Chapter Text

Epilogue

It was a rainy Sunday morning, Hermione’s favourite type of day to sit in Flourish and Blotts with a steaming mug of coffee from her favourite Muggle café and lose herself in the magic of the novel in her hands. Of course, it was difficult to fully immerse herself in books as she once had; after the wizarding war, things had changed— she had changed. Although Voldemort had been defeated nearly a year ago, she still woke often in the darkness of her room from nightmares, and a shadow of paranoia followed her everywhere she went. Poor Harry had it worse than she did for quite some time, and the Weasley family had still not recovered from the loss of Fred. But still they all persevered, together.

A tinkle of a bell caught Hermione’s attention; her hand was on her wand before her mind could even register the sound, and her ears listened to the sound of footsteps approaching her while she kept her unmoving eyes on the page in front of her.

“I told you we grow into it,” came a familiar voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen reflexes quite like that.”

She whipped her head around, her curls whipping through the air as she searched for him. He was standing in the shadows beside the entryway to the bookshop, his blonde hair wet from the rain. She studied him silently for a moment; he looked taller, older, but his eyes were the same, as was the expression in them as he watched her too. They were wary, cautious, but she saw the familiar light behind them that she had seen in that small, circular room nearly two years ago.

“You came,” she said, blinking rapidly, as if he were a mirage that would dissolve into the air at any moment.

He nodded and walked slowly in her direction, still assessing her reaction with his calculating gaze. “You told me I could.”

“It’s been over a year.” She tried to conceal the hurt in her voice. “I thought you had changed your mind.”

Draco stopped in front of her, dropping his eyes to the floor beneath his feet. “I told you that night… warned you… that things would happen. That you would be tainted by me.” His eyes flitted briefly to her arm, the spot where Bellatrix had carved Hermione with her knife.

“You bought us time and helped us escape that day by lying to your parents. Your aunt. This was not your doing.”

He still would not meet her eyes, but she could see the devastation there. “It was. I stood there in silence while she maimed you. I couldn’t watch, but I could hear you screaming. I still hear it sometimes… I didn’t think I deserved your presence ever again. I’ve been warring with myself all this time, trying to decide whether showing up or disappearing would hurt you more. I think my coming here was more selfish than anything, because it surely can’t be the latter.”

Hermione shook her head. “Do you believe in fate, Draco?”

His eyes flashed up briefly at the sound of his name on her lips. “I— I don’t know. In some ways, I suppose.”

“I do. If you had interceded that day, your family would have been executed. If your family had been executed, your mother would not have been there to feed Voldemort the lie of Harry’s death. If your mother had not done that, Harry would never have left that forest, and Voldemort would not have been defeated.”

Draco swallowed. He looked torn, like he wanted to believe her words, but did not feel worthy of them either. So she pressed on.

“I think it was fate that we met one another— truly met one another— that night in the castle. Otherwise you would have gone on never knowing that you had another choice. You made the choice to lie to your family, knowing it would buy us time to escape. And I think it was fate when we met in that room again; lives were saved by you warning me of what would happen the next day. Ron and I called the Order into the castle when the Death Eaters arrived.”

“I was the one who let them in. I’m the reason Dumbledore was disarmed— defenceless.”

Hermione shook her head. “But that was fate, too. Dumbledore and Snape had planned it all this time. Dumbledore knew you didn’t have the heart to carry out Voldemort’s orders, and you disarming him made Harry the true owner of the Elder Wand, and Snape the most valuable asset to Voldemort’s defeat.”

“I really wish you would stop trying to find logic in my horrendous actions,” Draco said with clenched teeth.

Hermione stood up to look him square in the eye. “And I wish you would remember what I told you that night. To pretend, to follow orders, and protect yourself and your family until you find the opportunity to escape. Don’t you remember what I said afterwards?”

“To come and find you.”

She nodded silently, reaching up to brush a strand of his wet hair off his face; his eyes closed at the feel of her touch. He brought his hand up to cover hers, intertwining his fingers with hers. It felt so natural, even after all this time, after all they had been through. They had come from separate worlds, but once again found the small one they shared.

“You still want to be mine?” he asked, using his other hand to gently tug on one of her curls with a safe familiarity that made her insides glow.

“I do.”

The veiled look in his silvery eyes melted away, and she recognised the adoration she had seen years ago in that small circular room come to light in his features as he pulled her into him and pressed his lips to hers. And this time, he did not leave.