v v The Story of a Decade
Disclaimer: I'm not doing this for profit, don't sue me!
Author's Note: Have any of y'all read Kate Chopin's The Story of An Hour? If you have, you'll recognize this short story. Another thing, you might want to go in the general direction of my ficlets Envy and Regret before you read this, not that its important, but you might find yourself saying "oooh," at some point or other if you do.
Knowing how much Hermione loved her husband, and how delicate at heart she had become, Hestia Weasley was weary of imparting the abominable information that had been recently been brought to her attention, on her mother.
"I do not think she'll take it well," the fiery red head remarked to her raven-haired friend, James Potter.
"She is bound to find out sooner or later. I know she'd rather hear it from you."
With tearful green eyes, and a weary sigh, fair Hestia took her best friend's advice and approached her mother, who was currently busying herself with the rather unremarkable occupation of mending her husband's socks.
"Who was it that just called?" Hermione inquired upon hearing her daughter's approaching footsteps.
"It was Uncle Harry," Hestia replied sorrowfully.
At the mention of said name, Hermione Weasley's heart gave a small lurch, but Hermione let no such emotional acrobatics show on her classically composed face. "Is something the matter?" She asked worriedly.
Straining to keep her equanimity, the young maiden whispered slowly. "It's dad."
At the uttering of these words, Hermione leapt off her couch and grabbed her daughter's shoulders. "What is it, Hestia?" She demanded in alarm.
Hestia could no longer contain herself; sobs escaped her lovely frame, and she held unto her mother as one holds unto the rock of refuge in an endless sea. "He was coming home on the Hogwarts Express…a bridge collapsed, no one knew how…dad...he…no one survived…"
"Shhh…" Hermione cooed, aiming to calm her hapless daughter, even as tears escaped her own eyes. "It's going to be all right."
The moment of lamentation between mother and daughter was hastily broken by a sudden 'pop' in the air, and the sound of a young voice exclaiming "Dad!" in the background.
"Oh Uncle Harry!" Young Hestia cried out as she collapsed into the welcoming arms of her strong 'uncle.'
Harry, who was patting Hestia's back and kissing her hair softly, locked eyes with her mother. Various sentiments were expressed in this one, powerful stare, one in particular that awoke Hermione's long dormant heart, and sent her running up the stairs frantically in an effort to get away from it.
"Mum!" Hestia cried, running after her mother and pounding on her bedroom door hysterically. "Mum! Open the door this instant! Are you all right? Please mum, open the door!"
No answer was heard from within, and Harry, knowing Hermione needed her space, crept up the stairs silently and pleaded with Hestia to let her mother be. Hestia, knowing her uncle to be wise as well as brave, took up his council and followed him downstairs.
Meanwhile, inside her bedroom, Hermione situated herself in a chair in front of her window, a new light in her eyes and a heavy sorrow in her heart, the battle of wills already begun.
Yes, before he was her husband he had been her best friend, how much she had loved her friend, how much she had valued their friendship. And even when he became her husband, she saw the love in his eyes and could not harden her heart against him.
But now she was free.
Yes, she was free. She no longer had to bend to his will, and no matter how much she mourned the death of a beloved friend, the elation at the death of her tyrannical husband much outweighed the former.
Now she was free to pursue her own undertakings. There was no hand to hold her back, no weight upon her shoulders. Now she was free to pursue the life she once deemed herself unworthy to have, and now presented itself again in the most tantalizing manner.
Green eyes flashed before her, black hair she had once held in her fingers tickled her senses seductively. Yes, the life she should have lived was once again before her very grasp; hell be damned if she was going to let it slip away once again.
Of course the logical side of her knew there would be obstacles, one very large one being her husband's sister, but the glorious image of presenting to her daughter the father she had always had and had never known proved to be so blinding that she forgot about everything and focused on the fulfillment of her greedy wishes.
Yes, everything that was rightfully hers from the beginning would be hers again.
Feeling herself ready, she descended the stairs of her humble dwelling, ready to leap into the arms of her beloved once again.
"Mum, are you all right?" Hestia asked her mother quizzically, exchanging glances with James, who remained quietly in the corner offering her quiet support. The unspoken communication between the two revolved largely around the current smile on Hermione's face, which greatly verged on being deemed 'hysterical.'
But Hermione paid no heed to her daughter's inquiries, her eyes and ears were only for Harry, and Harry, reading her mind in that instant, knew exactly what was required of him at that moment. But before he could sweep Hermione off her feet and carry her off to some distant land where nothing could touch them, a sudden 'pop' in the air caused all heads to turn in its general direction.
It was Ron.
"Dad!" Hestia screamed as she jumped on her father excitedly. "You're alive!"
"Of course I am! I almost thought I wouldn't make it back there though." Ron replied, trying to calm his hysterical daughter down.
Seeing her husband alive and well, Hermione chose that precise moment to suddenly drop dead.
"Oh my god! Mum!" Hestia yelled frantically, leaping off her father and striving to revive her mother.
"It's no use," an extremely desolate looking Harry replied. "She's dead."
A few days later, Dr. Simon Bradford announced Hermione Weasley had died of a sudden heart attack, attributed to the sudden shock of happiness at seeing her beloved husband alive and well, again.
*~*~*~*~*
Fin