It’s been ten years since the war. Ten years of heartbreak and loneliness. Ten years of loss and remembrance.
Sometimes she feels like she’s surrounded by everyone all at once, suffocating. Sometimes it feels like she’s all alone.
The room is cold as she waits for everyone to show up. The Great Hall is decked to the nines in all sorts of decorations. The banners dangling from the ceiling show the Hogwarts crest. Floating candles illuminate the space. Shooting stars cover a night sky of what would be the ceiling. It’s everything she could’ve asked for.
Floating in and out of the Great Hall are ghosts. Many ghosts. More than she remembers there ever being before. She sees the usual suspects: Nearly Headless Nick, Peeves, the Bloody Baron. Even Helena Ravenclaw left her tower to show up for the Chosen One, to express appreciation for what Harry did for her, for her mother and her legacy.
Then there are her classmates and friends. She sees Lavender Brown, smiling at least, not in pain, not showing scars from her gruesome death, a vision Hermione herself can’t seem to wipe from her own memory.
What makes Hermione happy is seeing how Remus and Tonks are together still in the afterlife. Even better, with Teddy ready to enter Hogwarts, they’ll finally get to be with their son. They’ll get to teach him lessons, spend time with him, get to know him.
It will be an adjustment, surely. For both of them. All of them.
For Teddy to see them but have them not really be there; for him to have to leave them after every school year.
For Harry, not having that opportunity when he was in school. But he’ll understand better than anyone. Harry may be Teddy’s Godfather, but it’s nice that Remus and Tonks get to be here, despite the circumstances, to get to know their son. It’s a blessing enmeshed in a curse.
Harry never got that opportunity with his parents, but Hermione knows he would’ve taken it in a heartbeat given the chance. Hermione can’t blame him.
She herself will never see her parents again, though she doesn’t dwell on that. They’re safe in Australia as planned, as she always wanted. They were never captured or tortured or killed. They didn’t have to suffer knowing everything that happened to Hermione throughout the war, and she’ll always be grateful for her forethought.
Laughter permeates the air from the other side of the hall and turning around, she’s greeted with translucent, faded red hair and she can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips.
There’s Fred, smiling and laughing, working alongside Peeves as another jokester. Together they’re incorrigible, unstoppable. McGonagall has her work cut out for her with those two.
Dumbledore rarely pops by, but he’s always in the portrait watching. Today, though, he’s decided to make an appearance. He’s even giving a speech. It will surely be bittersweet at best. There won’t be a dry eye in the house.
However, not all ghosts left behind in the aftermath of the war were good.
Those ghosts weren’t welcome. They were only here to cause chaos and nightmares. McGonagall and the rest of the teachers were able to work their magic, to rid the grounds of the terrors of those horrible spirits. Bellatrix Lestrange being one of them. She wanted to stick around and wreak havoc, to poison the minds of the terrified future generations by perpetuating her transparent and hateful rhetoric. But despite her best efforts, even she’s gone now, no longer hurting anyone.
It’s a big day for a lot of these ghosts. The anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts coincides with the Death Day Celebration. Not everyone wants to celebrate, of course. Every year is a little different.
The first year was especially difficult for so many people to come back. The memories of the good times were overshadowed by the harrowing blood, death, and destruction that tore down these halls. Still, despite everything and regardless of how impossibly gut-wrenching it is, it’s nice to see everyone together. To remember. To mourn.
It’s a reminder of what they all fought for.
This year, no doubt, will be another difficult year, nearly as bad as the first. But she can’t wait to see what everyone thinks of the place.
McGonagall waltzes in the room, her robes billowing behind her as she takes in the space and the handiwork of her team.
“Hello, Headmistress,” Hermione greets her.
“Hermione, dear.” She glances around the room. “Everything looks perfect. Are you keeping an eye on Mr. Weasley? I see him in the corner conspiring with Peeves. I can’t imagine what they have up their sleeves.”
“Yes, I’m watching them. I’m sure they’re planning something spectacular, being ten years and all.”
Minerva sighs. “I almost can’t believe it’s been that long. Sometimes it’s easy to forget with everyone still here…”
Hermione nods. “Well, everyone else should be here soon, yes?”
“Within the hour, surely.”
“Is…is everyone coming?” Hermione swears she feels her cheeks heat.
“Yes, they’ve confirmed they’re coming. He and his mother, I mean.”
Hermione nods and she can’t help but feel a spark of excitement rush through her.
The time after the war brought a lot of surprises to the Wizarding World, but none more than everyone learning about Hermione’s secret relationship with Draco Malfoy. It had been ongoing since fifth year, but nobody knew.
They kept up their act well.
Neither of them wanted anyone to know, but the signs were there. It’s simply that no one recognised the signs for what they were. They didn’t have any reason to suspect anything.
A few times they were almost caught, simple touches and exchanges that came a little too close. The Amortentia in Potions that nearly gave too much away. Harry’s Marauders Map made things both difficult and interesting, especially during sixth year when Harry was so obsessed with Draco one would think they were dating.
But considering they were the top two students of their class, they knew how to hide it and hide it well. And it worked.
Until nearly the end of the war.
Until Bellatrix saw into Draco’s head. Until she found out his secret and took it out on them both by carving into her skin. A scar still etched into her arm, though faint and now blissfully painless.
After that, everyone knew. It didn’t change the course of the war, or their situations. At least, not enough. She still left the Manor, leaving Draco behind to be tortured at his aunt’s hand while Hermione went with Harry and Ron on the Horcrux hunt. She still fought against Voldemort at the school.
She watched as Draco walked away with his parents…
Then she watched him pull away from them and run back. Narcissa chased after him. Both of them defying their Lord at a cost. The cost of Lucius’ life, taken in front of them at the hands of their former Lord.
They knew in that moment they chose correctly. They made the right call. They fought together and it was probably the most proud Hermione had ever felt. She felt…justified in a way. Like she was proving herself right and everyone else wrong. She knew he was good. She knew he was worth it.
He came back for her. He always came back for her.
A high-pitched peal of laughter breaks her thoughts. She turns to the side, finding Lavender floating near her. The afterlife is funny that way. The things that weighed you down in life didn’t seem to matter anymore.
“Hello, Lavender.”
“Hi, Hermione. You were thinking about a boy just now, weren’t you?”
Hermione laughs. “You can always tell.”
“Some things never change.” Lavender winks. “Is he coming tonight?”
Hermione nods. “With Narcissa.”
“She still doesn’t approve?”
Hermione shakes her head. “It’s…complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it,” she says, as if it were that easy.
Hermione feels the urge to laugh. “I’m trying, but this is Draco we’re talking about. He’s stubborn.”
“He loves you.”
“I love him. Always will.”
In that moment, Hermione hears the tell-tale signs of people chattering, growing louder as they walk nearer. She’s like a kid in a candy store, eager to see everyone’s faces. See what they think about the decorations, the ambiance. Hear everyone’s speeches. As much as Harry hates speaking, he’s truly very good at it.
She can’t wait to see Dumbledore and hear him speak for the first time in years. He doesn’t come out often, but when he does, it’s always memorable.
As the doors are pushed open, she’s accosted by a sea of red. The Weasleys have multiplied. Hermione laughs as a gaggle of Weasley kids run into the Great Hall, each of them claiming a table, trying to decide which house they’ll be sorted into when the time comes.
“‘Mione!” Ginny spots her instantly. The redhead runs over to Hermione as best she can, pregnant again.
“Ginny!” She’s alone, except for James and Albus, but Hermione isn’t surprised. It’s trying for Harry to be here, to come back and face it all. He still feels unworthy, even after all these years. She knows he’ll show up eventually, when he’s ready. Probably with Ron at his side, not that she blames them. She’s had time to get used to it after all these years, being at Hogwarts. “You look—”
“Huge, I know, don’t remind me. I don’t even want to talk about it.”
“You look great.”
Ginny smiles. “You look like you haven’t aged a day.”
Hermione laughs. “Don’t start.”
The two of them are unable to catch up any further when raucous laughter echoes through the entire dining hall. It doesn’t take a genius to know George has found Fred once more.
George throws a bright purple sack on one of the dining tables and enlarges it with the wave of his wand. He starts pulling out a bunch of new gadgets from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and shows everything to Fred, who in turn whispers what is likely to be loads of suggestions on how to improve the products. And by improve, of course, that means make them more mischievous.
“It’s nice to see them together again. Hard,” Hermione says, jutting her chin out toward the twins, “but nice.”
“Mum loves it, but every year seems to get more and more difficult. It seems to only weigh her down with every year that passes. George too,” Ginny says sadly. “It’s weird…to have him be here but not be here, you know?” She sighs, and it feels like she’s looking through Hermione. “But I’m glad Fred will be here watching over George’s twins, getting to know his nieces and nephews, when they’re all at Hogwarts.”
Hermione offers a rueful smile at the thought, which reminds her… “Where’s Teddy? Is he coming with Harry, or…?”
Ginny nods. “Yeah, they wanted to come together. The two of them just get each other, you know.”
“It makes sense. They’ve been through the same stuff, practically have the same story.”
“Aside from the horrible extended family, being forced to sleep in a closet, and having a crazy woman prophesize about you and thus sending a madman after you.” She arches a brow, the sarcasm rolling off her in waves.
Hermione shrugs. “I suppose there’s still time for the last part.”
“Don’t even joke,” Ginny says with a chuckle.
“Is Ron coming with Harry too?”
Ginny nods, looking solemn.
Hermione gives her a stern look. “None of that. Why don’t you go keep your brothers in line? Make sure neither of them is planning anything to ruin this night.”
“Jeez, I’m back at Hogwarts for five minutes and you’re already bossing me around,” Ginny jokes, a sad grin tugging at her lips as she turns toward her brothers.
Hermione rolls her eyes and Ginny heads towards the twins, her kids in tow. Hermione waves and smiles at the two boys, but they’re too preoccupied with each other and the rest of the children to pay much attention to her.
More people finally start piling through the doors. Hermione searches the crowd for a tall man with blindingly bright, white-blond hair, but nothing yet. No surprise there. They’ll probably be the last to show up.
The Wizarding World was shockingly kind to the Malfoys after the war. Hermione supposes they suffered enough and the Wizengamot understood that. They had to pay fees for their initial participation and both of them were on probation for several years, but with their assistance to the resistance, with Narcissa helping Harry, with she and Draco switching sides to fight…and with Lucius dying, it was pretty universally accepted that they both paid their dues. If the Wizarding World wanted a real, fresh start, they needed to accept the Malfoys as well. It turned out to be the right move considering how they now run charities and champion for Muggleborn causes.
Though, that may just be one of the major perks of Draco falling in love with a Muggleborn, if Hermione says so herself.
Still, as Hermione knows all too well, the prejudices still run deep and some people don’t think the Malfoys paid enough of a price. Coming back here is challenging for them. Knowing they facilitated the agenda of a madman for so long. Knowing Draco has a permanent scar etched onto his forearm does a lot more damage than good.
Hogwarts is a reminder of everything they did and everything they lost.
And she wishes she could yell at all the people who doubt him. She knew about the Mark and it didn’t change how she felt about him. She knows the real him. Knows he never wanted that Mark. Knows it wasn’t how he felt. Knows he only did what he had to in order to survive and protect his family.
A lot of good that did in the end.
As the people come bustling through the doors, the variety of oohs and aahs please her. Some sniffling and crying disrupt the sounds of amazement, but that was to be expected. Even better, laughter flows through the space. She knows if she could hear plotting, she’d likely hear that coming from Fred, George, and Peeves as well. Nothing good can come from the three of them huddled together.
A whimsical laugh and a throaty chortle capture her attention. Unsurprisingly, she immediately locates the sounds, spotting Luna and Neville laughing together once more. Despite them not working out, she’s glad they remained friends. Though, Hermione doesn’t think Luna has a bad bone in her body and can get along with anyone. Same with Neville, even if he’s a bit more clumsy about it.
Hermione goes to them at once. “It has been far too long since I’ve seen the two of you,” she says, a broad smile pulling at her lips.
“You look lovely, Hermione.” Luna smiles.
Hermione tugs on her sleeves in habit. “So do you, Luna.” Hermione takes in the butterflies in Luna’s hair, not quite sure if they’re real or magical. She decides not to ask.
“You’ll be seeing a lot more of me now, though,” Neville says. “I finally took the Herbology Professor position. I think it’s time.”
“That’s amazing, Neville! Congratulations! You deserve it.”
“Thank you, Hermione.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his empathetic eyes.
Before either of them can address the hippogriff in the room, the doors open and somehow, it’s like everyone knows, and everyone falls silent.
Walking inside the Great Hall, looking devastatingly handsome, with his hair coiffed to perfection, his expensive robes tailored expertly to his body, and his mother on his arm, is none other than Draco Malfoy.
Hermione swears her heart hitches in her throat. It’s like she can feel her heartbeat thumping overtime in her chest. She wants to go to him more than anything and doesn’t miss the way his eyes sweep through the room, looking for her.
She’s always the first thing he seeks out.
Then there’s clinking of the glasses and Headmistress McGonagall is standing at the podium. “Welcome, one and all. If you’d please take your seats,” Minerva waits for everyone to maneuver to their tables.
Draco’s gaze never finds hers.
Narcissa leads the two of them to a table near the front. Admittedly, they bought those seats with their never-ending pockets, but the money goes to a good cause, which makes it worthwhile in Hermione’s biased opinion.
Hermione wishes she could join them, run to him, kiss him, sit down at his table without a care in the world.
Instead, she stays off to the side, waiting in the shadows for her moment. She has a speech to deliver as well. She’s prepared, of course, but every year is an endeavour. She wishes she had Draco’s comfort, but she’ll see him when she’s up on the podium. He steadies her. Always has.
She does a quick sweep of the room as everyone gets to their tables. No sign of Harry or Ron yet, but Hermione assumes with it being a momentous anniversary, they’ll be making a grand entrance, despite how they hate it.
Once everyone is seated, McGonagall starts talking once more.
“I’d like to thank you all for being here. I know this day is never easy, but I’d like to take a moment to celebrate, despite our momentous losses, our ability to reunite with our loved ones on this very day that took them. As you know, Death Day Celebrations are widely popular in ghost culture, and this is as much of a day of celebration as it is a day of mourning. Many of us would not be standing here today without having parted with our loved ones. Though it may not make things any easier, I implore you to celebrate their life and their sacrifice. Remember and honour them and their legacies. Do not be sad for the losses, but delight in the times you had with them. Now, I bring you the words of none other than Albus Dumbledore.”
Minerva waits to greet the ghost of the greatest wizard of all time. He glides his way through the walls and up the stage as every person in the room whoops, hollers, and cheers.
Hermione sneaks a glance at the Malfoys, knowing these moments are hard for Draco. Dumbledore especially brings up a flurry of difficult memories. As expected, Draco is clapping, but his head is down. He doesn’t want to look up. Doesn’t want to see Dumbledore, see his ghost, knowing he was complicit in the events leading to his demise. Knowing he was the catalyst to his death.
Narcissa claps politely beside her son, head bowed in a respectful manner. Hermione can’t imagine this is any easier for her.
Dumbledore raises both hands, silencing everyone at once. “Now, I have a few words to say,” he starts, the shadow of a laugh pulling at his lip under his long, white beard. “Nitwit, bludder, oddment, tweak.” He smiles broadly as everyone laughs. “It’s an honour and a privilege to bear witness to the greatness gracing this hall.” Even now, his voice commands attention and everyone is starry-eyed listening intently and watching with awe. “Hogwarts has been my home for many years. There is no greater place to rest. Being surrounded by students, friends; the people I cared for most in the world, makes me lucky. Death is nothing but another stage, another milestone to behold, a ripple in the lake of life. It’s what you do with it that matters most. I know many of you carry the burdens of your youth and you must let them go. Let go of the loss, the pain, the grief, the sadness. Live your lives. Be happy. Make the most of it. Enjoy it, for you’re some of the lucky few who can.”
He smiles at the crowd, all of whom stand and cheer and clap. The noise booms in the busy Hall. Hermione swears, if he wanted, Dumbledore could still be headmaster of this school. No matter where he is, what state he’s in, people will always listen to him and respect him.
“Now, the moment you’ve been waiting for. I was going to announce them separately, but we all know these three are why we are here today. It’s been ten years and none of us have forgotten. It takes a powerful man to stand alone, but it takes someone even stronger to ask for help. Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and,” Dumbledore scans the crowd, eyes twinkling when he spots her. “Hermione Granger.”
Once more, people are on their feet clapping. Hermione wasn’t expecting the introduction yet. She knew she had a speech to give, but she still hasn’t even seen Harry or Ron. She wasn’t expecting to be introduced together considering they haven’t even made their entrance.
Dumbledore probably knew that and wanted the three of them to walk up to the stage together. It’s one thing people always remember about the war. The image people keep in their minds. The hope that helped them along the way.
The Golden Trio.
People turn toward the double doors of the Great Hall as Harry and Ron appear with Teddy at Harry’s side. As soon as the two thirds of The Golden Trio are spotted, people glance around the room. Hermione saves them their time. She meets her two best friends in the middle of the room as they walk together to the podium.
Hermione leads the way and she manages to sneak a glance toward Draco.
He’s already looking at her. Of course he is. Gods, the way his eyes can see into her soul. He looks at her like she’s the answer to everything, like she’s everything he could ever want and need. Like she’s the key to his happiness.
It’s how he’s always looked at her.
Seeing the hope on his face destroys her. The way his eyes light up, the way his shoulders straighten.
Narcissa notices, looking over and meeting Hermione’s eye. She offers nothing more than a sad smile, but her eyes tell Hermione everything she can’t say. They’re full of pity. They silently beg Hermione for something. A solution or a dissolution. A plan or a possibility. Anything.
Hermione can’t give her that.
Despite her best efforts and years of research, not even Hermione Granger could come up with a solution to the problem she and Draco faced post-war.
The first few years were exhausting but filled with hope. They were working toward something; she, Draco, and Narcissa. They were getting leads, testing potions, attempting the impossible.
She’d heard it over and over again. If anyone can do it, you can, Hermione.
Between you and Malfoy? Anything is possible.
She’d bought into it for a while.
Then came the fourth year and they’d hit so many roadblocks and dead ends at every turn. While she and Narcissa slowly came to the realisation that some things really are impossible, Draco somehow grew more determined.
Draco never gave up.
It pains Hermione to see him like this, a shell of grief hidden under a mask. A man so hellbent on succeeding and hiding his fear, burying it under a longshot, but a possibility nonetheless. The smallest thread of potential success was enough for him to cling to for years.
She hates that she needs to take it away from him. She never thought Draco Malfoy would have hope. Seeing it is like experiencing rain in a desert, a cosmic intervention.
A kaleidoscope of devastation throttles Hermione, knowing what she has to do.
She looks away even though it pains her and faces forward as she leads the way to the podium. She’s the first to speak tonight of the Golden Trio. Her, then Ron, then Harry. It only makes sense. She suffered loss as everyone else did and she may be a face of the war, but the impact was different.
“Hello, everyone,” she says, her voice carrying easily through the Great Hall.
She’s tempted to tug on her sleeves, an anxious habit she never broke. Everyone is quiet as they look up at her. Tears are already building in a few peoples’ eyes.
“The last ten years have been hard on all of us. We’ve each felt the weight of loss and had our lives impacted forever. I can’t say I regret any of my choices as they’ve led us here. I would go back and do it all over again even if I knew the end result. You’re all standing here today and I will never regret that.” With those words specifically, she burns her gaze into Draco’s and it’s an electric shock to the heart, an attempt at reviving her hope, how everything feels so right to be trapped in his gaze. If nothing else, she aims to drill these words into his head.
“Our losses burn bright, but the future of the Wizarding World burns brighter. The thing I’ve learned in the last ten years, though hard to grasp, is the knowledge that you can both grieve and be happy at the same time. Today you may mourn, but we also celebrate. It’s a day of remembrance, a day of commemoration. These two ideals can coexist, but life can’t stop because we’re mourning. We’re still here, we’re still together and on this day we remember. We remember each other, what we fought for, and what we won. We have no regrets today. I know I don’t.”
Her eyes are desperate as they sear intentionally into Draco’s, pleading with him to understand. He stares back at her, silver eyes looking more determined than ever.
Hermione moves away from the podium to give Ron his turn to speak. Her eyes stay on Draco and all the noise in the hall falls to the wayside, as it always has whenever they were together. They were inseparable, irrevocable.
Ron steps up to the podium, eyes already misted as he scans the crowd. He looks down, clears his throat, before opening his mouth to begin.
“I wish I didn’t have to stand up here and make a speech,” Ron starts. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we won. Without the defeat of Voldemort, our world would look very different. We’d never have been able to progress forward. I just wish it hadn’t come at such a high cost.” He looks toward Hermione before scanning the room for his family and his brothers. His voice is watery, thick when he opens up to speak again. “It’s been ten years since I lost my b—”
“Lost me? I’m right here,” Fred says, standing beside Ron at the podium and elbowing him as if to push him aside.
A few moments later, George takes up Ron’s other side.
“About time you got up here, Georgie.”
“Sorry my ability to float hasn’t kicked in yet. A few more years for me, I think.”
“At least mum can finally tell us apart,” Fred jokes, waving to Molly who’s busy crying into her napkin.
“Aw, Freddie, you’ve made her cry.”
“Me? Probably because she’s stuck with your ugly mug.”
“Now we both know I’m the handsome one, Freddie.”
“Handsome? You only have one ear!”
The two bicker back and forth, bringing everyone a bit of much needed levity. The twins eventually argue their way off the stage and Ron stands there, shrugging and slightly dumbfounded.
“I think my brothers said it all. Um, I am glad we can all be here together today and now I’ll turn it over to Harry.”
Harry takes the podium, his hand resting on Teddy Lupin’s shoulder. He takes a moment, letting the silence sink into everyone’s bones. It feels as if he looks every single person in the eye along the way.
“Ten years ago we were here. Celebrating. Grieving. I was wracked with guilt. Why should I live when so many of you died because of me?” He looks at all the ghosts in the room, the weight of the world still obvious on his shoulders. Hermione meets his reluctant gaze, a watery smile tugging at her lips. “I’m still overwhelmed with guilt and grief often. It’s hard knowing I have a family when so many of you can’t. I know I wouldn’t be here today without the help from every single person in this room. You either helped me, saved me, or gave me something worth fighting for.”
Hermione’s focus fades from Harry as he continues on with his speech. She’s drawn to the table at the front, to the handsome man who somehow looks exactly the same and yet so different every time she sees him.
Her chest aches, threatening to cave in on itself. It’s a physical ache, the need to go to him, to fall into his embrace and be with him. To pray beyond reason that he’s finally found a solution.
It’s easy to have hope. It’s letting it go that’s soul-crushing.
She hates knowing she has to break him today.
But Narcissa’s face told her everything she needed to know. There is no more hope. There can be no more attempts. There never was a solution, no matter how badly they wanted it.
She can’t allow him to waste his life like this. Not anymore.
She blinks, snapping out of her daze to listen to Harry once more.
“This isn’t me asking for your pity, or even your praise. We all lost someone or something. We’ve all been impacted. I’m not here to be rained in honour or applause. I’m here to say thank you. You all saved the Wizarding World. You’re all part of the reason we won. You all could be standing up here giving a speech same as me, Ron…and Hermione,” he says sadly before clearing his throat. “It’s been ten years, but we’ve not forgotten. Thank you, each and every one of you. Without your love and sacrifice I surely would not be standing here today. Love, as we know, is the most powerful tool we have. If nothing else, we have that.” He stops speaking and it’s quiet as if everyone is waiting for him to continue. “Erm, thank you.”
Then, everyone stands and applauds, doing the one thing Harry didn’t necessarily want. He flushes and holds his arms out, drawing the attention away from himself as he calls forth Ron and Hermione. The two join his side and people clap and cry, hugging their loved ones and looking in admiration and awe.
Hermione looks around the room, but her attempt at a distraction or escape is futile. She can’t help herself. She’s drawn to Draco, her eyes finding him first, last, and always. He’s smiling and a sudden string of hope blooms in Hermione’s gut. She swallows it forcefully. She told herself she wouldn’t allow herself to have hope. Not anymore.
It hurts too much.
She gave them ten years.
She took ten years from him. She can’t do that to him anymore.
He was once the brightest star in her sky; her favourite constellation to gaze at. But now the guilt is eating at her. Everytime she looks at him, it splinters her already shattered heart.
As the cheering winds down, Hermione makes her way off the stage. She yearns to run and hide, to find an exit, to escape. To procrastinate the inescapable reality she’s doomed with. The emotion winding around her shifted from the initial excitement of seeing him to irrefutable despair. But she can’t keep avoiding this forever.
How could she allow herself to be excited to see him? How could she simply overlook that she’d be breaking his heart today? That she was about to shatter the dream they’ve been clinging to for ten years?
Moving subtly off to the side, she makes eye contact once more with Narcissa. Somehow, she already knows. She gives Hermione a look of pity that the former-Gryffindor returns. The two women forced together in an inescapable cage of grief. She offers a sad, resigned tilt of her head toward the matriarch before daring to look at Draco.
It guts her.
His expression, once so hardened and guarded in youth, has opened and matured with adulthood. With his eyes on her, he spills hope into the room, filling the air with an impossibility that chokes her. Hermione feels as if she can’t breathe, that the weight of his love for her is somehow the only thing keeping her here and simultaneously killing her. Burying her further in remorse, regret, pain.
She aches for him in the empty spot inside of her that used to be filled with life and light and love. She can still feel his scar on her soul, the twining of their bodies and energies. He left an irreparable mark on her. She’s sure he has a matching set.
It’s going to kill him to let her go.
But he has to.
Her eye contact was all the permission he needed and he comes to her, the frenetic energy radiating off of him. She moves away from the crowds, yearning for a moment of privacy.
“I’ve missed you,” he says when he reaches her. It’s the first thing he always says to her. They haven’t stopped missing each other since they got together all those years ago.
It should have been their first sign.
Draco and Hermione had never been anything more than a tragedy waiting to happen.
“I always miss you, Draco. I’ve never stopped. I don’t think I ever will.” Hermione feels the ghost of a tear trying to break free, emotion choking her up already.
“Hey,” Draco reaches for her but she moves away from him, shaking her head.
“We can’t, Draco. This needs to stop.”
“Hermione—”
The dam threatens to break and she can’t cower away from their reality anymore. “No! Don’t you see? This isn’t life, Draco. You’re holding on to something you can’t have. We can’t have. We need to— you need to move on.” She’s frustrated and taking it out on him when she knows she shouldn’t. Yelling at him won’t stop the pain.
He stumbles backwards, his face crumbling and for the first time it feels like he looks through her. “So that’s it? After all our efforts, all our hard work, you’re just giving up? Hermione Granger is giving up. You don’t love me anymore, is that it?”
She shakes her head, her face itching in a way that makes her want to wipe her tears away. “Just because we can’t be together doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I’ll always love you. And I’ll always be here. But…I’ll always be here. And you need to move on, you need to be happy. You deserve someone who can give you a life, a family. Someone who can love you like I do. I want that for you, Draco, I do. More than anything.”
“Hermione, I’m so close. I’m so fucking close, I just need more time.”
She shakes her head. “We’re out of time, Draco. There is no more time. It’s been ten years.”
“I can do this,” he insists. He reaches out for her, but his hands fall short.
“I know you can,” she says with a nod. “I believe in you—”
“Then why—”
“Because it’s time. You can’t keep wasting your life. I love you too much to ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. Fuck. I can’t—”
“You can. Draco, you’ll be okay. I know it. Look at you.” She reaches a hand out to brush over the side of his face. “You have smile lines by your eyes. Do you know how happy that makes me?”
She watches as a single tear cascades down his cheek.
“I want you to be happy, Draco. I need you to be. You deserve love—”
“I have love. I have you.”
With every shake of her head, she drives the crack further down the centre of her heart. “You have the memories of me, the idea of me. You don’t have me, Draco. Not anymore.” She reaches out for him, her hands sweeping through his. “We can’t even hold hands anymore. I can’t kiss you. I can’t smooth the wrinkles from your brow. I can barely remember the weight of your arms around me. That’s not love. That’s not life. That’s grief. That’s what could have been. You’re holding onto an idea instead of finding someone real.”
He digs his palms into his eye sockets, trying to stop his tears. He pulls his hands away and they fall to the side. His face is crestfallen.
She imagines hers is resigned.
Draco looks at her, imploring her with his eyes. “We deserved what could have been. After everything—”
“I know. We did. But you deserve to go on and live a long, happy life full of love and smiles and babies.” She chokes on the word but forces it out. “You have to let go of me, Draco. You deserve the world. I can’t give you that.”
“Hermione, I can bring you back, okay? You can’t give up on me. On us. On this. I’m so close. So close. I can’t—”
“Draco.” Her tone has an undeniable vibrato of finality. “I’m not giving up on you. Never. It’s why I need to let you go. So you can be happy and live the life you’ve earned. I’m already gone, Draco. I’m dead.”
He inhales sharply as if he’d never heard those words spoken aloud before. It’s not as if it’s a surprise. It’s been ten years. He’s had ten years to get accustomed to the loss, to live with the grief. Instead he poured his heart into hope. Into a solution that doesn’t exist. Into somehow, bringing her back.
“You never thought magic was real until it was. Maybe this is the same thing. Maybe I just need to find the solution to bring you back. I can do it, Hermione.”
He can’t. And she doesn’t begrudge him of that.
“It’s been a decade, Draco. Look at us. You’re twenty-seven and I’m still eighteen.” She reaches out to fix his hair even though she can’t. “I love you. I’ll always love you. That’s why you need to go. Be happy. Live your life. For me. For us. I need you to be happy. I need to know it was worth it.”
“Her—”
She shakes her head, immediately cutting him off. “I meant what I said. I have no regrets. I’m at peace, Draco. It’s time you get some peace as well.”
“My ending isn’t happy without you.”
She didn’t know her heart could shatter any further until Draco uttered those six words.
She swallows past the lump in her throat, barely holding herself together. “But it can be. You have to open your heart to it, and I of all people know how much love you have to give. Someone will be so lucky to have you love them. You pour everything into the people you love, more than everything. These past ten years have been evidence of that. And I love you so much for trying. I’m not giving up. Never that. I’m just…letting you go.”
“I don’t want you to.” His voice cracks.
“I’ll always be here. And someday I expect to see a bunch of little troublemakers with bright blond hair running through these halls.”
He chokes out a sob before swallowing thickly. Tear tracks continue to trail over his cheeks, staining his alabaster skin.
“It’s okay, Draco,” she urges, smiling at him.
She means every word. She wants him to be happy and have the family he dreamt of as a boy. To be the father he never had. To fill a home with love, laughter, and happiness.
“They’ll know about you. I promise you.”
“Of course, they will. I’m Hermione Granger, for Merlin’s sake.” She smiles at him and he tries to return the expression, but she sees fissures of his broken heart splayed across his face. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
“Be happy. For me.”
“I’ll never forget you, you know.”
“You better not. I’ll come haunt your arse.”
“You can’t leave the grounds, remember?”
She winks. “I’ll find a way. If anyone can…”
Draco looks down and a tear falls from his cheek to the floor. “I wish I could kiss you one last time.”
“I know. But one last kiss would turn into one more, would turn into one last hug, one last meal…there would never be enough time. Even if I were still alive.”
He bobs his head, his lips curled together as if holding in what is surely a gut-wrenching sob. He lifts a hand, cradling the side of her face like he used to, when his fingers would thread into her curls, getting tangled in the mane. Except he no longer has to fight to free his hands.
They can’t grasp anything anymore.
“I love you, Draco.”
“I love you, Hermione.”
With one final look and a cluster of tears cascading down his pale cheeks, Draco turns and rejoins his mother at the table. Immediately, Narcissa looks up, catching Hermione’s gaze, a small, pitied smile on her painted lips.
She nods, her lips mouthing thank you as she wraps her arm around Draco.
A parting look is all she’s offered before the Malfoys exit the party.
***
Fifteen years later it finally happens.
Every year she goes to the sorting ceremony. Every year she looks, wonders, listens. Every year a part of her heart sinks deeper.
She hasn’t seen Draco in years, but she knows it’s for the best. It’s too hard on both of them.
Until this year.
“Scorpius Malfoy!” Headmistress McGonagall calls.
Hermione smiles, watching the little blond boy strut to the front of the Great Hall, looking so much like his father did at eleven. It’s like she’s taken back to 1991.
Except this time she sees an excited little kid with ice-blond hair and a smile on his face—not a smirk—as he waits at the front of the line.
She doesn’t need to know who his mother is.
With a kid that happy, she knows Draco must have found love.