need for plans anymore. Everything that Hermione had carefully mapped out for herself was thrown out the window because her circumstances had changed. The things she had anticipated to achieve and the memories she looked forward to making with Draco were no longer attainable.
So, as she closed her eyes, she started new.
Her hopes for getting a secluded cottage or a flat in a Muggle town with Draco were discarded and replaced with the hope that Draco would live a full life, a happy life. And then, when the time was right, she would meet him here and they could begin their life together. It wouldn’t be the one that they had planned for, but it would be theirs.
Opening her eyes, Hermione let out a deep breath and boarded the train.
May 5, 1998 : 137
“How is he?” Narcissa questioned as she and Hermione joined Lucius by the fireplace.
“He’s on his second bottle,” Lucius replied with an exhausted sigh.
Narcissa claimed the seat next to her husband while Hermione opted to remain standing. Even though Narcissa had insisted that there was no animosity, Hermione found herself still walking on eggshells when around Draco’s parents. As far as she was concerned, they were complete strangers. Lucius refused to even acknowledge Hermione’s presence, and while Narcissa was nothing but nice to her, there was still this formidable essence to her.
Leaning forward slightly, Hermione focused her attention on the orange flames. It was all so odd to her, watching Draco this way. This wasn’t how she thought it would be. Hermione always thought that if an individual was capable of watching over their loved ones in the afterlife, it would be similar to using a pensieve. She assumed that she’d be able to walk by his side. She assumed that, in a way, she would be able to be with him.
Instead, Hermione and his parents gathered in front of some tiny fireplace and watched him like he was some sort of character in a movie, and it was breaking her.
It was a rare occurrence for her to step away from the fireplace. The only time she did would be when she’d sleep for a few hours or when she’d go check in on her friends and parents. Hermione wanted to make sure that they were okay as well, but it was different. Her parents had no recollection of her, so her passing had no impact on them. As for Ginny, Harry, and Ron, they had each other. They were hurting, of course, there were a lot of lives lost, but at the end of the day, they weren’t alone in their grief.
But Draco.
Draco was alone.
His isolation, however, was not a result of having nobody wanting to be there for him. Two days ago, Blaise, Pansy, and Theo went to visit him, and just yesterday, Harry and Ginny went to go see him, but Draco ordered Bippy to send them all away.
Everyone expected him to be in poor condition as he grieved. They even prepared themselves to watch as he spiralled. Draco had lost so many people: his parents, his cousin, and his Granger. But Hermione knew grief. She had seen Harry struggle with it after he had lost Sirius, and then later, Dumbledore.
No.
What Draco was experiencing wasn’t grief.
It was something far more painful than that.
It was guilt.
And the forced isolation was him punishing himself.
From the second he’d wake and begin drinking, until the moment the calming draught would knock him out, Hermione would watch and listen as he blamed himself.
“It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. If I had just done what I was told then none of this would have happened. They would still be here. She would still be here.”
Guilt had consumed him so much that at this point, Hermione wouldn’t be surprised if one day she overheard Draco blame himself for the entire war. It was painful for everyone to watch, but someone who seemed to be affected by it the most was surprisingly, Lucius.
“He’s not getting any better,” Lucius muttered to Narcissa.
“Give him some more time, darling. His wounds are still fresh. He’ll heal eventually,” she replied. Narcissa’s words might have been convincing if it weren’t for the crack in her voice.
“I need a break,” Lucius stated, frustration lacing his words.
Growing up, Hermione always wished she had the power to see inside of someone’s mind. Of course, when she started attending Hogwarts, she discovered that she was capable of it. She had tried a few times to perform the act of legilimency in an attempt to help Harry decode the visions of Voldemort he was seeing. To her displeasure, the skill didn’t come naturally to her.
The idea of being able to read someone’s mind was appealing mainly because Harry and Ron were absolute shit at expressing their feelings. But now, it would help her understand individuals like Lucius. Since he didn’t speak to her or even look in her general direction, Hermione was left to come up with her own conclusion as to why seeing Draco struggle so much was so upsetting.
There was the obvious reason - his son was in pain.
Though, Hermione found it hard to believe that was it. She remembered the stories that Draco had told her about his father and based on those, Lucius seemed to enjoy inflicting pain on his son.
Then there was the second possible reason - Lucius was annoyed that his son was letting his emotions control him. Based on a conversation she remembered having with Draco during the Horcrux hunt, this reason made the most sense.
“The locket works, I don’t magically disable whatever curse was placed on it. I just don’t grant it control over me,” Draco explained.
“You say that like it’s such a simple thing.”
“It is, for me at least. I’ve never been in a position where I could let my emotions control me, so why would I let a stupid locket do so?”
That was it, Hermione had decided. That conversation, combined with the stories Draco had shared with her, it was obvious that Lucius was the one who taught Draco that it wasn’t okay to show your emotions, let alone allow them to control you. And right now, Draco’s emotions had full power over him.
“He’ll heal,” Narcissa stated, snapping Hermione from her thoughts. “One day, Draco will heal and he’ll be okay, right?” her glossy eyes flickered up to meet Hermione’s.
Hermione didn’t have a definitive answer for her. How could she? Sure, Harry healed, was able to find peace, and move on after losing Sirius and Dumbledore, but Draco wasn’t Harry. He didn’t process things the same way. As much as Hermione hated the saying, she knew that only time could tell. But, as she looked into Narcissa’s eyes, she could see the desperation. Narcissa needed someone to tell her that her son was going to be alright, even if it were a lie.
“Yes,” Hermione nodded. “He’s going to be okay.”
***
An hour or so passed before Narcissa excused herself, leaving Hermione alone. With no one else around, the muscles in her shoulders and neck relaxed and she felt like she could finally breathe. She wanted to stay strong for the others but it was exhausting.
Hermione was now sitting on the floor, her legs pulled into her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them and her chin propped up on her knee as she sat in silence with Draco. He had reached the part of the evening where the calming draught had started to kick in. Draco was curled up on the couch, his hands tightly clutching on the book that he had given Hermione for Christmas.
It was moments like these where Hermione allowed herself to slip into a state of delusion.
Into a state that let her pretend that they were together.
That he could hear her.
“I remember the day that you gave me that book. It was the same day I realised just how screwed I truly was when it came to you,” she lightly chuckled as she reminisced on the memory. “Every time I thought I had you figured out, you’d surprise me with a new intriguing, charming, and endearing side to you. I fully believe that even if we were lucky enough to spend an entire lifetime together, it still wouldn’t have been enough time to learn everything that makes you, you. You’re an impossibly complicated individual, Draco Malfoy. But Gods, what an adventure it would’ve been navigating life with you.”
Reaching out in front of her, Hermione closed her eyes and imagined that she was sitting on the couch beside him. She tapped into the details of his body that she had committed to memory during the war. She remembered how it felt to run her fingers through his hair, the warmth of his body against hers, the areas of his skin that were soft and the patches that were rough. She remembered the smell of his cologne and how it used to intoxicate all of her senses.
And lastly, she remembered how his heartbeat would sync with hers.
“I love you, Draco,” she whispered as tears burned their way down her cheeks.
May 7, 1998 - 135
Life after death was overly predictable. Hermione knew what to expect every day that she woke. First, she’d roll over in her bed and bury her face in her pillow to steal just a few more minutes of silence. Then, when she finally mustered enough energy, she’d drag herself out of bed and join everyone downstairs. Mornings were odd. They didn’t sit together at a table and enjoy some eggs or a glass of tea. There was no need to. Food served no purpose to them now because their bodies no longer relied on it to survive.
Instead, Hermione would awkwardly stand off to the side while Narcissa and Lucius sat on the couch and watched over their son. At least once a day his parents would get into some sort of argument. It was always the same thing, Lucius would voice his agitation regarding his son’s mental state, Narcissa would try to calm him down, and then Lucius would storm off. Narcissa would always stick around for a little bit longer, but eventually, even she’d state that she needed a break.
For the rest of the day, Hermione would be left with the privacy that she yearned for. She’d take small breaks here and there, mostly when Remus and Tonks would stop by. Hermione knew how close Tonks and Draco were so she’d always take that time to go check in on her parents and friends to provide Tonks with some space.
“Hermione?” a soft voice spoke. Lifting her head, Hermione met Tonks’ kind eyes. “Have you been here all night?” she asked.
Hermione nodded as she gently rubbed her eyes. “I can go for a walk to give you some privacy,” she offered as she let out a yawn.
“Nonsense,” Tonks said as she sat down next to Hermione. “I find it comforting to have someone with me,” she smiled softly.
“Is Remus not coming?”
“No, he’s with Teddy right now. It’s been… one of those days, you know?”
Hermione knew exactly what she meant. There were days where she could do all of this without getting choked up a single time, and then there were days where she found it difficult to pull in a single breath without feeling like she was suffocating. That’s why it was nice to have Remus and Tonks. Not that Hermione was happy that they both lost their lives during the war, but selfishly, she was glad to have someone she knew and who knew her.
Tonks was like a sister to her, which is why she was the one who Hermione would rant to about how maddening Draco was during the Horcrux hunt. And since Remus was married to Tonks, he was also present for a majority of the speeches. They’d both sit, nod their heads, and bite their tongues as Hermione would complain about how maddening Draco was.
Hermione remembered the day that she had awkwardly informed them that she and Draco were dating. The second the words fell from her lips, Remus shot up from his seat, clapped his hands and said, “Took you two long enough!” Both of their reactions to the news confused Hermione. She thought that they would’ve been surprised, but they weren’t because they knew Hermione. They knew her so well that they could see past the complaints at the surface and notice the feelings developing. They knew her so well that they could tell based off of the way her demeanour shifted at the mention of Draco’s name, that she loved him.
This was why she was glad to have them with her.
They knew how much she loved Draco.
Which meant that they knew how sitting here, day after day, watching him break, was the cruelest form of torture for her. But because they knew how much she loved Draco, they also understood why she’d continue to put herself through it by staying with him all day.
“What about Draco?” Tonks asked. “What kind of day is he having?”
The question made Hermione’s chest ache. All she wanted was to be able to say that he was doing better, even if it were only slightly, but she couldn’t.
“Not well,” Hermione replied.
“Survivor’s guilt is a debilitating thing. He blames himself for everything that happened, for losing all of us.”
Hermione nodded.
“I just wish he’d realise that it wasn’t, that it was our decision.”
“Yes, well, you know Draco, always the stubborn sort,” Tonks lightly chuckled.
He was definitely stubborn. At one point, Hermione had almost found that side of him endearing. She liked how determined he was once he had his sight set on something. Of course, there were times where his stubbornness would be a major pain in her side, which is exactly what it was right now.
Hermione couldn’t take it anymore. All she wanted to do was grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him that she didn’t sacrifice her life to save him so that he could waste away in the manor. She wanted to tell him that drowning himself in alcohol each day wouldn’t bring any of them back.
She wanted to tell him that she loved him.
That she was okay.
And that it was okay for him to heal and move on.
But no matter how loudly she yelled into the burning flames, he wouldn’t hear her. He wouldn’t hear her because she was no longer a part of his world, and he was no longer a part of hers. Instead, all Hermione could do was sit and watch and hope that someday, Draco would find the strength and courage to forgive himself. She knew it wouldn’t be easy and that there would be hard days he’d have to combat, but she believed in his resilience.
She believed in him.
So, Hermione continued to sit with him in his darkness and hoped that somehow, someway, Draco would eventually find his way back to the light.
Tonks and Hermione sat together in silence and watched as Draco rocked back and forth, his sobs echoing in the stillness of the afterlife. When Hermione’s breath hitched, Tonks reached for Hermione’s hand and squeezed it tightly.
“Hermione,” Tonks said softly. “Can I ask you something?”
Peeling her eyes away from the fireplace, Hermione looked over at Tonks and nodded her head.
“What keeps you here? I think it’s safe to say that there is more to this whole afterlife thing than sitting in front of fireplaces all day. So what keeps you from moving on?”
Hermione didn’t need time to think the question over, she knew why.
“I already left him once, and even though he wouldn’t know, I can’t leave him a second time,” she replied.
The corner of Tonks’ mouth tugged up into a small smile as tears gathered in her eyes.
“What about you?” Hermione asked. “What’s keeping you here?”
“I want to move on and so does Remus, but we both fear that when we do, we won’t be able to see Teddy,” she admitted. “I think one day we’ll be strong enough to let go but right now, we just want a little more time with our son.”
May 9, 1998 - 133
“Wake up,” a deep voice commanded. “I said wake up!”
Abruptly, Hermione’s eyes snapped open and she shot up in her bed. She didn’t know who she expected to see, but the man standing before her would’ve never been someone she would’ve considered. Lucius stood tall, his shoulders rolled back and his chin tilted up slightly as he stared down his nose at her.
“Mr Malfoy, what are you-”
Lucius raised his hand to silence her. “We don’t have the time, nor do I wish to conjure the energy needed to answer whatever question you were about to ask,” he stated. “You’re needed downstairs.”
Spinning on his heels, he headed for the door. When he heard no movement from behind informing him that Hermione was following, he glanced over his shoulder at her and said, “That wasn’t a request, Miss Granger. Get up.”
Pushing the blanket off of her, Hermione swung her legs over the edge of the bed, slipped on her shoes and followed him out. As she descended the stairs with Lucius, her mind began racing with a million different questions.
What’s going on?
Did something happen?
Were Remus and Tonks okay?
Was Draco okay?
Why the hell was Lucius the one they sent to retrieve her?
Before Hermione could explore any possible answers to her endless list of questions, Narcissa ran up to her.
“He’s left the manor,” she stated.
“W-what?” Hermione’s brows furrowed in confusion.
She was certain that she had heard Narcissa wrong. Just yesterday, Draco had locked himself in his father’s study and drank his way through every bottle of liquor that he came across until he eventually passed out. Showering was a task in itself for him most days and she couldn’t remember the last time she saw him consume anything other than alcohol or calming draught. There was no possible way that Draco woke up today and had suddenly decided to leave the manor for a nice stroll.
“Come, take a look,” Narcisa urged as she grabbed Hermione’s hand and dragged her over to the fireplace. “See,” she said as she pointed at the flames, “that’s not a room in the manor.”
Hermione couldn’t believe it. Draco had left the manor. But the thing that shocked her the most was where he was instead. She recognised the interior because she had seen it yesterday when she checked in on her friends.
“He’s at Harry’s,” Hermione gasped.
Narcissa, Lucius, Tonks, and Remus snapped their eyes over to her.
“Harry, as in Harry Potter?” Narcissa asked.
Hermione nervously nodded.
“Why would my son be there?” Lucius questioned.
“I don’t kno-” Hermione began, but Remus cut her off.
“He’s going to ask Harry for the resurrection stone.”
Hermione’s stomach instantly dropped. She felt like she was about to throw up.
“My son is not foolish enough to seek out such a dark artefact,” Lucius sneered at Remus.
“I don’t think Draco is foolish at all,” Remus replied. “But I do think that he’s desperate enough. I think he’s finally been pushed over the edge and the only way for him to get what he wants would be through the use of the resurrection stone.”
“What is it that you think he wants?” Narcissa asked.
“The person that made his life worth living,” he sighed as he looked over at Hermione.
“No,” Hermione said as she shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t-Draco knows how dangerous-he wouldn’t-”
“Hermione,” Tonks’ voice was gentle as she cautiously walked towards her.
“No!” she shouted. “You’re wrong! Draco wouldn’t do that to me!”
Tonks held her hands out in a calming gesture, as if to say, “It’s okay,” but Hermione kept moving backwards. She didn’t want to hear it, she didn’t want to be told that it was okay because it wasn’t. It was offensive, the claim that Remus had made. It was offensive to her and it was offensive to Draco. For the first time, Hermione found herself agreeing with Lucius. Draco wouldn’t be foolish enough to do something like that. There had to be another reason as to why he was at Harry’s. Maybe he was finally asking for help, maybe he was finally starting to heal.
“We should talk about what will happen should he find the stone,” Remus stated.
“He’s not looking for it!” Both Hermione and Lucius shouted at the same time.
Remus and Lucius continued to argue back and forth and Tonks attempted to step in to help diffuse the situation, but it wasn’t until Narcissa spoke that everyone finally quieted down.
“Love is a powerful thing,” she murmured in a quiet and calming tone as she looked at Hermione with a sympathetic gaze. “Powerful enough to sometimes blind us and cause us to make poor decisions.”
She remembered Narcissa saying that to her when they were at King’s Cross and while the statement held some validity, Hermione refused to believe that it did right now because if it did, then that would mean that Draco would be forcing her into a life that she didn’t want.
When Tonks took another step toward her, Hermione jerked away and said, “I’m sorry but you’re wrong, Remus. You’re all wrong. You don’t know him like I do. Draco would never put me through something like that and I’m not going to sit here and listen to you argue otherwise.”
Hermione bolted up the stairs before anyone had the chance to respond. As soon as she reached her room, slammed the door shut and locked it, her legs gave out. Tears streamed down her face as she collapsed to the ground and released all of her pain through gut-wrenching sobs.
She had always been a fighter, someone who never backed down in the face of danger. Even in death, Hermione remained steadfast. But for all her strength and bravery, there was one thing that she had never allowed herself to do - feel her own grief. Hermione had buried her pain deep inside, refusing to acknowledge the weight of her own loss. The loss of her parents, of her friends, and of her future with Draco. She never felt like she was allowed to feel any of those things because they were all a result of the choices that she had made.
She was the one who decided to obliviate her parents.
She was the one who chose to give her life so that Draco could continue his.
What right did she have to sit around crying and cursing the world for taking away her life when it was her decision? But there was one additional thing that she refused to acknowledge - the fact that she was human. After years of being called ‘the brightest witch of her age’ and having people turn to her for all of the answers, Hermione started to view herself as more of a resource, sometimes even a weapon, more than a person.
Whenever they hit a wall during the Horcrux hunt and found themselves unsure of what to do next, Hermione would blame herself. She was supposed to know what to do, to have a plan, to fix things. She knew that no one ever meant to make her feel that way and that it was just how things turned out over the years but that didn’t stop her from feeling like the only thing she was good for was her knowledge.
And then came Draco.
He mocked her for being a ‘know-it-all’ and he didn’t rely on her to come up with a plan. He was arrogant, rude, conniving, and he was also one of the very few people who never expected anything from her. With him, Hermione didn’t have to always have the answers.
With him, she was allowed to make mistakes.
To be scared.
To be human.
Hermione knew that Remus was right when he said that Draco was desperate but she couldn’t bring herself to believe that he was desperate enough to use the resurrection stone to bring her back. He was smart, smarter than she cared to admit most of the time, which meant he was aware of the dangers of the stone and of the pain it would inflict on her.
Her breathing had started to steady and her eyes were beginning to dry when suddenly, Hermione felt a strange tug in her chest. Then, the room around her warped and she felt herself being pulled away.
Hermione gasped for air as she struggled to find her balance. Her head was pounding as she tried to figure out what had just happened. She was in her room just a few seconds ago, and now she stood amongst hundreds of trees that stood so tall they touched the clouds. There was something familiar about her surroundings but she couldn’t figure out why.
She could’ve sworn she’d seen these trees before or had she just dreamt of them once?
What was this place?
How did she get here?
Was this even real?
The questions were enough to worsen her already painful headache. Everything hurt. Her head, her eyes, her legs, arms, neck. She wanted it all to stop; the questions, the pain, all of it. Everything in her was telling her to run, to get as far away from this place as possible. Everything except one small, quiet, and calm voice that was telling her to wait.
So, she did.
And then, she heard it. Hermione heard the voice that once yelled at her for being reckless, the one that talked her through multiple panic attacks, and the one that once whispered declarations of love in the quiet of the early morning.
“Granger.”
She had never heard her name spoken with such raw emotion before, it was almost as heartbreaking as the look on his face.
“Draco?”