Dying had its perks, Draco Malfoy mused silently as he glanced over at the graceful woman sat in the stiff chair beside his bed. It had been many years since he had first met her, but she was still as stunningly beautiful as she had been in her youth. Even though it was a sombre occasion and there was little joy to be found in the future he faced, a small smile graced his lips as their eyes met. "You came," he murmured quietly. His voice, which was weak from age and persistently poor health, tremored from the exertion it took to speak.
"Of course," she said lovingly. Her eyes looked at him warmly and spoke of a regard that their childhood friends had always found somewhat disconcerting, but that had existed between the two for many years now. Quietly, she inched closer to his bed, affording her the opportunity to hear his words more clearly. Even though her health was significantly better than Draco's – in years gone by she had joked that it was a draw back of his 'superior' breeding – her hearing was not what it once was and proximity was essential these days.
"It's nice to see you," he said wistfully, unclenching his head welcomingly. Her wrinkled, knotted fingers grasped his hand in a familiar, reassuring embrace. Despite his exhaustion, Draco felt the blood within his aching limbs dance with excitement. After all this time, this remarkable woman was still capable of reducing him to a doe-eyed teenager. His tired eyes caressed her diminutive frame, appreciating her timeless elegance. She was a beauty for the ages. He recognised the book she had discarded when he had awakened from his rest. It was the copy of her favourite muggle novel, Jane Austen's 'Pride and Prejudice', which he had given her for her birthday last year. He still remembered the gleeful expression that had graced her face when she had pulled back the wrapping paper to discover the now well-loved treasure he had given her. She was so elated she had reverted to the teenager he had loved, going so far as to tightly hug him and dance that silly bop that had no choreography other than the excitement within her heart. It was one of his fondest memories. "It's always nice to see you."
Hermione indicated her head, acknowledging his compliment fondly. "I enjoy coming. Our chats have always been…invigorating." She smiled warmly, remembering all the heated battles they had engaged in. Some of these memories were from childhood, but others were much more recent, and she loved them all equally. Whether their debates were mirthful, passionate or fiery, it was always a pleasure to converse with Draco. Neither would ever concede a point to the other and on occasions, this had resulted in hilarious consequences. Remorselessly, she remembered the time he had haughtily left her home with fuchsia hair after a fight about her reversal to accept his proffered financial help and the time his magic had forced her to dance the YMCA every time she thought of lecturing someone on elfish rights and-
"I have often wondered how different life would have been if we had married," he whispered. The light in his eyes faded slightly as he contemplated the possibilities of the life they had not lived. This haunted look – rather than the possibilities he spoke of - made Hermione's heart ache. Whilst the romantic relationship had been over for many years now, she still loved him dearly and she did not like seeing him so crestfallen. When he had been married to Daphne it had been easier; they could delude themselves into believing that his life was happy. However, such delusions had been short lived as only ten years after their wedding, they had parted ways and even though Daphne had gone on to re-marry twice, Draco had never married another. They had never discussed it, but Hermione knew why: the woman he wanted to marry was already married and unlike him, happily so. Acknowledging that had not been easy at the time, but Hermione – and even Ron – had done so and they had moved beyond it many, many years ago.
Hermione smiled reassuringly. Over the years, this topic had arisen from time to time. For other people this topic would have been morbid, but for them it was a quiet acknowledgment of the importance they still held to each other. Just as Draco still loved her, part of Hermione would always love Draco and would always wonder about the possibilities he spoke of. He was her most cherished friend, who had not only known her before she truly knew herself, but who also helped forge the woman she became. She loved him: deeply and frequently inexplicably. Nevertheless, it did not do to dwell on the past and paths not taken. Life had brought them both many joys.
"If we had, Rose and Scorpius would never have married, and we would not be blessed with grandchildren." She said softly, thinking of her fiery daughter and the quiet, thoughtful Malfoy man she had married.
Weakly, Draco nodded in agreement. "I would not diminish their happiness for my own. They have made such a good match. I am pleased." He clutched her hand tightly as he thought of the blessings his son had brought into his life. He was so proud of his son and was exceedingly happy that Scorpius and his family would have been an enormous disappointment to his own bigoted father. Draco had made many mistakes in his life, but he was pleased to note that his son, who was a kind, generous, thoughtful man, was not one of them.
"Those terrors though," Hermione chuckled, as she thought of their grandchildren, who frequently rampaged through family gatherings, creating as much disaster as the infamous Wesley twins in their youth. Afterall, they had inherited some of their grandparents' worst characteristics along with their father's charm and their mother's clumsiness.
Draco laughed. Even though his weak chuckle almost immediately descended into an intolerable coughing fit, pleasure still coursed through his veins as he thought of his boisterous grandchildren. "Tell Weasley I hold him fully responsible for every mess they create." His blue-grey eyes glinted with mirth.
"I will," Hermione conceded, fully aware that Ron would be pleased to know that he still irked Draco, even though their feud had been settled many years ago.
Still smiling at the thought of his hairbrained grandchildren, he continued, "does he kno-"
"He knows," Hermione smiled dimly, wordlessly acknowledging her husband's understanding and more importantly, his acceptance of her presence at Draco's bedside. When she had turned to Ron a year after her relationship with Draco had ceased, she had done so because she loved him and their love for one another had only grown in the intervening years. He was her world and she was his. Not for one moment, had she regretted forging a life with him. He was secure in this understanding and as such, when they had received word that Draco was dying he had seen no reason to rob a dying man of the presence of the woman he loved.
Draco smiled faintly. "He is a very lucky man."
"I tell him so every day," she chuckled, trying to make light of the situation.
"Tell him I appreciate it," he whispered faintly. "For letting me share you." Hermione did not miss the magnanimity of these words despite their disjointed nature. Although their feud had ended many years ago, even before their children had wed, the two men never offered more than polite remarks to one another. For Draco to do so now was significant. "I have always loved you and I am glad we walked this path together."
His words had been spoken quietly and without intent. They were simply the words of a man who knew he had very little time left to say the things that were important. Hermione sighed. No words could express the sadness and loss she felt in this moment when his impending death fought to tear them apart. He may not have been the man she married, but his soul had entwined itself around her own so tightly that she did not know where he began, and she ended.
Stiffly she rose from her seat and clutching the rails of his bed tightly so her feeble frame did not slip, she gently kissed his lips. It was not a romantic kiss, but the last kiss between two old friends, who had endured, enjoyed and ultimately, shared a lifetime together. It was not the lifetime either of them had imagined at eighteen, but in so many ways it was so much more.