Chapter Text

Epilogue

3rd of November, 2004

Draco watched as Hermione strolled along the tree line, a pensive look upon her face as she peered out across the salt pans spanning the space before them. It looked nothing like the memory– the one they only glimpsed the night they sealed their bond nearly five years prior– the lush garden, the sound of the rushing water, the beautiful vibrant trees bearing fruit, the floral foliage, none of it existed any longer. But they had prepared for that reality, really. 

After sealing their bond, he and Hermione spent several last-minute blissful days at a Black property in France, secluded from the rest of the world. Once the ritual was complete, the large tome contained in the Magical Unions Division glowed bright yellow, two names scratched across the surface as recently magically joined. The news had broken a few days later via the front page of The Prophet. They hadn’t shared with anyone just how unique their bond truly was, opting instead to continue to allow their souls to reacquaint with one another. While on the terrace one evening, sharing a glass of wine, Hermione confessed that she believed her purpose to be to find the truth about soul magic– the very essence of it– how it began, how bonds form, and to share that truth with the wizarding world.

A hiccup, Draco posited, was that not all of their shared soul memories were magical. It was very clear to each of them as they discussed the memories that the last two, in particular, were muggle. They also had agreed that there were too many gaps, and there were likely a hundred more memories for them to share. 

It was from there that Hermione jumped headfirst into work with the Department of Mysteries. She was brilliant, truly, and began researching magical anomalies around the world. Unexplained concentrations of magical energy at otherwise normal, muggle sites. That is how she began her search and ultimately found the spot in rural America where they had lived another life. Hermione had floo called him from her hotel, tears flowing down her cheeks as she smiled and invited him to join her, “Just- you have to see it, Draco– I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I understand why we looked so happy here, so at peace–” And so, Draco had joined her via an international floo link just a few hours later. When Hermione apparated them to the vast open space, with a dilapidated old house just behind them, Draco had fallen to his knees and clenched his chest. 

His soul had remembered. 

Surly, a prat, and still an arsehole as he was, Draco was more in tune with his emotions following the sealing of their bond and felt a capacity for empathy he never believed possible before that night. He completed a double mastery in potions and mind healing while Hermione worked in the DoM. He had been largely unable to help himself after the war but believed that by combining legilimency, potion therapy, and the use of a pensive at times, he could assist others with their trauma. When Hermione suggested he develop a potion to work to actively heal a traumatised brain, Draco’s eyes had widened in surprise. He joined the DoM shortly after in their experimental therapies division. 

They spoke often of the lingering memory their souls held. Though they were unable to remember specific details of each lifetime beyond the sense of simply being and the glimpse the ritual provided, their souls called out to one another constantly. Conversations occurred without speaking most times, though when around friends they attempted to convey a sense of normalcy. Though Draco had to hand it to Potter, he was brighter than he seemed. He caught on quite fast and cornered Hermione that first Christmas at the Burrow, asking her point blank “What the bleeding hell is going on between you two, you’re like one person now it’s eerie!” 

Hermione had made Potter take an unbreakable vow that night so that they could tell him. It was not something they wanted widely known as the implications were… well, unprecedented. And yet, as they stood metres apart, the knowledge that this is the place– or near it– where their souls were formed, Draco knew she would have answers one day. And then– and only then– would they share the knowledge they had with the world. 

“I want to try something, Just one quick detection spell, I’ve used it on several artefacts–” 

Draco blinked, returning to the present moment to see Hermione approaching him, placing her sunglasses back on her nose. Her hair was pulled back from her face, curls cascading down her back, longer than he’d ever seen it before. Though, he supposed that wasn’t true as he’d seen it in many lifetimes before this. 

“Is it safe,” Draco asked, thinking quickly at just how eerie the silence was around them. They were somewhere in northern Botswana– possibly Namibia or even Zimbabwe, really, and Draco was unsure if any muggles were nearby. They couldn’t be quite sure as the potion they’d developed together, with a tangible essence of their magical core, brought them here. Working in the DoM did have its perks. 

“ Homenum revelio ,” Hermione whispered to the charmed map she carried on all of her adventures these days. The map would instantly adjust with the user’s location. When no red dots appeared on the map, she nodded at him. 

“ Magicae memoriam restituet, ” Hermione mumbled beside him as she brought her wand up in a complex series of movements. Draco watched as she focused on the spell, and when her eyes widened and her lips parted in awe, he turned to see just what had her focus.

Before them grew a lush green valley. Inhabitants milled about, picking fruits and various vegetables, tilling fields by hand, speaking to one another in a language neither he nor Hermione could comprehend. A gasp from Hermione to his left caused him to wrap his arm around her waist and tuck her protectively into his side. One hand covered her mouth as she pointed with her other. 

Draco followed the movement, searching for what she might be pointing at as they walked through the land’s memory of magical energy until he stopped in his tracks. 

The version of Hermione from the memory sat, tucked back near a large fruit tree– the same tree from their memory. He watched as she appeared to crush grain of some sort in a bowl with a rock. She looked up and from his right, Draco flinched as the memory version of himself approached. They were oddly clothed, and Draco realised Hermione must know much more about what was happening than he would. His knowledge of muggle history was still lacking, though he’d read much to try and keep up with her search for their shared history. 

“It’s– Draco– notice how each person here is a varied shade of transparency, the more recent the memory, the more transparent the person or land will appear, see how the river and the lake are receding? That is new. But us– Draco, look.”

Draco furrowed his brow as he squeezed Hermione tighter to his side, looking back at the version of them in his sight. 

It can’t be. 

Not possible.

What on earth?

They were bright, vibrant, as though they occupied the space currently, in the present time, right in front of them, instead of existing solely in the land’s memory. 

“I don’t understand–” Draco started.

“I- Gods, I thought, but I didn’t want to believe it–” Hermione choked on a sob beside him.

As the memory version of Hermione stood to greet his memory self, Draco’s eyes widened. She placed one hand on the small bump of her lower abdomen, smiling– absolutely radiant as ever. Draco stilled, hand clutching Hermione beside him, his other fisted, nails biting into the skin of his palm.

“Gods–”

Hermione looked up at Draco and he averted his eyes from the scene before them to peek down at her. Tears brimmed her eyes, but she smiled that same radiant smile. Then, a laugh bubbled up between them.

“Seems history truly does repeat itself,” She laughed, again. Louder now. 

Draco unclenched his palm and moved it slowly to cradle the small bump of Hermione’s lower abdomen. 

“It would seem so, my Sun,” Draco smiled warmly, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead before returning to watch the scene before them. 

They stayed until nightfall, until their souls called out for another adventure, to uncover more history between them. 

XXX

April 2005

Over the years, Pansy Parkinson continued her liaison with Adrian Pucey until one day, he politely informed Pansy that either she marry him, or move to rural Patagonia because he could not live one more day with her in denial of how much she loved him, and how much he loved her in return. When Pansy tearfully said yes, she immediately called Hermione and Ginny, her two closest girlfriends, to inform them that they would be in her wedding party, no questions asked. Harry and Ron both occupied spaces in Adrian’s wedding party, becoming close in their work as aurors, and Luna brought up the final post of Pansy’s. Adrian’s best man, Marcus Flint, cut an odd figure in their group of friends, but he’d apologised and done his best to make amends. 

Harry and Ginny had married three months after Hermione and Draco sealed their bond. Though they told Molly they simply wanted to elope and that was why they needed a last-minute ceremony in the yard of the Burrow, Hermione knew the truth of the matter was that Ginny had been pregnant and unwilling to suffer the wrath of Molly Weasley. They announced several weeks after their honeymoon that she was expecting. No one was the wiser, and Ginny and Hermione laughed each time Molly referred to James as the “honeymoon baby”. 

Ron was always a shock to Hermione– he’d steadfastly remained single until one day when he arrived at the Burrow for the Easter holiday with Oliver Wood’s hand entangled in his own. Hermione jumped out of her seat and leaped at him, knocking the wind out of Ron before he exclaimed, “Blimey, Hermione, a little warning please!” All present had welcomed Oliver into the hodgepodge group with welcome arms. Hermione smiled when Ron informed her and Draco that he’d spoken to Oliver at their Midsummer celebration and had been in touch since. Draco, who never ceased to amaze her, smiled at Ron and Oliver and wished them all his best. 

Now, Hermione paced their bedroom at Malfoy Manor, hoping to Gods that the baby would make their appearance soon. Hermione had never felt pain like the contractions that wracked her body every few minutes. Draco appeared calm where he sat on the edge of the bed, watching as she walked to breathe through each wave of nauseating, bone-crushing, pain. She’d been in labour for at least a day and refused all magical intervention. Ever the supportive husband, Draco had agreed to stay by her side, no matter what. 

“Fuck,” Hermione gasped as a strong contraction hit, and the overwhelming need to push took over. Not bothering to move to the bed, she allowed instinct– and what she now knew to be thousands of years of memory– to take over. 

XXX

Draco watched as Hermione cradled the small bundle in her arms. A healer from St. Mungos had been to check Hermione and the baby’s health, then promptly left them to it. Though Draco thought he should be afraid, he couldn’t fathom that right now. Instead, he felt overwhelming contentment and joy as he watched his soulmate coo to the physical manifestation of the love they share.  

“Selene, we’ll name her Selene,” Hermione finally spoke, breaking Draco’s trance. They hadn’t wanted to know the gender, and so they had waited till the baby was born to choose a name. 

Selene.

Goddess of the moon.

Draco smiled and his eyes watered. He approached the two centres of his universe and crouched beside them. 

“Selene, your mother is incredible, and you, my love, will do amazing things,” Draco pressed his lips to his sleeping daughter’s forehead, then to his wife’s. Hermione’s smile at the scene nearly knocked him off of his feet, but instead, he sat on the arm of the sofa beside them and watched as they were lulled into a sound sleep.

Selene.

I like that. 

__________

September 2016

  As the family bustled around Diagon Alley, gathering last-minute supplies for Selene’s first year at Hogwarts before heading to the Platform, Draco tried to avoid the stares and whispers. His daughter walked, eyes straight, beside him and Hermione on the other. They were near copies of one another, but Selene had his eyes– a slate grey that demanded attention. Hermione held Hyperion’s– Rion, for shorthand— hand tight in her own as their 8-year-old son walked beside her. 

They knew their first outing following the announcement would be intense, but Draco had expected negative backlash, not the awe that seemed to follow them everywhere today. Perhaps he had underestimated the psyche of the wizarding and the muggle worlds. It seemed people were much more willing to accept the truth when irrefutable proof, by way of testimony sworn under Veritaserum, legilimency, and memories viewed in a pensive, was provided. The world would change soon– Draco knew it, Hermione knew it. They also knew that many others with similar connections existed and would soon come out of hiding. 

After years of resealing the bond, just to catch a glimpse of more of their past– and the ritual didn’t seem to hurt, only strengthen their connection– they pieced together a shared history that changed existing knowledge of human history. Though the others would make themselves known– Draco and Hermione had taken the biggest risk of them all. 

They were the first. 

They had known of course, in their very being. 

When they told Phillippe of the knowledge they’d gained through the first ritual and Hermione’s research, he’d nearly died–again. 

Draco’s mother had in fact had to be taken to St. Mungos and placed under observation. She had lost consciousness at the news, and again when Draco allowed her to enter his mind and view the memories. When she came to, she complained of chest pains. She was under observation for three days before she was released. Just two days after returning to the Manor, she died peacefully in her sleep. Draco smiled with a soft sadness at the memory, knowing that his mother was with her soulmate again. 

When they buried his mother, Draco had Hermione’s parents moved to the Manor burial grounds. They had spent tearful hours at her parent’s graveside, telling them all about their incredible life, and the past they had started to uncover. 

Draco watched with fondness over the years as Hermione visited his mother, and her parents, to share the exciting and mundane with them. When Draco had a portrait commissioned of his mother and father, Hermione had gripped him tightly to her, their shared relief at regaining some of their lost family palpable between them.

If that had been their reactions– those closest to them– Draco guessed he couldn’t really fathom what the reaction external to them would be. To this day they received surprise from those around them that they managed to find their way to one another, given their “troubled history.” Draco rolled his eyes every time and bit his tongue. Now, it seemed he no longer needed to. Because the truth was out there now. The public was in on their biggest secret, one that spanned millennia.

They were soulmates, of course. The first of their kind. The first of many kinds, in fact. Soul magic, as Hermione had called it, had far-reaching implications for the keeping of history and of time. She’d begun to write a book several years ago, shortly after Selene’s first birthday, and it would be published in just a few days' time. Hence, the Prophet article they’d planted to allow the news to leak to the public on their own terms. 

XXX

Hermione shifted from foot to foot while waiting for their friends to arrive. Pansy and Adrian’s little one, Jonathan Pucey, would be starting Hogwarts, as well as Albus Potter, and Arabella Lovegood-Longbottom-Zabini. They were all nervous, sparing glances at one another. Pansy gripped Hermione’s left hand in hers as Draco took her right. Ginny had one arm looped through Draco’s right, and one arm through Harry’s left. Blaise, Neville, and Luna stood together at the end of the group, smiling toward the train. 

Hermione felt as though a piece of her was being ripped away as the train began to steam, the engine roaring. 

Hyperion stood fixed in front of her. His blonde curls bounced with the movement as he waved furiously at his sister who had propped open the compartment window to lean out and wave at them. Hermione smiled, glancing from one of her beautiful children to the other. Albus, Jonathan, and Arabella all did their best to squeeze in and wave to their parents as well. 

Hermione laughed as she watched James Potter pop his head out of a window a few compartments down from the younger children. 

“Oi, they’ll be fine! I’ve got it!” James howled as the train began to leave the station. He offered them all a crooked smile and a wave that spoke of his relation to Harry, and Hermione laughed as she gasped and a sob escaped as well. Something pulled at her chest, a memory, a longing. With a start, she realised she’d been here before– saying farewell to a child, simply in another life. 

Draco looked at her, a knowing look in his eyes as he conveyed the same thought. He simply gripped her hand tighter, not allowing her to dwell in the sadness of knowing something that they could not alter and could not change. 

They could move forward, always changing. Finding new ways to utilise the connection between them to help the world understand its past. 

Draco bent as he watched Hermione turn to face him and step on her toes to reach his ear. When she spoke, he smiled.

“I would do it all again, and I will do it all again, for this,” Hermione smiled against his cheek, “I love you,” Draco turned to capture her lips briefly, aware of their surroundings.

Draco cupped her cheek and searched her eyes before he spoke the words he knew to be true.

“I love you too, always, every version of you that I have ever known, or ever will know.”

__________

“Albus, you did not predict this. Salazar knows none of us did. They weren’t even magical in many of these lives, you couldn’t have!” Severus roared from his portrait to the old Headmaster across from him. They each leaned forward in their frames, attempting to read the copy of the prophet Minerva left open on her desk. 

“Severus, I’m afraid you’ve underestimated me. Why do you think I tried to help young Draco because he was just a boy? You know me well by now, don’t you?” Albus tried his best to convince Severus that he knew of the unique nature of the two Malfoy’s bond, but that could not be further from the truth and he knew it. 

“You old goat, shove it,” Severus growled, “He’s my Godson and I have the right to say that if anyone knew anything about this, it was me–”

“Oh, because you postured once that entering a person's mind unprompted and without a legilimens was “otherworldly magic” you knew that they were the original soulmates? And likely the first ever beings to–”

“Oh come off it, old man,” Severus sighed, tired. They’d been arguing all morning since the news broke. Minerva had fainted, and Severus had trekked portrait after portrait to find an elf to assist her. 

Of course, he didn’t know either, but he wouldn’t let the old man live it down.

“Severus–”

“Albus–”

“Oh, would the two of you kindly fuck off? I’d quite like to enjoy my tea, my son and my daughter-in-law are incredible, now please, shut up,” Lucius Malfoy sneered from the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black where he sat with Narcissa, Phillippe, and Phineas. 

Severus smiled, not having noticed the four of them having tea. 

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company today, Lucius?” Severus drawled.

“I’m here to find out what house my granddaughter is sorted into, of course,” Lucius scoffed.

Severus’ eyes nearly boggled out of his two-dimensional head. 

“Slytherin, of course, she’s a Malfoy–”

“Severus, I asked Draco a long time ago to move on, for his children’s sake as well. He’s done more than that and raised his children right. I’m happy to report that I no longer prioritise silly things like houses and blood status– it does not matter,”

Severus stood, pensive. 

“What does matter, then, Mister Malfoy?” Albus cut in, brow furrowed.

“They’ve found peace, of course. That is all I could have hoped for and more, silly old coot.” Lucius smirked into his teacup. And Severus sank into his wingback chair.

Severus closed his eyes and nearly found his own peace– until the door to the office burst open. 

A mop of black hair, glasses, green eyes– James Potter.

“I’ve got it! I’ve got it, Aunt Cissa!” James yelled into the space, his voice echoing off the walls. 

“Ah, delightful, James!” She smiled.

“Well?” Phineas and Lucius stated at the same time, expectant looks on their faces.

James smirked and adjusted his green and silver tie, and Severus noted how un-Potter-like it was.

“Slytherin!” He shouted.

“I knew it!” Lucius shouted before abruptly standing and running from the portrait, Narcissa on his heels. Phillippe and Phineas remained seated.

“Thank you, James, Aunt Cissa loves you!” Narcissa yelled, knocking over a chair in her hurry back to the Manor portrait Draco had commissioned for his parents. 

A moment of pure silence echoed in the office before Severus burst out laughing, Albus and even James Potter joining in.

Maybe– just maybe– they could all use a bit of this peace that Lucius spoke of. 

Hermione and Draco would bring that peace, Severus knew it. 

__________

1st of January, 2182

Draco lay on their bed, in the place they’d called home for over a century, hand firmly clasped around Hermione’s own, brittle and frail. They hadn’t spoken a word in days, simply lying together, awaiting what fate they knew would come for them. 

Family came and went, with two constants in the flow of people, the living memory of the love he and Hermione shared in this particular life— Hyperion and Selene. Each had grown to be incredibly powerful in their own unique way, and when they found their soul mates, true to the Malfoy line, Draco and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that their children would experience the love that they had. Each would be taken care of long after he and Hermione had gone from the world. 

Once the flurry of people began to slow, Draco and Hermione shared a look and requested to be left alone.

He watched as Hermione’s chest rose and fell with each breath, and listened as her thoughts coalesced into one final request. Their magic mingled in the air between them, casting a faint glow over the room.

Finally, Draco felt a tug, a pull in his chest, the same he felt the first time their souls reconnected in this life all those years ago.

It was time.

Turning to face one another fully, Draco’s eyes drifted open again to find Hermione’s. Despite their age, the honey in her eyes shone brightly as ever, and the smile on her lips was just as radiant. 

“My moon,” She whispered, voice hoarse. 

Draco stifled the emotion threatening to overcome him, he knew it would be all right. But no matter how many times his soul said goodbye to hers, the pain felt new.

“My sun,” Draco whispered into the space between them, “It’s time, love.”

“I know-” She choked, emotion welling up between them.

“I’ll see you in the next life, for another grand adventure, Hermione. I love you.”

“In the next life, Draco. I love you too.” 

Draco closed his eyes.

When he no longer felt Hermione’s blood pumping alongside his own, no longer felt her heart beating in tune with his, no longer felt her magical core dancing alongside his, no longer heard her thoughts mingle in his mind– he closed his eyes, and allowed the darkness to seep in.

With one final breath, peace .