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As usual, Hermione starts her day with a walk.
It’s a part of her routine, something that helps her to keep her sanity. She has to leave the bedroom at 9.30 at the latest if she wants to have a good day, not that she’s ever been a person to lay in bed for long.
She glides around the garden, checks the blossoming flowers and carefully watches the peacocks, not wanting to provoke them in any way yet to be still able to admire their beauty. She chuckles to herself as she remembers her eighteen-year-old self hated the prancing, white-feathered birds. So many things have changed.
She goes to check on the two Aethonans at the stables in the east of the estate and greets their taker, Humphrey, with the warmest smile she can manage. They make small talk about the weather and she asks him to come over for tea and scones sometime. She knows the elderly man won’t, but the invitation is a habit by now. The winged horses neigh happily as Humphrey gives them fresh hay.
In the library, she’s joined by Posie and they read through the entire afternoon. She finds a rather interesting tome that somehow still hasn’t been devoured by her, and hours pass by as she reads page by page. It dives deep into the correlations between the Arithmancy and choosing a well-matched spouse, and such theories are sometimes more entertaining than trashy tv-shows in which she indulges after she’s done reading. She still tries to decide whether she’s happy or concerned, that she’s reached the point of reading so much it tires her. Or maybe it’s because of Posie, she doesn’t want to make her feel pressured by the amount of literature she reads. Hermione’s not sure what made reading so tedious, apart from time.
When evening comes, Hermione rests in the little room she calls her private cinema for some pure relaxation and watches romantic German films. Ever since she got sick she has grown fond of them, and she chuckles as she knows how much Draco loves to tease her about it.
She looks to the wall, where all the photos and drawings from her nieces and nephews are hung. At her last photo with her parents, before she had to erase their memories once and forever. Young Harry and Ginny, holding their two boys on their shoulders while Lily Luna snoozes in a Moses basket in front of them, and there, right under it, a photo of Scorpius’ and Albus’ graduation day. A photo of Ron and Padma with Kirani and Kavi the day the twins were starting Hogwarts. One with all the grandchildren. George’s wedding day. She wasn’t there, but Draco said the ceremony was beautiful.
Hermione stares at the smiling faces of her friends and sighs. She hoped for a visit from someone, just a quick chat, and no one came that week yet. But that’s okay. She will still be there the next day.
She stops by a photo of her and Draco from their wedding. They were so young, only 20 but so certain of their love, with bright smiles and eyes shining. She traces her dress with her pointer finger and then tickles the photo Draco, which pretends to try to bite the finger.
So much has changed in those last decades. But her love for Draco is still strong. And he will probably visit on Sunday, and it is just a few days away. Maybe Posie and her should bake something for him. He always loved her apple pie.
When Hermione makes her way through the Manor in the early night she stops near one of the bigger windows to look into the stars, marvelling at the juxtaposition of the darkness of the outside and the brightness of the chandeliers that Posie left lit. The grounds are hidden by thick mist, but the sky is clear. She goes to her room.
The next day, she once again thinks about her wedding day while fiddling with her rings - the delicate, white gold band with a simple diamond and the more ornate one, the engagement ring with an emerald. She remembers Draco asked her to marry him, his face covered in scratches and dust when they woke up the morning after the Battle, the night spent in the remains of the Ravenclaw tower. How, after months of living in a tent and on the run, she took probably the quickest shower of her life so as not to miss a minute too long apart, away from her fiance. How Narcissa and Molly congratulated them with teary eyes. How Harry teased her with the memory of her in the fifth year, strongly denying the crush on Draco.
She lies on the grass and closes her eyes. It’s almost peaceful.
Almost.
When Harry and Ron come, she is sitting on the floor watching as Cherry, her cat, snoozes on the armchair that used to be favoured by Lucius. When she hears the Floo activate, she immediately gets up and Cherry runs to hide somewhere.
“Hi, Hermione! Got a minute or two?” Ron asks, his lips in a wide smile.
Posie gives them tea and scones, and while Harry and Ron are busy with it, she tells them the stories of the week, pausing every other sentence to cough and choosing to ignore the worried looks her friends give her as usual.
It’s wonderful to talk with them. Harry brought a new photo album and they browse through it together. She hopes the Potters and the Weasleys will come to visit her around Easter, all the cousins and grandchildren in tow. And when Harry is complaining about Ruby, his granddaughter, and her new boyfriend, she laughs so loudly that Cherry comes back from hiding to check what’s going on.
“Well, I have to admit the guy is very handsome. Let Ruby live a little,” Hermione teases Harry, who just groans.
“I had the same when Lewis brought Grace home, and they’re getting married next month. With this young love nowadays, you never know,” Ron adds, and Hermione’s eyebrows rise.
“Oh, I didn’t know they had a date.”
Ron and Harry exchange quick glances. She recognises the looks on their faces and coughs into the sleeve of her gown.
“Ron, how is Kirani? Is she coming to England, then?”
Ron instantly rolls his eyes and pulls a purring Cherry into his lap. “She’s supposed to be back just two days before the wedding, and of course, she insisted on going by Muggle transportation so who knows when she will actually be back. Padma and the twins think it’s crazy, and I know I would be so disappointed if my mother missed my wedding.”
“I have no idea where Kirani takes her impulsiveness and stubbornness from,” Harry says sarcastically and they all start to laugh.
She misses such moments and wishes people would visit her more often. But she wouldn’t be able to admit it to someone. They have enough worries, and besides, she has to get used to it. To solitude.
It’s a Saturday. It means tomorrow, it’s Sunday. And Draco sent her the usual message indicating he would come. Posie put the yellow freesias in a vase, the one she got from Narcissa for her 38th birthday and left it on the windowsill of Hermione’s room. She reads the little note, with a single number written on it multiple times in elegant handwriting, trying to trace all the curves and little hoops.
2.
Tomorrow, at two, he will come to visit her.
A smile forms on her lips. She spends the entire day with Posie, preparing the Manor for the arrival of its rightful owner. Posie bakes the apple pie under Hermione’s watchful gaze.
The night seems even longer than usual. She remembered all the stars visible to the naked eye decades before, but tonight they seem different as she traces each of the constellations with her finger, one eye closed. She leaves Draco, the constellation, for last.
Hermione wishes she could do something to her hair. Of course, it looks the same way as always, and when she grows frustrated that all her attempts are futile, she decides to leave the Manor and pass the time by the creek, roughly a kilometre west from the stables.
Time feels different there.
She watches the water patiently. The current is strong and carries little twigs, flower petals, and countless colours of leaves. They all spin and dance on the surface tension, and Hermione is reminded of childhood ballet and gymnastics classes. She misses those classes. And dancing.
She daydreams in peace until she feels Draco enter the property.
His magic is recognised by the wards and they fluctuate softly, the sensation delicate as butterfly wings, or an echo of ones.
She stops herself from running. Taking her skirts into her hands, she lets the anticipation grow. She notices him by the stables. He gives her a smirk and waves to her, and they meet halfway.
Atlas, his Aethonian, neighs and stretches out his wings. They stop for a moment to admire the creature.
He opens the balcony door for her, and she smiles secretly, lowering her head.
Draco Malfoy, her husband, looks astonishing as always. His royally grey hair is swept back, the silver-rimmed glasses rest on his straight nose, and his cheeks are covered in evenly cut facial hair.
She notices a large bouquet of multicoloured freesias, already put in a vase. Posie Apparates in the room with a cup of Draco’s favourite tea, bows to him and then disappears again. They’re left alone.
For a few moments, they just watch each other. He charms the teaspoon to continually stir his drink so the sugar melts. He sets his wand on the coffee table.
He breaks the silence. “Is it an apple pie I’m smelling?”
At first, Hermione furrows her brows, but then she remembers and nods. “It’s the apple pie.”
Draco’s smile widens. “Thank you, Hermione. It smells lovely.”
“Do you want now? I’ll tell Posie…”
“No,” he cuts her off and his nose weirdly twitches. “It’s okay. I’ll eat it later.”
She coughs, and his nostrils flare again. He clears his throat.
“Astoria sends her thanks for the book you sent her.”
“I knew she would like it.” She chuckles. “She can keep it, the Manor Library has three other copies.”
“Would you like me to get you some new ones?”
“Hm?”
“New books.”
Hermione takes a moment before answering and pouts.
“No. But new films would be nice. Maybe biopics? Or documentaries?”
This time, it’s Draco who chuckles. “Finally grew tired of literature, my love?”
She rolls her eyes playfully, and he laughs a bit louder.
After all these years, he only grew to be more attractive in her eyes. His beard, first grown out in his late 30s, turned out to be a bit red on the side and a source of constant teasing from their friends. She introduced him to bleach, which was incomparably more convenient than any charms he tried. But now, almost 40 years later, he doesn’t need the bleach anymore.
They prolong their eye contact, and Hermione can swear she feels warm inside.
“How is she?” she asks. When he raises his eyebrows in question, she adds, “Astoria.”
“Good. Next week she’s going travelling with her sister. Worries about Leo. Nothing new.” He answers. “Daphne wishes to go to Helsinki. There’s some coffee festival there.”
She nods. “Sounds really fun.”
Draco sips on his tea, blowing on the beverage to make it drinkable. Hermione turns her head around and fixes her gaze on the family tapestry. On Narcissa’s portrait, where the beautiful blonde is smiling softly, her skin unblemished. Lucius has a sour face as always, and Draco stares confidently into nothingness. She stares at the black holes in various places, where once were faces of other relatives, relatives that weren’t family, just people they shared blood with. For as long Hermione can remember, Draco wanted to get rid of the tapestry, but she wouldn’t let him. She wanted to keep it as a reminder.
She coughs again and she locks eyes with Draco again.
“Will you tell her I miss her? And Scorpius, of course.”
“Of course, love. They miss you as well.”
They stare at each other for a few moments.
“Harry and Ron were here a few days ago,” she says and watches as Cherry tries to get into Draco’s lap. The cat headbutts Draco’s palm, and when there’s no response, Hermione groans. “Oi, be nice.”
Draco puts his mug on the table and finally scratches Cherry under her ear, and the purrs are so intense one could say the floor is shaking.
The next moments are focused on Cherry. Hermione tells funny stories from the week, how the cat ruined some flowers and the collection of dead mice that were left under the terrace and found, to his horror, by Humphrey. Draco has that warm smile, the one Hermione likes to think is only reserved for her, and he listens closely to her every word. She adores how his steel eyes suddenly become so velvety, his lips are pursed and curved in a loving way. His cheeks even reddened, now shyly peeking through his beard.
He absorbs every word, every little giggle she lets out. She can feel how enamoured he is, even after all these decades, after all that life has thrown at them. She’s happy his second marriage worked out for him, and eternally grateful for Astoria and Scorpius. Astoria and Draco truly love each other, scars of the past and all. And Scorpius is one of her her favourite people ever.
Then, it’s his turn to tell her about his week. He met up with a few investors from America, but they weren’t even moderately interested in expanding their business and the whole meeting was a sham. Draco explained it felt like they just needed an excuse to go for holidays. She listens as he goes on about Leo, his grandson, and his plans after finishing Hogwarts.
Leo is not on the tapestry, which is another reason why Draco hates it. Leo is also the first Malfoy in centuries not to be a pureblood, well, apart from her and Scorpius’ wife, but for them, it was only through marriage. Hermione wishes she could find a way to add the youngest Malfoy to the tapestry, but she still hasn’t been able to find out how. They had remedied the family’s heirloom bigotry by just sticking normal portraits in places the person should have appeared.
Posie Apparates to the room, a large slice of the apple pie on a porcelain plate in tow, and they chuckle when they notice the tiny fork the she-elf included. It’s the one Draco used when he was a child.
He stares at the plate with a smirk, which makes the face of an elderly man look so mischievous. “I remember so vividly the first time I ate this cake.”
“It’s a pie, Draco.” She answers automatically before she can realize she’s fallen into his trap.
But he doesn’t tease her about it. He just smiles widely, knowing she is also reliving the memory in her mind and eats a bite of the pastry.
“And?” she asks.
“Yours was better.”
Next week, he brings her a box full of CDs and pen drives. She’s completely engulfed by David Attenborough and other vintage documentaries about life on Earth.
They spend the third week watching the documentaries together. Draco falls asleep after thirty minutes, and she lets him sleep. She hasn’t heard him snore in decades, and she relishes in the sound.
Scorpius comes to help prepare Leo’s graduation party. Hermione leaves him to do the work in peace, sometimes just lurking from around the corner to marvel at the conjured decorations. When Astoria comes, with her sister and Yvette, Leo’s mum, the Manor already looks breathtaking.
Once the party commences, she hides in her room, feeling overwhelmed. The crowd is loud, and she tries so hard to enjoy the laughs and debates, but it’s all too much, too many strangers and people she never met. She tells Posie to keep an eye on everything, and then she lets herself close her eyes and just be .
“Hermione.”
She turns, surprised.
“Scorpius, hello. My apologies, I must have dozed off,” she says and smiles kindly at the man. Although he looks copy-paste just like Draco, his mannerism and face are much softer, and gentler, and that reminds everyone of Astoria’s eternal beauty. And that Scorpius had a much calmer and loving upbringing than his father.
“It’s the people, isn’t it?” he asks and sits on the floor, his back against one of the bookshelves. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t be!” She waves her hand and coughs. “It’s Leo’s party, after all. I’m glad he has so many friends.”
Scorpius smiles and searches for something in one of the pockets of his robes. He takes out a picture and slides it across the floor so she can see it.
It’s a picture from her graduation from Hogwarts after she finished her eighth year. She’s wearing her formal robes and all of her teachers are standing next to her, with wide smiles or at least a less dangerous sneer than usual in Snape’s case. McGonnagal is teary-eyed while Hagrid is joyfully throwing his hands in the air.
“I love that picture,” she says. “Thank you, Scorpius. I haven’t seen it in forever.”
“Dad took it, didn’t he?”
“Of course. There, you can see his finger for a moment in the corner.”
They watch the scene immortalised in the picture a few times so Scorpius can catch the bit with the finger.
“I’ll have it framed for you, Hermione, so you can hang it here somewhere, what do you say?” he asks and she loves the idea.
“How’s Yvette?”
Scorpius shrugs. “Ask her yourself.”
“Is something wrong again? Between you two?” Her brow furrows in worry.
Scorpius shakes his head and stays silent for a moment. Then, he crosses his arms and Hermione is immediately swamped with memories of him as a child.
“Scorpius? Are you alright?”
“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I think I’m overwhelmed as well. So much stuff at work happening and suddenly, Leo finished Hogwarts.”
“Suddenly?” she laughs. “It was seven years in the making.”
Scorpius rolls his eyes playfully. “I thought you would understand my struggle with people growing up.”
She smiles softly and shifts so she’s closer to him. “Oh, my dear, dear Scorpius. What is it?”
He looks her in the eyes. Scorpius’ eyes are more blue compared to Draco’s steely gray ones.
“I’m just really scared.” He admits.
She doesn’t pry, just waits for him to continue.
“He wants to be a Healer. He signed up for a course in America.”
“I know. I think it’s grand.”
Scorpius huffs loudly. “But why in America? The course offered by Mungo’s is much easier and not on the other side of the world!”
“I think that’s exactly why he wants to go there.”
Scorpius frowns. “So he’s far from his family and he has to study his ass off?”
“He wants to prove himself. He’s young, more than capable to excel in that rigorous training and to show his dad and grandmother they don’t have to worry that much.”
“I’ll never stop worrying about him.”
“But he doesn’t know that.”
“So you won’t help me convince him to stay?”
Hermione solemnly shakes her head. “ Do you think he will fail the course?”
“Of course not. He’ll be the best in his year if not history.”
“So? He’s not going to stay with his dad and mom forever.”
“That’s exactly what Yvette said.”
“She’s a clever witch, your wife.”
Scorpius laughs and she joins him after a moment. He reaches and straightens the photo of her graduation in his palms.
“We had quite a big fight about it, actually. Me and Yvette.”
“About her being smart?”
“Hermione!”
She smiles devilishly. Scorpius pouts at her.
“She actually suggested he applied to the course in Perth as well.”
“Portkeys to Australia are a nightmare, though! It’s way too far!”
“I know! I remember how you told me!”
Scorpius continues to tell her about the fight with Yvette, and she listens diligently to every word, nodding and adding a few words now and then. She’s really fond of Yvette as she’s most probably the most down-to-earth person Hermione ever knew, but she has to admit that the witch sometimes forgets how emotional her husband can get. Scorpius oftentimes comes to her to pour his heart out after a fight. She knows their marriage is tough.
“It’s okay you two have totally different approaches and feelings to Leo growing up. In the end, Leo is an adult and he has to live his life how he wants. Just remember that Yvette doesn’t read your thoughts and try to tell her why you think such a way so she understands.”
Scorpius breathes out loudly and nods, then looks at his watch. “Thank you, Hermione. I think that’s what I needed. I have to go now, though, it’s been almost an hour.”
She smiles and nods as well. They get up and hover by the door.
“I love you, Scorpius.”
“I love you too, Hermione. Thanks again, I’m glad I have you,” he says and stops for a moment.
“And I’m glad I have you. More than anything in the world.”
Astoria comes to talk with her as well. She and Daphne bought some very fragrant coffee in Helsinki for her, and she thanks Hermione for talking with Scorpius.
“I’m not great with advice, and Scorpius doesn’t think it’s fair to complain about his marriage problems to Draco,” Astoria says and smiles ruefully. Hermione just nods.
A few weeks later, three generations of Malfoy men come to visit her.
“Surprise, Hermione. I didn’t want you to lose nights over what should you wear for the grand occasion.”
She chuckles at that response and waves her finger playfully at Scorpius. “I’ll have you know I’m in my best attire.”
“Son!”
She turns to see frustrated Draco. Scorpius just puts his arm around his father’s shoulders, his smile changing into a pout. She notices that Draco’s hip must be bothering him again, as he’s walking with a cane. That’s also most probably the reason for his sour humour - pain that ebbs and flows ever since he got hit by that curse in the final battle.
She leaves the two to speak to each other and takes Leo to the Manor Library to show him all the books she found there about healing.
Later, they sit in the drawing room and she lets Leo talk her ear off about the place he will be studying. She’s happy to notice that Scorpius seems excited as well, he even adds some American trivia every once in a while.
Draco at first just sits in his armchair without even trying to follow what they’re talking about, but after some time, he disappears into the endless corridors of the Manor.
Hermione waited for a moment of privacy with Scorpius, so the moment her husband leaves the three of them, she scoots closer to the man. “You do remember our deal, don’t you?”
Scorpius nods. “I talked about it with Yvette. We would be honoured, truly, but it’s not the time. Not yet.”
Of course, she understands. And she doesn’t ask for reasons or argumentation.
“What is it?” Leo asks.
“Hermione wants to give me and Mom the Manor.”
“It’s hardly mine to give.” Hermione points out. “I think it’s time I find some other place.”
“Have they left already?” Draco asks once Hermione enters the room.
“They have, yes.”
She joins him on the bed. The ceiling is charmed, of course, and it’s full of different painted dragons playing with each other. They lay on their backs, hands on the covers, close yet not touching.
“Your hip is bothering you?”
“I fell a few days ago.”
“Oh.”
Draco is tense, and the wrinkles and lines on his face are more prominent. She coughs into her sleeve, once, twice, three times.
“I miss dancing,” she says suddenly. She sees the corner of his lip tugging upwards.
“Do you?”
“Yes, actually. It’s fun and you’ve always been a great dancer.”
They stare into each other’s eyes when suddenly Draco gets up and ushers her to do the same.
“Let’s dance, then.”
She laughs, but then he starts twirling and gliding across the floor as gracefully as his stiff hip allows him. He stops every two steps, holds the side of the wooden canopy or just trips, but he continues to dance with just her laugh and giggles as the musical accompaniment.
Once summer ends and Leo departures, she receives an owl from Scorpius saying he and Yvette finally decided on a divorce. The following weeks are hectic and she tells Posie to burn all the newspapers that come.
She spends most of her time by the creek, and just like water, she lets time flow.
Once Draco comes, it’s a dreary and rainy Sunday.
She knows he tries his best to hide his sadness from her, and to his credit, he does it almost flawlessly. Almost, because she knows him too well not to notice.
“I don’t know if I’m more sad or more angry right now.” He starts, his elbows propped up on his knees. She allows him to ignore Cherry which is meowing for attention.
“Angry? Are you angry at them?”
Draco immediately starts to shake his head. “Of course not. I’m angry at myself.”
She raises her eyebrows.
“I’m angry I didn’t notice. I’m angry Scorpius didn’t feel safe enough to talk to me about their problems. I’m angry that it’s been going on for years, Hermione, years, and I had no idea!”
“It’s not your fault.”
Draco groans and hides his face in his hands. “Tori said Scorpius thinks I wouldn’t understand. She at least knew they had problems, fuck!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You knew as well, didn’t you?”
Hermione just nods and turns to cough into her sleeve, when Draco suddenly gets up.
“No! Not today, Hermione, I beg you.” He walks up to where she is, next to the window. “I cannot stand it today.”
She blinks, surprised, and watches as his jaw tenses even more.
“I can’t stand your pretending today. It’s too much. I can’t listen to your cough and be reminded that not only did I fail as a father, but I failed to protect you as well.”
“Draco…”
He turns on his heel the moment she notices tears in his eyes. He fixes his gaze on the grounds and his fingers are flexed on the windowsill.
“Hermione, you’re dead. You don’t breathe anymore! You’re just a ghost! A memory! You died in my arms 47 years ago, and I know it feels like a century to you, but I relive it every day, and hearing you coughing feels like acid on my heart. Because for a millisecond, I let myself forget that you’re dead, and it’s not okay! Keep doing it if it makes Harry or Ron feel better, I don’t care, but don’t pretend in front of me. It hurts too much.”
“You’re not responsible for my death, Draco. No one knows what the blade was cursed with! ”
He laughs mirthlessly. “If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t even bat an eye on you.”
“You think so?” She crosses her arms on her chest. “I think she would have given me to Greyback or not bothered at all, just cast a Killing Curse to be swiftly done with the Mudblood! Because believe it or not, no matter if Bellatrix knew you loved me, I would be there with Ron and Harry in Yaxley Manor! And you can speculate all you want, but I wouldn’t live till the end of the war unscathed! I knew that since I was thirteen, Draco!”
“But did you have to leave me?”
She watches him let go of the windowsill and sit slowly on the floor, his face contorting in pain because of the hip issues. He sobs uncontrollably and Hermione stares with her mouth open, heartbroken she can’t touch him, hug him, caress his cheek.
“I never left you, Draco. And I never will.”
He looks at her, his eyes reddened and tearful, and she lets him try to touch her. The pad of his finger falls right through her cheek.
“I have to go. Be with Scorpius.”
She nods.
He gets up, blows his nose and grabs his cane. He leaves without looking back.
But she knows he will come back next week. Because just like her, he can’t forget.